Launch:


Regulate my area, the terror I represent,
Makin' yo' people disappear, you wonderin' where they went?
Am I cold, or is it I just sold my soul?
Addicted to these streets, never find true peace, I'm told.


Imogen Pryor, District Five


I stare into the high-priced mirror, watching the glass quietly. All I can tell from my reflection is that yesterday's braid is nothing more than a bird's nest now. I suppose it could have happened when I stayed up all night, trying my very best to figure out what the arena could be – but it was to no avail.

Despite all the mathematical equations and scientific theories that I used, nothing added up. The books in the training center spoke about war, inequality, justice, and activism, but what's the reasoning behind all that, if not for another rebellion-type arena? They've done it before, they couldn't possibly do it again.

My hair's tumbled like a beached kelp after a storm, ruffled up, and certainly not in a way you'd expect from someone who was just interviewed in front of national television last night. Not saying a word, I remain lying on the bed, desperately craving sleep but being unable to find it, laying my hand over my shoulder and drawing a silent breath.

A knock comes from my door, and just like that, my eyes snap open once more. ''What?'' I groan. Opening up the door, Jonah enters into my room, a frown on his face. ''...You okay?''

''Yeah, I'm fine. But are you okay?'' he asks.

''Why wouldn't I be okay? It's not like—'' Oh, shit, today's the Bloodbath! ''Oh, my God. What time is it? Do we need to get out of here?''

''Yeah, it's—'' Jonah quickly stops talking, tripping over my blanket and falling to the floor. ''Imogen, what the hell is this room?''

Surveying the area, I almost laugh. Obviously he doesn't want to hear about it, but he asked, so I'm gonna answer. ''Well, you see, I was attempting to figure out what the arena was. Did you know that they had books out in the open in the training center, and not a single person other than Chayona and I decided to read them? Anyway, after trying time and time again, I just couldn't figure out what it was, so I threw a couple of things. But we'll find out today, I suppose. And if it's something that's easily conspicuous, I'm gonna be upset. Because how in the world does something so simple, yet so mystifying at the same, slip through my—''

''Imogen... Okay, calm down.'' Realizing just how frustrated I've become over simply speaking about my failed endeavor, I let go of my clenched fists, allowing my blood to flow smoothly once more, and rather breathe into the palm of my hands. ''Listen, I know that you're upset, but we have to focus – you have to focus.''

Nodding my head, I hop up out of my bed and stride towards the bathroom. My footsteps barely make any noise as I step over the pillows that I tossed on the ground last night, making as much sound as a thready pulse.

As I brush my teeth, I listen to what Jonah has to say. A final bit of advice, if you will. ''You've been eating a lot, right?''

Spitting out the toothpaste, I answer with, ''Yes, of course. I don't know if it's noticeable or not, but I've definitely gained a few pounds – and I've been feeling pretty full for the past three days.''

''Good, you followed the first set of rules that I gave you. That makes me happy to hear,'' he chuckles. ''You know why I asked you to feast, right?''

''Because—'' I wash my mouth, taking one of the fresh mints that the Capitol has displayed out in these beautiful trays. ''—I don't know what the arena... will be like, so if it's not in anyone's favor, there could be little to no food.''

With a small clap, he pats me on my shoulders when I come back outside. ''Precisely. Normally, depending on how much stress your body went through during training, you've been burning from around two-thousand to two thousand four hundred calories each day, but in the arena, it can be assumed that you're gonna be expending far more than that, meaning—''

''Meaning that I'm gonna want – no, need – to have some spare body mass, and that would significantly increase my odds of survival, right?'' He nods his head accordingly. Doing a little bit of quick math in my head, I come to the conclusions that, ''Putting on at least five pounds of fat gives me well over fifteen extra thousand calories to survive on, and eight days before my body begins to shut down from starvation.''

''Which is, in most Games, how long they usually last. So say that these Games last sixteen days, you're halfway there already, if you can fight off the mutts and avoid other tributes.''

Jonah and I have been close for a while now, and he's been almost like a second father-figure to me. He holds his hand in the air for a high five, but I walk up to him and wrap my arms around his body. Burying my face in his shoulder, I barely hold back my tears, choking out, ''I'm gonna miss you.''

His face is tight, every thought in his mind focusing on masking his fears – and his eyes dim. He hugs me back firmly, his arms resembling shields of love and a friendly bond that ended too soon. When we finally part, he suggests, ''Come on, we gotta get up to the rooftops for launch.''

We get out into the living room of our suite, and when I see that neither Sebastian nor Kelsin are here, I presume that they've already left. ''How do you think Kelsin feels?'' I ask as soon as we enter the elevator.

''She's taking it hard. Ever since I won five years ago, she's felt as if her duties of bringing back another tribute have become even more monumental. The fact that Sebastian's twelve – the same age that she was when she won – it's gotta hurt her. The little kids tear her up every year, so I wouldn't be surprised if she was balling her eyes out as we speak.''

The silence caresses my skin like a cool summer breeze, smoothing my soul, and taking away my jagged edges. ''It's been one hell of a week,'' I laugh, rubbing my hands through the tangled curls in my hair.

Lying against the wall and closing my eyes, I listen intently as Jonah says, ''Don't worry, your stylists will get you all fixed up once we get you to the launch room. We just gotta—''

''Nope!'' I shout, bumping into Jonah and rubbing my hands over every single button on the elevator panel. ''You thought, fam. We're gonna enjoy this ride!''

Jonah shakes his head with a sly smile on his face. He wants to be upset and tell me that we should really hurry up before the aircraft departs, but he laughs instead. ''You're really something else.''

Crossing my arms over my chest, I natter, ''You already know.''


Pavel Elsbeth, District Thirteen


The thin clothes on my back blow like flags in the wind and clouds race by fast – like the vehicles that travel at immense speeds below. Although the winds are only coming from the aircraft propellers, today's still not a day to wear loose hats or hold umbrellas.

It sounds its mighty roar of gusty winds, making everyone that's surrounded stand in fear. Even leaves – that are on top of the hotel's roof, for some odd reason – flee in terror.

I raise a diminutive hand to the brilliant sun rays. After being trapped inside for three days, my retinas are unaccustomed to the outside view. Looking around, I watch as the tributes all begin to speak with their mentors and escorts, saying their final goodbyes. There are all types of reactions.

Some kids are cocky – wow, bet you can't guess who they are – most look horrified but are doing their best to contain their emotions, and others have tears in their eyes. I find Mackenzie speaking to his mentor, and a slight dab of water streams down from his cheek and lands on the ground. Internally, I can feel my heart sink.

All around, there are Peacekeepers lined up in every corner, at least five of them stationed in each area. Tienya nears both Krissy and I as we remain silent, and she places her soft hands on each of our shoulders. She begins speaking, but I ignore her and simply focus on my environment.

The soft whispering of leaves are my current lullaby throughout today's events, becoming a fierce rustling, loud enough to drown out the chorus of the birds and chatty people.

Why can't I be one of those Peacekeepers? All they've been told to do is stand around and make sure that nothing goes south. I'm being told to kill other kids, but that's against the law. Throughout a regular day, this would be extremely frowned upon and lead to being imprisoned or executed.

I'd rather be a Peacekeeper and then be told so. If a person were to steal or outright defy the Capitol and I was told to execute them, then I would, because that's the law. This isn't – it's merely a form of entertainment.

''...the Careers, honey. You can't keep putting this decision off, because sooner or later, one of them is going to approach you and ask, and when they do, Pavel will be curious an—''

''What are you guys talking about?'' I question, suddenly feeling like something's being held back from me. Why is Tienya speaking to Krissy about the Careers? ''What decision are you putting off?''

''N-Nothing, Pavel,'' Krissy tries, but I shake my head.

''Don't lie to me – if there's something that I need to hear, I would prefer that you tell me now rather than leave me hanging in the arena.''

She attempts to deny it furthermore, but Tienya sighs and insists that it'd be better if she let out the truth. But before she can even open up her mouth, the Four boy walks up to us and calls out, ''Hey, Krissy! So what's the deal? Are we still on? Like, we need an answer now.''

She nods her head furiously, stuttering over her words when she says, ''Y-Yeah. Our plan's a g-go. Just give me some time, okay?'' I see her look at me from her peripheral vision. ''I'll catch up with you guys l-later. Just let me finish...''

Crossing her legs together, Krissy gazes at Tienya, who shrugs her shoulders. They both stare at me with a look of shock on their faces. Now that I think about it, they've been speaking without me for a while now. I toy with the possibility of her not wanting to be in this alliance anymore, but before I can blast it, she interrupts me.

''I know what you're thinking, and no, I'm not leaving you for the Careers.'' Tienya's eyes widen, telling me all that I need to know. ''Believe me!''

''Yeah, right. You've made this whole situation more difficult than it had to be, you know? I'm debating whether or not I can even trust you anymore.''

''Pavel...''

''No, it's okay. If you wanna slither with the snakes, then you can go 'head,'' I encourage. ''Just know that I keep a pedicured lawn so that all the toxic animals around me will be dead.''

With that, I turn away as soon as a mechanical voice begins. ''Tributes!'' It calls out. ''We will be departing shortly. Please finish up your conversations and line up by District order in girl-boy fashion. All of you will be boarding the hovercraft in two minutes.''

It's fine if she leaves... I can take care of Mackenzie and Sebastian by myself. Please don't, though, I want to say, but... The odds just aren't ever in my favor. No matter how hard I've worked in school, I've continued to struggle. Despite how much I've tried to stray my family away from a horrible situation, Solon's still a criminal, Asim's still tortured by his classmates, and Omid's still too innocent to live in such a malicious world.

But if I win...

It makes me so angry thinking about my whore of a mother, knowing that she's the reason why we're all struggling. Why is prostitution the only way to benefit us and keep us alive? Why did she even have kids if she knew that she couldn't protect them?

But these children... Mackenzie and Sebastian – what happens if they die?

The feeling of worry sinks into my mind, and standing in this line isn't the way to get rid of it. It's boring to wait as everyone enters the hovercraft, and I can only look forward. My stare isn't meant to be cold; it's just that my face lacks mobility, but I can't tell the Peacekeepers that.

They're staring at me. Slightly, I walk off to the side. Everyone in the line shifts their gazes toward me, and just like that, chaos erupts before it honestly should.

''Hey!'' I hear a Peacekeeper call out, and suddenly I'm swarmed by three of them. They tackle me to the floor, restraining me from moving my body, and scream in my ear. ''Suicide attempt! I repeat: we have a suicide attempt!''

Peering up, I realize just how close I am to the propeller blades and internally cringe.

There are screams coming from behind me, and I can only think about just how close my life was to ending.

But none of this was part of any intentions that I had planned. I just needed something to get my mind off of things, that's all...


Aspen Northill, District Twelve


In the inkiness that my mind supplies, demons, both real and fictitious, linger around. They remind me of the deadliness that's both near and distant, demanding that I slice the time between now and then with just a few minutes of sleep. But I can't, because no matter how hard I try, the thinner portions of my mind won't allow me to rest.

I was awake last night for over ten hours, simply sitting on the Capitol bed and staring out the window. Unfortunately, the city never sleeps, and in spite of what time it was, people were out partying, celebrating, and drinking. Why? Because of today, of course.

Insomnia always haunts my nights; and then fatigue rules my days. When I need to be lucid and clear, my brain begs for unconsciousness, for sleep at any price. And just like that, I drift back into consciousness after only seconds of rest.

The entire hovercraft is still, nobody making a single sound, and I'm thankful of that. Really, I am. The world is a blur for me, though, and random images float aimlessly around in the pool of my thoughts.

''Give me your arm.'' Who is that? Why would someone so carelessly destroy the peace and quiet that everyone deserves in an instance like this?

A tap on my shoulder momentarily brings me back to the outside world, and I can feel someone trying to look at me, staring me dead in the eyes, but I can't keep focus. ''Give me your arm.''

Forcefully, I throw my upper limb forward. Whatever they plan on doing, they should hurry up, because I allow my heavy head to lay down and retreat into wallowing blackness. But then, something brandishes against my humerus.

With sudden force, a long needle plunges into my bone, the pain spreading throughout my entire right arm. My appendages move as if some inexperienced person is controlling them remotely, and my eyes are wide, glaring right at the female Peacekeeper.

''What was that, Ms.?!''

''A hypodermic needle,'' she answers calmly, preparing to move on to the next tribute. ''I just injected a tracker into your skin so that the gamemakers will know where you're at all times. Including that, certain liquids were infused into your bloodstream for precautionary measures.''

Rubbing my eyes with the inside of my palms, I remove the crust from them and stare forward. Within an hour, you'll be inside of the arena, and you were sleeping? You needed a needle to wake you up?

Sighing, I shake my head and gaze forward. Directly in front of me is the District One girl, and when she catches me glimpsing at her, she gives me a genuinely happy smile. I return the act, but it bothers me how delighted she is to be here. Like, what was the point in volunteering for this?

I mean, come on now... She's cute, she's got a great body, and she's from One! How much better can it get for her? If it weren't for the situation at hand, I'd totally try to get with that.

But not in the way that other guys do. I mean, I'd be down to get together; not just hook up.

Shut up. This isn't the time for all that. You don't even have allies, and you're thinking about a girl who probably wasn't even aware of your existence until twenty seconds ago!

Hey, that's kinda funny. I really don't have any allies. My dad would probably expect me to amalgamate with the entire cast of tributes, but look at me – disappointing him yet again. That doesn't mean I won't miss him, though. In fact, I miss everyone; Mom, with her kind words and defensive personality, Robin's roughhousing – even if he and I didn't get along – Willow's cheeky nature... Hell, I even miss Alcea's lack of motivation.

I can't forget about my friends, either. Wren's acceptance, and even his awkward bond with my mom, Balsam's kindness, and although I can't stand Parsley and his bullying, his fascination with birds has always been something I've kept my eyes on.

Never had a day gone by in my life where I believed that I'd lose it all, yet here I am.

Maybe it's not too late to make quick friends. To the right of me, the Eleven boy is discussing a plan with his ally.

''How are we gonna make sure that we're safe, though?'' Six asks. ''If the both of us are looking for supplies, then that means we have no-one to seek out intruders. Anyone could sneak up on us, and that might be the end of the line...''

Rising to the chance, I turn my head, and Six makes eye-contact with me. He raises an eyebrow, almost as if he's willing to hear me out.

''I can help you guys,'' I whisper, drawing closer into the conversation myself.

''How, exactly?'' Eleven questions. His voice is very cautious and suspecting, but the look in his eyes tells me that he has hope.

''Well, I can keep an eye out while you guys collect bags and weapons,'' I suggest. ''To be honest, I'm not much of a fighter, and blades don't work well with me. I could be the lookout and supportive character.''

The two of them glance at each other, seemingly coming to an agreement simultaneously. ''What's your name, kid?'' Six asks.

''Aspen.''

''Welcome to the team then, Aspen. By the way, I'm Malik; that's Lachlan.''

''Oh, thank you!'' I nearly yell in excitement. Jumping up, I wrap one of my arms around Malik's shoulder and tell Lachlan to come closer so that I can hug him, too.

''Nope.'' Shaking his head, Lachlan says, ''I'm not really a touchy person. Too affectionate for me.''

Dad always said the same thing, but I'm just happy that Lachlan isn't too expectant or judgmental unlike him.

''Don't worry about it. I'll use these hands to help out our alliance and fight with you guys. Only way to survive in the Games is by touching, whether it's violent or not, so we're playing by the rules without making a fuss.''

Momma taught me that.


Aether Cynephris, District One


Who's going to outshine me now, Mother? Look at the son you disowned and rejected – the boy who's heart you tore apart and threw to the ground.

...Oh, who the hell am I kidding? To her, I'm nothing – she probably doesn't even care that I could die today – to Escalus, I'm simply an obedient dog that he can beat for fun whenever he pleases, but to Gideon... What am I to him?

He's always on my mind, never leaving it. If he's not physically in front of me, then he's there mentally. It's just incomprehensible. Why is he always around? I don't know. Something about him is just... captivating. He's like my one stable force – my one stability in a world filled with chaos and I so desperately need him in my life.

The feeling's so strange. It's overwhelming, yet makes me feel complete. There's no bound nor length nor depth; simply, it's absolute. Unlike Escalus, Gideon is someone that I can trust. Our want of peace and a perfect life is so clear, yet so impossible to reach at the same time.

When I first boarded the hovercraft, I settled myself away from all the other Careers, somewhere in the corner, ready to indulge myself in a bit of my own thoughts. But then he took a seat next to me, and I've only been thinking of him since.

Exhaling, I silently flop back against my seat, letting my arms rest against my legs. My heart flickers, but I have to be realistic and get my priorities straight or else I'm going to fail. I can't get all caught up in the thought of being with Gideon. Why would he want someone like you anyway?

With all the beautiful girls around here, who you know have their eyes on him, why would he choose you? What makes you think that you're more attractive than someone like Cassian, or even Sota?

My heart twists and sinks along with my nerves as I sit still. The gloomy light of the aircraft envelopes me coldly, prompting me to shake violently. My breath comes in sharp pants, and I try to gain control, but nothing works. It hurts, it hurts!

Pressing my palms against my temples, I do my best to subdue a yell, but a loud grunt comes from the inside of my mouth. I don't know how many people heard it, but Gideon definitely did.

''You good?'' he asks, not sounding too worried but still curious. Maybe it's good for him that I'm not okay. One down, right?

Slowly, the anxiety flows away, but I still shake. ''Perfectly fine. Why do you ask?''

''You sound like you're struggling with something there, guy,'' he broadcasts quietly. ''...Also, I know it's not the time for this, and it's probably too late, but thank you for the tips that you gave me a few days back. Who knows what training score I would've received if it weren't for you.''

''Don't worry about it.''

Cast your emotions aside, dammit! Looking away from Gideon, I pretend as if nothing he says is of interest to me. Staying around him would potentially make me... happy, but that's nearly impossible.

I haven't experienced happiness in years – and it sounds like some far-off thing that I could only wish I had, but the depression pushes it away and leads me deeper into sadness.

''Hey, you seem upset. I get that I'm not your ally or anything, but if you wanna get something off your chest, I'm down to listen,'' he says. ''You and I are kinda the same. I see that you're not very fond of your alliance – or maybe I have it all wrong and you're just distant – but I could help... I don't know.''

I don't want you to help me, I want to leave this stupid world that we live in and find something better. I want everyone who has a horrible life to find happiness. I want this fucked up ass country to grow together and learn to live in perfect harmony. No more war, no more Hunger Games, and no more abandonment... For every kid who's been tossed out by his mother and been replaced, I want them to find someone who cares – not for the pain, but for the love. I want to grow a relationship with you! Not Escalus, but someone like you, who only finds peace in the quiet. To prove all that, I wanna fight with you, ditch my allies and work alongside you, but I can't. I'm not useful, and I never will be – and you probably see me as the weakest link.

But you could never let him know that. Instead of me answering, he continues. ''You know, when I first got here, I didn't think that there'd be anyone I could find who would make me smile. You have, though. I don't talk to many people, but I feel like I might be able to open up to you if need be. It sucks that we have to go after each other's throats now, but hopefully there aren't any hard feelings once we enter the arena.''

There won't be, I dare to say. ''Yeah. I hope not, either.''

Weak! You're weak! Why the hell do you feel something for this boy when you need to kill him in order to live your own life? He needs to die so that you won't be dictated by Escalus anymore!

My emotional pain seeps out in my own words, and it hurts to hear them – hurts to think them. Sometimes I wonder if people can see the suffering in my eyes, or even the troubles inside me. Sometimes I wonder if I can go on another day. Sometimes I—''

Suddenly, a loud noise comes from underneath the hovercraft, and my mind begins to swirl. What was that? Why did that noise occur? Are we crashing?!

No, we can't be crashing.

The Capitol would never let a group of tributes die in such a way.

But then I realize it. We're here. We've arrived to the launch rooms that Gari was talking about, and no matter how unprepared I am, I have to face the fact that I'm here – and there's no escape.

If I wanna win, I'm gonna have to kill Gideon, Cassian, Odessa, and even Aurora. Every single other tribute in this carrier has to die if I wanna emerge as the Victor.

And that makes me sick.

My stomach contracts so violently that I have no time to stand up or hold it back. Chunks of food from breakfast this morning propel into the air and splatter the wall in front of me. Now falling to my knees, I retch until only clear liquid comes up.

How could I ever believe that I was ready for this?


Sota Shirai, District Four


The Peacekeeper next to me ushers me to a room at the end of a single hallway. What soon comes to my mind is the sudden realization that this is the only door, and it's all the way at the end. Labeled on it is District Four Male with a gold star as a plaque.

''A star next to my name, huh?'' Smiling, I stare up at him, placing the palm of my hand against the wall. ''What are the headlines saying about Panem's biggest sensation?''

'''Fizzy Pop's Dumbass Returns to the Capitol in Search of a Meaningless Death', that's what they say. I can't believe you actually came back.''

Pursing my lips, I retort with, ''Bet you won't be finding that title so funny when I blast your Peacekeeper badge number in front of national television, bitch.''

Without further wait, I throw myself into the room and walk in confidently. ''Ursula!'' I exclaim, meeting up with the woman who saved my life.

''Sota, my baby...'' she coos, coming in for a hug. Returning the favor, I grab her tightly and take comfort in her warmth. When I look in her purple orbs, I see a woman who's scared. ''I'm glad that it's just you and me now. We have a lot to talk about, but while I go get your arena outfit, ta—''

''Take off my clothes? I already know the drill, honey,'' I say, taking in my surroundings. There's a microwave, a plasma screen television, a bathroom, a few couches, and off to the front of the room is a large tube that just sits there casually. Wonder what that could be for. ''But what was it that you wanted to say?''

After standing here for a few seconds, allowing the cool air to trickle against my naked skin, Ursula hands me the assigned clothes. Oh? I put on the lightweight, long-sleeved white shirt and connect the only two buttons, leaving most aspects of my chest exposed. Next, I place a brown cotton vest over the shirt and finish pulling up the khaki pants that they come with.

''Why did you volunteer, Sota?'' she asks, catching me off guard.

Forcing my right foot through the full-grain, rubber lug-soled leather boots, I respond with, ''To rejuvenate my career, of course. Think about it: the confusion of the Capitol and the audience would be enough to place me back on the headlines. A washed-up recording artist entering the Hunger Games to reclaim his former glory... it's brilliant, right?''

''Yeah, but what happens if you die? Sota, the tabloids might be talking about you for a week or so, but if you don't make it out alive, you and your legacy will be forgotten,'' she forces out, tears welling up in the corner of her eyes.

Doing the same thing with my left foot, I question her reasoning for tearing up. ''Don't worry about all that, Ursula. Why are you even crying? You know that nothing bad will happen to me, not while I'm in the arena. These Games practically belong to me, and anyone that stands in the way will only end up having their faces displayed in the sky at night.''

''Stop being so naive, Sota!'' she yells. ''What if the President finds someone else more fit to be a Victor? Do you not remember the scandal that you and Helen had? He might still feel disdain towards you. What makes you think that you're going to cruise right along to the finale?''

Maybe I'm unable to put myself in her shoes, and maybe I don't understand why she's being so paranoid, but I can understand the importance of what she's saying.. ''Don't worry about all that,'' I tell her. ''No matter what that old fart thinks, I'm still the best tribute to ever enter these Games, and I will be for decades to come. Give me some time, and I promise you that you'll see my face again. I swear.''

Wiping her tears away with the heavy sleeves of her coat, she sniffs and says, ''Still as charming as ever, I see. I hate your narcissism, but you sure do know how to convince a woman.''

Her words make me laugh, and then a few seconds of silence goes by. ''Hey, what's that tube sitting there for? Is that where all the junk goes, or what's up?''

''No, that's our bathroom, child,'' she replies, rolling her eyes in a playful way. ''All of our personal excretions go there and are cleaned up immediately.''

''Oh, for real? I thought that the closed door over there was the bathroom. So when you say excretions, you mean like nut? If I bust a fat nut in that tube, it'll disappear as soon as I step out?''

''Sota, no, I was being sarcastic!'' she exclaims. ''My Lord, who gave you such a vocabulary? I mean, I've listened to your music countless of times, but I didn't think you were so gullible and inappropriate.''

I shrug, not being able to form my own words. She looks at me for what seems like an eternity, and although we don't have an uncomfortable relationship, I can't help but be quiet. But this is the final time that I'll speak to her before I return, so I gotta make it count.

''Have you helped any other kids from Four reach the Capitol?''

''Only five since you,'' she answers honestly. ''It's gotten much more difficult with the extra protection that Bengel's added to the Districts. He fears that another attack is being plotted, so I can't travel as frequently as I would like to.''

''Remember how you got me here?'' I laugh. ''I was so scared when you hid me under that dining cart, but I'll never forget the excitement that I felt when we arrived and you adopted me. This beloved city became my home because of you, and there's no possible way that I can ever return that favor.''

''Yes, you can.'' She walks up to me and cuffs my face in her hands, her sparkling nails softly pressing into my cheeks. ''Come back to me alive, my little boy.''

Even as I tower over her, I can't help but blush from the love of my adoptive mother. She's always been there for me, unlike my real parents. Wherever they are right now, I could care less – she's the only authentic person to ever grace my life.

''You blessed me with my voice and talents, so I'll bless you right back with the permanent return of Fizzy Pop. I guarantee it.''

She shakes her head unexpectedly. ''No, thanks. I don't want Fizzy Pop – the Capitol does. I want you, Sota Shirai, the boy that I took in and loved spending every single moment of my life with. Promise me that you won't let the fame distract you from your goal. Stop listening to what the Capitol wants and become your own man, form your own opinions, and be who you want to be, okay?''

I nod my head in compliance, taking in her encouraging words. Who I want to be... I never actually was Sota Shirai. Up until now, I've always been Fizzy, the rockstar who's life took a graceful leap and ended up with a tragic fall.

''Tributes, your time of conversation with your head stylists are over. Please report to the tubes in which your launch pads are positioned.''

''Don't forget this,'' she calls out, touching my neck and softly pushing my head forward. She shows me a straw boater hat with a black band and places it on my head comfortably. As I remain standing this way, she pecks a long kiss on both of my cheeks, the tiny pools of saliva freezing on both sides and leaving prints of ruby-shaded lips. ''Good luck in there, sweetie.''

I snuggle in and give her one last hug before entering the pod. Putting my hand on the glass, I utter, ''Don't ever get caught. Please...''

''I won't,'' she reassures. Reaching into her pocket, she takes out a crushed up microphone. ''You think I'd be stupid enough to get roped? I have my methods of getting away with things.''

Suddenly, as I'm giggling, the tube starts to ascend. ''I love you!'' I shout as I look down, receiving a silent 'Be you' and a wink.

I gulp, knowing that it's now or never, and this is my one and only chance at showtime. When I finally reach the top, sunlight comes, an elixir after so many black hours. The air becomes sweeter; birds soften the day with their chorus, and I breathe more deeply as if permission has been bestowed.

Around me, not many other tributes have arrived. All the way to left, about ten plates away, is Darren, a worried and frantic look on his face. Coming up from my right is Krissy, and I hold out a thumbs up. But then, I actually take my time to look at the cornucopia and the environment.

''Oh, my God...''


A/N: Ayeee! Okay, quick update, yeah. Like I said last chapter, I had what I wanted planned out so it was easier and quicker to write. So our last tributes to be shown are Malik, Gracie, Cherokee and Natalie, but next chapter's not gonna be four POVs only, hell no. But before anything else, just know that if your tribute appears late, it's not because they're a bloodbath. Honestly, I don't think I make my bloodbaths blatantly obvious - it's just that I have all these tributes designated for specific chapters, and their more pop-out moments are situated there. Anyone could've had a training day POV, but it probably wouldn't have been as meaningful as their assigned one, so just take that into account. Believe me, that's just how it goes. So far, everyone's gotten an equal amount of POVs besides those three above, and after them, it'll all be settled well. Anyway, not much to say besides the bloodbath is next chapter. The night's hella young over here and the sun hasn't set yet, so I'ma update this before it does. Also, besides updating this story, I've been pretty inactive on reviewing and PMing back, so if you haven't seen or heard anything from me, whether it's your story or a message, just know that I'll get that up soon. Questions?


Favorite POV?

Least favorite?

Predictions for these five?

Who do you want to die?

Any changed guesses for the arena?

Lastly, you and your mentor/stylist have a tight bond. They're crying, you're crying, what are your final words before the arena?


Well, yup, that's all. Not too much else to say. Actually, maybe I have a bit more that I wanna address, but I've lost my train of thought and can't remember. I'll pick it back up next chapter, so I hope you enjoyed this one. Thanks for reading, and have an amazing time wherever the hell you are, doing whatever it is that you're doin'. See y'all next time! ^-^