England felt as if a huge, iron hand had just slapped him across the face. Eleven of the thirteen tributes had already been selected, even if his little brother Sealand was among them, and the very last tribute to be called was him. Just on a defiant face, England clenched his hand into fists, and marched up onto the stage with the other twenty three tributes that he would either have to kill, or they would have to slaughter him. All just for some sadisitic entertainmetn for the twisted Capitol dwellers. Also, needless to say, the git Panem was on the top of England's hate list, simply for dragging all the Hetalians into this gaint clusterfuck. (Yes, England is mad enough to cuss by now!)
"And there have our twenty four brave tributes," Effie announced, motioning to the group. The crowd in the sqaure remained stoic, knowing that this could very well be the last time they ever saw these particular nations. The pink clad women then turned toward the tributes. "You have ten minutes to exchange a few words with your loved ones. After that, we will head toward the train station to the Capitol."
One by one, reaped tributes filed off the stage, and saught out their loved ones in the crowd. England, having nobody he really had to say good-bye to, merely let out an irritated grunt and sat down on the stage steps, figeting anxiously. For all he knew, this could very well be the last time he ever saw this strange little town where the captured Hetalians were made to live. He would miss it though. China ran an exellent restaurant near the square, and England always enjoyed going to Italy's pasta bar, even if the host was quite loud and way too hyper.
England felt an abrupt tap on his shoulder. He whirled around to see Sealand stading behind him, gazing out at the throng. Hungary and Austrai were exchanging a tearful farewell in the middle of the square, while Switzerland was talking to Leichtenstein, a serious expression on his face. "You look pretty glum," Sealand remarked, taking in his older brother's sulky expression.
England sighed. "Well how could I not be? We're all being forced to kill each other for entertainment, and look at me, I have to compete against my little brother who's not even a real nation in the first place!"
Sealand shook his head pointedly. "I am too a real nation, and you'd better know it! But the Games do suck..." he trailed off, "Still, lots of sibling nations are being forced to fight each other. Like Russia and his sisters, or China and Japan, even if nobody actaully thinks China's their older brother. And not to mention, America is your younger brother too!"
"Sometimes I actaully want to kill him anyway, though..." England muttered, "But still, how can you act so cheery now?"
"I'm just trying to make the best of it, and I'm not a sourpuss like you!" Sealand replied, as Effie climbed back onto the stage.
She cleared her throat. "Alright, all tributes please return to the stage now," she instructed coolly. England had to hold back a wave of tears when the tributes had to say a final good-bye. Austrai and Hungary embraced one another tightly, both sobbing profously. China hugged all of his Panda Bears, while Japan exchanged a wistfull farewell with his pet cats, promosing them that his freind Greece would look after them while he was away. Meanwhile, America proudly boasted about his victories in previous wars, not at all worried about the fate ahead of him.
Slowly, the tributes stomped back up onto the stagae like innocent lambs heading to the slaughterhouse, which was pretty much the way everyone felt right now. After making sure that all the tributes were present, Effie, along with several of peacekeepers led the competitors to the trainstation, an impressive underground structure that buzzed with the bustle of trains, people, and shops. The tributes looked very much like prisoners, Effie leading the way and all of them following her in a single file line, peacekeepers watching their every move, preventing any chance of escape. No one talked along the way either, each person to preoccupied with their minds no doubt filled with all sorts of emotions: anger, fear, sadness, and more.
"Ah, here we are!" Effie grinned upon reaching a large, luxurious looking train. Even standing outside of it, England could see pink silk shades pulled over the crystal windows, and the exterior of the locomotive was painted a beatiful ruby color, which looked a bit like blood. "Now, each of you have your own compartment, and while you're on the train, you can read this book which explains the Hunger Games to you better than what you may have already heard," she said, handing each Hetalian tribute a leatherbound book as they calmbered abaord the train.
England was right to assume the train was luxurious. A plush gold carpet ran through the hallways, and each of the mahogany compartment door had a window with a sahde that could be pulled down at will. The tributes quickly settled into their compartments, England choosing one near the back of the train, hoping to get the most peace and privacy. The inside of his compartment was the most plush of all. A large bed with soft white sheets stood in the corner, and a soft, red armchair was perched in front of a television, so the tributes could watch tapings of previous games, a box of which was set on the bed. Another door off to side led to a bathroom, with a grand shower that had tempeture control, and multiple showerheads.
"Okay," England murmered wistfully, laying down on his soft, comfortable bed, "let's just get this all over with."