A/N: First off, I'm not doing the actual Reapings for the POVs, as that gets repetitive. These are introductions of sorts at a pivotal moment soon before the Reapings. Second, if your tribute was not selected, I am sorry. Please do not go on a hate rampage about this story xD.

Enjoy! :D

I thank God every day

That I woke up feelin' this way

And I can't help lovin' myself

And I don't need nobody else, nuh uh

If I was you, I'd wanna be me too

Trinity Vegas, 18

Resident of District 1

Chosen Volunteer and Academy Graduate

"Ready to go, Claus?" I ask, my voice echoing through the empty foyer. Claus doesn't answer. I just sit down on the floor, crossing my legs. The hardwood is cold against my sore calves. It was leg day at the Academy in the weights room. I don't need to provide a further explanation.

"CLAUS EDGECOMBE!" I holler at the top of my lungs. I hear rustling in his room, and the door creaks open, but Claus does not emerge. I huff and stare at the ceiling. Not a dust mote to be seen, and the crystal chandelier hanging motionlessly above my head is spotless, glinting in the late afternoon light. I study the crown moldings, the mahogany display case filled with Claus and his two sisters' many trophies and plaques, the ornate side table holding the golden lamp and the glass vase of tulips, as well as the curving steps on either side of the foyer that meet at the top, the second floor of the Edgecombe's enormous, sprawling mansion. No wonder Claus isn't going into the Games. Most Careers go into the Games for money, or at least the ones I've known. The ones that go in for money or fame are never the ones that come back. The ones that come back are the ones that have something to prove to either themselves or someone back at home. Esquiria had an abusive mother. Kenyan's father was dead a week before his Games from an accident. Soren was disowned from his family after they discovered his fiancee had a different skin color from theirs. Motivation is key in the Hunger Games. That's why the Outliers are always so vicious sometimes, and why more often than not they can claw their way to Victory. Because they have true motivation: the primal need for survival. From the moment they're Reaped, those survival instincts are switched on. Careers don't have that. All they have is pride and skill. That's why you need motivation. Luckily for me, I do have motivation.

Finally Claus creeps out of my room, and I eyeball him, annoyed. He limps down the stairs; he did leg day too, like everyone in One's Academy, under the instruction of Soren. When he reaches the bottom, I stand. He glares at me, sighing.

"Can we do this another day when I don't hurt so frickin' much?!"

"You're not even the one getting a tattoo, Edgecombe!"

Today, Claus and I are heading out to the Rose Gold Tattoo Parlor. I have a tradition that started two years ago. When I was sixteen, I entered the running to be One's female volunteer. Of course, I did not get selected for the 20th or 21st Games (thankfully, I would never have survived the eternal darkness and maces and Oxen Bamby's of the 20th or the murderous pair from Two, Lucia and Bastian, of the 21st.) But when I was sixteen, and I thought I might be entering the Games, I got eight little star tattoos on the back of my neck, one for every year I'd been training. When I didn't get picked when I was seventeen, I got the ninth star tattoo. Today marks the 10th anniversary of my first day at One's Academy. I'm one of the first tributes to complete the full 10 year course, as the Academy was founded the year I started training. I got selected to be One's female volunteer two weeks ago, and now I am going to go get the tenth star tattoo and complete my collection. Maybe I'll get an eleventh star tattoo when I return home, or maybe get a whole new set of tattoos depending on how many tributes I kill or how long my Games is or something pretty cool like that. Every Victor gets a nickname. I could be the Tattooed Victor!

Yeah no. That makes me sound like a rabid barbarian out of Twelve.

We set off to the center of town. The Edgecombe's own a giant mansion on the fringes of One's central city, Glowing. It's a short ten minute's walk, or five minute's jog, into the square, where the shops and the tattoo parlor are. Usually Claus and I would race each other there, but it was leg day today. Like Miss Esquiria always says, your body is a temple. Don't bring a fucking wrecking ball at it when it's already hurting.

Soon enough we reach the parlor, bantering the whole short journey. Claus is a pretty hot guy, even I have to admit, but we're just friends, and we both feel that way. He's also four years older than me, and while that isn't that big of an age gap, I'm still eighteen, and he's twenty two. It's a bit big, and if we ever did start dating, the gap's big enough, with me being eighteen, to get plenty of looks from people on the streets. While One might produce the most prostitutes in Panem, it's one of the least open and free Districts. Most of the people here are rich white assholes that look down on black, Asian, and Hispanic people and are homophobic and anti-LGBTQ. It's not a great place to live. Meanwhile, the Capitol is five hundred percent more accepting. You can do practically anything in the Capitol. I could date a seventy year old man and no one would give a flying fuck. The difference between our two worlds is staggering, despite the fact that we're alike in a lot of ways, in our fashion, in our money, and in our extreme avarice.

I am not your typical District One bitch. I may have the platinum blonde hair and the stunning winter grey eyes, but I'm much more intelligent than most of the bimbos that gambol around the Academy like it's a simple Game. It's no wonder that a formally trained female out of One has never won the Hunger Games to date. I plan to change that. I have motivation, intellect, and skill. I'm not some whore pinwheeling across the screens of Panem, pining for a week of fame before being cut down, usually by a weak Outlier who manages to take out the stupid normal One girls.

We've reached the parlor, and I walk inside. Claus hangs back; it is abnormally dark and stuffy in the shadowy building. I walk up to the counter, where are pretty woman with dark blonde hair streaked with pink stands. She has full sleeves on both of her arms, and I love them.

"Here for your star, Miss...Vegas?"

"Yes."

She leads me over to the room where I'll get the tattoo. Claus walks in with me, and watches, biting his knuckles, as the artist approaches with the needles. The man, a gruff older guy named Jyno, has done my nine other tattoos. We talk for about a minute about what he'll be doing, and then he puts up my hair with a tie. Then he starts. The needle bites into my skin, and I hiss in satisfaction.

I walk out of the parlor with a small bandage over the tenth star on my neck. When I walk out of the arena, the first thing I'll be doing is getting an eleventh star.

All the other kids with the pumped up kicks

You better run, better run, outrun my gun

All the other kids with the pumped up kicks

You better run, better run, faster than my bullet

Zircon O'Dile, 17

Resident of District 1

Chosen Volunteer and Academy Protege

The clinking of glasses fills my ears as I maneuver through the large dining room. People are giggling and laughing and chatting amiably. My parents, Kathrynne and Jerome, are talking to the Headmaster of the Academy, a hulk of a man named Glitto Henson, who taught Kenyan and Soren, our two Victors since the inception of our Academy. My sister Glint, age fourteen, chatters with a herd of other girls her age, all daughters or sisters of those invited to attend. My older brother William nurses a glass of bourbon in the corner, glaring at anyone that tries to come his way. Academy proceedings always set him off ever since he realized I'm better than him at throwing spears, which were his weapon of choice from his days in the Academy.

I myself am walking through the admiring throngs of important One citizens with my two best friends, Romeo and Rubi. Romeo is watching my every move, studying my tight fighting silvery suit. He's always been a good friend, checking to make sure that I look good. Rubi's on her third glass of chardonnay and is already a bit tipsy. I grab her hand and lead her across the dance floor, where a few pairs of loving couples dance slowly to the soft classical music flowing through the room. The three of us step around a swaying, greying couple and arrive at the bar.

"Another chardonnay!" Rubi squeals, downing the rest of her glass. The bartender hesitantly hands my 17 year old "gal pal", as she calls herself, a fourth glass of chardonnay, which we all know is not a good decision on his behalf.

"What would you like, sir?" the bartender asks Romeo. He's staring at my back and doesn't answer. "Sir?"

"Romeo, what are you looking at? This guy's asking you what you want to drink."

"Oh, oh, I'll have a beer!" he says, quickly resuming his usual excitable persona. Surprisingly enough, Romeo is usually as talkative as Rubi at her tipsy-ist. The bartender gives him the beer list, and Romeo quickly selects and beer, and the bartender pours it.

"And for you, Mr. O'Dile, our lucky volunteer?" the bartender asks with a jubilant smile.

"I'll just have an ice water, please. The Games are a month away, I do need to stay in tip top shape." This guy is rather annoying. If you haven't realized, I make very quick judgments about people. Once I meet someone, within five minutes I'll have made my mind up about them, and once that happens there's no reversing how I feel about that person unless something very drastic happens that totally changes their personality.

The bartender sours a bit and hands me the ice water. The three of us step away. Rubi happily laps at her chardonnay like a cute little puppy, and I chuckle. Romeo gulps down his beer, and I look at him, confused.

"You okay, Rome? You seem a bit off tonight."

"Oh, I'm okay, everything's great, dude! Tonight's all about you, don't worry about me!" So something's wrong. I've always known that Rome finds me attractive. He's bisexual, and I'm homosexual. It's not that I'm against a relationship. It's just that I've never felt that way about Romeo. I think seeing me, the chosen volunteer, looking admittedly gorgeous in my silver tux, has made him realize that he might lose me. Not that he'd lose me. I am coming home, after all.

My eyes rove across the room as Rubi and Romeo chatter useless, meaningless words. I spot the female volunteer, Trinity Vegas, standing by a table which holds her parents and her sister, Princess. Her mother's a Peacekeeper. I don't know her name, although it starts with an S. Sa...sapphire? Yes, that's it! Her father's a goldsmith named Augustus. After we were chosen yesterday, we were locked in a room for an hour to talk about ourselves so we could know our District partner and future ally better. I learned all about her family, and retained much of the info. Also at the table is a man in his early twenties who seems very friendly with Trinity. An older couple and two women, in their later twenties, sit by the man. His family.

As my eyes move over to the table holding Mayor Chalyce and his family, I spot Tomas coming into the room, face flushed, dressed in a plaid dress shirt and jeans. Does he not have any decency? I love the man, as he is my boyfriend of nearly six months, but this is a very formal event. He can't show up like that.

"Tomas is here. He's dressed terribly. I'm gonna step outside with him, okay?" I tell Rubi and Romeo.

"Sure, good thing bud. I'll watch out for little Miss Martini here," Romeo says with a full smile. He's back to himself, it seems.

"It's chardonnay, not a martini!" Rubi slurs. She's getting drunker by the minute.

I wave and then walk over to Tomas. He looks at me, his face one of disgust. I know that Tomas doesn't approve of my training, but he has to understand that this is my dream, entering the Games and emerging Victor. This is what I've wanted to do since I was an infant, when I saw Esquiria Pasquale beat the odds and return home. This is all I've ever wanted to do. I know nothing else that isn't the Academy, that isn't weapons, that isn't Rubi and Romeo and my closest trainer, Zac. Everything I know is those things, and my fledgling love for this beautiful boy in front of me.

The moment we step outside, and the door closes, the festive, jovial sounds of the party are cut off. We stand in the humid June air, and Tomas looks at me with a look I can't decipher. I stare back, trying to unlock the secret that his eyes and heart hold.

"Aren't you happy for me, Tomas? This is my dream."

"We have to break up, Zirc. I...I can't do this."

I stare at Tomas as he flees like a coward, flees like the prey I've been taught to cut down in the Academy, and all I can think is How will I get him back?

A/N: So, here we have Trinity and Zircon! Thank you ThomasHungerGamesFan and TheReaper94 for this lovely pair of tributes!

Someone asked me about a sponsor system, and to be honest, I might not do one this time around. We'll see.

There's a poll up on my profile about which Mentors you like the best. Go vote, and the Mentors that get the most votes will be showcased in the Pre-Games.

Oceanside is officially over, stamped complete! Miss Serephina Manchas, the Headmistress, is our lucky Victor. Focus can now turn to this story.

It aggravates me because FFN is being stupid, and I cannot see the nearly 15 new reviews you've penned for me! Gaah! #FirstWorldProblems

Who did you like better, Trinity or Zircon? Overall thoughts on this pair?

Until Next Time,

Tracee