Edited the last chapter, where I accidentally mixed up Hiroko and Finley. For those of you who have read my last SYOTs, there is a cameo from a... well-known non-tribute character.

Take me down to the paradise city;

Where the grass is green, and the girls are pretty;

Take me home, oh won't you please take me home?

SKYLAR ONSET, DISTRICT 3

Her lips parted in a half smile, her chocolate brown eyes glazed over as she focuses her gaze on the screen. Above her, fluorescent lights send their harsh beams down upon her, reflecting off her hair, and illuminating it like a halo. Reddish flecks that she had not previously noticed, highlighted by her ever-diligent prep team.

To put it bluntly, Skylar Onset didn't think she'd ever looked so attractive, thanks to the Capitol paints and tools; she was, of course, by no means unique. All of the tributes around her, save the particularly grotesque- of which there were few if any at all. Even the plain, rather unfussy folk appeared to gleam under the harsh stage-lights.

Some even looked beautiful.

The show had not begun quite yet. Attendants scurried around like ants on an ant hill, shouting orders at one another, and bewailing the stress of the occasion. Skylar watched as a man almost bulbous in appearance and a woman carrying a pile of clipboards crashed headlong into one each other, the clipboards falling to the ground with a loud clatter.

Amongst the tributes, there were mixed giggles and hisses of shock. Skylar, herself, stiffened at the sudden noise, but chose to remain silent. In front of her, the boy from District 2 lounged, pressed almost flush to her front in the crush. The fear of attracting his attention- or anybody's, really- was enough to keep her quiet. So, taking a deep breath, she kept her eyes firmly forward, and ignored the shouting of the bulbous man and the clipboard-carrying woman as they both scrambled to retrieve what had fallen.

"My coffee, all down the front of my new silk cravat from Medici's Bouti-"

"Never mind about that, you silly man! Help me pick this all up this instant, or I'll be forced to call-"

Skylar blocked out the shrill conversation as easily as if it was the screeching of gears, a common sound in District 3. She had learned to block it out there: it was so consistent, that if one did not block it out, they would gradually go mad because of it. Or, at least, that was what Skylar thought.

GGGGTTTTTTT-

A sudden blast of music made Skylar squeak in shock, leaping backwards on reflex. It seemed that her reaction was shared, as some of the others made noises of surprise- one girl outright screamed- and more made similar noises as a domino effect began.

Luckily for Skylar, she was pushed back before she managed to hit the ground, having lost her footing due to her shock. While she hadn't fallen dramatically, and probably wouldn't have done anything more than embarrassed herself, it was appreciated all the same. As Spectre pushed her back to her feet a little more roughly than could have been called necessary, she sighed an audible sigh of relief.

"Thanks." She mumbled, glancing at him and nodding; he nodded back at her somewhat gravely. Even in his suit, with his hair combed and styled, Spectre still gave off an aura of unkemptness that rather suited him. Not that Skylar noticed this, of course.

The show was beginning.

At the front of the line, not too far ahead of Skylar, the girl from District 1- Audrey, wasn't it?- was being hustled onto the stage. She didn't look too pleased, her thin lips pursed, but in front of Skylar's eyes, she twisted her face into an open smile. She licked her lips once, her pink, pointed tongue darting over perfectly glossed lips, before heading out onto the stage.

From where she stood, Skylar could see Caesar Flickerman on the stage, his hair and suit an odd shade of bubblegum pink. He seemed as enthusiastic as ever, and the roars of the crowd were loud enough to send a bubble of fear through her stomach. Audrey on stage, however, didn't seem to mind; she appeared almost frivolous in the way she flitted about, smiling and waving as if it was all she was born to do.

"Damn." Mumbled someone in front of her, and Skylar's eyes were brought to the boy from District 1, who had his arms crossed and was shaking his head at the stage. He turned around and said to the girl from District 2, who was directly behind him, "She knows how to act."

"You'd better hope you do too." Was the girl's short, rather blunt reply, before they were shushed by some of the attendants, who were still hurrying around rather manically, apparently not put at ease by the beginning of the interviews. Tapping her foot, Skylar waited in line for her own, vaguely listening as Audrey Syrian answered questions about the Career alliance, her childhood, and her "love interests".

"So, how about the boy from your District, Winner?" Caesar was asking. His teeth flashed almost blindingly white under the lights of the stage, and he wet his lips with his tongue, similarly to how Audrey had before leaving backstage. "Or are you into the brooding Rio? Or... the cheerful type, like Damien?"

Audrey's laugh sounded as fake as it probably was. She covered her mouth politely with one hand, and Skylar blinked, confused. What is she playing at? I don't really understand. Playing it like a ditz, even though she's...

"Oh, I like them all," she said eventually, shooting a roguish wink in Caesar's direction. How long did it take her to master that? "But of course, there is that special someone... But why divulge? You'll have to wait and see!"

The interviews went by quickly after that. Perhaps it was the growing nausea in Skylar's stomach that caused it, or the bile rising in her throat at the thought of emerging in front of the crowd. Stay frosty, Skylar, stay frosty... As many times as she told herself to stay calm, she couldn't bring herself to do so. Pawing the ground nervously, she twisted the hem of her dress between sweaty fingers; the moisture from her hands slid off the slippery material, and she had to fight to keep hold of it.

As the boy from District 2 walked off the stage to tumultuous applause, she felt a new jolt of fear run through her, and hung her head briefly, pursing her lips. Should she wait for the applause to die down before walking onto the stage? Could she possibly bring herself to step out there, in front of all of those people? Everyone in front of her had done it just fine.

She would not be the weak one, she told herself fiercely, shaking her head to herself. Skylar registered that someone was pushing her forward. A Capitol attendant, the one who had previously been holding the clipboards, that was it.

The lights almost blinded her.

Then, she pushed her tongue out of the corner of her mouth, and wet her dry lips, as she'd seen Audrey do. Like Audrey, she practically strutted, trying to control the shaking centred in her small abdomen. As she made it out, she pushed a strand of her dark hair over her shoulder, and blinked- the lights from above had dazzled her to the stage that she saw flashing spirals wherever she looked- at the crowd.

Could she be as frivolous as the pair from District 1? As cheerful as the boy from District 2 (in his own odd, disturbing little way), or as quietly menacing as the girl from that District?

Walking to Caesar, she mimicked the boy from 2's walk. The jauntiness of his step, the way he swung his arms rather casually at his sides in a relaxed manner. When she sat, she sat as the boy from District 1 had, with her arms spread casually over the back of the chair, one leg crossed over the other.

Stay frosty.

Skylar, keeping her face as cool and aloof as the girl from District 2's, answered her questions in turn. She ignored the audience as she ignored the screeching of cogs and gears from home, similarly to how she'd ignored the squabbling Capitol folk. Things, in due, could not have gone better.

As she stepped offstage, she took a quick look at Spectre, who didn't look back at her. His attention, fully undivided, was on the stage; his lips were a little parted, in a silent expression of fear.

MARCUS DELAVEGA, DISTRICT 7

Everything about this place was so overwhelming to him. For a boy used to fragrant pine forests and simple wooden cabins, the glitz and glamour of the Capitol was not something he could truly comprehend. Like how he couldn't understand the people. They seemed so... abnormal. The colours, some of which he had never even seen before, almost hurt his eyes. In a world of sepia, the Capitol was an eye-sore beyond forgiveness.

Marcus Delavega stood awkwardly in line behind the girl from his district, Charlie, and tried to appear as inconspicuous as humanly possible. His hair, spiked in ways he did not even concieve possible, felt stiff and uncomfortable. His stylist had put make-up on his eyes, like a girl! He'd felt so embarrassed that he'd come rather close to wiping it off with the back of his hand, but had earned his hand being slapped for his trouble.

He'd spoken to Finley from District 10 on the way down, who was his only female ally thus far, who had complained for the entire elevator ride down to the lobby about how much make-up had been plastered onto her face. Truth be told, it didn't look so bad on her. She'd actually looked quite pretty.

In front of him, Charlie was called up to the stage. She rolled her eyes at him before she went, clicking her tongue, before bouncing towards the stage with a shocking lack of fear. He watched her go almost dumbstruck, intrigued with her lack of fear, but equally, somewhat impressed. Marcus was thinking it more and more likely that he might have to be dragged onto the stage by his overly spiky hair if they wanted him there.

Charlie's interview went far too quickly for Marcus' liking. The Capitol seemed to view her as something of an oddity, and she received a mixed reception. Most of it seemed warm, but there were those who seemed stuck between chattering with their neighbours about how 'cute' she was, and discussing the popping muscles that emerged when she flexed.

Now, Marcus was not skinny, and had a perfectly athletic body, so was it rather strange that he was jealous of the muscles of a female? Some of the other boys looked rather envious too, so he supposed that it wasn't too shameful. Nevertheless, he kept his eyes averted, watching the astonishingly overweight District 4 Escort harassing her tributes.

"Exotica! You looked like a hoe, out there, a hoe!" Most of the tributes were still hanging around backstage, although none of them were making quite as such a ruckus as the District 4 group. As Marcus waited for his turn, he watched them, intrigued.

The District 4 girl- Exotica?- was looking mightily annoyed. She crossed her arms and stuck out her bottom lip, looking for all the world like the 'hoe' her district escort claimed her to be. She mumbled something under her breath, rolling her eyes and starting to move away, but her district escort- a plump woman wearing a voluminous orange dress- grabbed her shoulder.

"The word you are looking for is sassy, and you'd better pray you don't find it!"

Marcus was distracted by the conversation as he was pushed onto the stage by an attendant, and before he knew it, the crowds were screaming his name. He stood rooted to the spot momentarily, his mouth dry, before he used one hand to spike up his hair, and walked towards the chair centre stage.

It had been so quick, he realised, that he'd barely felt the fear he presumed he'd feel. And now, he didn't feel much at all. Although the feeling of Capitol eyes upon him was unpleasant- Damn, that wig looks like a dead animal- it was necessary, he supposed.

So, he shot a shy smile in Caesar's direction, who smiled back encouragingly. "Hello, Marcus! How are you doing this evening?"

"Pretty good," Marcus said, and was surprised to find that his voice was a little higher than usual, and had to cough to lower it. A few people laughed, and he felt his cheeks pinken, his heart speeding up somewhat. "A-and yourself?"

Caesar seemed pleasantly surprised. "I'm fantastic, thank you for asking. Very, very excited to be meeting you all. Now, what do you think of the Capitol so far?"

Straight to the point, then. I like that.

"We-e-ell," he drew out the word, thinking to himself. "It's real colourful."

A few more people laughed at that, but the laughter wasn't entirely unkind. A little patronising, sure, but certainly not unkind.

"Colorful, that it is, certainly colourful. Anything you like about it?"

"I like that it's colourful," Marcus replied, having thought about it for a moment. He moved his hand to the back of his head, pushing the spikes up ever further. "And I like the Training Centre."

Caesar smiled. "The Training Centre! You must be good at that, eh? Big man like you."

That made Marcus laugh, and a few people laughed with him. He turned his eyes to the audience rather shyly, and saw smiles on their faces, anticipating his answer in an almost predatorial manner. Although Marcus didn't see this, of course. He saw hordes of grinning, painted faces. Friendly faces, which surprised him. He'd thought they'd all be monsters but they seemed... kind.

"I reckon I wasn't so bad. Made some allies. Given my district, I can use axes... It was kind of fun."

The audience seemed to like this answer, and so did Caesar. "Allies! You're a friendly type, then?"

"Not usually. Met some... like-minded folk here, and made an exception. Guess that's what this game is about, right? Doing things you wouldn't ordinarily do?"

Doing things you wouldn't ordinarily do. Talking when you wouldn't ordinarily talk. Running when you wouldn't ordinarily run. Hurting when you wouldn't ordinarily hurt.

Killing when you wouldn't ordinarily kill.

NELSON MANN, DISTRICT 12

Being the last tribute to have an interview felt strange, to Nelson. Although previously some of the other tributes had hung around, all of them had dispersed at about the point that District 11 finished, leaving him and his district partner Rowan the only two tributes left backstage. And now, with her onstage, he was alone.

He balled his fists, and shook his dark hair into his face, covering his eyes from the penetrating glare of the stage lights. Attempting to close his mind to the whole situation was difficult, due to the power of the sounds and sights encasing him, he tried to think of his sisters, Emerson and Hailey. Picturing their faces from before the fire- round, young, kind- in his mind's eye was enough to keep him sane, enough to send him onto that stage with a spring in his step, and a jaunty smile.

The thought of their faces as they were now- hollow-cheeked, too old for their years, wolfish- was enough to make him want to curl into a ball and never appear in the public's eye again.

But he wouldn't think about that, of course. Nelson Mann prided himself on his diligence, and there was, of course, no use in thinking of that. It would be a vicious circle: he would do badly in his interview, and make himself miserable, and die in the Hunger Games. If he didn't think about them like that, he would do fine in his interview, be neutral and maybe, just maybe, not die in the Hunger Games.

Rowan came sashaying off the stage to moderate applause; the moment she was out of view, her face contorted into a weary scowl, and she shot a semi-sympathetic look in his direction, her eyes panning over him. "They're bored." She said slowly, grimacing at him, before moving out of the backstage area towards the lobby.

That didn't do wonders for his self-esteem, but Nelson steeled himself up anyway. As Caesar Flickerman announced his name, he strode out onto the stage without being pushed, a carefully manufactured grin on his face. As the crowds roared, he kept his expression the same, even waving at the audience, his teeth gritted behind smiling lips. As demeaning as it might be, it was necessary to get these people to like him.

See, I've got it worked out. If these people like me, they'll sponsor me. If they sponsor me, I'll be able to survive the Hunger Games. If I survive the Hunger Games, I can go home. Simple!

Nelson sat on the comfortable chair next to Caesar Flickerman, and accepted the hand-shake that was offered. As the applause slowly died down, he flicked his fringe out of his face, and sat up perfectly straight, his hands clasped in his lap. The smile still there, but his expression a little more sombre now, he observed Caesar, his playground eyes nestled into the mask he called a face.

"Welcome, Nelson, welcome! Now, the Capitol must be a far cry from District 12, correct?" The man seemed so trustworthy, with his understanding expression- like a kind old uncle, perhaps- that Nelson was very nearly pulled in. He opened his mouth to answer, then shut it. "Nelson?"

"I like to think," Nelson said slowly, cutting Caesar off. He glanced at the crowd, who looked back somewhat apprehensively. "Yeah, it's a far cry. But at least I'm amongst my own, right?" He attempted a good-natured smile and, from the way some of the Capitol people smiled back at him, he supposed it must have worked. "At least I'm not alone."

The lines on Caesar's face deepened into shallow valleys, as his facial expression changed to one of concern. "Meaning?" He asked, and there was a cool undertone to his voice now. He quickly regained the roguish grin, but there was something about his expression that was different, now.

Nelson glanced at him, then at the crowd, and allowed the smile to melt off his face. "Meaning that I'm not alone. I've got Rowan, and I've got my allies. And I know that my sisters are watching over me, too."

Caesar visibly relaxed. "Oh, I see!" What was he expecting me to say? "Well, that's nice. Your sisters? Younger, or-"

"Yeah, they're younger than me," Nelson continued. "Twelve and seven." There were several appreciative sounds made from the crowd, and he waited for them to die down before continuing. "My parents... Well, you see, there was this house-fire when I was fifteen, two years ago. My parents didn't have any money left, and were more concerned with looking after themselves than me and my sisters. So, I've spent the last two years looking after my sisters. Doing what had to be done, you know?"

He was feeling more and more uncomfortable with every word that left his lips, but it was necessary, like everything else. Going for the sympathy vote wasn't something Nelson thought he'd ever sink to, but there was little else he could do. He was average aesthetically, he couldn't use weapons with any real skill, and he certainly wasn't as strong as some of the Careers.

"I would build us little shelters," The whole room was rapt. Even Caesar remained silent, waiting for Nelson to continue his story. "The three of us would do it together. I'd tell them that our parents would be back soon, and we had to look self-sufficient, or they wouldn't want us. I know it's cruel, but we had to work together. I was the parent, sure, but I couldn't have lived without them. I-"

The buzzer went off, signalling the end of his interview. Suddenly, he became desperate, moving his hands to the arms of the chair, and gripping on tight. He turned directly to the cameras, his eyes pleading.

"Hailey, Emerson, you're going to be okay. You have to look after each other, okay? You have to. Anyone in District 12, listen-" Caesar was trying to make him move, cutting him off, and smiling and waving at him. "You have to help them. Don't let them starve, please don't let the-"

His microphone was cut off, and Caesar Flickerman got to his feet, pulling Nelson with him. "Nelson Mann, District 12, everybody!"

There was hesitant applause.

Just an urchin livin' under the street,

I'm a hard case that's tough to beat,

I'm your charity case so buy me something to eat,

I'll pay you at another time,

Take it to the end of the line,

Take me down to paradise city,

Where the grass is green and the girls are pretty,

Oh won't you PLEASE TAKE ME HOME.