Okay, I've decided on a fair update rule. I MUST update at least once a week, unless a problem occurs, which I will let you know beforehand about. If I do not update in that time interval, you are free to send me nasty PMs telling me to hurry up. How's that sound, guys?

PS: look for a sponsoring guide in the next chapter.

(Margo Grey D11)

I hate it. I hate it here.

Pursing my lips in an attempt at concentration, I flick the string of the bow, eyes trained on the arrow as it sails through the air-

Clattering to the ground meters from the dummy.

I know I signed up for this, volunteering and all, but it's painstaking to say the least. Right now I could be searching for Griffin. Holding onto the hope that the love of my life could be somewhere in this god-forsaken city was slim nonetheless, but vital. I have to know.

My train of thought is broken when I'm shoved roughly to the side, and an arrow pierces the bull's eye I had just been trying for. I don't even have to see the strands of flaming, well kept hair to know Bailey Gizer was my offender.

A sharp buzz erupts in the air, followed by a crack of outlining electricity across her frame. I allow myself a quick, full look at her.

Revenge isn't necessary, I think while biting my lip to avoid laughing, which is a rare occurrence in itself. There's somewhat of a muzzle covering her chin and mouth, allowing not even a snort or shriek of her's to fill the air. All is muffled. On her wrist is a silver cuff with the Capitol seal on it, which had been explained beforehand by the head trainer.

The cuff is designed so Bailey is sent an excruciating volt when in physical contact with any of us, and apparently can sense when she is aiming for a human target.

"We all don't want you causing anymore trouble, Bailey," I say all too innocently as she is guided away by Gerisho, thrashing.

I would have expected the Capitol to indulge in her bloodlust, but to the contrary, they don't seem all too keen on healing any more tributes before the Games. Inwardly, I laugh with a bitter edge. Of course.

Nonchalantly, I drop the bow and sheath of arrows, and listen to the metallic clang as they meet the marble floor. The training area closest to empty is edible insects, so I leap over and hope it isn't filled with obnoxious airheads five times my size.

And it isn't. Sitting so quietly they give off an omnipresent air are the female tributes from Districts Three and Nine. Their names were…Euca and Pup, I think. And luckily, they don't even turn their heads as I join the group.

The rest of the morning is prosperous. I manage to eat lunch at my own table, which is the only thing that's been mildly exciting in the slightest.

But, staring around at all tributes makes me wonder how we can all be so different, come from such different worlds, and be so willing to kill each other, without thinking that we still have a part of us that is all the same.

We all are still young, we're still children really. Had there ever been a time when children, or all of Panem, didn't see each other as obstacles, adversaries even?

I now wish I'd said my share when Griffin was speaking out against the Capitol. Then I'd be with him as well, maybe close to death, but knowing that I stood up to attempt to give a right for children…to be children.

The rest of the day flies by. I pop in and out of the different stations, but absentmindedly more than anything. I know my skills, and I know what I'm here for. Period.

Dinner is painstaking. I chew on my lip and clench my fists as the District Eleven escort, whose name is far beyond my pronunciation, chatters on obliviously about how painful it's been getting sponsors for me, and gives herself a pat on the back for all her 'hard' work. Well I'll be damned, she has to get up and make a few phone calls while the rest of us contemplate how to survive in an arena laced with dangers that may as well be from hell itself.

That night, while I lie awake in a too soft bed that threatens to suffocate me with all its pillows, I become more and more restless. Forcing myself to give ten more minutes to rid the insomnia, I wiggle around into the covers to make myself comfortable.

It doesn't work, as I presumed, so I wrench the duvet and sheets from my body, slip a soft robe across my shivering frame, and wander the halls.

I don't know where I'm going exactly, but I continue to stumble aimlessly in the shadowy corridors. It's certainly more peaceful than my chilly bedroom, and it helps cleanse my brain of thought. Running my fingers along the rough canvases on the walls, my foot catches the fabric of my robe and I crash to the ground, spitting and cursing. But the next event is even more unexpected. I hear shuffling of feet and a hand extends out to my reach. I pull it and look to see who would be up at this time of night. It then hits me with a powerful, erupting impact. Those eyes-

They're Griffin's eyes.

We both stand frozen, just looking, analyzing. Finally, I try to gather up the emotions to say something, anything, but it all comes out as a choking gargle. Tears stream endlessly down my face, and he pulls my frame closer to his, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"Margo…" The smile in his voice envelopes me and I can't help but grin as well. Even if he is hundreds and thousands of miles away from our home, I can't help but be lost in my happiness. It's been too long since I've felt like this. My eyes close as he carries me through the halls, and I feel myself fade away.

When he sets me down, I gain consciousness again, eyelids fluttering open. I observe my surroundings, and I'm aware that we're on the roof. I went here last night for a while before dusk.

But now the skyline is glittering with harsh artificial light, which somewhere inside me strikes me as beautiful. Strange, but beautiful. My arms reach out fervently to confirm Griffin is still beside me, and sure enough, he is. My mind swirls with questions, and I finally clear my throat to speak.

"What are they doing to you here?" I croak. It doesn't make sense, really. The Capitol wouldn't keep him here to indulge in their luxury.

His eyes meet mine, and he pulls a piece of hair from my ear before answering, "I don't know, M. They've been acting too kind here, not how they should treat someone who openly speaks out against them. I think they're waiting for something, but I don't know what,"

My heart pounds in my chest. "Griffin…I can't stop thinking about you being…tortured, killed even," I know I shouldn't share those discouraging thoughts, but they slip out urgently.

He gives a chuckle. "Well I die for a good cause, and I get to see the person I love before it happens," he kisses me on the cheek and continues, "Why don't we talk about home? How is it there?"

We talk for ages, it seems. It's nice to hear his voice again, but when his lips brush against mine, or he embraces me, my whole body lurches. I want him, yes, but I can't want him…

I awake to the sun glaring into my eyes, forming a wave of heat over my body. A horrible stench emits from somewhere, and I assume a dumpster must be nearby in the city. With a small grin, I notice that I'm still clutching Griffin's hand. I swivel around to see his body in full.

My scream echoes through the city with a colossal jolt. Right…right…w-here…his head…should be…

Is…a….a stub…

Tears erupt from my eyes and choking wails escape my mouth as I pull the sheet of paper on his body to eyes view. I force myself to believe its red ink, not blood…not blood. I thrash and thrash uncontrollably as I absorb the words.

This is the price you pay for rebellion, darling.

(Everard Basil D11)

I give Margo a reassuring smile as the elevator zips down to the gymnasium for our second day of training. She turns her back from me as if anticipating that I'll stab her in the back or something. I shake my head nonchalantly and turn to my escort, Pelicaniya.

"It's going to be a great day, I can tell," I beam at her, and she clasps her hands together in delight.

"Indeed, Everardo!" Pelicaniya pipes while clenching her fingers onto my arm in an attempt to stay steady. It's no surprise she's so tipsy, we all watched her mix spirits at breakfast this morning. But I would have liked if she dropped that last vowel from my name.

With a slight beep the doors slide open, and I give my last wave to Pelicaniya. In response, she vomits on the marble floor, looking up from the mess to flash a smile and give us a thumbs up. Margo rolls her eyes for the tenth time today, and sighs. I chuckle half-heartedly. At least we have some comic relief.

The colossal training room slides into view, and I realise all of the tributes have already arrived. Margo and I scuffle to the middle of the room where everyone is gathering around the head trainer. For a head, you would assume someone large and burly would be chosen, but she's a petite woman with wispy blond hair, her grey eyes burn in an eerie, deadly way. Her gaze shifts from all of us to a set of Peacekeepers at the door, and she gestures with a wave at the door. I hear a pronounced click and Bailey Gizer steps through, brow furrowed.

I then realise the cuff and mask-like contraption the Peacekeeper's are fitting onto her wrist and jaw, and can't help but raise my eyebrow in confusion. Snickers and whispers echo through the area.

"Maybe they can cut off your tongue next, eh Bailey?" Cassidy's smug voice matches the sneer on her face as she examines the stitches on her hand. The Five lunges for Bailey, when the most peculiar thing happens. A spark of electricity travels from the cuffs and lights up her body.

"As you all can see, there will be no issues with Miss Gizer attempting to harm or speak to any of you, although it would be most courteous if you could refrain from any comments, yes Miss Charme?" Cassidy shakes her head and mutters something along the lines of 'bitch' or 'dumbass'. I assume the latter, as Cassidy hasn't quite sunken to our beloved Five's word of mouth yet.

We all finally disperse, and I feel a few knots in my stomach. I hadn't really thought about who I'd be in an alliance with, as I hadn't had any time to work on it yesterday. Without thinking, I stumble over to the mace station. I've never been handy with one, but I'd like to at least try in case it's the only thing I can get my hands on in the Games.

I swing the mace around for a while, listening intently as the trainer explains some useful tactics with the weapon. The other tributes in the station don't seem to be doing great with it either, except for the girl in their alliance from Seven. It's funny, because she's so tiny but her eyes are filled with rage, and the dummy is slowly being mutilated with her skilled hands. I manage to gather their names from the amount of whispers they emit.

The boy from Eight is Hexavire, I saw him excel in a number of other weapons like bow and arrow. Next to him is Rat-Trap, a quiet fifteen who always wears a big goofy grin, and seems very ,very intelligent.

And the small Seven is Sofiel. Her black hair drapes around her face like a curtain, her face hard, but I can't help but wonder if she has a soft side deep down. Either way, she will not be underestimated on my part.

The rest of the day is rewarding. I begin to break the wall between me and Sofiel, Rat-Trap, and Hexavire, who invite me to eat lunch, and we all teach each other different techniques where the other struggles. One in a while they will give me a skeptic glance, and it reminds me that these people, they don't trust lightly.

And I'm reminded of the horrors that are approaching rapidly, so very rapidly.