A/N: This update is so overdue, I'm not even going to bother you with anything extra until the end of the chapter. But be warned, my V key got stuck; apparently, my laptop thinks it's a rather unimportant letter.

I don't own the Hunger Games. Way to rub salt in the wound.

Glimmer's P.O.V.

Last night, after a small meal of noodles in a creamy paste and a goblet of blue liquid, I crashed into my bed and was asleep before I could even peel off the pretty Parade dress.

Now, after looking at my reflection in the over-sized mirror in the bathroom, I feel a twinge of remorse. My hair is matted and ratty, my makeup smudged in an unattractive fashion. Because I failed to wipe off the powder on my face, there is a spot up on my hairline where a small bright red blemish now resides. It's nothing my prep team can't fix, but I do faintly recall Loyola sternly telling me to wash off the makeup, "or else".

My dress took a beating, too. Even though I know I will never wear it again, I still feel a slight pang in my heart to see the dress so rumpled. My armpits are slightly stained from me sweating in all of the bright lights, and a few gems seem to have fallen off somehow. There is a small tear at the hem, from where my foot got caught in it while trudging up the stairs to my room.

I shimmy out of it, dropping it to the floor. I grab the brush and run it through my locks a few times, just to get the biggest tangles out. When they are, I promptly step into the glass-cased shower and press the "On" button. The water is still the temperature I had it on previously, so all I have to do is push the button for mint smelling foam and I can relax. Finally, with a sigh, I close my eyes and allow my thought to consume me.

Holy Hell. I'm in the Hunger Games.

It's the first thing that pops into my mind. It seems it still hasn't quite sunk into my system yet. I shake my head and focus on a safer topic.

Saphira needs me. I can't disappoint Smolder.

Damn. It seems that every topic, even my usual go-to safe topics, aren't so safe anymore. They all relate to, tie back to the Games.

However, thoughts of my family seem to leave an even bigger pang in my heart than any other topic. So I move on to another, a topic that might just help me escape the horror of the Games:

Alliances.

Okay, besides the obvious Marvel, I don't have any current allies. However, I haven't really got any time to talk to any other District tributes. But when we do in Training today…..

I reach out and stop the foam, changing the water back to normal to rinse me off.

District 2 is a normal ally of ours, and typically, so is District 4. I haven't even seen the District 4 tributes yet. I wonder if they are of any value to me.

My last thought makes me cringe. The Capitol is already turning me into a monster.

I turn off the water and step out of the shower, immediately being blow-dried from all directions. I daintily pick up a towel from the rack nearby and wrap it around me as I step over the discarded dress; I know an Avox will more than likely take it somewhere later.

Laid out on my dresser is a black jumpsuit with a red stripe going up both sides. A plain black t-shirt is there for under the jacket, and the springy, gel laced shoes from yesterday are there as well. As I get dressed, I notice a District 1 patch on my jacket.

I quickly head downstairs to see Fabio, Cynthi, and Marvel's stylists all sitting at the table, eating. Marvel must still be in his room.

I grab a plate and sit down next to Cynthi, who acknowledges me with a small smile, and immediately begin loading my plate with buttery biscuits and jams and different flavored honeys.

I'm halfway through my second biscuit when Marvel saunters in, shattering the comfortable silence.

"What's the plan?" He asks, swinging the chair around so that he's straddling it, facing us. He grabs a piece of sizzling bacon from a plate nearby and stuffs it in his mouth.

Cynthi scowls at him, and his own stylist looks completely appalled by his behavior and manners. "Sit properly, Marvel." She says in a shrill voice. I inwardly cringe. I'm suddenly glad Marvel's stylist hasn't talked to much, or that voice would have given me a headache.

With a sigh, Marvel flips his chair back around.

"What is the plan?" I ask, because I really do want to know.

"Make alliances, but make powerful alliances. No weaklings. I don't care if they are from a District that normally allies with District 1. If they are weak, ignore them. However, I would do well to remind you that size and muscle isn't everything. While it can be extremely useful, they do need some semblance of brains to back it up. Look for fast runners, and lithe fighters. Anyone who is of any value to you. Once you scoped those specific people out, keep a casual eye on them before you approach them. Watch what stations they go to, how powerful they are, and how they react to certain things. A big, burly boy might be nice of a person to kill when necessary. A lithe, quick girl might be untrustworthy. Appearances, while they do count for something, do not count for everything."

I blink at Fabio. His face is dead serious, and I'm not sure he's ever said anything that long without smiling or squealing. He wants us to live. He wants us to go home.

I stuff more biscuit into my mouth and wipe the crumbs off with my napkin.

Cynthi tugs on my hair until I face away from her, and she parts my hair into two sides, then braids them and ties them off with two small, clear rubber bands.

"To keep it out of your face." She whispers in my ear.

I give her a grateful smile and stand up, alongside Marvel.

"Hurry up, training starts in 15 minutes." Marvel's stylists trills. We dash into the elevator and press the blue, glowing TRAINING button. As the door slides closed, Marvel mutters, "That woman gives me nightmares."

~*~*~FIRE~*~IS~*~CATCHING~*~*~

The doors slide open, revealing a large room filled with test dummies, targets, plants, bows, nets, and so much more. A few wooden tables are off to the side, and there's a balcony, where a few gamemakers lolled around, chattering with each other and drinking champagne.

A small cluster of people in jumpsuits similar to mine, only with varying numbers on their badges, were already there. I quickly made my way over to join them.

As soon as I approached, what little whispers were being exchanged immediately ceased.

"Who runs this?" I asked, making eye contact with a scrawny boy from District 3. He noticeably gulped and stuttered, "I-I-I don't know."

I roll my eyes, and turn back towards Marvel, who's standing back, his face impassive. I stand next to him, facing away from the group. "Have you seen anyone?" I whisper.

He catches on immediately. "That guy who just walked in. From 11."

I glance over my shoulder. He's big and bulky, and looks like he could kick some serious ass. For a second, I wondered if he'd come down without the girl Tribute. But then, his gaze flickered downwards, then back up. I looked to where he'd just looked, and was surprised to see a tiny little girl no older than 12.

"No." I say, turning back to Marvel. "He keeps glancing down at the girl. He won't likely leave her, and I don't want any extra unnecessary disadvantages."

Marvel gives a curt nod, but his eyes narrow. I don't have to look to see who it was that got that reaction out of him- the District 12 people.

"No." He says instantly.

I glare up at him. "Put your ego aside for a second, dumbshit. They could be useful."

He turns his glare on me. "They upstaged us, Glimmer. If we made an alliance, the audience will assume them leaders of the pack. We are the leaders of the pack, Glimmer. No."

I look away, turning my glare onto a rack of sharp spears. I don't argue with him. He has some logic in his statement, but I don't doubt the strengths of them for a second. I internally decide to keep an eye on them, and see what they can do. If they look useful, maybe I'll bring it back up later.

I turn to face the same direction as Marvel. Everyone is here now.

Including Cato.

He turns his gaze on me. The corner of his mouth turns up, but then the girl from his District tugs on his arms, and he looks away. I, on the other hand, can't look away.

"Glimmer."

I can tell by his tone that he has tried to get my attention for a few minutes. "Listen to the lady. Do you want to die?"

A slight blush creeps to my cheeks as I realize I have been staring. I internally slap myself as I turn my attention to the lady who has been talking, telling us of the importance of going to every station, not just the ones we're good at.

I cannot afford to miss and advice I am given, and I cannot afford to miss it over a boy. From another District.

The lady dismisses us and leaves to join the gamemakers on the balcony. Immediately, I head for the knife throwing station, with a promise to Marvel to keep an eye on any possible ally.

It turns out, my first possible ally has headed for the same station as I.

The girl from 2 reaches for the same knife as me at the same time as me. She scrutinizes me, looking me up and down. I stare defiantly at her, my head high and shoulders back.

Finally, she lets a small smile slide onto her face. "You take it." She gestures to the targets.

I nod my thanks, allowing a slight smile of my own. "Glimmer." I say.

Her mouth twitches yet again in a smile. "Clove. From 2, obviously. And you're from 1." It isn't a question, it's a statement.

I nod. "I'm alright with a knife, but it isn't my favorite weapon." With that, I fling the knife hard at the target, and it sinks in with a thunk. It's in the bulls-eye area, but isn't in the dead center.

I turn to Clove, who nods her approval. She grabs another knife from the bucket, lines up at another target, and with the flick of her wrist, the knife is lodged in the center of the target. No doubt, if that was a person, they would be dead.

I stand back and watch her practice some more. She never misses.

Finally, she turns to look at me, with a crooked smile.

"What is your strong suit?" She asks.

With a smirk, I turn and walk across the area to the crossbows. I don't look to see if she's followed me, but the snort of amusement from behind me tells me she has, and is unimpressed with my choice of weapon.

Calmly, I lay out a row of twenty darts, and select a bow. I load it up, and turn to face Clove. She arches her eyebrow. Without warning, I whirl around and let loose. My hand grabs out and reloads with lightning fast speed and I shoot again. And I repeat. And repeat. And repeat. And repeat, all the way until the table next to me is empty. Finally I set down my bow and look at my results. In less than two minutes, I unleashed 21 darts into the center of the bulls eye.

I turn to Clove. She looks somewhat impressed in her facial expression, but her eyes look in slight awe. She shake her head, looks me in the eyes and smiles.

"I think I'll go get Cato."

A/N: Sorry for lack of Cato, but that's the way the cookie crumbles. =( But he's TOTALLY in next chapter, quite a bit…

Reviews are amazing, and I fully intend to respond to them all! Sorry for the late update, it shouldn't happen again. I think the update will come within the week.

Au revior, little biscuits! =)

Read on and Rock out,

NinjaNakkiOfCabin11