A/N: Hi again! I decided to combine the train rides and chariot rides into one chapter, just because I didn't think the chariots were long enough to be their own individual chapter. I also know it isn't canon for all of the tributes to be on the same train, but these final games are anything but normal. And besides, this makes for lots of interesting inter-tribute discussion and alliance. Please tell me about your favorites, least favorites, and anything else you want :D


Rollag Hermes, 16

District 8 8th Male

For the first few hours of the train ride, the kitchenette was packed with the undernourished kids fighting their way to the fridge. I'll admit it tugged at my heartstrings to see them crying as they shoved the colorful Capitol food into their mouths. I noticed Needle and Lily in particular. Their throats fought back when they tried to swallow the food: like they hadn't eaten that much food in a really, really long time.

The 24 of us have been on the train for almost an entire day before we come to a stop in a barren, open field in District 5.

"Where the hell are we?" Archie asks, gesturing to the desert place out of the window.

I shrug my shoulders. "They're probably inspecting the train or something. Making sure we aren't carrying anything illegal before we're allowed across district borders."

Archie picks up a spoonful of thick baby-blue pudding. "Why would we have anything illegal with us?"

"We wouldn't," he says. "They're just, you know, rubbing their authority in our faces."

A peacekeeper comes around and tells us we might be detained for as much as half an hour. The five-piece alliance huddled onto a single couch in the living room (Cloth, Dressal, Velvet, Marble, and Crochet) all swear in unison. Violet and Indigo, the tiny brother and sister who were reaped last, start crying even harder. The three careers scowl. Silky and Sasha just seem dazed.

The loners shuffle into the room gradually as time passes. The weaker ones, like Needle, Lily, and Lou, jump at every slight sound and try to stay as far away from the others as possible, like we might attack them out of the blue. I've noticed Flossie doing a lot of wheeling around by herself. I do feel bad for her, but it's not like I can bring myself to help her. There's no way she'll survive the bloodbath, and nothing can change that.

The 24 of us breathe a collective sigh of relief as the train starts moving again. After about a minute, we pull into a long white building. Then the train slides open and the District 5 tributes shuffle through the door one by one.

The careers from 5, whose names I don't know, immediately group up with the Organza-Madras-Patternia trio. Francina's brightly dyed hair and various other body modifications catch my eye, as does the fiery red hair of Tasha and Burnie. I know their names from the printed list that the peacekeepers passed around at lunchtime. Their hair is so bright it almost hurts to look at. There are only a few tall non-career tributes: namely Nimona and Boltson. A number of the other tributes are short and relatively scrawny. I guess Districts 5 and 8 have more in common than I thought.

A few minutes later, Archie wanders away for a bathroom break. I decide to take this opportunity and meet some of the other tributes. With 48 tributes, being part of an alliance is paramount.

"Let's start this off by being honest with each other. What do you think your chances are?"

I find myself tuning into a conversation between three tributes from District 5, three boys with similar complexions.

"Well, someone's eavesdropping," one of the boys says.

"How rude of someone," the youngest boy says. They both laugh a little. "You, come on over here. I'm Dawson, by the way."

"Thred," the tallest boy says. "And this is Hector."

"I'm, uh, Rollag," I stammer. Something about this makes me feel nervous. The immediate prospect of interacting with my potential killers is more than a little off-putting. "Rollag Hermes."

I quickly find that Hector, Dawson, and Thred are more friendly than I thought they were. I figure I should try to please them somehow, so I compliment Thred on being brave enough to volunteer for his brother. He just shrugs. "He would have done the same for me."

I'm feeling guilty about abandoning Archie, and the realization crosses my mind that I've ruined my chances of ever being a real ally to him. But it isn't like friendships in the games are at all meaningful, so I can't feel too bad about things.

As the room begins to quiet down, I close my eyes and lean my head against the window, nodding off to the silence.


Felix Landers, 18

District 5 4th Male

I try not to let the poisonous gazes of the career tributes bother me. I feel pretty secure in an anti-career pack with five members, but it's hard not to shiver when there are trained tributes sizing you up in pretty much every observable manner. When Threada suggests we move to a different train car, none of us object. Threada and Brigitta rush out of the car together. Sybil, Boltson, and I follow quickly behind.

I figure Threada is leading us somewhere, but she turns around after about a minute. "See anywhere we could sit down?" She's actually sweating.

"I don't see anywhere," Brigitta notes. "And I don't think that's a coincidence."

"Yeah," Boltson agrees. "They don't want us spreading out too far. The only places to relax are right next to each other."

I've never been one of the rebels on television that light buildings on fire and hold up signs urging the Capitol to be torn down. But I've held a deep distaste for the Capitol ever since my father died. It was the factory that killed him. One-hundred percent. All that smoke in his lungs slowly took away his life force. It was both depressing and terrifying to watch as his entire will to exist slowly left him.

The five of us end up settling for a small cushioned nook in one of the distant train cars. Only a few other tributes are here: Nelson from 5, Damon and Angora from 8. The three of them quickly leave, however, and then we have the whole space to ourselves.

I seat myself, then the other four sit down in a circle: Sybil to my left, then Threada, Boltson, and Brigitta. An avox making rounds offers us some coffee. All of us refuse except Sybil, who gladly slurps down a mug of the steaming liquid.

"My dad always drank this stuff. He never let me try it."

"Doesn't that burn your mouth?" Brigitta asks.

"Not really, as long as you drink it slowly. You sort of have to swish it around in your mouth to cool it down before you swallow. You want some?"

"No thanks."

She raises her eyebrows and sets down the mug.

"Anyway," Boltson blurts out. "We should talk about weapons. When the academy came around to my school to gather recruits, they let me try out spears for a little while. They said I did well, but I don't know whether they were lying.

"They were lying," Threada says. "I've seen you in the halls before. You throw like your arm is broken."

"Gee, thanks," Boltson says, but I can tell he's glad he never set his hopes high.

"I really don't know about weapons," Threada says. "I've never used one. You, Felix?"

"Oh," I say. "I've had lots of practice with knives over the years. So I'd have to go with those. Brigitta, isn't your dad a peacekeeper?"

"Oh, yeah," Brigitta sighs. "There were literally guns and swords lying around the house. I can swing a sword better than anyone I know. And I probably have some rich sponsors on my side."

"I doubt there will be any guns in the arena," I add. "It doesn't really fit with their theme. Not even careers get guns. Or anti-careers. We are anti-careers, right?"

"I guess so." Threada shrugs. "We'll just have to wait and see what name the Capitol gives us."


Silky Ianis, 18

District 8 6th Female

I find myself thinking back to my high school days as the tributes start forming groups around them. I feel more than a little useless as I just stand there, with groups and alliances bunching together around me like trash piling up in a dark alley. It's a feeling reminiscent of the cliquey high school environment.

It's a stupid sentiment, I know, but my mind is currently grasping for things to focus on: anything other than my imminent fate.

"What are you doing?" a girl's voice says.

I turn around quickly. A girl I remember from the reaping—Sash, I think—stands less than a foot from me. I step quickly backward.

"My name's Sasha," she says. "And I, uh, wondered if you want to talk."

So it's Sasha, not Sash. Ha. Sasha gives me theater nerd vibes: hair pins, lots of bracelets, and metal braces lining her slightly crooked teeth. "I'm Silky," I say, and for a moment I'm just really glad to have found a friend.

"So, what's your family like?" Sasha asks as we start to walk.

"The usual," I say. "Dad had to stop working when his arm got caught in a machine. Torn off cleanly. There was blood and bone and everything. Now mom is the main breadwinner."

Sasha cringes, crinkling her nose. She's definitely very expressive. "I'm sorry."

"It's all good. He's recently able to walk again. What's your family like?"

"I was adopted, actually," Sasha says. "Taken from the community home by this rich husband and wife whose last kid had just been shot. Rules were so strict. No door-closing allowed other than the bathroom. All out-of-school social functions had to be approved by at least one of them beforehand. But the wife lets me use her makeup now."

The realization hits me that she is wearing makeup: not much, just some eyeliner, foundation, concealer, and a little pink lipstick.

"It's not much," Sasha explains. "Because I don't want to look fake. I don't want to be someone I'm not. I just want to be Sasha Jute Grotrekk."

I suddenly bump into another girl, about my height and age. "Excuse you," she scowls, and I hurriedly apologize, stepping away. I remember her distinct dark skin from the reaping. Another girl is with her as well: one of the younger girls, Moxie, I think. I suck at remembering names.

"I'm Sasha Grotrekk," Sasha hurriedly says, extending her hand.

The dark-skinned girl slowly shakes. "I'm Nimona Marks."

"And I'm Silky Ianis," I say.

"And I'm Moxie Crachit," the smaller girl says. I guess I did get her name right.

Sasha and Moxie start talking about different colors of the rainbow or something, and I'm left with Nimona. She's far from a pleasant person, but I find she can hold up a great conversation if you keep feeding her things to talk about.

"I guess we're allies, then," Sasha says, shaking all of our hands again.

Nimona doesn't look too happy about that, but she doesn't complain, and we continue to chat quietly until curfew arrives.


Preston Richards, 17

District 5 1st Male

"Well, there are seven of us," Henna says, running her finger along the edge of the table. "That means we can all make it past this first stage if we're careful enough."

"We can't all make it past," Electron says. "At least two or three of us are going to die, I guarantee it. The gamemakers want an even blend of careers and weaklings moving onward."

Organza hisses slightly. She just hates Electron, with a fuming passion. "What do you mean, 'even blend'? This first stage doesn't even matter. The gamemakers can worry more about dishing things out later on in the..."

Electron starts to raise his voice. "What do you mean 'this first stage doesn't matter'? We're…"

"Quiet!" Patternia shouts. "You guys are acting like immature assholes. It's really annoying."

"Look who's using the word immature," Cosima mocks. "You're the youngest here."

A peacekeeper barges into the room. "You kids, break it up!"

I decide to dive into the group fight. "Let's start by—I don't know—introducing ourselves? I'll start. I'm Preston Richards and I like spears."

"Henna Norcross. Swords."

"Cosima Shaffer. Bow and arrow."

"Patternia Veil. Daggers."

"Organza Evernight. Swords."

"Madras Kestler. Spears."

"Well, that accomplished nothing," Patternia says.

"Of course it accomplished something," Cosima interjects. "If there are microphones around, we just told the gamemakers what weapons to put in the arena."

Madras laughs a little. "And now we know, you know, more about each other. Picked any victims yet?"

"I reckon we should take out the stronger tributes first," Organza suggests. "Hector, Lycra. And all of the anti-careers, of course."

"What about the little ones?" Madras asks. "They'll be easy to pick off."

"We should stay away from them," I suggest. "The Capitol is going to, you know, fall in love with them. And they'll start to hate us if we kill them off."

"The last thing we need this early on is a soiled reputation," Henna agrees. "There are 288 of us at this stage. Anyone who doesn't stand out, in a good way, is dead."

I've argued with myself about whether being in a big group helps you stand out. I don't think it does, but what am I going to do, just walk away from the careers when I've been training to be a part of the group for years?

I guess it's the best I can do to wait on the sidelines until the number of tributes is smaller. Then I can exert all of my energy on picking my way out.


Alliances:

Careers: Cosima, Preston, Henna, Electron, Organza, Madras, Patternia

Anti-Careers: Felix, Sybil, Boltson, Brigitta, Threada

The Guys Next Door: Hector, Dawson, Thred, Rollag

Girls Meets World: Moxie, Nimona, Silky, Sasha

District 8: Cloth, Dressal, Velvet, Marble, Crochet

The Babies: Looper, Everly, Violet, Indigo

Siblings To The End: Tasha, Burnie

Loners (For Now): Lilith, Edison, Vida, Genera, Wyatt, Ashleen, Nelson, Francina, Needle, Lily, Damon, Flossie, Linen, Lycra, Lou, Angora, Archie


Titus Andronicus Bacchus Hazel, 45

President of Panem

The balcony of the presidential mansion provides an extraordinary view of the blocked-off road, the sparkling camera drones flying overhead, and the many tiers of the roaring crowd. I manage to catch slight flashes of movement at the far end of the road, where the chariots are being prepared for the parade.

I lift my hand into the air and wave in the nearest avox. "Get me a glass of champagne." He nods and walks away.

The crowd momentarily falls silent as a burst of microphone static reverberates around the square. The master of ceremonies, Phoenix Withers, shouts the word "testing" and the crowd roars in ecstatic response. Phoenix knows just how to enchant a crowd. He spends about ten minutes telling small stories while the parade is thrown into order. The anthem begins, the first chariot appears, and Phoenix changes his voice into commentator mode, narrating with his signature grand style.

"Here comes the first pair of tributes, and watch them sparkle! Cosima Shaffer and Preston Richards, both careers I've heard, are wearing outfits studded with black crystal. Look at those sparks fly. Certainly electrifying outfits, and please pardon all puns aforementioned and hereafter. Next out is Lilith Mercier and Hector Starling, dressed as power plant workers. Those rubbery uniforms look really uncomfortable. Yawn. Henna Norcross and Edison Rye are out next. Henna's looking confident. Seriously, she's sporting all of those glowing red bracelets. How do they not burn her? Mr. Edison isn't looking as sure. Give us a smile, Edison. Give us just one. Ah, there we go. Set four, Vida Aslin and Felix Landers. I'm surprised the chariot isn't tipping over; just look at their size differences! But they're both wearing those sparkly orange outfits well. Reminds me of the sun; solar power. Ah, the creativity of these stylists. And here comes Genera Coover and Wyatt Kluss, both underdogs, no doubt about that. Those outfits can't be comfortable. Seriously, who makes a suit and a dress made entirely out of wire? Look at the cuts on their skin. Genera's arm was injured in an accent before the reaping, but she's on the road to healing. I can only imagine how much those wires dig into the skin, but we can't rant about them all day. Tasha Spark and Burnie Spark are out next, our first pair of siblings. Dressed as water spirits; how cute! Tasha looks pretty confident. Burnie not so much. Other than that, they look pretty similar; does anyone reckon they're twins? Just food for thought. Ashleen Verbeck and Nelson Griffiths are out now: wow! Look at that steampunk effect! How can all of those gears fit into our budget? That was a joke. We don't really have a budget. Anyway, they're definitely the most memorable outfits so far, and both lovely tributes too! They'll definitely be popular. Next comes our colorful self-expression princess Francina Damige and our cool dude Dawson Brisk! I wonder what those garish colors represent. Sunlight, maybe? It's definitely open to speculation. Now it's time for Moxie Cratchit and Thred Curtis, wearing all-black outfits, a dress and a suit respectively. I think they're supposed to represent fuel? I'm waiting for them to start burning. No? No. Bummer. But there's always another chariot coming up. Put your hands together for Sybil Occing and Looper Wattson, another extraordinarily mismatched duo. They're both rocking those… lightbulb outfits! Lightbulbs? Definitely unique. Everly Fless and Electron Davies are out next. Oh no, Everly's afraid of Electron. Don't cry, Everly. We're all just here to have fun. The two of them are wrapped in strings of electric lights. Not the worst wardrobe design I've ever talked over, but it isn't like I've never seen worse. Ah, but I'm getting carried away. Here comes our twelfth pair, Nimona Marks and Boltson Howcroft. Both strong tributes, no doubt about that, and both lookers too. Wow, look at that golden fabric. I can see it sparkle from all the way up here. And trust me, I am extremely high up. Look ma, no hands! That was District 5 for you all. District 8's chariots will be running through in a short moment. Until then, it's my job to keep you all entertained with my stellar comedy. I'm joking, it's not that great. Come on, you can agree. It won't hurt my feelings. I promise."

"Here comes District 8, led by Organza Evernight and Madras Kestler. Look at all those different colored silks. Not garish or thrown together, but not overdone either; great! Patternia Veil and Needle Rhys are out next. They may be small, but I know Patternia to pack a punch. And I'm sure Needle has some hidden potential buried down beneath the surface. We'll just have to wait and see. Now comes Lily Cardigan and Damon Malone, wearing outfits made entirely out of… needles?! Wow, that must be painful! They're wearing the discomfort well, though. Ouch, look at Lily flinch. Poor girl. Flossie Peller and Linen Topher are next. Flossie is in her wheelchair as usual, with Linen standing up as usual. They're in pure white cotton outfits. I see a few faint patterns, but nothing here is very flashy. Next up are Lycra Torren and Lou Singh, 17 and 12 years old respectively. They're wearing light pink and blue outfits with little pom-poms attached. I hope too many of them don't fall off. Our lovely Silky Ianis and Cloth Topper make up our next pair, in fiery orange blazers. Silky has a few colorful streaks woven into her hair, but Cloth's outfit is pretty plain. Bummer. Our seventh set: Dressal Maddox and Velvet Reigns, wearing burlap costumes. To put it bluntly, they look a bit like potato sacks. Not like potato sacks are bad things, but I bet the scratchy fabric is chafing their skin badly. Put your hands together for Angora Cards and Rollag Hermes. And wow, this is a change from the last pair's burlap outfits. They're wearing sequined silvery outfits. Creative and original; great. And just look at Rollag's smile! Brigitta Channel, peacekeeper spawn, alongside the younger Archie Walker. Brigitta looks amazingly confident in her peacekeeper uniform. Archie seems down in the dumps. Cheer up, Archie! Next out is the duo of Sasha Grotrekk and Marble Congrutts. Those outfits are very colorful: thousands of crisscrossed threads. Look at all those different colors! Beautiful! And Sasha is just beaming. Give a warm welcome to Threada Collins and Crochet Undersee. The two of them are both wrapped with fuzzy baby-blue string: yarn, I think. Yep, it's definitely yarn. Phew, at least they can move their arms, but they're definitely sweating a lot. Last, but certainly not least, Violet Savageau and Indigo Savageau! Oh, they're both crying. You've got to feel for the kids. There, there. Give us a smile! Their outfits are pretty plain, just a suit and a dress in each of their colors, but they look great in them. That's it, then. That's the first 48 tributes of the fortieth and final Quarter Quell! Tune in tomorrow for the first day of training. Until then, it's Phoenix Withers, out!"