Two weeks of thought here, so hope you enjoy!

Presidential Mansion

He clicked the button, and the screen disappeared. "I don't like that Lafayette. Not one bit." President Theopholis Snow pressed his back against his chair. The Head Gamemaker squirmed uncomfortably, while his assistant Gemini Heavensbee placidly sipped her tea.

"That young man is brazen, and trying to stir up trouble." He thumped his knuckles on the mahogany desk. "What did you two think when you saw that?"

Lafayette glanced his cohort's direction, "I can't speak for Gemini sir, but to me, it seemed unusual for District 11."

Gemini rolled her eyes, setting the porcelain cup down, "It more than seems, Lafayette. It is unusual, in fact, I would say, dangerous."

"Quite right," Snow nodded, "I'm sure my Grandfather would know exactly what to do with that tribute." He scratched his chin, "He must die, but not as a martyr."

"Gemini can make sure of that, sir." Lafayette knit his fingers together, "We both know our duties."

Snow was bored with Lafayette's nervous banter. At least Gemini possessed some of that Heavensbee calm. He couldn't recall Plutarch ever be the least bit ruffled. His eyes shifted to her, "Does your uncle still watch the reapings?"

"With difficulty, he has gone almost entirely blind. Still as quick as ever, he picks up on things even my eyes don't ever see."

"Lafayette, don't you have a planning meeting on the mutts? I can chat with Gemini for a few minutes longer." Snow waved his hand dismissively.

His back stiffened, "Sir, I need Gemini at the meeting, she is my head assistant."

"I told you to go, I need to speak to Gemini." Rarely did the President raise his voice, the sound now sent goosebumps down Lafayette's arms. He rose, stiffly bowing.

As the door closed behind him, the President looked Gemini in the eyes, "Could Lafayette be involved in some sort of nefarious plot? He is acting a bit strangely."

Gemini's eyebrows furrowed, the hazel pupils darkening. "That is highly improbable. Everything he does is for his own gain. Assisting some sort of rebel group is not in his nature."

"Your uncle weeded out that traitorous Seneca Crane for my grandfather, and then managed to still the closest brush we've had with rebellion. You have that same quality, that uncanny sixth sense."

"Why, thank you sir." Geminis lips curved upward, "From my earliest memories, I was raised to make every decision with the good of my country in mind." A truthful answer, it all depended on whose definition of good you used.

A sigh escaped the President, "Gemini, I am determined that I will not be the Snow that brings this country down. My Grandfather's uncle built this country from his bare hands, then Coriolanus watered it with his own life. How many times was I told that my mistakes could kill everything we worked so hard to create?" He rose, face tense with frustration.

Gemini continued to watch him, choosing to remain silent.

Snow's voice grew in anxiety, "The Games last year, even the city breathes with discontent. The districts are all on the verge of anarchy. What happened in Seven is not an isolated incident. My advisors warn me that even the Peacekeepers in Two are restless. I just don't understand." He cradled his head in his hands, shoulders slightly shaking.

"What sort of advice are you getting?"

He shrugged, "Tougher enforcement. Clamp down harder. But you saw the peacekeepers in eleven. They had no desire to confront that crowd."

"I see." Silence stretched for a moment. "I think some are asking for a choice. They want a say in the government."

"Exactly!" He clenched his fist, "But this government is not a democracy, they aren't any choices for anyone. The Capitol exists to make choices for everyone. At least, the aristocracy of the Capitol."

"That's understandable. Our desire is to simply exercise control, and the peoples wish to have a choice."

The President began to pace, "My advisors are all as incoherent as I am. I have them to give me ideas, not repeat everything we've doing the last 100 years."

He turned her direction, "Here I am blubbering. Do you have any suggestion?"

"Well," Gemini tilted her head, "You mentioned that people are clamoring for a choice. Why don't you hold elections? You handpick the candidates, unknown to the people, and the districts can then vote on representatives to the Capitol."

The President clasped his hands behind his back. "Intriguing. But how to implement such a thing?"

"It could be an anniversary thing, we've had Panem of peace for 100 years, why not reward the districts with a gift of an election?"

He stopped pacing, "And when should we hold the election?"

Gemini shrugged, "I don't know. Maybe announce it at the victor's crowning? Then hold it during the victory tour?"

Tribute Center

Heath stepped from the dressing room, pleased with his costume. The gold thread was practically see through, emphasizing his muscles.
"Nice get up," His fellow tribute spoke behind him.

"Thanks," he flexed his arm, "Think I'll appear menacing enough?" He glanced at his muscles, a satisfied grin lighting his face.

"Absolutely, every girl would kill for a guy like you." Silk's voice was gratingly sweet.

Heath straightened, his lips settling into a disdainful curl, "Not particularly wanting girls to kill for me. I am wanting every dog out there to know I am the boss."

Silk's fingers lightly brushed his shoulder, "Glad to know you're not interested in these Capitol girls, they are disgusting. Compared to me, at least."

He stepped away from her touch, "Not interested in you, either. I have a much better girl waiting for me at home."

Heath barely glanced behind him as he walked away. He heard her indignant snort, enjoying the sound. Girls like her were just a bit too much to handle.

"Heath," Odyssey beckoned him, and he trotted towards his mentor, "You doing alright? Like your parade outfit?"

"It's the best. I'm thinking I'll win over the crowd, and scare the daylights out of the others." He pointed to his chest, "This thing makes me look like straight muscle. Which is completely true, of course."

Odyssey smiled, amused by Heath's enthusiasm, ruthless as it was. "Our stylist definitely didn't let us down. Glad you like it."

"Really with him and you as my mentor, this should be smooth sailing." Heath fell into step beside Odyssey, "I'm really excited about training, and the interviews. District One is going to have a victor two years in a row."

"Keep up the positivity." Odyssey continued quickly, "But, I am warning you, that I don't like the Career pack this year. It feels more open to dangerous hubris."

Heath shrugged, "Yeah, Silk thinks she's a demi-god. But I'm not worried. I can put her in her place."

"Go mingle around the other chariots, meet the other tributes. Get a feel for your allies."

Heath grinned, "It'll be my pleasure."

Blair fingered her hair, hoping her face looked confident. Bjorn hadn't yet appeared, and she wondered if she should stick close to the chariot. At the front of the line, a guy was strutting. He kept flexing his arm, every so often glancing around to see if anyone noticed.

He turned her direction, but she was too far away to read his expression. He paused, before deliberately walking towards her. Blair touched her hair, making sure it all laid as it was supposed to.

The boy came closer, his outfit catching the light. It was pretty dazzling, though a bit strange for a guy to wear.

"A District 4 mermaid, huh?" He crossed his arms, lips curling slightly.

Blair knew her cheeks were red, "It's hard to break stereotypes. You look impressive."

"I know." He tapped his foot, "Where's your partner?"

"He's getting ready, I think. Where's yours?"

"Silk? Probably pouting. What's your name?"
"Blair." She twisted her fingers together, "Are you two friends?"

"Silk and me?" He chuckled, "Hardly. I have a girl back home, I think that's a blow to her self-esteem."

Blair nodded, "Your girl must be proud of you, volunteering and all."

His blue eyes softened, "Yeah, she is."

"Already making allies," Bjorn spoke from behind them, "We can at least rely on your charm to win our friends, eh?"

Heath turned, "So quickly assuming we'll be allies?"

Bjorn tipped his chin, "Why else would you be standing by my chariot?"

Heath glanced at Blair, before meeting Bjorn's eyes. "Touché. Your wit better not come at my expense again." With a parting smirk, he headed back towards his district's position.

Bjorn leaned against the gold enameling, "You don't strike me as the type to flirt."

"I wasn't." Blair lifted her face, "A girl can just get to know people without ulterior motives."

"Right." Bjorn's laughter was harsh, "Perhaps a girl, Blair. But not a tribute for these games."

"Just ignore everyone." Ruby placed a hand on Peltier's shoulder, "Let's just step into the chariot." His thin frame shook beneath her grasp.

"Focus straight ahead, don't look at them." Again, she whispered, "Everything will be fine."

"You kids think you can walk right past me?" Ruby pulled short as a voice taunted them. She tightened her grip, lips pressed into a thin line.

The girl stepped towards them, "So what district are you brats from?"
Ruby sucked in a breath, "We're from Three." She couldn't keep her eyes from shifting towards the voice.

The figure stepped closer. "Are you another bloodbath?"

Ruby felt her face burning, but she turned, looking the girl face on, "Are you sure you're not a bloodbath?"

"You #$* " Her lips curled, "Your cannon will be first." She turned, heels clicking as she stomped off.

Ruby uncurled her fists, frustrated with herself. The girl had daggers woven into her hair, why did she have to push her buttons?

Peltier looked into her face, eyes sympathetic. "It's okay buddy. She'll get over it." But as she watched the girl climb into the District Two chariot, her assurance felt even hollower.

Nylon stepped to Tricollete's side, "You shouldn't stare at them."
She jumped, her back bumping into the horse. It was a good thing the creature was well trained, "What? You scared me."

"Sorry. Didn't mean to." Nylon rubbed his fingers together, "But as I was saying, you shouldn't stare at them."

Tricolette stepped away from the horse, "And why not?"
"Because," He laid a hand on her shoulder, "They make you even more scared."
Her face crumpled, and she swiped at her nose, "They're so big, and mean. Nylon, they want to kill me." Tears dripped across her cheeks, voice rising slightly, "What did I ever do to them?"

"Nothing," he smiled sympathetically, "You are a ton better than them. Believe me."

"Thank you." She glanced down at her feet. "You're not wearing shoes either?"

"No, our stylists are plotting together."

"At least it's better than last year. That quilt compilation was hideous." She shivered, recalling how embarrassed the entire district had been watching the parade.

Nylon nodded. Although he didn't quite appreciate the fact that both of their outfits were made of sheer fabric, he did like that it was at least flattering. Tricolette had golden strips of linen woven into her hair, which hung loose down her back. The stylist had tied a strip tightly around his arms, saying it accentuated his muscles, while his hair had been sprayed golden. The sheer fabric wrapped around their frames, toga style. Not a bad deal.

Alena scooted as far away from her partner as possible. "It's sick we have to ride in the same chariot."

Rust swallowed, "Guess you could ask to walk."

She rolled her eyes, "And this stupid, stupid costume. Come on, do we have to covered in corn?"

"It looks like its growing. Like we can grow into victors."

"Oh, wise one. Thank you." Alena placed a hand on her waist, "Tell me, which of us is going to win these games?"

Rust's eyebrows furrowed, "I don't know. I hope it's me, but it's not like I planned to fight these people."

"Exactly," Alena smirked, "I know and you do not. I know I can, perhaps will be the victor."

"Look, Alena. As much as you dislike me,"

"Now, that's an understatement."

Rust's voice grew louder, "You can't know that 'you are the victor'. You tempt fate by simply saying that."

Alena again rolled her eyes, "I don't care what you think, so just leave me alone."

Levi stepped into the chariot, wondering how uncomfortable this ride would be. His shoulder might start to ache with the horns the stylist had weighed him down with. She said they were supposed to come from longhorns, but none of the cattle back in the district ever had anything like this.

His waist was circled with barbed wire, apparently to give him a menacing edge. Levi doubted it would work. No costume could make him look scary. It just wasn't in him. And all the barbed wire did was make him worry he would hurt himself.

Virginia walked up, her face clouded. Levi leaned forward, cautiously balancing the horns, "What do you think?"

She pointed to her head, "See my little horns? I look like a goat. At least you look like some sort of scary cow."

"At least it's not heavy."

She pulled herself into the chariot, "Heavy is the head that wears the crown."

Levi's eyebrows furrowed, "Never heard that. What do you mean?"

She smiled, chuckling, "It's something my dad says. It means a person of power has a lot of trouble. Assassinations, threats, decisions. Power really means trouble."

"Makes sense." Levi adjusted the horns, "So the Victor of the games has a lot of problems. Which is why I should deal with these stupid horns."

"Pretty much."

Roran played with the bridle, enjoying looking into the horses eyes. The creature intrigued him. Obviously powerful, yet allowing itself to be restrained.

It was interesting the horse didn't try to nibble at his get up. Roran hated it, he was covered in straw. Really, was the stylist totally out of creativity?

Roran sighed, dropping the bridle. In front of him, the District Ten tributes were bantering. He briefly wondered if they would work together in the arena. They might make it past the bloodbath if they did.

He glanced toward the last chariot. The boy hadn't come out, but the girl was walking to her place. He sauntered over, striving to be as casual as possible.

"Hello, mind if I stop in?"

She tilted her head, eyes moving up and down him. "You volunteered."

"Yeah, so." She stepped away from him, but he followed, "Why do you care?"
"More tributes from my District are lost because of volunteers than reaped victims." She didn't even turn his way as she spoke.

"But hasn't your district gained victors by volunteering?"

Her voice grew sharp, "You don't know anything." She started to step into her chariot, but he grabbed her arm, pulling her back.

"Let go of me," She jerked, but he held firm.

"You look good in black," the color brought out the intensity of her blue eyes. "What's your name again?"

She stuck out her chin, "First one to die, maybe the seventh, oh, I don't know maybe she'll make it the final eight?"

He scowled, "What are you talking about?"
Her glare grew intense, "Tributes don't have names; just betting numbers."

"To me you have a name." His fingers loosened, and she pulled her arm away, "Your stylist made you look pretty." His gaze swept down her long black dress, noting the way it sparkled when she moved.

"Anything's better than your stylist."

"True." He crossed his arms, "I'm not going to kill you in that arena. My name's Roran."
"I know that. You would know my name if you paid any attention to the recaps."

His face pinched, "Sheesh. Are you always this catty?"

"Only when I'm in the Hunger Games."

"Fine, I can get a hint." He backed away, but halfway back to his chariot, he spoke over his shoulder, "But black cat, I really won't kill you in the arena."

Sadira ignored him as she pulled herself into the chariot. She pulled her arms across her chest, willing her face to remain clear. It was hard being mean.

"Good job girl." Sadira jumped as Raquel stepped into the chariot beside her, "Oliver is on his way, thought I would give you a little chat."

Sadira pulled at her hair nervously, "But you're not my mentor?"

Raquel chuckled, "I know which of you has a real chance kid."

"I don't have a chance."

"Act like that all the time, and you do."

"I can't."

"Then how come you just treated him that way?" Raquel put a finger under Sadira's chin, forcing her to look up, "Where did that come from? The entire ride, you were a mouse, but now a tomcat?"

"It's just the coal dust on my face. And he volunteered."

Raquel smiled, "Maybe we should keep coal dust smeared on your face all the time." She glanced away, "Here comes Oliver and the stylist." She slapped Sadira across the back before jumping out.

Raquel was disappointed they weren't wearing miner hats this year to help disguise Oliver's cleft. Obviously everyone had already seen it on national television, but no use rubbing it in again. But the stylists had other plans, and God forbid, she should interfere.

Picking Oliver up, Raquel set him in the chariot. She pulled the torches from the stylist, handing them to the kids. "Raise them as you enter the arena. Remember, you are Panem's light."

"You both look good," Snider spoke as he strolled up, "The crowd will like the torches, we've used similar stuff with lanterns before, but this is a nice twist."

Raquel smiled, slightly relieved, "You both are going to look amazing." As the music began to play, the two mentors stepped back.

"You don't think it looks too much like the 74th?" Raquel whispered.

Snider laughed, "Oh, no. They're nothing like that. The boy doesn't even come close and the girl is just, you know, nothing like… "

"She has a will, Snider. I saw it. She was sparring with the kid from Eleven. I think she might survive this. Even beat it."

Your favorite outfit so far? I know I haven't described too many, but creativity can be stretched thin. If you want more of that sort of thing, do tell me.