The Scientist.

Nobody said it was easy, no-one ever said it would be this hard.


Lyra Chambray, District Nine Female.


"Lyra, you need to put the doll down so that we can continue with the styling," the funny man repeats, but I simply clutch Hannah harder. He sighs, defeated. "Honestly, Lyra, I need to do it. You can place her," he gestures to a small table next to the large chair. "And she can watch, if that'd make you feel more at ease."

"Her name is Hannah." I gently say.

"Excuse me?"

"Hannah. I said her name is Hannah," I bite down on my lip, pulling her closer. "She's my token. The lady said that I can keep her with me."

He sighs again. His dark, shiny hair looks like a porcupine, like the ones that I caught glimpses of wandering around the factory in District Nine. I miss it there, despite all the problems I faced. It was comforting and now all I have is Hannah. I slowly move forward, placing Hannah on the table, before climbing into the chair. I feel the warm spray of water hit my hair and smile. I tilt my head to face Hannah, and smile even wider.

"So, Lyra. My name is Igor," he sounds strong and strict, like Dad, when he used to brush off my comments and change seats near me. "How long have you had Hannah?"

I bite down on my lip. "A few years now. I found on her on the street near a garbage can, and she asked for a new home."

He doesn't respond but I hear that hum. That hum that tells me he's already bored of what I have to say. It's okay, my parents were the same, dismissing my words and actions as something pointless. Hannah has never done that to me. That's why I secretly like her more than them. Oh, but I love my cat Tinsel, so it's a tie. I lean back and close my eyes, thinking about all the wonders I'll get to explore. District Nine might be bright and cheerful, but it's boring. The Capitol isn't; I've heard that they have coloured houses and streets made of rainbows.

"Will Hannah be going into the arena with you?" Igor asks.

"Most definitely. I need her," I respond, short and sweet, before biting down on my lip. When I feel his hand drift through my hair, I flinch, a squeal escaping my lips. He freezes. "Sorry."

"It's fine. I'm sure you're just nervous." he sounds warmer now. I look back at Hannah, finding comfort in her stitched smile.

A silence settles over us, and I simply keep my eyes focused on Hannah. She's still smiling, and that's a good sign, because when Hannah is sad, I know that something bad is about to happen. As long as she smiles, everything will be okay. The water turns off and I snap back, ready to lean up when Igor gently places his hand on my shoulder. It takes everything for me not to squirm from his touch.

"You'll be dressed like Stefan," he says. "The theme we have is stalks. Well, more specifically, grain stalks. I've designed you a ballerina dress made entirely of the substance."

He moves away, his dark hair poking the ceiling. He reveals a dark bag and unzips it, the noise making my ears perk up. Then, he pulls out the dress, sleek and so pretty. I gasp, eyes wide. I've never had something so beautiful before. He passes it to me, and that's when I notice that it looks like Hannah almost. I look back to her and then Igor. "It looks like Hannah."

"It's meant to. You'd like her on the chariot with you, wouldn't you?"

I grin. "Yes! Hannah has never seen a horse before."

"Well then, this is Hannah's lucky day." Igor smiles. As long as I have Hannah, everything will be okay. I believe in that.


Lakyn Vale, District Four Female.


"This costume is beyond gorgeous," I marvel, staring at the mirror. Sonnet is beyond me, smiling wickedly, as I spin and turn. "How ever did you do it?"

"I'm talented, what can I say. As long as you upstage that shrimp from District One, I'm happy."

Sonnet steps back and fades from the view as I continue to stare. I'm a sea goddess, according to Sonnet. Usually, it's mermaids, but not this year; she wanted something different and I got it. I couldn't be more happier than having something new. I run my hand down the fine fabric that stops just under my hips, showcasing legs trapped under fish net tights. "I don't know how you did it," I say again. "I feel like something out of a fairytale."

"Sweetie, you are thee fairytale," she smiles, handing me shoes with large heels. "This will top if off. A sea goddess, ready to submerge the others in their watery graves."

"How poetic." I smirk, taking the shoes and slipping them on. Compared to the others, I'm used to expensive and luxurious things. My line of work allows me to have the best of the best and sure, some people might be jealous by it, but they've never said it and I've never rubbed it in their faces. Well, I did once, but again, they never said anything.

Everybody loves me, what can I say?

"Dorfin should have Austal ready soon," she comments. "Have you spoken to him yet?"

"Who, Austal?" I ask. Sonnet nods, twirling a piece of her hair. "I haven't, no. He doesn't seem bad but he's a little freaky. He just stared at me for ages. Odyessa literally had to slam her fist on the table to stop him from being such a creep."

"Odyessa, always the lady." Sonnet smirks.

I twirl again and again, unable to comprehend any of this. When I return to District Four, I should hire Sonnet as my personal stylist. I've got the money to pay her, and after winning, I'll have even more. I could introduce her to the lifestyle that everyone deserves but are too lazy to work for. She'd be a helpful asset when I have specific clients to please. I'll make sure to ask her another day, because today, it's about me.

"When can we go? I'm super excited to show this off to the other Careers," I turn around and Sonnet raises an eyebrow knowingly. "Specifically the District One female. I have no idea what you have against her."

"It's not her, but rather her stylist. That two-bit wench doesn't know her way around a needle and piece of thread, yet she believes she's better than me."

I smile, placing a hand over my heart. "Oh Sonnet, I do love you. We're going to be the best of friends, I just know it."

A knock at the door alerts Sonnet, and she walks over, eyebrows knitted. It opens up, revealing what I presume to be the man she mentioned, Dorfin, who stands burly and defined. I smirk, gazing at his muscle and black mohawk. He looks incredible. I bite down on my lip, watching him with eyes that could speak a thousand words. I need to conquer him. I saunter over, gently placing my hand on Sonnet's shoulder.

"I'm Lakyn," I purr, extending my hand out for him. He frowns, but takes it anyway and plants a kiss to my curling fingers. I giggle, even feeling Sonnet's eyes burning at me. Dorfin just stares though, and I know that this sea goddess should have another name, one more suited and booted for who I am. A siren about to claim her first suitor. "Please to be of service."

"Dorfin." he responds, eyebrows knitted in confusion.

"Well, Dorfin, I can't wait to get to know you," I wink. "We're going to be good friends, I can just tell."

This place will be a great learning curve; more tips for the trade, so to speak.


Asya Novik, District Ten Female.


Serena guides me through the hallway with her hand on my back. The costume feels slightly foreign on my body, but I won't complain, it's something new and that's alright by me. An Avox pushes the doors open and I'm hastily blinded by the bright lights. I squint as Serena continues to guide me, unaffected. She hasn't spoken much but I didn't expect her to. Who would want to talk to me? She's probably heard; heard the rumours and the fables that surround me.

I blink a few times as my eyes adjust. The large room towers high, spotlights cascading on the golden chariots. Everything looks like something out of a dream and for a moment, I can't move myself forward, stuck by beauty.

"Come on Asya," Serena mumbles, continuing to usher me forward. I catch a glimpse of Wayne coming out with Macaulay, wearing an outfit similar to mine; red tartan, straw hats and leather boots. Wolfgang had said the idea was farmers, but as far as I know, the people in my district don't dress like this. Serena guides me to the chariot where we meet up with Wayne and Macaulay. "Macaulay."

"Serena," he offers a smile. "This one here doesn't like to do anything."

"I can speak for myself." Wayne grumbles, but doesn't actually follow through.

I watch him carefully. Wayne's head is downcast, mouth scrunched into an angry frown. He seems... annoyed. He seemed annoyed during the trains, but then again, I never said anything. I was too busy looking at the view. But now, it's clear that Wayne just isn't happy.

"Smile?" I suddenly say, looking directly at Wayne when he looks up.

"Why?" he complains. "Why would I smile when I'm about to be paraded around like a show animal? It's disgusting."

I see Macaulay twist his lips into a frown, but focus on Wayne more. "I'm... I'm sorry. I was only suggesting."

Wayne just shrugs it away. Neither Serena nor Macaulay jump to my defense, but I guess I can't moan about it. They had to be fair at the end of the day. Biting down on my lip, Macaulay kindly helps me up onto the chariot and I offer him a smile for thanks. Wayne soon jumps up and, standing side-by-side, I realise how ridiculous we must actually look. In front, the young girl from District Nine is helped into her own chariot, a ballerina dress made of straw and a little doll clutched in her small hands. Should I approach her? Being the youngest, it's only expected that we ally-up.

"Just smile," Macaulay offers. Wayne snaps a glare in his way. "I mean, moody, just smile. As you said, you're being paraded, and nobody likes a stubborn mule."

The doors begin to open and the dark light and cheers begin to flood in. It's deafening, the way people are waiting for us. I clamp my hands over my ears, but it doesn't seem to faze Wayne. He keeps strong, leaning forward to grip onto the metal bar.

I feel to say something, but Wayne would only dismiss it. The chariots upfront begin to surge forward and a sense of fear spikes my chest, but I swallow it down. These people won't know me nor my story. It'll be like a fresh start. I smile at that. The chariots begin to disappear through the cutting light, and then, the little girl from Nine suddenly turns around. Her eyes are wide and fearful, and in all honesty, makes her seem kinda creepy; somehow, I can't help but look back.

I don't think I can become her ally. It'd be far too dangerous.

I suddenly hear Wayne's name being called, causing me to smile. I lightly tap Wayne on the shoulder, causing him to spin around far too quickly. His foot trips the other, sending him to the floor with a thump, his hat being swept from the chariot, blowing out onto the pavement below. Some of the crowd stops cheering and begins to whisper, the loud noise growing quiet as Wayne forces himself up, cheeks dusted pink.

It's happening all over again. I swallow the lump in my throat and turn around, reminding myself to just stay away from people.


Kristopher Midden, District Three Male.


I grin as the chariots continue to roll, looking from coloured wig to coloured skin, staring down those who will spend their money to grant me anything I need. A younger woman with green hair seems smitten, and as she waves in my direction, I casually blow her a kiss, causing the woman to giggle.

It's amazing how well someone could actually do if they played certain roles. Ampry stands next to me, her round outfit occasionally bleeping a bright white light, like a lightbulb. I nudge her shoulder playfully, gaining her attention.

"Look up there!" I point above us, where large banners replicate our faces and costumes. In particular, I point to ours. "See, you need to smile, otherwise that banner could crack, you know."

Ampry doesn't say anything, just giving a sarcastic smile before looking back towards the front. I shrug it off quickly, focusing on my waving and grinning once more. I want to jump, too, just to prove my point and cement my place as the class clown this year. I don't know whether another tribute will try the same, but for me, it's all about being deceptive.

This is the Hunger Games, and like a game should be played, you need an angle. It's like holding your cards back; letting everyone know what you're capable of seems rather stupid, because then you're vulnerable and open, with nothing up your sleeve. Why would anyone do that?

Still waving, I glance over my shoulder, looking at the tributes from District Four. Their costumes match, with slight differences, and it makes me wonder why Mackenzie and Sephora chose to dress me and Ampry differently? Whilst Ampry's outfit flickers white every now and then, mine flickers red. I look down as it flashes, lighting my eyes up. It's ironic how red can be seen as deception. I hold back the laugh bubbling in my throat; it's like Mackenzie just knew.

As the chariots begin to slow down, Ampry grips the metal bar to hold herself. District One - doused in feathers and tight leather clothing - steers to the right, whilst District Two - in golden armor and holding weapons - steers to the left. Just as Ampry holds herself, ready to turn left, we steer right, causing her to fall off balance and knock into me.

"I know lightbulbs come in pairs, Ampry, but you don't have to take it quite literally." I joke. Ampry doesn't laugh; she just doesn't understand humor.

"Your jokes run on thin ice, Kris," she calmly says, though I can see how much restraint she is actually using. "Why did my district partner have to be anything but normal?"

My eyebrows rise, a smirk playing on my lips. "Compared to the girl who ended up in a fist fight?"

She snaps her head at me as the chariot slows to a stop, right next to District One. "I never actually hit her back. She started it, and ended it."

"I'm sure you're a fan favourite already." I poke teasingly, turning back to the front where I can see Esmeralda Snow looming at her podium.

The scene plays out like many times before, where I've sat on the carpet at home and watched the Games thoroughly with parents who wanted to shield it away from me, but never being able to do so. As more chariots roll in - including District Five to our right, dressed in their matching outfits of giant solar windmills - Esmeralda taps the microphone twice.

"Tributes, we salute you." she says emotionless, and the crowd erupts, but no tribute smiles. Not even the Careers are grinning wickedly.

As she drones on about thanking us and reliving both the Dark Days and Failed Rebellion, my mind wanders to places unknown. All this people I see now, they'll be dead in a few days, or at least dying. The numbers will dwindle fast or slow, depending on the entertainment value. Some will have games to play whilst some won't. I can already see myself surviving the bloodbath; I just know it will happen, arrogance not applied. A backpack, some weapons, and I'm gone, without fighting.

My father told me that's the best way, and me and him have always been a lot alike.

I plan on playing this all properly; a facade, masked by my true identity. They won't know what will hit them.


Arietta Fenton, District Six Female.


I stare in awe at the costumes that surround us. Rafe constantly laughs under his breath, stealing glances at me as I steal glances at someone else.

District Eight has the prettiest of outfits. Royal blue and silver gowns, fancy hats and curled shoes. They almost look like the wizards and magical people that I draw. I smile knowingly, remembering the last picture I drew of a man spewing out pink fire from his mouth. Rafe reminds me of the man, except younger and shorter, though Rafe isn't exactly short for his age.

The chariot suddenly lurches forward. I snap back in time to see the white horses guiding the tributes back to the Remake Centre, District Four being ahead of us.

"What did you think of that?" Rafe asks politely. I hum, looking at him, and he just laughs breezily. "I said, what did you think of all that? Did you enjoy it?"

"It was... pretty incredible," I say truthfully. "I never would have imagined I'd be living it."

He laughs again. "Very true. Total opposite of the way I live at home. Although... they could have done with some music. I think the cheering and that busted my eardrums."

"Agreed." I smile, and a comfortable silence falls over us as we head back through the doors.

Rafe is nice, for a volunteer at least. Everyone assumes they have their own agenda, and whilst I've never heard of why Rafe did what he did, he isn't overly arrogant or notably psychopathic. He feels like a reaped child, if anything. I hold back a laugh, remembering how Constance interrogated him on why he done the most stupid thing in the world, and Rafe just seemed to brush the comments away and continue to smile at her.

Our chariot begins to slow down. Constance and Lorcan come into view, watching us with careful eyes. Did we not do good? Hollow said I was too chirpy, but I didn't think it'd be a problem; I saw the District Three boy jump at one point!

"Well done," Constance clarifies, and I breathe a sigh of relief. "You weren't completely useless. You," she points at Rafe. "You were lucky. Caused quite a stir with the volunteering, and we might even have a sponsor or two lined up for you already."

Rafe beams and I can't help but smile for him. "Well done Rafe." I congratulate him loudly, clapping, and he looks over his shoulder to smile at me.

"Come on, jump down," Rafe quickly hops off at Constance's command and I follow, helped down by Lorcan. "I want you both changed and ready to discuss everything in about ten minutes."

Rafe begins to hurry and I follow behind him. However, rushing, I almost trip on my outfit, causing me to stumble and slam into the back of another tribute. They grunt, being knocked forward before turning around. I eye the costume up - red and yellow leaves on a brown, skin-tight suit - before meeting the dark, chocolate eyes of the District Seven male. My heart freezes in place; he's one of the bigger, more toned tributes that aren't Careers. He's probably a huge competitor.

"I'm so sorry." I quickly fluster, stepping backwards.

He just looks at me, eyes curious and wide like a little infant. I instantly feel bad and have to turn around, holding my head down as I charge for the elevator. Constance is quickly behind me - I know, simply by the tension that auras her presence - looming over my back.

"Don't mix with the other tributes," she warns, her voice low but since I'm not looking at her face, I don't know whether she's berating me or just handing out advice. "Attachment will lead to heartache and, to put it bluntly, Victors just don't have friends."

I spin around instantly, fluttering my eyelashes and holding back a smile. "I understand," I finally grin. "Don't worry, I know what to do."

Constance doesn't look convinced. "You're a weird one, you know that?"

I laugh under my breath once more. "So I've been told."


Cres Rhodes, District Two Male.


Andora is behind me when I step into the elevator, completely silent. She hasn't said a word all day, from train to now. I expected something from her, but in reality, I don't know Andora all that much. We both must have trained for the same amount of years, but we've never crossed paths, which makes me wonder how she got chosen to volunteer? Only people in the top class get chosen. Andora wasn't in my class, which means she wasn't the top female trainee.

I would ask her, but I doubt she'd cooperate.

The elevator ride is slow and silent, and when the doors open, Andora quickly scuttles over to the couches. I blink a few times before a blast of red hair catches me off-guard. Siryn looks at me carefully, a smirk playing on her face.

"How did it go?" she questions.

"Wasn't you there?" I reply. Technically, mentors are meant to be down there, cheering us on. Yet, as far as I know, neither of ours turned up, as if they didn't really care.

"Well, no," she looks away, as if guilty, before coming back. "But neither was Lennox and he is older," she ushers me with her hand and I follow, continuing to blink; what does she want? "Now, tell me about it all. Did you get some cheers? Chants? Did the others look jealous?"

Over her shoulder, I can see Lennox move out, his face cold and stoned. He sits down next to Andora and she shuffles away from his obviously intimidating posture. Lennox, the pyromaniac, happens to be one of the most cruellest trainers going at the Training Centre. After all, he's not all there in the head, according to rumours that have drifted through the air to my ears.

"Fine." I simply state.

Her face drops. "Is that it? Fine? Are you actually kidding me?"

I shrug my broad shoulders, not knowing what to say or do, and still watching Andora curiously over Siryn's shoulder. Compared to what I've seen, Andora isn't like the other females I know and have watched from afar. Siryn sighs, having lost my attention. With a swish of her hair, she storms pass me towards her bedroom, next door to Andora's.

"Cres, come here," I look to Lennox, his overly bright eyes glaring at me. It looks a lot like my father, when he commanded and I obeyed. I gulp thickly, remembering the pressure and how, even though he's not here, it's like he's always watching me. I move to the couch and sit down, still keeping tabs on Andora. She doesn't even look up at my arrival. "What do you know about the other Careers?"

The question catches me off-guard. "Nothing?" I feel like it's a trick question. I remember briefly when my father asked the same, then made me do push-ups when I answered wrong, telling me that a pack is never stable. "We haven't spoken to the others as of yet. We'll find out tomorrow when training comes around; it's more important then, anyway."

He hums, eyes twitching, making me feel uneasy. "Do either of you plan on killing them early on in the arena?"

He looks directly at Andora for that question. She glances up from her nails, revealing accusing eyes. "I'd rather not share my game plan, thank you very much."

Lennox leans forward. "I'm your mentor, it's my job to know what you're thinking," his eyes twitch again, proving many rumours about him. "And Cres is your ally, and he deserves to know whether you plan on driving a knife through his heart or his back. So, which is it?"

She snaps her glare in my direction. "Do you really want to know?"

I hold my front, being forced onto the defense. "Whatever it is, it won't matter," I clarify. "I'll be able to disarm you either way."

"Exactly," she looks back at Lennox, nails still poised in the air. "I'd rather not share. I don't do show-and-tell."

It does beg the question, though, as to whether or not Andora will be destroying our team anytime soon? Or, even more interestingly, whether our team will be whole? Father won't be pleased, but as long as I win, he can't complain, surely?


Micah Amaro, District Twelve Male.


Crispin coughs and my head snaps up, eyes wide and staring at my mentor who looks red-nosed and teary-eyed. Slowly, I draw the small piece of cloth from my pocket and place it over my nose and mouth.

"What's that for?" Lucia asks, carefully stabbing the meat with a smile on her face.

I hold it over me for a few seconds, before pulling it away a tiny bit, just to speak. "To protect me from germs. I don't want to get ill."

"I doubt you'll get ill from one silly cough," Lucia chirps. "I'm sure there's no harm in it."

"One cough can carry bounties of bacteria," I counter, putting the cough back over. "I refuse to get ill." I mumble.

"I'm sorry, Micah," Crispin apologizes. I nod, understanding that whilst being ill is a natural thing, coughing without a hand over your mouth is just a cruel way of spreading the disease. "I've had this nasty cold for ages now, despite Twelve's heat wave currently."

"I know!" Lucia chips in. "It's been so lovely and warm, it's a shame the Capitol doesn't allow us outside, even for a little while," she frowns slightly. "I miss the breeze."

I remember being out in the blistering sun once. I kept myself in the shade, being forced out of the house by my father because he thought I was becoming a "hermit", worrying about the amount of diseases that could easily multiply underneath the sweltering temperatures. They grow faster, I'm almost sure of it. My mother got ill during the summer; she was the living proof.

"I could always see whether you can go up onto the roof, though they closed it off a few years ago, back before I was here," Crispin suddenly sniffs, and I recoil in disgust. My nose feels weird, come to think of it. I gingerly bring my fingers to my nose and poke around. I think it's swollen! "I'm not too sure whether they'd let you, but it couldn't hurt to ask."

"That'd be great!" Lucia beams, the happiness clear in her voice. I look to her cautiously, her sickly sweet smile etched into her lips. "I'd love to sit and feel the breeze after training tomorrow."

I almost forgot about that. My heartbeat increases. I can feel the beads of sweat building on my forehead. I clutch the cloth tighter against my lips, feeling my hot breath disappear into the fabric and making my lips tingle in heat. I close my eyes, beginning to count to ten.

"Micah?" Lucia's voice suddenly reaches my ears, but I don't want to open my eyes. One. Two. Three. "What are you doing now?" she laughs.

My eyes snap open. "I was counting to three to keep calm," I mumble into the cloth. Lucia's eyebrows quirk up in confusion, so I pull the cloth back a little again. "I said I was counting to three to keep calm."

"Shouldn't you be doing that for tomorrow?" she teases.

"Don't think counting to three will prepare me for the bacteria-bath I'll be stepping into shortly," I reply icily. The ideas and pictures just flash across my brain and I can only imagine the amount of dirt and grime and dust I'll have to face when I'm finally in there. Blood and gore will be all around me. The thought makes me sick to my stomach. "I really need to sleep or something."

I stand up to leave, pushing my chair in, when Lucia speaks up. "I'll be joining you in training, you know," I turn around, seeing the smile on her face. "District partners need to stick together. We're better as a team than two individuals."

Allies were the last thing on my mind. I nod curtly, hurrying away to the bedroom where I can get some peace and quiet from everyone else. My mind is reeling and my stomach feels as if there's a gaping hole as I finally plop down on my bed. I press the back of my hand to my forehead, feeling the clammy skin. My nose is swelling, I feel sick, my forehead is hot and sweaty... these are all symptoms!

I'm going to die before I've even reached the arena to try and fight for my life!


Ellery Haynes, District Five Female.


"Ellery, it's time to move!" Nebula chimes, pounding against the door with her tiny fist.

I gently move away from the large window, the colourful heads of the Capitolites fading from view. Does Nebula think I was still sleeping? It's because she's incompetent. She might be my mentor, but we're the same age, and I will not respect her when me and her are equals.

"Ellery!" Nebula calls again. I groan, moving across the room and opening the door up, revealing her smaller statue. "Oh, you're already awake. I didn't know."

"I don't think you know much, but that's not the point," I state, brushing pass her and walking down the hall. Nebula will no doubt follow. "Has anyone gotten Cliff up yet?"

But, my question is answered when I notice Cliff sat at the table opposite Elesa, eating a bowl of wheat and cereal. I quickly pull out my chair next to me, prizing in myself the way Cliff notes my presence. It's good, in a sense, since it means I'm important.

"Ah, should of just waited before asking." Nebula says snarky, and I really want to wipe the smirk of her face, cause it'll be on there without a doubt.

Nebula takes her seat next Elesa, not removing her eyes from me nor Cliff. I slowly take bites of my toast, carefully moving my eyes between the two mentors. Elesa carefully watches, though she makes a point of not actually making it clear. Unlike Elesa, Nebula hasn't crafted herself in the powers of understating actions. Everything with her is oblivious and direct, each with a hint of arrogance that I find distasteful.

"So, is there anything we should talk about?" Cliff suddenly asks. I look at him, incredulous. "What?" he seems shocked, turning to me. "I want to be prepared for everything when we go down there."

"It's handling weapons and running around an athletic track," I roll my eyes. "Unless you're a complete moron, I think you can cover the basics."

"Ellery, there's no need to be so rude." Nebula chimes.

I look to Elesa, feeling the excitement rush through me. "Was you always an Albino, or did the arena or Capitol bleach you?" I pause, taking another bite of toast and swallowing it quickly. "I'm pretty sure the girl from District Eight is too. Maybe you're related?"

"Ellery!" Nebula hisses. "Everyone knows the aftermath that happened after her year. Don't be so inconsiderate."

I keep my eyes locked on Elesa. "Must suck to be you then."

She doesn't flinch. Something tells me that Elesa is used to judgement, but frankly, I've always gone above and beyond in order to make people feel inadequate with both my intelligence and superiority. That, and as long as it annoys Nebula, I'm even more so fine.

"That is no way to talk to a Victor," Nebula berates once more. I glance in Cliff's direction for a moment, but he makes no effort in acknowledging me. He probably deems me as rude, seeing as I've seen him for a minimal time, and already know he has perfect manners and grace. "She has won this, you know, and it'd be wise to learn from her experience."

"So have you, but I don't care for neither story," I bite back. "I have enough experience in dealing with people and situations. I'm perfectly capable without guidance."

"So you can disarm someone from trying to stab you?" she counters.

"Probably," I shrug it off. "I'll soon find out, and training will help me understand everyone else and their weaknesses."

"And you believe that you can do that from just glances?" she counters once more. She's seriously annoying me now.

"No, I never actually said that though. I said it'd help me understand them better, I never discredited glances. I might talk to them. Study them. I'm not too sure yet," I look to Cliff. "Ideas, Cliff?"

"I'm going to find an alliance hopefully." he smiles sheepishly.

"And find an alliance you should," Nebula cuts in abruptly, as if trying to make her point. "An alliance is always stronger compared to singular tributes."

I don't bother to ask why. It's pretty obvious as to why alliances are more profitable compared to singular tributes; allies includes less stress, shifts for lookout, bounties of food and comfort. I'm not an idiot, I know all of that, and Nebula is making it seem as if I said I would be on my own. I haven't. I might find myself an ally. Moronic Nebula, always assuming she knows everything and then some. I guess I'll just have to prove her wrong, just like Mother.


Gloria Lavelle, District One Female.


"So you're friends with Chalice King, huh?" Aphrodite says as I step into the elevator. Lancel, for some reason, has disappeared. I don't particularly care; he's a strange one.

"I am," I make sure to hold Aphrodite's eyes. She's a strong woman - bold and independent - and I feel the need to make her see that I am also. "I trained with her and her mother."

"Tassel hasn't been active for a few years. I'd be surprised if she's trained you well enough," her eyes darken, as if she's suddenly realised something. "Are you sure you're ready to handle this? It's not as glamorous as one would expect. Swift might live it up, but he's an idiot."

I straighten up. "I don't care for glamour, so we're all good there. As for training," the doors begin to close, so I shift my footing, ensuring to see Aphrodite's dark hair begin to disappear. "I'll be sure to prove my worth."

They close, and Aphrodite is gone. I sigh and listen to the elevator descend me downwards.

I admire Aphrodite, I always have done. Compared to Tassel King, Aphrodite has kept her calm and cool over the few years of victory. She's a role model to me, and for some reason, I feel the need to show her that I can be the same. I was the same towards Inspire and Grace, though they often would laugh and pat me on the head for being idealistic. A smirk creeps on my face as I remember Inspire's face when I stole her chance, eliminating her from any chance of the Hunger Games. She never did come to see me, and I'd be lying if I said I would miss her.

The doors open, revealing the tall ceilings and bright lights. I stand in awe for a few moments before moving forward slowly, eyeing up the emerging carriage of outer district tributes. I scan the crowd quickly for Lancel, but his lithe figure is hidden.

A burly man stands up on a platform and I rush forward. I pass the boy from District Ten, and my heart sinks. Despite being younger, he's taller and wider, and for a moment, I retreat into the part of my brain that's made of intense fire and brimstone. My lips twist into a snarl and I make sure to stand next to him, pushing a few of the other tributes aside when they come too close. The platform rises and, as it does so, I see Austal from District Four staring at me with freakish eyes. His stare is... unnerving. I quickly avert my eyes when the platform halts, unable to handle his intensity.

"My name is Maestro," he declares, voice solid and strong. "In this room, today, tomorrow and the next day, will be something that could save you. I suggest you take this to your advantage and venture out appropriately. Remember, disease and other variables can kill just as swiftly as a knife. You'd be idiots to not look at the survival skills."

I switch off, looking around. The tributes don't look too dangerous this year. Besides us Careers, the only real threat is seen in the form of the boy from District Seven, who looks pretty muscular and dangerous. Everyone else looks average. I smirk, bowing my head quickly to hide the smile; even more perfect, I have a better advantage, seeing as no-one towers me too much.

"You may begin."

District Ten moves swiftly. I counter him, though, by slamming my shoulder in his side and pretending as if I didn't notice. I turn around when I near Cres, just to see his face staying neutral, lips itching to curl in disgust. He doesn't complain; he'd be pretty stupid to do so, considering confrontations are not allowed. I turn back, pleased, when I slam straight into Cres' broad chest.

"Sorry," I quickly say, looking at both Lakyn and Austal who are also there. "I'm Gloria."

I already knew their names from studying their volunteering. Lakyn looks at me and smirks. "You're kinda like a little porcelain doll, you know," she coos. "I'm Lakyn, and it's a pleasure to know me, I know," she jerks her thumb at Austal, standing awkwardly behind her. "This weirdo here is Austal."

"Cres. Cres Rhodes." he says gruffly, cutting in.

"And where is both of your district partners?" Lakyn asks. "I kept mine on the leash, couldn't you do the same?" she jokes, though I highly doubt it. I look her up and down, and instantly know I don't like her now I've heard her speak directly to me.

"Andora is around here somewhere," Cres comments. "She's all for the alliance, but she doesn't like crowds, apparently. She will be in, though."

They both look at me, and I straighten my back once more on instinct. I've dealt with people like this before. "I can't find Lancel. I haven't seen him all morning, so I don't know what he actually wants."

"Even more perfect," Lakyn waves it off, as if Lancel was nothing. I suppose he's not, but it's speaking tonnes for Lakyn's character. She curls an arm around my shoulder and seems to laugh lightly. "I just know you and I are going to be the bestest of friends," she urges Cres to move closer, but he stays put. "We're all going to get along just wonderfully."

I have to force myself not to snarl or even seem disgusted by how much she reminds me of Inspire. I simply keep quiet, reminding myself of Inspire's pissed off face to keep myself calm.


Thorn Revan, District Eleven Male.


Watching the Careers gather, I notice that two of their members aren't even around. I smirk, turning back around towards the trainer.

"I'll have a rapier, please, your most heaviest."

He frowns. "You sure kid? It's a mighty object. Most people can't handle it."

"I'm sure I'll be fine, I'm not just anybody." I correct him.

He shrugs nonchalantly, bending underneath the station to collect the large sword. He hands it to me with wary eyes, but I simply smile it all away as I walk towards the cotton dummies placed around for me. I make sure to carefully watch the others out the corner of my eye, particularly said Careers. They dominate most years, with a pack full of angry, hotheaded and psychopathic tributes that turn on each other the moment it's necessary. People love them, yet don't they see their stupidity?

I move forward swiftly, feeling the weight of the silver in my hand. Heavy and impressive. I can master this. I step back onto my left foot and push forward with my right, sending the blade into the soft chest. I pull it out and repeat the motion, taking pleasure in the way that, despite the legend behind the heavy weapon, I'm able to handle it. I wouldn't have quit either way, but it's nice to know that I'm a tiny bit better than those who have tried and failed.

I force the blade in again when I notice someone watching me. I hold the rapier in place, and with a pivot of my wrist, I twist the hole in the mannequin's body.

"Can I help you?" I say before turning around. Then, I'm met with the eyes of the male from District One, one of the members that wasn't all for quick congregating and chatting.

"I like your technique," he smirks, his eyes flickering from my weapon to my eyes. "You've got great skills. A little more power in your right foot, and you'll be able to pierce the blade straight through his body and out the back."

I narrow my eyes. "I think I know myself and what I'm capable of better than you do."

"Just some advice," he steps forward and offers his hand. "The name is Lancel."

I look at him warily. "Thorn."

Knowing I won't shake his hand, he pulls it back. "Cool name. So, Thorn, do you mind if I train with you?"

"Don't you want to play with the other psychopaths?" I quickly bite back. Before, I would have held my tongue if my brother Briar had said anything. Now I've learned to stand up for myself more.

"I'd rather not. I don't buy into that whole Career thing, if I'm completely honest." he counters.

My eyes widen. Frankly, I'm surprised, because he looks as average and stereotypical as the rest of them. "A traitor, I see."

"Hardly," he laughs lightly. "I'm not here to kill for fun. I'm actually here to win."

"I'm sure everyone has the same goal, so why are you different?" I shoot back. I pull the rapier out, only barely realising that I left it embedded in the dummy. "Every volunteer does it because they want to win."

"I have better goals than they do," he pauses, looking over my shoulder at the Careers. "If you let me train with you, I might be persuaded to tell you why."

Training with him won't be that bad. It's not like we're allies, and if anything, I can learn about him and his weaknesses and further myself. It'd be like Lancel was playing right into my hands and providing me with an advantage that I hadn't even really thought about. "You've got yourself a deal."


Joshua Kersey, District Eight Male.


I don't like this. I look towards the weapons and then up at gruesome trainer behind the station. Yeah, I really don't like this.

Bryony's pale hand moves forward and quickly grasps the smallest knife, almost like a dagger. "I never thought I'd hold a knife like this," she laughs, soft and whimsical, like a little bird fluttering in the trees. "Don't you want one, Joshua?"

"It's not that I don't want one..." I begin. "It's just that I didn't really want to work with knives."

Bryony turns to me, smile on her face and light eyes almost piercing. "Why? What did you want?" her lips twitch into a grin. "I'll come keep you company, admire what you can do!"

I can't help but smile at her words. Bryony is... different, and it has absolutely nothing to do with the albinism. She's upbeat and positive and I mean, come on, we just got reaped and Bryony still managed to find the light at the end of the tunnel. She's extremely perky.

"I was actually thinking of a falx?" she tilts her head, amusement in her eyes but it's clear she has no idea what a falx is. "It's used to cut down things like cotton. Basically a sickle," I suggest when it becomes clear that Bryony doesn't know, but doesn't want to say. I think it's her cute way of being polite and happy for me. "Yeah, I wanted something a little different."

"That's because you're a clever person!" she chirps again. "Well, come on then, show me this falx of yours."

Bryony laces her arm through mine and allows me to guide her towards the specialist weapons station. The only person there is the boy from District Nine, but even then he looks as if he has no clue what he's doing, just standing around on the spot. I carefully dodge him, towing Bryony along. She doesn't say anything as I ask the man for the weapon, a puzzled look on his face.

"Joshua, are we allies?" Bryony suddenly asks, and I almost drop my falx from the level in her voice as if it was something she always said.

I look at her carefully, watching for any signs that Bryony might be joking or something. Instead, in her eyes, is brightness. "If you want to be?" I decide to go with. A careful answer to a tricky question.

"I'd like to think we are," she smiles, looking down at her hands. "You're pretty cool, Josh, and I think we'd be good allies. You're super smart and strong."

"I'm sure you're as smart and strong as me." I counter, rebounding the compliment back at her.

She pauses, just for a moment, and I notice something inside of her that isn't the happy persona I've grown accustomed to. Her lips almost seem to twitch into a frown and my heart races, guilt burning through my veins. "No you are!" she soon shoots back and my heart slows back down. For a moment, I thought I had upset her.

"Did you want other allies?" I deflect the question, wanting to get away from the potential eggshells. "We can, if you want to, or we don't have to," I quickly glance around the room, no-one in particular standing out. "I have no idea where to start though."

"I don't mind," she beams. "As long as I'm with you, I'm happy."

Happy. How can someone be truly happy here? It only reminds me of the eventual pain, heartache and death that could be around the corner. I can't fight my emotions from souring and I simply allow them to take over. "I'm going to practice," I say, forcing my voice to seem upbeat in order to keep Bryony unsuspecting. "Maybe you should try out that knife?"

"Okay," she smiles. "I'll catch you later, handsome!"

She practically skips away, bright and bubbly, the complete opposite of how I feel. I stalk over towards a section of cotton dummies and carelessly swing the falx into the faux man, the clap of noise hitting my eardrums. I'll have to fight. I'll have to kill. Eventually, Bryony will have to die. One day in and I'm already imagining a sweet girl's death. I swing again, trying to force away the sudden dip in my mood and trying to bring some positivity back.

If I can let myself believe that I can do it, I'll have something to cling to.


Jericho Castillo, District Seven Male.


I climb higher and higher up the net, determined to reach the very top. The trainer didn't even see me climb and I'm thankful for that. Being up here will give me the best view possible on all the other tributes and what they're doing. It's a good strategy, but it has its downsides which include a more personal approach. I won't be able to overhear the cunning chatter from the Careers, nor the obvious competitive banter that radiates from the weapon range where two tall boys train.

I pull myself over the top and settle down, watching down at everyone. People would think that because of my height and weight, I'd be too heavy for climbing, but surprisingly, the ropes were made of partial steel and able to handle the heaviest of tributes.

The District Two girl is beneath me. I glance over, watching her. She just stands there, mindlessly looking around at everyone. She looks kind of bored, if anything. I don't know her name, but I can imagine her personality has being rather bitchy.

My eyes move to the District Six boy. He hangs around on the outskirts of the Training Centre, gazing longingly at his district partner; the girl who bumped into me last night. She sits there, smiling away, as she dabs her fingers into large pots of paints before swirling them on the ground, creating spirals of bright colours. She looks at peace, as if nothing could disturb her carefully created bubble.

A smile finds its way on my face as I watch her giggle to herself, flighty and free.

When she bumped into me last night, she must've been flustered. I remember her pink-tinted cheeks as she busied herself away. Rotem didn't say anything, but I saw the slight devious smile on her face.

Speaking of Rotem, I scan for her familiar dark curls, seeing her launch a spear at the target, before it skids out of the way and lands on the floor with a clatter. It's sad; Rotem seems so nice.

I should speak to her. The female from District Six, I mean. I lean forward, but quickly bite on my lip and pull back. I'm not the greatest at conversations, and besides, Colin told me not to get too involved. It'd also be weird to just approach her on the off-chance that I find her extreme serenity appealing. I sit back, but the urge to watch her paint is too much and I can't peel my eyes away.

Deciding, I steadily climb down the ropes, twisting my wrists to descend with ease. Having upper body strength gives me an advantage. I could really do with an arena that has trees or mountainous walls. There, I could survive easier. I jump the last little bit, hearing the applause of the trainer. Oh, he saw me.

"Well done. Some great climbing there, though I didn't expect anything different from a District Seven tribute," he compliments. "Have you thought about the climbing wall?" he points to the large structure in the far corner. "Or even the gauntlet? It's always a good one to practice on."

"What?" I say.

"I said you should try the other climbing and physical stations. You have the muscles on you, son."

"Oh, right," I reply, still glancing at her over his shoulder. "I'm sure I won't have the energy today, but thanks."

I step pass the room and move across the room awkwardly. How can I approach her? I can't. I could just watch her? It'd make me seem such a creep, but I want to know what she is actually painting. It looks like a large picture, whereas I believe she should be painting herself. A trainer appears and I halt quickly.

"Why are you painting the floor?" she asks, aggravation clear in her voice. "You're suppose to be painting yourself, you stupid girl," she bends down, placing down another bucket of paint. The girl isn't even listening or looking up. She doesn't look fazed. "Whatever. See if I care. I'm sure that painting pictures is really going to help you survive. Bloodbath, I put my money on it."

She moves away. I take a deep breath and move forward. For a moment, I just linger over her, watching her fingers fly gracefully over the concrete.

"I like your picture," I scratch the back of my neck and the girl seems to leap, eyes wide and frightened. "Sorry," I apologise. "I didn't mean to, um, scare you."

She smiles coyly and looks around, as if she doesn't know what to do or say. "It's okay. I was just, um, in my head, yeah," she smiles softly now. "I got really focused."

"What is it?"

"What is what?" she shoots back accusingly.

"Your picture?" I tread carefully. "What are you painting?"

It takes a moment for her to reply, and I awkwardly scratch the back of my neck again. I shouldn't have done this. I should've stayed up there in my retreat. "Peace," she soon answers. "Anywhere but here really," I sit down, finding myself both awkward but longing to stay. It's conflicting, and for a moment, I'm ready to stand when she looks at me. "You can help, if you want?"

My father would berate me, telling me a real man doesn't enjoy a "girl's hobby" like painting or flowers or butterflies. He's not here, though, and for the first time ever, I'm actually happy about that.

"It'd be a pleasure." I smile, and truly, it would be. A little bit of peace before chaos wouldn't hurt.


The Scientist by Coldplay.


The blog for this story is lost hunger games . blogspot - all deaths will be notified here!

All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.


I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!

Thoughts on these twelve tributes, and which ones are your early favourites (obviously it will change, just from this glance)?

Opinions on the blog titles?

And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!


I'M BACK.

Here we are with the first Capitol Chapter. Here, we learn some starting alliances. For reference, we have the Careers minus Lancel (for now, possibly, it isn't confirmed), Bryony and Joshua, and Micah and Lucia. Everyone will be confirmed next chapter, when we deal with the other two days of training.

And if you look on the blog, the tributes each have a worded title! It doesn't define their personality per se, but it's a big factor as to their character before development occurs.

So yeah. Good to be back!