I would like to thank everyone for the immense amounts of support they have given me. It's because if your encouragement that I have decided to continue this story as is. Oh, and it is now first-person, because I like it better. Thanks to ShadowMere28 for submitting this tribut!

Anthony Williams: District 8, Age 17

"It's finished!"

"Doesn't he look darling?"

"Oh, they're going to love you!"

"Sponsor material!"

"Do you like it, Anthony?"

"He hasn't seen it yet! Let's take him to a mirror!"

"The biggest mirror we have!"

My three stylists herded me through a curtained doorway into a spacious room, containing a giant floor-to-ceiling mirror.

"And now," said the one with blue hair, "we proudly present... Your chariot costume!"

It only took me a second to take in the full monstrosity of what was supposed to represent my district. I was draped in layers of green yarn, wrapped tightly around my torso and hanging loosely off my arms. Behind my head the yarn was straight and stiff, sticking out like an overenthusiastic collar.

"We decided green was your colour," said the scarily thin one.

"Do you like it?" questioned the short pink one.

I most definitely didn't, but I figured that would be mean to say. Then again, I had just volunteered to fight to the death with a bunch of kids.

Even still, the words that came out of my mouth were, "The makeup is nice."

Sure, they might have gone a bit overboard on the green eyeliner, but the contouring gave my face an older, more fearsome look.

I was once again struck with the sheer reality of what I had to do.

You don't have a choice, I thought, the image of my uncle standing over my brother's mangled corpse flashing through my mind.

I shook my head to try to clear it, instead struggling to remember my stylists' names. None came to mind; they were probably all ridiculously long Capitol names. Blue, Toothpick, and Pig would have to do.

"Off you go; we don't want to be late!" said Blue.

"Are you sure we're not forgetting anything?" Pig—Alright, maybe that wasn't the most flattering nickname—questioned.

"No time!" shrieked Toothpick. "We've only got a few minutes!"

"Wait, it's not starting for another half hour!" protested Pig.

"Yes, but being early is much better than tardiness!"

Before any final touches could be made, Toothpick ushered us into the elevator. As the doors were closing, a frantic voice called, "Hold! Hold, please!"

My district partner and her chattering stylists hurried up to the elevator, cramming inside. I ended up squashed between Blue and a different stylist, a tall man with stripes all over his body. He seemed to be proud of whatever he was supposed to be wearing, but all I could focus on was his jacket's horridly impractical spikes digging into my side and the overpowering scent of makeup in the air.

Thankfully, Capitol elevators were speedy, and only moments later the doors opened and I was allowed to breathe. Culata's stylists immediately stepped out and began circling her like vultures, no doubt adding extra last-minute details.

My stylists lingered in the elevator, smiling like proud mothers.

"Go be amazing!" called Blue.

"Knock 'em dead!" said Pig. I winced. Probably not the best choice of words. She seemed to realize that and struggled to correct herself. "That is... Er..."

"Good luck!" Toothpick cut in, and quickly pressed a button. The elevator doors closed and they zipped away, making a speedy exit from an awkward situation.

Meanwhile, Culata's stylists had stepped back to admire their handiwork, and I finally got a good look at my district partner's costume.

It was similar to mine, made entirely of different shades of green yarn, but wrapped tightly around her body as a sleeveless dress, flaring out slightly at the bottom. A few forest green strings crisscrossed over her arms. A ball of mint yarn was tucked into her black hair, which had been transformed from a few thin strands into a luscious pile of curls on the top of her head. For once Culata didn't look hunched and fearful; her back was straight and I could have sworn I saw a ghost of a smile on her face.

I stepped forward, lingering among the group of fawning stylists. "I must say, I'm a bit jealous. You definitely look better than me."

She jumped, as if shocked that I had spoken to her. "Oh, uh, thanks." Her blue eyes flitted to the ground.

I felt bad for her, and once again wondered what had happened that had made her so shy. I opened my mouth to say something else, but the elevator doors opened with a ding and I turned to see who had entered.

"What the hell?" I murmured. Out from the elevator walked—more like hopped—two spools of thread, chattering in excitement. I turned to Culata, hoping she had some idea of what was happening, but she had already shuffled away to the District Eight chariot. Sighing, I began to follow, only to find my ankles tied together. I stumbled, almost faceplanting but catching myself on my hands and knees. A snicker caused me to twist around.

"We got him good!" giggled a yellow spool. The silver one jumped up and the two did something resembling a chest bump.

"Hey!" I protested.

The silver spool whirled around with a smirk on its thread face. "Having issues, buddy?" It hopped up, smacking my nose before hurrying away with a laugh.

Grumbling under my breath, I got into a position that allowed me to reach my ankles. These were the times that my mutation came in handy. With only a bit of focus, my index finger had turned into a small knife and I was able to cut myself loose.

"You okay?" a voice caused me to look up from my work.

"Oh, yeah. I'm fine." I hoisted myself up and met the gaze of a kid wearing a gold and silver outfit that resembled a wheat field. District Nine, then.

"I'm Wolf Bates." He stuck out his hand.

I made sure my finger was back to normal before shaking. "Anthony Williams. What the hell were those?"

"Oh... Yeah. About that." Wolf chuckled awkwardly, running his hand through his brown hair. "That would be my mutation."

"You have little spools of thread that follow you everywhere?"

"No, I can bring objects to life! I call it..." he paused dramatically. "Animation!"

"I see." I decided it was time to end the conversation. I did not want to get close to people I would have to kill. Fortunately, a squeal from another tribute ended it for me. We both turned to see the spools attacking a younger girl wearing what appeared to be orange peels. Most likely Eleven.

"Aaaaand that's my cue to go rescue someone else! See ya!" Wolf raced off to reprimand his thread minions, and I couldn't help but laugh. The whole situation was ridiculous.

I headed back towards the Eight chariot, scanning the area for my district partner. I was blocked by five or six people exiting the elevator, and I couldn't help but watch what went down next.

The group was probably the Careers, judging by their costumes. The boy from Two was shouting at the boy from Four.

"Is that how you want to play, Danan?" he gave the Four boy a little shove. "Because believe me, nobody wants to make an enemy of Raynen."

Danan didn't look fazed. "I've made myself clear," he said calmly. "My mind won't be changed."

I leaned in. What had Danan done to make the Two boy—Raynen— so mad?

"You really want this?" he practically screamed. "'Cause I'll make sure you're the first to die!"

Other tributes seemed to pick up on the commotion, and a small crowd was drawn.

"Even if you could manage that," spat Danan, looking a little pissed, "it wouldn't make it worth it to be in your shitty alliance."

Raynen's face reddened. He pulled his arm back, his large muscles bulging, and punched the Four boy in the face.

Danan didn't move. His attacker, however, grunted, clutching his knuckles in an obvious attempt to hide his pain.

That piqued my curiosity. From my angle, I couldn't see Danan's face. I shifted my position until I could see the spot where Raynen's fist had connected.

Encrusted on the Four tribute's face was what appeared to be some sort of black, shiny stone. Danan showed no signs of pain, and I realized the stone was some sort of self-generated armour.

I made a note not to mess with this boy.

Meanwhile, Raynen had stormed off, three other careers following. His district partner, however, went the opposite direction, approaching me.

Wait, what?

She held out a hand with a surprisingly friendly smile. "Hey. Anthony, right? I'm Sera."

I accepted the handshake after a moment's hesitation. Weren't Careers supposed to be mean and ruthless?

"I've heard about you," Sera babbled on. "Your uncle won the 10th Hunger Games, didn't he? And your father made it pretty far in the 7th!"

I flinched. It was these damn games that caused me to never know my father.

Sera continued, unaware of my discomfort. "And your cousin, he just won the 23rd Games, right? Yes, many victors have come from the Williams family." She said it as if that was supposed to have some sort of special meaning to me.

Yes, I know. I want to win the Hunger Games. I've trained for it all my life. Big deal. Isn't that what you Careers do, too?

Oh.

Was I really a Career? Eight didn't really seem like a victor district, but my family strived to change that. But Careers wanted to do this, right? I was forced into it.

I was not heartless.

"I was thinking you'd be big asset to our alliance," Sera stated.

I stared at her, my mouth hanging open.

Join the Careers? But...

I recalled the bitterness in my mother's voice as she told me that the Careers killed my father. I would later watch reruns and see that for myself.

That was all I had left of my father. The knowledge that if it weren't for the Ones, Twos, and Fours, I might have been able to meet James Williams.

"Since Danan is... Not with us, we'd be stronger with another member. What do you think?" Sera smiled at me, as if she hadn't just ask me to betray my whole bloodline.

Unless...

I had seen it many times before. A nondescript, run-of-the-mill Career, without warning backstabbing their allies, leaving themselves as the victor. That was why I wasn't planning on having allies.

Until the feeling rose up inside of me, the burning desire for vengeance.

"I'll let you think about it. For now, we'd better get to our chariots. See you in training." Sera waved goodbye, jogging off to join Raynen in the Two chariot. She had no idea I was beginning to plot her death.

I walked over to my own chariot, my head spinning with new ideas.

I wasn't exactly a traitor type. But what exactly would it take to survive?

I would do it. I would join the Careers.

For my father.

Once again, thank you so much for reading! I appreciate any reviews, no matter how small, so lay them on me! I will try to get the next chapter out sooner. Oh, and did I mention I made a forum for this fic? There's a link on my profile. See you next time!