A/N

Here's the tribute parade chapter! I'm going to have some questions for you regarding the next few chapters so please read the author's note at the end. Hope you all enjoy this chapter!

The last POV was written by my awesome partner in crime who has changed her pen name to sinsandinsanity!

PS just so everyone knows, I'm not favoring the District 2 tributes. I know I've shown them twice, but there were things from their tribute forms that needed to be shown. In the next few chapters, different tributes will be featured, don't worry!

Anyonka Elizabeth Condro POV

I am staring lazily out the window when Riker joins me. I don't look at him; I am really not in the mood for any sort of conversation.

He starts one anyway.

"Apparently we're almost in the Capitol. We should get to our destination in about ten minutes."

I simply shrug in response, making it clear to Riker that this one-sided conversation is over. He needs to understand that we are not friends. We are district partners in the Hunger Games and nothing more.

After several minutes of silence, Riker gets up and leaves. Good. Maybe now he won't feel the need to act so friendly after finally getting the message.

Suddenly, the train is immersed in darkness. We must be in the tunnel. The tunnels that geographically worked in the Capitol's favor during the Dark Days, according to the teachers at school.

With nothing outside the window to distract me anymore, I begin thinking about the Careers other than Riker. We watched the reaping and theme revelation last night just before going to sleep, and all of the Career names have been burned in my memory.

Clos Gold. District One. His face is still crystal clear in my mind, icy blue eyes practically burning into my soul through the television screen. He is absolutely gorgeous.

Maura Elaine James. District One, again. Not one person volunteered for her, which I found strange. It is impossible for me to tell whether or not she's Career material for now.

Coral Beache. District 4. No volunteers, again, although this is less strange. Female volunteers in District 4 don't happen every year, although there usually is. The girl did a good job of concealing her emotions…maybe she could be an asset? We'll see.

Finally, also from District Four, Riley Reel. Typical Career, he'll be fine.

I guess I'll meet them all tonight.

Being the second-closest district to the Capitol, it is likely we will be among the first to arrive. District One is most likely already there, while District 12 will probably only arrive about two hours before the parade actually begins. They won't get any down time, while we will have hours to do absolutely nothing.

Finally, the darkness of the train slips away, which could only mean one thing. We have finally arrived.

I turn to look out the window again, and the sight is absolutely spectacular. I have never seen so many colors in one place before.

In just a few weeks, this will be my new home. Well, besides the Victors Village of District 2. But I will definitely make a point to visit this place as frequently as possible.

We arrive in just minutes, the District One train already parked in its place just beside us. District Three will probably arrive in about an hour.

Maybe I can find Clos while we wait and strike up a conversation.

"Hold still, dear! Pretty hurts, remember that!"

I grit my teeth as another wax strip is torn off of my leg, ripping some hair off with it. I really don't see the point in removing every inch of hair off of my body. Not like anyone in the arena will care when we're all trying to kill each other, and I couldn't give less of a damn about what the Capitol thinks.

I look down at my legs, completely bare and almost shiny in the bright room. It looks kinda nice, I have to admit, but it's still Capitol fashion so no thanks.

"Ugh, Hansel you missed a spot!" the tiny green-skinned girl cries, as if this is the biggest tragedy Panem has ever known.

I roll my eyes conspicuously, making sure the whole prep team sees it. How incompetent are these people? Their only job seems to be removing my body hair, and they miss a spot?

The taller girl, with magenta skin, walks over to her little tray full of beauty tools and grabs a tiny metal contraption that looks like it causes pain. I sigh dramatically.

"And what the hell does that thing do?" I demand.

The magenta girl smiles sweetly at me.

"It's a plucker. We use it to remove the hair that the wax strips missed."

A plucker. Hmm. Like what they do to chickens in District 10? Nice.

The only male, sky-blue skin, takes the plucker then and begins doing exactly what the name of the thing implies. He plucks every loose hair out of its pore. It doesn't hurt as much as the wax strips did, but it isn't exactly fun.

After several minutes of this and a nice layer of some type of soothing cream all over the places where hair was removed (basically, every inch of my body), the fools finally leave and another fool takes their place.

"Hello, my name is Trexler and I am your stylist!"

I simply stare back at him coldly. He knows who I am.

He doesn't even flinch, going on and on about how great Riker and I will look tonight.

"We've decided to put you in a classic Valkyrie outfit! In the ancient days, supposedly Valkyrie's were in charge of removing dead warriors from the battle field. So, you will be a Valkyrie and Riker will be a warrior headed off to battle! How adorable! And your hair will be in braids, it'll be fabulous!"

Braids? Adorable?

Not exactly the image I was going for.

Makenna Flax POV

My stylist is absolutely hideous.

I mean, I always knew that the Capitol people weren't the most good-looking people out there, but seriously? Silver skin? She looks like one of their fancy utensils they use to eat their food with.

Hopefully her sense of style is slightly better for me than for herself. It has to be, right? I'm Makenna Flax! District 8's next victor! They have to dress me beautifully.

The stylist – Ruby, the prep team called her – came into the room early. Probably because she couldn't wait to see the District 8 female that everyone has been speaking so highly of.

I close my eyes as one of the freaks applies gold eye shadow to my eyes on top of the black they've already applied. I'm not sure what effect they're going for, but it better look nice.

As the prep team scurries around me, applying makeup left and right for me like the queen that I am, my mind wanders to just several short hours ago. When Tech and I finally arrived at the Capitol.

I had ignored him pretty much the whole way here – he's a crybaby – and couldn't wait to meet some new people who were better than him. It just so happens we arrived here at the same time as District 9.

I tried to think back to the Reapings. Who were the District 9 tributes again?

Oh, right.

Colleen Ryder was the name of the girl. With that ridiculous purple streak in her hair. Who does she think she is? Does she think adding purple to her hair makes her more up to the Capitol-level standards? Please. I am the only tribute here who's worth the Capitol's time, and everyone knows it.

The boy, on the other hand, is absolutely gorgeous. Jason Grim. Those blue eyes of his immediately got my attention, and his air of mystery underneath his black hood drew me in.

I've had loads of "fun" with the boys around District 8 over the years. Of course they all want me, and will do anything to get my attention. This Jason hottie was sure to do the same, right?

I walked over to him, twirling a blond curl around my finger seductively.

"Hey, cutie. Jason, right? I'm Makenna, but I'm sure you knew that."

He stared at me for several seconds speechless, as all boys do, before finally speaking.

"Yeah, um, not really interested. Sorry. Try one of the Career district boys, I'm sure they'll love that shallowness of yours."

The comment had me seeing red. Shallowness? This boy thinks that I, Makenna Flax, am shallow?

"Shallow? I HAVE MORE PERSONALITY IN MY PINKY FINGER THAN YOU, COLLEEN OVER THERE, AND EVERYONE ELSE IN THIS GOD FORSAKEN COUNTRY. HOW DARE YOU EVEN SUGGEST SOMETHING LIKE THAT? HAVE YOU SEEN ME?! I AM PERFECT!"

Jason, however, did not seem even one bit phased.

"Perfect. Sure…um, I'll see you around. Maybe. Let's hope, for your sake, that it's not in the arena" he smirks.

And, just like that, he left with a laughing Colleen right at his heels.

Before I could get angry about it all over again, the prep team announces that my stylist is here to dress me.

I open my eyes to see another freak like the rest of them. He is head-to-toe orange. His hair, his eyes, his skin, everything. Like a walking, talking carrot. Ugh.

"Hello, Makenna. It is so nice to finally meet you!"

Yeah, most people react that way upon encountering perfection.

"I have your tribute parade outfit here. Wanna see it?" he asks me, practically oozing excitement.

I simply nod my head, not giving in to his ridiculous behavior.

He uncovers the dress without a word, turning to look at me expectantly.

"You like? It's gorgeous, isn't it?"

I look the dress up and down, trying to form an opinion of it in my mind.

It is long and sleek, gold in color, with the classic Capitol-induced effect of sparks flying out of it that District 8 and 3 tributes often have in their outfits.

My opinion of it forms pretty quickly.

"It's horrendous."

The Capitol man gapes at me, eyes wide as saucers in shock.

"Wh-what? You don't like it? But we made it specially for you!" he sputters.

"Do you have a hearing problem? That dress is horrendous and I refuse to wear it!" I snap.

Who does this man think he is to question me?

"I – I'm sorry, Makenna, but this is the only chariot outfit we have prepared. You have to match Tech as closely as possible, and the other options are too different in concept. You can have a lot more say in your interview outfit, though!"

I have to match Tech? That disgusting little preteen boy who's probably poor as dirt?

"I am perfect! I don't need to match anyone else, because no one is at my level!"

After several minutes of arguing, however, it becomes apparent that I have no choice. And so, I put on the damn thing, glaring at my slightly-less-perfect reflection in the mirror.

Let's just get this over with.

Tobby Weatly POV

I am standing with Juliana – who, as it turns out, isn't heartless although still rather intimidating - off to the side, watching as tributes and stylists bustle all around adjusting outfits and adding last-minute makeup adjustments.

I look down at my own outfit, a pure white suit meant to represent paper. According to Juliana, this is "actually kinda original compared to the usual branches-and-leaves-for-clothes". Of course, I wouldn't know. I never watched the Games, what with not having a television set in the woods and all.

Juliana's stylist walks over, immediately smoothing out her paper-white dress.

"You kiddies look amazing! You're gonna be the fan-favorites out there, I just know it!"

Juliana simply nods her head in thanks, just giving the slightest bit of eye contact before retreating back into her own thoughts.

Seeing that Juliana won't be in much of a mood to talk, I turn my attention to the tributes all around.

A boy, probably around fifteen years old, walks past me. He had tousled brown hair, and a mischievous glint in his eyes. I remember him from watching the reaping. Connor Stoll.

I immediately glance down at his outfit, secretly testing my own skills at remembering each district's industry, only to see it isn't much of an outfit at all. He is simply entangled in a net of electrical currents, occasionally crackling with an aura of blue light.

Well, this one's way too obvious.

I turn away then, to the next closest tribute. A tiny boy, probably only twelve years old, sitting in the corner with tears streaming down his face. I don't remember him from the reapings, but I feel extremely sorry for him. It must be difficult to be pulled from your family at that age. I had no one to be pulled from. Well, besides the peacekeeper Frank. I reach into my pocket for my token, the family symbol he gave me, and feel a rush of nostalgia.

Right, the tribute.

He isn't wearing much of an outfit either. He is completely naked, painted head-to-toe in black. Coal dust? He must be from District 12.

Eliban Morus. There's the name. Cried at the reaping, too.

I look away, to give him his space as well as to distract myself from his contagious sadness. Another tribute immediately catches my eye. A slightly overweight girl with tanned skin and a cheerful demeanor. I recognize her immediately; Maura Elaine James. District One.

She, unlike the other two tributes, has actual clothing on. A light weight evening gown with a flowing skirt, covered in glitter and sequins.

Luxury items. That is her district's industry. Not bad, Tobby.

I am about to analyze another outfit, this time on a boy I immediately recognize as Riley Reel, when a sudden voice nearly startles me out of my skin.

"Places, tributes! Everyone line up two-by-two in district order!"

I immediately place myself beside Juliana, in a chariot being pulled by horses the same color as our outfits. She glances over at me with a smirk.

"Showtime," she whispers.

I nod back nervously, not really wanting to think about it in all honesty.

We are placed just behind the District 6 tributes, who appear to be holding hands. Kara Gage and Hunter Ford. They are each dressed as part of a Capitol train, Hunter the back and Kara the front.

Behind us, are the District Eight tributes. I look behind me over at them. Anything to distract myself. This whole ordeal is beginning to make me nervous.

It's Makenna Flax and Tech Bassyn, both dressed in gold with the effect of sparks flying out. Tech looks just as nervous as me, while Makenna has her head held high with a cocky grin plastered on her face.

Before I can even compose myself further the parade has begun, with the District 1 chariot flying out into the crowd's screams.

I take a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

Maura Elaine James POV

Our horses are white, but are covered completely in diamonds. In a way, it makes them look like they are actually made from diamonds. The chariot itself, however, is covered in all sorts of gemstones, like a blurred rainbow. Clos is already there, wearing almost nothing except diamond-covered shorts. The people of the Capitol must think District 1's only resources are weapons. As for myself, I am decked out in the same material as the chariot, from head to toe. A long, elegant dress with all sorts of colorful sequins and some sort of crown as a headdress. I place it on my head before heading towards the chariot. It's rather heavy on my head, and I strain to balance with the weird headpiece crushing my skull. It seems we are the only group wearing such heavy materials.

"Hi," I say, attempting to get introduced to Clos. Based on what I've heard, I'll need all the allies I can get from this.

He says nothing in response. How rude.

With a lurch, the chariots pull away, taking us with them. We ride out into the open, where the Capitol people are screaming our names and shrieking in glee. I smile and wave, as instructed, and watch them eat it all up.

We come to a stop in the center and the president comes out.

"I assume this is the moment you have all been waiting for," the president licked his lips with enthusiasm, making me sick. He looked like a bony and vicious panther, lurking in the grass before making his attack. Even from afar, I could see his eyes were black. Absolutely no emotion except for a strange sadism. His hair was black, too, and he was by far one of the youngest presidents Panem had ever seen.

"Now, without further ado, although I do enjoy the dramatic pauses," he laughed slightly, but his eyes still held no emotion, "I present to you the listings for the Demons and Angels of the Arena."

He cleared his throat.

"Going to Hell, we have Clos Gold, Maura James, Ryker Hero, Anyonka Condro, Rick Sparks, Jadelynn Astoria, Riley Reel, Julianna Marris, Makenna Flax, Jason Grimm and Chase Keldheart. Congratulations to the rest of you, although I can't promise Heaven is all that it seems," he let out a strange sort of cackle, brushing one hand through his hair.

"Happy 102nd Hunger Games! And may the odds," his smirk twisted into an awful smile, "be ever in your favor."

My heart stops. I will be going into the more dangerous section of the arena. I try to hold back tears; everyone would see them with the thick layer of makeup I'm wearing. To my horror, no one seems to hold the same despair in being sent to Hell. Clos even has the audacity to smirk about being sent there. He mutters something about him being the future victor.

The only other person in distress seems to be Jadelynn, but she hides it much better than me. The only clue was her eyes. They were just as scared as mine.

SAI: Ok, I changed my username to sinsandinsanity and it's mostly Potter Fics…so yeah.

Candy: Alright, so now that we're past the parade chapter, I'm a little unsure of how to proceed. Here are the options I am considering:

1.One long chapter of all the training days and then another with all the Gamemaker sessions (the povs for that would be really short)

2.Two training day chapters and then a Gamemaker session one.

3.One training day chapter and one chapter half training half Gamemaker session (the sessions I choose to show would be based on reviews or completely random.

So let me know what you all think of both the chapter and your opinions of how the next few chapters should go! SAI and I will be discussing too in the meantime to get a chapter out for you as soon as possible.