Alistair Link, age 16

District Six Male

Of course the train was plush and rich. Of course the Capitol made sure the tributes traveled to their deaths in the lap of luxury. Alistair wrinkled his nose at all of it.

Especially at Hikari, who he was unlucky enough to have as his district partner.

He wanted absolutely nothing to do with the volunteer girl. With the wannabe Career. The whole thing disgusted him. He actively avoided her once the train door slid shut, but the train was only so large. He would have to deal with her eventually.

Just not yet.

Alistair flopped down on his new bed, sinking into the thick mattress and the fluffy blankets. In any other circumstance, he might have enjoyed it. But it was all Capitol property. Everything on this train was, from the furniture to the people on board. Taking and taking. Was there ever any stop?

And suddenly he balled his hands into white knuckled fists, clenched his jaw in rage. No, it never stopped. The Capitol never stopped with its lavish items and blatant disregard for the lives of the district people. And there were never any consequences. They never had to fucking pay for what they did.

The thought made him lash out. He tore open one of the pillows on the bed, sending white feathers into the air. They floated delicately onto the dark covers. Too delicately. That had no place in this destruction. Alistair ripped the blanket off the bed, flung open the dresser drawers, smashed the glass clock on the bedside table, until he was breathing hard and a part of his insurmountable anger was satisfied.

The Capitol never had consequences, but he would. But Alistair couldn't bring himself to care.

He would pay in the arena. Not before the Games. But they couldn't do anything to him until then. District Six needed a male tribute, didn't it? And Alistair was the only one here who could fill that role.

There was a knock at the door. Alistair huffed, considered yelling at the person to fuck off, but instead his climbed to his feet and opened it. He didn't bother hiding the disdain in his face when he saw Hikari on the other side of it.

"What do you want?"

"It time for dinner." Hikari peered over his shoulder into the room. "What happened in here?"

Alistair shouldered past her. "None of your fucking business."

Keilani Mahi'ai, age 18

District Four Female

Never before had Keilani seen such a spread of food.

Four definitely was not a poor district, but the Capitol dishes put Four's cuisine to shame. She could tell Bocaccio felt them same when they saw everything the Avoxes brought out.

Keilani and Bocaccio, along with their two mentors, Vivia and Marlin, filled their plates with food, and then sat down at the table. Ariella, the escort, decided to rest and eat in her room. The train car was quiet except for the sounds of everyone eating. Despite the selections of beef and pork and chicken, Keilani couldn't help but go for the grilled fish. It was better than anything she'd ever put in her mouth before.

She knew she'd made the right decision when she volunteered.

Once everybody finished and the Avoxes cleared away the plates, Vivia rested her chin in the palm of her hand. Her sandy blonde hair fell in her face, but she didn't move it. "So, Keilani. It's a surprise seeing you here instead of somebody else."

Keilani just grinned, not letting the subtle disappointment in Vivia's tone get to her. "What can I say? I'm happy to be here."

"But I know you're not supposed to be here."

"Who cares?" she quipped. "I'm here now and there's nothing you can do about it." Next to her, Bocaccio buried their face in their hands. It sounded like they said something, but Keilani couldn't make it out.

"Nothing except help you," Marlin butted in, glancing at Vivia. She looked like she was trying to keep herself in check. "You too, Bocaccio. We're here to help you both. What have you two worked with?" For a first year mentor, Keilani could tell that Marlin was trying his best.

"I mostly do swords," Bocaccio said, their voice soft. "They're common, too, which could be helpful."

"Spears," Keilani answered. "But I'll use anything. I'm here to fuck shit up."

Riggs Blackson, age 15

District Five Male

Riggs couldn't help but feel left out as Nicola and Thera chatted.

He'd already garnered that Nicola loved people from the polite way she addressed Marcellus, to the genuine smile on her face when Thera spoke, to how she tried to get to know Riggs himself. She'd also willingly shared a lot of information about herself, leading Riggs to believe she was slightly naive. Had he been more cutthroat and heartless, he might have used some of it as blackmail.

Honestly, if it came down to it, he just might do it anyways.

He would need any and all advantages in the Games.

"Alright," Thera said, addressing both Riggs and Nicola. "As I'm sure you know, I'm here to mentor you. It's a solo job for me, which might make it a little difficult." She laughed nervously, glancing between the two of them. A little awkward, but she means well. "What we really need is a way for you two to stand out."

Stand out.

A burst of panic shot through Riggs. He didn't stand out. He always sought to do the opposite. Blending in was always much easier, much safer, even. But he knew it would be a sure death sentence during the Games. The Capitol wanted their victor to be somebody they liked from day one, somebody who they would remember for years to come. Any tribute who dared to defy that formula usually found themselves dead in the arena.

"I'm sure I could talk about my girlfriends," Nicola told Thera. "And I'd like allies, if that's possible." Thera nodded.

"That's a good start. The audience loves hearing about a tribute's love life. And allies will definitely help you. What about you, Riggs?"

"Umm," Riggs started. "I don't really like standing out."

"You'll have to if you want to win," Thera stated simply.

Riggs bit the inside of his cheek. What would make him stand out? What was one thing about him that could make the Capitol fall in love with him? How could he read other people so well, yet know nothing about himself?

"I'll have to think about it," he finally said. "I don't know."

Wisteria Klide, age 18

District Eleven Female

Wisteria thought she would vomit.

As she sat down in front of the television to watch the reaping recap, the only thing running through her mind was that these were the people she was going into the arena with. These people could potentially be the last people she ever sees. They would either kill her or she would kill them. She didn't know which was worse.

May, her mentor, grabbed the remote. "Are you ready?"

Wisteria shook her head. Kaiser only shrugged. He hadn't said much during dinner, and it was clear he wasn't going to say much now. The other mentor, Jasper, just laughed mirthlessly.

"You don't have a choice to be ready or not. The sooner you get that through your head, the better," he told them. Wisteria shuddered. May gave Jasper a look and clicked on the television.

A new Master of Ceremonies smiled on the screen, his hair alarmingly red. He introduced himself as Jupiter Littleman and he was "very excited to begin the tribute recap for the 95th Hunger Games!" Another smile, and then Jupiter was gone, replaced with the District One emblem.

Here we go.

A black haired girl pushed through the crowd to volunteer, raced towards the stage. A wild grin graced her face. Obviously, she was eager to be a tribute, excited to be in the Games. The nausea rose again in Wisteria's gut, climbed up into her throat. How could anybody be excited for this? She introduced herself as Aigrette. Her district partner wasn't in as much of a hurry as Aigrette was, instead ambling up to the stage with a cocky smile. He had the stereotypical District One look, with wavy blond hair and blue eyes. Stereotypical, but beautiful nonetheless. Theseus Francium.

The square of One faded away, and District Two replaced it. Wisteria watched another volunteer stoically make her way to the stage, a rather intimidating looking girl named Pallas. She didn't smile, didn't look at the crowd, didn't do anything to show what she could have been thinking. The boy, Roman, was a completely different story. He ran to take his place next to Pallas, his declaration of volunteering heard loud and clear.

Four Careers down. Wisteria fought back tears. Promising that she would win for Perennia had seemed a lot easier when she was back in Eleven. When she hadn't seen some of her competition. And there were still nine districts left for her to see. Eighteen more tributes she would have to spend the next week with before they were all thrown into the arena.

District Three was up next. A fifteen year old girl with pale skin and blonde hair was reaped, but she didn't look all too nervous. Instead, she smiled slightly, calmly making her way into the aisle and on to the stage. Heidi Dell. Unassuming, but there was always potential for unassuming tributes to be deadly. Drexel, the boy reaped from Three, had to be dragged, sobbing, to the stage. Wisteria's heart clenched. That poor boy.

But she couldn't afford to feel bad for the other tributes. Not if she wanted to win.

Ryland Maiz, age 12

District Nine Male

At least there was only one more Career district to go. With the showing that One and Two had put on, Ryland wasn't sure if he could handle more trained tributes.

He wasn't sure he could handle the Games, anyways.

A redheaded girl lunged forward before the name was even called in District Four. She kept her hand raised the entire time she ran up to the stage. She introduced herself as Keilani Mahi'ai, District Four's newest victor. Ryland whimpered quietly at that. She has a better chance of winning than I do. The second tribute, Bocaccio made sure to tell the escort they were nonbinary as they took the stage. They were quieter than Keilani, but they were also trained. Quiet did not mean uncapable, especially in the Games.

The District Five emblem filled the television screen, then faded into the square. The escort called the name, "Miss Nicola Ackerman!" When the cameras found the blonde girl in the eighteen year old section, Ryland blurted out, "She's pretty."

And she was. Tall, with brown eyes and a nice smile. Finley scoffed beside Ryland. "She's alright," she said. "But she's crying. That's pathetic." Ryland just looked at his district partner. How did he get stuck with her?

The boy from Five, Riggs, just walked up to the stage without any spectacle when his name was called. He kept his head down, his black curls falling in his face. Maybe they could be potential allies. At the very least, Ryland wanted Nicola for an ally. But maybe Riggs would join them, too.

The girl from District Six, Hikari, volunteered. The announced to the district that she would win, but there was no reaction from the crowd. Milpa, Finley's mentor, shook her head in disbelief. "That's something, especially in Six."

"She'll want to be a Career," Bran, Ryland's own mentor, put in. "Did you see how eager she was?"

The boy, Alistair, was not too happy to hear his name called. He shoved his way into the aisle, yelling at swearing at the Peacekeepers, and stomped towards the stage. Ryland wanted to laugh. Alistair was so mad, it was almost funny.

An interesting showing, to say the least.

Aigrette Luxor, age 17

District One Female

The Career pack looked good. All six were volunteers, all six were ready to go. Now, Aigrette just had to look for potential victims. So far, only the pair from Three were on her easy target list.

But that list was about to expand.

The two tributes from Seven were thirteen year old twins. Isa and Duncan. The girl carried herself stiffly, while the boy had to be brought to the stage by the Peacekeepers. Aigrette wanted to feel bad for them, but she couldn't bring herself to. Those kids were not escaping the arena. Especially not with her in there. Images of them bleeding out on the ground, their wounds given by Aigrette's favored hatchet, filled her mind. She didn't care if it was considered poor sportsmanship in the Career pack to take out one district in one go. She would do what she wanted to do in the arena.

After all, Aigrette only wanted to play on her own terms.

District Eight wasn't anything special. A tiny twelve year old girl, Juliet, was reaped. Jupiter's voice came back on. "A bit of trivia here, Juliet's sister, Samantha Niscent, was District Eight's female representative last year. Let's hope Juliet has better luck than her older sister!" She won't. She'll be dead on the first day. Either by her own hand or someone else's.

The boy from Eight, Sylvester, didn't seem to realize his name had been called until the Peacekeepers found him in the audience. Theseus laughed.

"How oblivious do you have to be to not know you've been reaped?" he asked. Aigrette balled her fists. Every word out of his mouth was like a blade grating against her bones.

On to District Nine. The girl, Finley, stormed up to stage when she heard her name, then demanded that the escort pick a different one. She told the mayor, her father, Aigrette realized, to do something, but he couldn't. Aigrette smiled. She liked this girl's spunk. Too bad Finley was going to die. Ryland, the Nine boy, cried the entire way to the stage. He was only twelve.

Easy target.

Roman Garnier, age 18

District Two Male

Even without seeing the last three districts, Roman knew these Games would be easy. A strong Career pack, and overwhelmingly young outliers? He could win in a week.

Pallas hadn't said anything since the recap started, but Roman made sure to let the mentors know what he thought of all the tributes so far. Cassia and Xander pointed out small things about each tribute that Roman hadn't noticed, like how the girl from Four probably wasn't the chosen volunteer, or how the boy from Six shouldn't be overlooked. "Anger is an effective tool," Xander told him.

"A weapon," Cassia whispered.

Roman scoffed. "Who needs psychological weapons when you can have the real deal?"

"You'd be surprised," Pallas put in quietly, as the District Ten emblem materialized on screen.

The girl from Ten caused a small disturbance in the square. Avery Clayton took her spot on stage with a stony expression. Who was she? Obviously someone important in the district, but that wouldn't matter in the arena. The boy, Horus, was the same age as Avery, and looked at her with disdain when he mounted the steps. They knew each other, and it looked like there was bad blood between them.

"Maybe they'll kill each other and knock a district out for us," Roman said. "It would make winning a lot easier." Even if he wanted to take a shot at them.

District Eleven had older tributes, too. The girl was eighteen, with dark skin and black hair, but she cried the whole time. "She could have been a contender," Roman said, "if she wasn't reacting like that."

"Don't count anyone out," Cassia reminded him, as the boy from Eleven was introduced. Kaiser was tall, muscular. He looked like he could cause trouble.

Finally, District Twelve. The girl from this district, Sienna, cried too. Roman smirked. The boy wasn't anything special, either, just a skinny fifteen year old named Rhett, And with that, all twenty four tributes had been introduced. Roman mentally ran through each district again, thinking about allies and targets, who to look out for and who could be ignored.

This will be easier than I thought.

Avery Clayton, age 16

District Ten Female

Aegeus turned the television off, then turned to Avery and Horus. "There are the tributes!" the escort said happily. "Anybody stand out to you?"

"The Careers," Avery said coldly. "But aren't they supposed to?"

"They do tend to be memorable," Amandina, Ten's only mentor, said thoughtfully.

"But so are you two!" Aegeus quickly added. "You don't have anything to worry about." I know.

Avery thought about the tributes again, running through who stuck out in her mind. "The girl from Six," she said. "The volunteer."

"Maybe she could be an ally?" Horus suggested.

"I don't want allies," Avery cut in. "They're just extra baggage to slow me down."

Amandina frowned. "Avery, allies could..."

"No," she snapped. "I'm doing this alone." That way, she could kill Horus without repercussions from any other tribute and compete in the Games how she wanted to. And after all, alone was how Avery Clayton worked. She might use others to get where she needed, but the rewards were hers and hers alone. The victory would be hers alone.

But she needed Horus out of the way. And there was no way in hell she would be telling her mentor she wanted to murder her district partner. Avery could only imagine how that conversation would go. So she would keep her first move a secret.

It wouldn't be the first time she acted without telling anybody what she intended to do.

It certainly wouldn't be the last.

Drexel Axis, age 13

District Three Male

Seeing the other tributes made this feel much more real.

Of course, back in Three, Drexel knew what was happening. But being reaped still felt like a bad dream before he boarded the train, even while eating dinner with Heidi and Data and Collis and Jasmine this whole thing still felt like a bad dream, something intangible and easy to escape. But knowing who was waiting for him in the arena... Drexel couldn't stop shaking. I'm gonna die.

Horrific images filled his mind as Drexel sat on the couch in front of the blackened television. The eager girl from Four leapt at him and sliced his throat open, leaving him to choke to death on his own blood. The monstrous boy from One plunged a sword into his back. The stoic girl from Ten shot an arrow into his skull. Drexel buried his face in his hands, his eyes squeezed shut, willing the images to go away.

"Drexel?" He looked up, and saw Heidi sitting beside him, her face open and kind. "Everything okay?"

A hot rush of tears burned behind Drexel's eyes. "No," he choked out. "I'm gonna die."

"How do you know that?"

"Did you see all the other tributes?" Drexel hid his face again, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. "I don't have a chance."

Heidi placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "That's no way to think. What if you had allies?"

"Who would want to ally with me?" Drexel whimpered.

"I would."

His head shot up. "Really?"

"Really."

Drexel smiled weakly. "Then I'd feel a little better."

Sienna Flint, age 16

District Twelve Female

Rhett would not shut up. And Sienna was ready to throttle him.

All throughout dinner, he'd been telling bad jokes and talking too loudly and laughing without shame. Which, in any other circumstance, Sienna wouldn't have minded. She would have just gotten up and walked away. But she couldn't exactly do that on a moving train.

And she didn't see why he was in such a good mood as they sped towards the Capitol, towards their deaths.

Sienna had hoped that seeing the other tributes would quiet him down, but it, unfortunately, did not. If anything, it made him talk more.

"That boy from Five might be a good ally," Rhett was saying to Ore, who looked very uninterested. Rhett didn't seem to notice. "Or maybe the girl from Three? What was her name again?"

"Heidi," Sienna mumbled. She had been thinking that Heidi could be a good ally, too. But Sienna still wasn't sure if she even wanted allies. Going solo would be more difficult in the beginning, but no alliance lasted forever.

Rhett smiled at her. "Right, Heidi. Maybe she could ally with us?"

Us. Sienna fought down her initial reaction to snap at her new district partner and tell him exactly what she thought of him and the prospect of an alliance, but she took a deep breath instead, remembering her weak angle. She just shrugged. "I'm not sure I want allies."

That got Ore's attention. "Having somebody to help you might be good."

I can handle myself. She had been doing it most of her life. Why would now be any different? But, again, she didn't go with her first instinct to chew Ore out, but instead she just shrugged meekly again. "I'm better by myself."

"Well, I want allies," Rhett jumped in. "A nice big group of people."

"Maybe not too big," Ore warned.

"Maybe a smaller group of people," Rhett amended, then laughed, loud and boisterous. Sienna flinched. Too much. Everything about Rhett was too much for her. She pitied whoever chose to ally with him.

Sylvester Pin, age 15

District Eight Male

What is always in front of you but can't be seen? Sylvester still pondered the new riddle his grandfather gave him during their goodbyes. He was stuck, his brain foggy and unable to come up with the answer. Or maybe that was just the fear getting to him.

Sylvester sat down on the plush bed and ran his fingers over the soft comforter. He knew that it must have come from somewhere in District Eight, but he couldn't believe how rich everything was. He had never seen anything like it. Luxury items like the down blanket he sat on were nowhere to be seen in district homes. Not even in Eight, where they were made. It was for the Capitol, and the Capitol only.

Was this a part of their plan? To overwhelm their precious tributes with sheer wealth and fill them with hatred before sending them off to the arena to kill each other? To install that fighting spirit so they didn't have a boring Games? Sylvester laid back on the bed. If that was the Capitol's plan, it was beginning to work. He thought of his grandfather, alone in their small house. Selling just one thing in this room could feed him and clothe him and sustain him for a good while. But instead he had to work and watch his grandson, the only person he has left in his life, fight to the death. And probably lose.

Because after seeing those other tributes, Sylvester knew he had little to no chance of living to see the end of the month.

Stop it.

He pulled the paper with the riddles out from his pocket, and read the next few. What belongs to you, but everyone else uses it?

In that Games, it would be his life. The Capitol audience would bet on how long it would last, the other tributes would be trying to end it, and he would be making decisions on how best to keep it. Sylvester scrubbed his hands down his face. That's not it. Think. And then it came to him: a name.

How much dirt is in a hole that's two feet by three feet?

Sylvester smiled at that one. He knew his first instinct would be to do out the math, but then he thought about it some more. Tricky, tricky. There was no dirt in a hole.

He got through a few more, relaxing more and more with each one. But that first one still stumped him.

What is always in front of you but can't be seen?

Isa Foliage, age 13

District Seven Female

There was a knock at her door. Isa sprang out of bed immediately and went over to unlock it. She couldn't sleep. Knowing that she would be in the Capitol tomorrow, knowing that she would be meeting the other tributes soon, knowing that if she wanted to win her brother would have to die was becoming too much for her to handle. Especially the last part.

Duncan stood on the other side of the door, his eyes bloodshot like he'd been crying. "I can't sleep."

Isa pulled Duncan into a hug, tears pricking her own eyes. "I can't either. Duncan, I'm so scared."

"Me too." The twins broke apart and then wordlessly walked into Isa's room. They would not be spending the night apart, Isa firmly decided. She wanted to spend as much time with her brother as she could before they were sent into the arena.

Isa furiously blinked the tears from her eyes. No crying. She wanted to be strong. For Duncan if nothing else.

"What are we gonna do, Isa?" Duncan asked. Isa just shrugged, hating how that was the best she could do.

"I don't know," she answered. "We'll ally. We'll stick together. Maybe get some more people to join us." She thought for a moment, then said, "At least we aren't the youngest here. And there were other kids our age."

"There are a lot of young tributes this year," Duncan said thoughtfully. "But we'll still have to be careful."

Be careful. Isa didn't know if there were two words she hated more. Every day, somebody told her to be careful. Don't do this, Isa stop that. You'll get hurt if you aren't careful. Sometimes, you needed to take risks. You needed to do something that involved danger. The Hunger Games would be full of it.

"We will be," Isa told Duncan coldly. "But we can't be careful all the time."

"Isa..."

"We can't, Duncan," she snapped. "Only one of us can go home and people don't win without taking risks."

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Then Duncan huffed, and said, "I hate when you're right."

Wow, this chapter was a long one. But I wanted to just get the train rides done and out of the way in one chapter. Did the word count get away from me? It's possible.

Anyways, what did you think? Are there any possible alliances you'd like to see? Are there any ulterior motives some tributes are hiding?

See you all next time with the tribute parade!

-D9T