***Roselyn Blade's POV***

I'm ready for this. I'm lethal, im agile, and I'm ready to kill. If I win this, I'm filthy rich! "Fucking rich!" I laugh out loud. Not that anyone can hear me out in the middle of the forest. Ha. I'd like to see them try and get me. I'd get them is one shot. Not like I can throw a knife with incredible aim or anything! I'm even better than Clove, that District 2 girl from the year before last! I was at my second year of eligibility that year... I would have volunteered last year actually... But it was the Quarter Quell. Past victors went in. I'm not a victor, well, not yet, anyway. Ha! I can't wait for the Games to begin! I rush back to the house my parents left when they left me here, with no word. I hope they watch me win in a couple of weeks. See them crawling to mr when I'm rich. I wouldn't hesitate to bury my knives in their faces. Actually, I probably would... In a way, I'm lucky they let me keep the house. I'm not the only orphan in the District, but most of them have other family members to look after them. I might, I really don't know. If I do, well, they haven't made any attempt to contact me. I've been keeping up with the general housekeeping, while training in the woods behind my house. It looks as though whoever lives here never leaves. I do, I leave. It pains me to be here.

I rush to my room, and pick out the outfit saved especially for nice occasions. I want to have some clothes not too small, or too dirty, I want to look as though I have parents. The outfit is a black shirt, and a light pink floral skirt. The black brings out my tanned skin, and also makes my green eyes look so bright. I've been told I'm good at death stares. I suppose I'm pretty, not that I'd ever admit it. Anyone who has told me so has usually ended up with a broken nose, or black eye. I'm glad my hair is short I don't have to worry about it, it looks kind of scraggly, but that's only because I did it myself. I hate people touching my hair. My only regrets about being in the Games. Someone is going to try touch my hair. Oh well.

I walk into the square, surrounded by children 12-18, and am happy to see they mostly don't look as strong as me. I know why. They don't. I get my finger pricked, and walk over to the 15-year-olds roped out section.

***Beep Wires' POV***

My first reaping. My first reaping. They won't reap me, right? They can't! I know it's happened before! But still, They can't! Mum obviously sees me freaking out, and bends down to my level. "Beep, they won't reap you! Can't you see that!?"
"They still can!" I tell my Mum, shaking my chestnut brown hair at her.
"Shhh, you have to go. They'll arrest us all otherwise!"
"I don't wanna go," I tell her, walking towards the Peacekeeper waiting to prick my finger."I just don't want to die..." I trail off as I realise Mum and Dad have gone to the place where all the family members go. I get my finger pricked, which hurts, and go to where the other kids my age go. Small kids my age are standing, most shivering in the cold, and we all suddenly pay attention to the escort, when a squeal comes from the stage. I realise it's only the microphone making that sound. Everyone covers their ears, except me, because I'm used to the sound, I help Dad with his work when I'm not at school. He works for the major factory in town, and knows everything there is to know about electronics, and he even gave me a microchip which I'm supposed to look at when I'm eighteen, and see what he's put on it. I can't open it until then. I wonder if my half-sister who I don't know got one, too. Probably not. My parents don't seem to like her, for whatever reason. They never talk about her, only give me vague answers about her. I audibly sigh, and look up to the stage where the escort rushes on stage. She looks relatively normal, save a bright pink streak in her otherwise platinum blonde hair. 'Welcome, welcome, welcome, District 3! Welcome to the 76th Annual Hunger Games! I welcome you all with a special special film from the Capitol!" Typical Capitol people, I think. Welcoming us to our own District. The film starts, and I'm amazed at the brutality it is implying. War, skulls, rebellion, then 'peace' and 'happiness', then the Hunger Games. The Hunger Games are a way for the Capitol to ensure the Hunger Games don't happen again, except they don't actually work, because a rebellion nearly happened. Nearly. That 'Girl on Fire' from the 74th and 75th Hunger Games nearly created one when that girl from District 11 died. At least that's what my parents say. They sounded wistful when they told me about the way Katniss' (That's the Girl on Fire's real name) actions in the arena could have affected Panem. Panem is the country we live in, the only place left after the chaos we call the Destruction. Our country is far from perfect, and most of the improvements could be made by the Capitol. But, that's not happening any time soon. I assume President Snow plans on making these Games unforgettable. As the film ends, I'm snapped out of my thinking, and the escort is already walking over to one of the glass balls with my name written once. Once. "Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favour!" I just realise the oddly normal-looking escort girl looks familiar. She reaches her hand into the glass ball, and pulls out a name. There's no one I hope it's not going to be, so I just watch in pure horror as I realise how barbaric the whole thing is. "Mikaelie Hewans!" Mikaelie wanders up to the stage, sure that she's going into the Games, when a voice calls out to the crowd "I volunteer as Tribute!" This is getting too weird for me. No one in District 3 volunteers. The volunteer walks up to the stage, an aura of confidence spilling out into the crowd. "Oh! A volunteer! OK, dear, what's your name?" The escort asks the girl.

***Roselyn Blade POV***

"No one calls me 'dear'," I tell Cashmere McCall, our new escort. "I am Roselyn Blade, but you all can call me Blade. With good reason, too." I add. I walk over to where the tributes always stand, and wait patiently, with my tanned hands folded in front of me. "OK! Now for the boys!" Cashmere is eager to make the reaping about her again, and rushes over to the other glass ball.

***Beep Wires POV***

The audience is absolutely silent as the escort, I'm sure she's Cashmere, she must have wanted this after she won, reaches a pale hand into the glass ball, and an uneasy feeling is in my stomach. "Beep Wires!" She calls out, and the microphone is squealing again. The people around me are stepping back, so a clear path is shown to me. Tears are threatening to spill out of my eyes, and my hands are clenched in fists. I give up the battle about the tears, and I walk up to the stand. "Ladies and Gentleman, Roselyn Blade, and Beep Wires, our Tributes for the 76th Annual Hunger Games!" Cashmere tells the audience. "Shake hands, please." I shake hands with Roselyn, and she looks somewhat familiar. The anthem starts, and we are shoved into a room at the back of the stage. There is a dark blue couch, and as I am shoved into the room, I hear Roselyn... no... Blade's cry: "You can't touch me there!" and then a door slamming. As Mum and Dad burst into the room, I walk over to the wall, and place my ear on it. "Who the hell are you?" I hear Blade's shriek. A very quiet voice, probably female, is speaking, but I can't hear what she is saying. "I didn't do this for you! I did it for me! I mean, if I'm going to die, which I'm not anytime soon, I might as well die with some sort of honour!" Blade tells the girl. I give up on Blade's conversation with the stranger, and turn to face my parents, who are huddled against each other, like a cold wind is blowing on them from every direction. The tears don't stop now. I rush over to them, and they hug me, Mum sobbing in my hair, and Dad awkwardly patting my back. After a little while, my dad says "There's no use telling you you're going to win, is there?" I somehow laugh at the very backwards remark my Dad just made. "No. But you can tell me I'm allowed to open that microchip."
"Kid," He says, kneeling down with effort to look me in the eye, "You're not going to survive long, I'm not going to take away this last thing from you."
"Thank-"
"Times up!" I see my parents for the last time, shoved out the door again, by the white-clothed monsters we call Peacekeepers. Far from it.