Hey guys, updates should be more consistent after this. Do you think I should continue writing in third person, or go to first? I kind of prefer third… I think I'll stick with it, if it doesn't bother you guys. My writing quality is generally better in third person, so I'll stick with that if it's all right. So yeah, enjoy the chapter.

Oh, and I used the word "chagrin" once during this chapter… FORGIVE ME…

THE CHARIOT RIDES

"The plague of all ages, contagious to touch,

The blister on my heart,

The horror is endless; the beast is upon us,

It's love that ends the world,"

Rose-Mary Telesco shifts nervously from foot to foot, her sandy blonde hair teased up at the back, her innocent eyes outlined with heavy kohl. She is a vision, for a thirteen year old, although both she and her district partner have been gaining countless, somewhat odd looks; District 11 generally houses dark-skinned people. While she is mixed-race, Nickel's skin is near translucent, and his hair is pale blonde.

She stands somewhat upright on the chariot, her small hands gripping onto the rim with all of her might: she is fearful that, when the chariot begins to move, she may have an attack of motion-sickness and fall backwards. Rose-Mary swallows, looking down fearfully in order to not make eye contact with any undesirables, and stares at her popping knuckles, instead. Her hands have left sweat marks on the metallic rim and, quickly glancing around, she uses the sleeve of her costume to wipe them away.

The two of them are wearing denim overalls. While Rose-Mary's covers her reasonably well, Nickel's barely covers anything at all. She'd initially wondered if he was ashamed to be near naked in front of thousands of people, possibly including his parents, but he didn't seem to care. Despite her attempts to make conversation, he had merely responded politely, and continued his staring into space.

"N-Nickel?" Rose-Mary's voice shakes as she speaks, and she very nearly claps a hand over her own mouth. Although he is the coldest of beings, she seeks familiarity, and he is all she has in that respect. Before she goes out there and displays herself like a prize hound, she wants to talk to somebody who understands exactly how she feels. Somebody who understands the fear pulsing through her every atom of her being.

Perhaps it is seeing the other tributes for the first time. Any one of these people in front of her, Rose-Mary reflects, could be her killer. Her shaking intensifies, and she cannot even bear to steel herself in the face of danger. She is glad not to be in District 3, surrounded by Careers, walled in from all sides by heartless monsters. Because Rose-Mary knows that is all that Careers are, they couldn't possibly be anything else. Even her imagination cannot take the idea that they might have feelings.

They are mere robots, without empathy or emotion. And even Nickel must be better than that since, after all, he is from her district. There aren't any bad people in District 11, or she would have run into them, right?

Nickel has still not replied. His bright blue eyes are narrowed, and his lips slightly pursed. Up ahead of them, at the front of the colossal hall, there is a loud groaning; the great doors are sliding open, like the jaws of a God. Rose-Mary's green eyes widen in shock as they slide into cavities created in the ceiling and the ground, both alarmed and entranced by the overwhelming technology.

Great people must have invented this. Clever, clever people. So that must be why the Capitol is in charge, since there's nothing in the districts like this!

The roars of the Capitolites are almost deafening, each trying to get their own affected voice heard over the many cries and caterwauls of the other citizens; screaming out for their favourites, clambering over one another to get a look at their latest offerings. Grotesque but hypnotising, Rose-Mary stares at them, as enraptured with them as they are with her. She is stunned by their alien presence, by the way that they want to see her…

What sounds like a purr emerges from Nickel's throat, and Rose-Mary turns to look at him. His eyes remain oddly emotionless, but his teeth are bared in what must be a smile. He is beautiful, she realises. But his beauty is synonymous with an empty shell; there is nothing behind those eyes, or that eerie "smile". For almost the first time in her life, Rose-Mary is chilled to the bone.

"Good luck." She murmurs, and realises that she is visibly shaking. Rose-Mary manages to still herself, undeniably excited, and plasters a smile onto her young face. The words she had spoken were as much to herself as they were to Nickel.

The chariot begins to shift forward, following the others in line; Rose-Mary squares her shoulders, still hypnotised with the colours surrounding her. She hitches up the left strap of her overalls, from where it had been sliding down her shoulder, and tries to ignore the nauseous feeling building up in her stomach from the motion.

Just as the two of them emerge into the Capitol streets, and are almost overwhelmed by the noise the Capitolites are making, Nickel plants his hand on her shoulder quickly. He leaves it there for only a second, and his hand is almost freezing cold; Rose-Mary does not like the sensation.

What's that supposed to mean? Odd boy…

Avien Featherling has an urge to leap off the chariot and into the crowd. He is not precisely sure why, and he knows that it would be unwise to attempt such a stunt, but the compulsion to do so is almost overbearing. Adrenaline fills him from head to toe, his dark blue eyes almost popping out of his skull, his smile splitting his face in half. The screams- or some of them, at least- are for him. People are admiring him, wanting him, willing him luck in the Arena. And although he'd been fearful of the possibility of his imminent death, Avien knows that he has never felt more alive than he does now.

It's like that the fake, feathered wings he wears as part of his costume (a simple mechanics garb), are real. Like that, at any given moment, he could flex the muscles of his back, and he would be floating off into the bright stars above the Capitol, and escape from this. Because although he is trapped like a mouse in a cage, Avien has never felt more free. Death is freedom too and, he recalls from a storybook his mother used to read to him, is merely another adventure.

He waves his hand at the crowds wildly, his pleasure in the situation not even slightly simulated, his feet pumping up and down out of sight of the Capitolites. Next to him, Isabella seems almost as excited as he is, practically leaping out of the chariot. In front of him, the District 5 tributes do not seem quite as excitable; the girl looks completely overwhelmed, and the boy is completely straight faced.

Avien cannot even fathom how they are so unenthusiastic about a situation such as this. Their faces are displayed everywhere, on titanic screens, and are even projected onto colourful glass buildings, like giants in the night. This, to Avien, feels like the start of a great adventure: the music sends sparks through his entire body, the shrieks of the crowd sends him into raptures. The sight of his face on the side of a tall, beautiful building seems almost surreal. All in all, he is completely and utterly infatuated with the Capitol.

Soon enough, they arrive at the great President's mansion: Avien's eyes are practically on stalks as the chariots settle in a formation around the building. The man himself- significantly less intimidating in person that Avien had imagined him to be- emerges onto the balcony, his greying hair stylishly combed around his rather puffy face.

Isabella prods him frenziedly and, when he turns to her, Avien realises that her eyes are shining and full of delight. "Isn't it so beautiful?" She murmurs to him, and he can't help but agree. He has been told of the evil behind this place; the corruption eating away at it like a maggot in an apple, but can't quite bring himself to believe that it is true. How could such a stunning place be so terrible? And these people, despite their alien appearance, seem decent enough. They are wasteful but, perhaps, entirely good people. They don't seem to be monstrous…

His smile fades a little, when he realises how seduced he has become. The Hunger Games: a battle, in which children die for the amusement of the Capitol citizens. On the outside, they are gleaming and perfect; yet still, murder has become their entertainment. They, the poor, are being killed for the regalement of the rich and privileged.

Shaking his head, his blond curls bouncing around his face, Avien desperately tries to regain that feeling of adventure that had previously been devouring him, but he is unable to do so. Looking at President Snow, the all-powerful, he feels only a sense of vague anger, and the dread that he remembers from his Reaping. This may be glamorous, and he may be rather in love with the prestige that the Capitol represents. But now, knowing that he is being paraded like an animal before his almost inevitable slaughter, he cannot summon up the energy to feel excited.

"Welcome, tributes," President Snow says, and his voice is barely above monotone. Avien wonders if the President is as excited about the Games as his loyal subjects, or if he simply sees them as yet another thing that must be done to keep the districts under control. Does he relish the killing; does it entertain him? "We welcome you."

The applause and cheers from the crowd are deafening. Avien nearly has to slam his hands over his ears, and Isabella visibly winces beside him. Like him, all of a sudden, her excitement seems to be gone; Avien wonders if she has had a similar epiphany to him. Either way, she seems somewhat crestfallen, and particularly lifeless after her previous, manic performance.

When the excitement has died down somewhat, President Snow continues, "And we wish you-" He is momentarily cut off from his speech by several screeches of anticipation from the crowd. "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour!" He surveys them almost like a proud parent, a disturbingly fatherly smile firmly in place on his puffy lips, his icy blue eyes near watery. Avien wonders just how good an actor the President is, and begins tapping his fingers impatiently on his thighs, digging his teeth into his bottom lip.

The chariots are soon hauled away for one more lap of the streets. Although the cheers are no less enthusiastic, Avien finds himself somewhat dejected. He just wants this to be over, so he can retire to his bed and try and dream away his certain future. He knows he will have to think of plans for the Arena soon, especially since training starts tomorrow, at which point he will have to think about alliances and strategy.

But for now, Avien will just have to smile and wave, like he was programmed to do.

Audrey Syrian readies herself to leap off the chariot. She is frustrated and irritable, her face contorted into an expression of righteous indignation. Beside her, Winner looks rather smug, a smirk on his heart-shaped face, his hair combed back out of his face; with the silver body-spray covering him from head to toe, his normally handsome features defined to near beauty, he looks almost statuesque.

But that does NOT give him an excuse to be such a disgusting pervert…

As the chariot docks, Audrey steps down from the Chariot and walks over to the sidelines, trying to calm herself down. She digs her sharp nails into her thighs, attempting to use the pain to distract herself from her anger, as she has always done. It is a surprisingly effective stress relief, and Audrey finds herself quickly calming down. She takes a deep breath, tilts her head backwards, and waits for the other prospective Careers to join her.

The District 4 tributes have not yet quite completed their lap of the streets, but the District 2 recruits are making their way over, just behind Winner. They wear golden Peacekeeper outfits, the material sheer and fitted stylishly; Audrey hadn't previously paid either of them much attention, but they look strong enough, she supposes. The girl isn't large, but looks powerfully built, and the boy is tall and muscular. What puts her off a little about the two of them, however, is the boy's smile.

The girl is unsmiling, and looks almost weary, but the boy's grin reminds her somewhat of one of the pumpkins some of the children would carve faces onto, on various festivities. His eyes are wide and unblinking and, although the smile looks genuine, there is something very, very wrong about it.

"Audrey!" Winner calls, the smile on his face almost matching the boy from 2's. "Meet Damian and Korina, from District 2. Damian and Korina, this is Audrey. She's a bitch, but she's got a heart of gold, honest."

Audrey takes a deep breath, attempts to restrain her own homicidal intentions, and smiles stiffly at the two additions. Winner moves to stand next to her, and appears to survey the Damian and Korina, his eyes particularly lingering on Korina, who looks uncomfortable. There is silence, as the District 3 tributes pull into the station.

Korina forces a smile. "So," she says, rolling her shoulders back in a way that appears oddly masculine. "When does the killing begin?" She laughs nervously and, to everyone's astonishment, it is Damian who laughs with her. While Korina's forced giggle is far too gentle, Damian's full-bellied guffaw is loud enough to attract quite a lot of attention. Audrey jumps at the sudden sound, and frowns at him, particularly when he cuts off his laughter without warning.

It would be me who ends up with this lot, Audrey thinks to herself. The pervert goofball, the wannabe, and the creepy maniac. District 4 had better have some reasonable tributes, or I'm starting my own alliance of outer-district freaks...

District 4, much to Audrey's chagrin, appear little better than her other teammates. The boy is reasonably tall, and his body seems stuck halfway between slim and muscular; what particularly puts her off, however, is the glasses in place on his nose. His demeanour is better, though, and his steel grey eyes are cold and intimidating enough. And, although Audrey knows that judging people on first appearances (particularly glasses…) is stupid, she can't help but imagine him to be unintelligent.

Mostly because she's never met an unintelligent person who wears glasses.

The girl is a little taller than the boy is, with long blonde hair and green eyes, her hips swinging tantalisingly. Audrey's jaw almost drops at her beauty, before narrowing her eyes as the girl gets a little closer. The arrogance comes off the girl in waves and, somehow, her beauty is more frightening than seductive.

Winner is the quickest to them- as he would be when attractive females are in the vicinity- and practically elbows the boy out of the way in order to reach the girl. The boy momentarily looks rather put-out by his rejection, before rolling his eyes and making his way towards the others. When he reaches Audrey, who he seems to have pegged as the leader of the group, he holds out a hand.

"Rio Seymour," he informs, squeezing her hand when she reaches out to shake. Rio lets go rather quickly, and tilts his head towards the girl, who has been waylaid by Winner. "Her name is Exotica Scott. Oh, and don't listen to a word she says, or you'll regret it. Believe me." He shoots a sweeping look at the lot of them, before settling down beside Audrey.

They wait a few moments, Winner still animatedly talking to Exotica, before Audrey decides to break up the conversation. "Winner, get over here!"

Winner looks suitably ashamed- an expression he has been learning to fake since a young age- and makes his way over to the group, Exotica walking a few steps behind him. Her eyes flit over the group, lingering on Korina and Damian in particular, before she moves to take her place in the group, standing almost uncomfortably close to Korina, who shifts awkwardly to her right.

"Well," Audrey says eventually, surveying her fellow Careers, and trying to work out how to say her next words without seeming rude. "I don't particularly care who you are or where you've come from; all that matters is now, and our survival as a unit until the time comes that individual survival matters more. Any problems with that?"

Korina and Winner both open their mouths to speak up, but Audrey cuts them off quickly, not particularly caring about any issues they might have with her arrangement.

"Right, good," She says, nodding, a little satisfied. She feels a flash of excitement rising up in her stomach, and tries to ignore the disconcerting smile on Damian's face, and the narrow-eyed smirk on Exotica's. "If you want to get better acquainted, do it in your own time. Betray the group, and you're dead. Understood?"

"Question." Exotica cuts in. She pauses a second, as if only to infuriate Audrey, before raising her eyebrows and continuing, "Who exactly died and made you emperor?"

Audrey almost growls. Great, a troublemaker… Once again digging her fingernails into her thighs in order to calm herself down, she takes a moment to reply. "I imagine that I am the most competent leader. Is there a problem with that, Exotica?"

"None at all," Exotica's voice is silky sweet. "Go on."

Audrey nods, somewhat unsatisfied. "Right then. Fine, any other questions?"

Korina is the first to reply, and speaks quickly in order to get herself heard. "What should we do in training?"

"Be intimidating."

With a rather childish frown, Korina lifts one hand to her lips and bites a hang-nail. "Shouldn't we be looking through the other tributes, in case any of them have any abili-"

"No. Any other questions?"

Nobody had any.

This chapter is basically examining the first impressions of the Careers, and I'm hoping from several hints in the writing, that you can imagine what their individual relationships will become. Any relationships you want to see? Also, studies of Avien and Rose-Mary, and more minor ones of Nickel and Isabella. Each tribute will have a POV at some point during the Capitol chapters or, if not in the Capitol, in the Bloodbath. If there's anything you want to see your tribute do, or any things you want to happen to your tribute or any of the others, please drop me a PM.

Reviews are very much appreciated!