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Strike

Excelcia Merciless – District Four Mentor

They couldn't stop what was coming, Excelcia thought, grinning to herself as Ibrahima left the stage. She had seen Alorea and Glade sneaking out, trying to prevent the inevitable destruction that would come upon all of the tributes. They were such fools.

She remembered her conversation with President Emmanuel and tightened her fist. There were still threats to the security of Panem and she would do everything I her power to strike out and eliminate them. That was her vow.

Camden Ofenin, Altair's friend - District Five

He couldn't believe how confident she looked, Camden thought as Altair took the stage.

"Welcome, Altair," Calpurnia's voice swooped over the crowd. From the television on which Camden was watching it seemed as though echoed.

"Thank you, Calpurnia. It's a pleasure to be here."

"I'm glad to hear that. It's obvious that we're here to talk about tomorrow, so why don't we start with your strategy for tomorrow. Everyone knows that District Five is somewhat at a . . ." she paused, searching for the polite word "at a disadvantage, shall we say. How are you feeling about tomorrow?"

"I'm confident, Calpurnia. I don't think we have a disadvantage, but I do feel as though, only having one mentor after all, I've had to be a bit more independent in my thinking than some of the other districts. I'm certainly ready, though."

"Confidence! I like that. Has anything particular made you this assured?"

"Just life, Calpurnia. There are very few obstacles that can't be overcome if you just put your mind to it."

"I take it that comes from experience."

"It certainly does. I've learned to depend on myself and the few people that I count as friends."

"Now, Altair, I understand you no longer live with your parents."

"That's right. We had a falling out years ago and severed ties. I don't imagine they're watching this."

"And your friends. What do you think they would say to you right now?"

"That nothing is impossible," Altair said firmly. Camden smiled. Of course, that's what he would tell her, if only he could speak to her, let her know he was giving her the support her family never had. He wanted her home, needed her back at his side.

"They would tell me to keep fighting until I'm back to them. And Camden, if you're watching, when I come back, both our lives will be better. I promise," Altair finished, and her gaze met his, through the screen. She could do this, Camden knew. He was sure.

Her opponent took the stage, cool, calm collected; Camden couldn't help but hate him on principal. Elric had a better life than Altair and if he made it back instead of her, well . . . Camden's anger fizzled out as Elric sat, courteously shaking hands with Calpurnia. It wasn't his fault. It was the Capitol's for making them all nothing more than pawns in their Games.

And then he couldn't help but laugh. Elric had emerged in a ridiculous red-and-yellow suit with a top hat. The hat was a little too big too, slumping down over his eyes whenever he tried to move, but Elric, being the professional he was, didn't cut a fuss.

"Elric, you look truly colorful," Calpurnia commented. "In fact, I would say electrifying."

"Thank you," Elric said, politely.

"So what did you think of the tribute parade costumes?"

"They were phenomenal! Coming from a fabric background I can appreciate how much effort went into designing those and I believe they made the expected impact. My outfit for tonight is equally stunning. I would like to thank my entire prep team." Even as he said it, Elric's hat fell onto his face again. Camden burst out laughing again. It was good to have some comic relief during the interviews.

"So Elric, you've helped at your father's shop. How do you feel this has prepared you for the Games?"

"Well, Ms. Calpurnia, I know what people want and I aim to please. I certainly believe I can please the Capitolites who are going to be sponsoring us."

"Any insights on how you plan to please them?"

"By delivering exceptional service. I don't do anything half-heartedly." Elric said with a grin. He suavely adjusted his hat so it was at a perfect angle. "I've learned a lot from my life in District Five and just as much in my days of training here in the training center. I'm eager to show the world what I've learned."

"Is there anything that sticks out from the past couple days? You know, the viewers aren't privy to the private sessions, so anything we learn comes from what the tributes tell us."

"Well, the Gamemakers have treated us tributes with utmost respect and I do believe they added some special surprises this year. I thank them. I really appreciate everything they've done."

"Thank you, Elric. We look forward to you exceeding our expectations tomorrow."

Kyan, Jayanti Haeok's "friend" - District Six

It was almost as though he had set him up.

A sick smile spread over Kyan's face as he sat back and watched. He was probably the most relaxed person watching the interviews, waiting for Jayanti to take the stage, simply because he didn't care. As soon as Jayanti's name had been called at the Reapings he knew he didn't have a snowball's chance in hell. He'd always been a follower, doing whatever his mother and then Kyan had told him, even if it was clearly not in his best interests. In the Games there was only one way that was going to end. A pity, too. Now Kyan would have to find someone else to replace Jayanti. Someone as desparate to please him wouldn't be easy to find, but Kyan had no doubt it could be done.

The girl was up first, of course. He vaguely remembered her from the Reapings, a girl he'd seen around the District of course, but she was nearly six years his junior and didn't seem the type to be bossed around, so of course he wouldn't pay her any mind.

"So Tavia, can you connect us on the map of Panem, to where District six is?"

"You know, Calpurnia, I didn't bring the map with me this time. Besides, I'm sure you all know much more about geography than I do. And that's not really why we're here, is it," the girl pressed, getting to the point.

"Quite right. You don't seem to be missing your district at all. Not the sentimental type?"

"Well, I'm here, so I might as well not spend anytime missing it," she replied.

"Now, you've been here for three days. Where would you say you have grown the most in your time here?"

"I've learned a lot. I can handle weapons pretty well and have certainly established some firm allies. The Capitol will certainly have some surprises in store come tomorrow."

"I'm glad to hear that. Now, you're certainly not coming into this unarmed. You have eighteen years of formation behind you. What would you say are your strongest attributes? Why do you think your allies chose to bond with you?"

"I'm a hard worker," Tavia replied, confidently, locking eyes with the interviewer. "That value was instilled in me at an early age and I'll work, for my district, for my family, for myself. And you can believe me when I say you will see me on this stage again."

Jayanti took the stage then, his head down, bangs concealing his face. His stylists hadn't done him any favors either, dressing him all in black. He faded into the shadows as he always had. It seemed as though the light designer had to take a moment to adjust the lights on him. Calpurnia's microphone produced feedback.

"Oh, I'm sorry about that," she spurted as she recovered. "Welcome, Jayanti. These past few days have certainly been exciting for you, I imagine. What has been your favorite thing?"

Jayanti managed to look up, but as his eyes met the light he froze, looking out at the audience. He faltered, opened his mouth and then looked back at Calpurnia.

"It's okay. I can promise they won't bite, won't be offended."

"The best part has been sleeping in a comfortable bed," Jayanti managed, in a voice barely more than a whisper.

"I'm so glad. The beds are different than back in District six. Your bed at home, I presume you still live with your parents . . ." she led. She was trying to get him to open up.

"Just do as you're told and answer the question like a good puppet," Kyan muttered under his breath, taking a puff of the cigar. It would be less painful for everyone if Jayanti just played along.

"I do live with my mother. Usually she works at night, so the house is loud and it's difficult to fall asleep." A partial lie, Kyan was almost proud. Of course nights were loud with his mother and her drug addict friends.

"I certainly hope that's made you comfortable. Now, how are you feeling about the Games? I know you won't want to reveal too much strategy, but are you an aggressive hunter or are you planning on leaning towards a "duck for cover" strategy."

"I'll find wherever I'm needed the most. That's important to me," Jayanti said, raising his voice to a confident level. "I've always wanted to help people. I hope I can win and give my mother everything she ever wanted."

"Now, did your mother say goodbye after the Reaping?"

"She did and I told her I loved her more than anything in the world. I told her I would try my hardest to come back to her."

"Now, you only scored a two from the Gamemasters. Care to provide any final insights on that?"

"They only see what they can see," Jayanti whispered. If Kyan hadn't known any better, he would have called that a dramatic whisper, but surely Jayanti wouldn't be playing the audience. He wasn't that good.

Weston Tanner, 12, Jonas's brother – District Seven

Weston wasn't that good a pretender. His entire family was bubbly was they readied to watch their golden boy on the stage. Of course his parents hadn't wanted Jonas to volunteer, but they hadn't exactly stopped him and once the decision had been made, they'd supported him. Lawson, on the other hand, thought Jonas was brilliant. There was no doubt in their minds he would find some clever way to make it out.

But it wasn't up to Jonas. His brother thought he could predict all of the variables, that everything was under control. That was nothing short of impossible. No one could really win the Hunger Games. Of course there was a Victor, but the Hunger Games always got the better of everyone. You only had to look as far as District Seven's sole mentor to realize that.

Weston crossed his arms, stubbornly sulking in the corner as the announcer prepared for District Seven. She was playing them up, probably compensating for the depressing tribute she'd just interviewed from Six.

Weston glanced up from his book as Bailey's name was called. As she entered, he barely recognized her from school. She looked innocent in the light green dress she wore, and the gold neckline brought out the smile on her face. Most of the time in school she and her best friend just kept to themselves, so, despite her being his age, their paths hadn't crossed frequently.

"Bailey, welcome. This stage is certainly familiar to your family. Both of your parents graced it before. Now, I didn't have the pleasure of interviewing them, but I'm certain some of our audience members remember them. Do you remember anything about either your father or your mother?"

"Only what I've been told," Bailey said confidently. "They were good people, who died too young. I . . ." she hesitated and Weston's mother hit him on the leg, clearly a que to pay attention. "If wasn't allowed to watch their Games, and once I finally did, I realized something, that's not the way they should be remembered. Even though that's the way they died, there was so much before that. I don't want the Hunger Games to define who I am. It's been a struggle for my family to live without them, but without what happened to them, I wouldn't be the person I am."

"Now, if I may, just a little insight for those of us who remember, who would you say you're more like, your mother or your father?"

"My father," the girl answered instantly. "He's the only one I actually remember. He was caring and loved me. My mother abandoned me. My aunt told me she would have come back, if she'd made it through the Games." Her voice trailed off, clearly wishing the announcer would stop talking about her parents. Perhaps she feared the same bombshell that had been dropped on the Girl from District Two. It didn't come, though.

"Something happy, then, you've had enough sadness in your life. Did you bring anything from home with you?"

"I brought a doll, a special gift. My mentor said he'd gotten permission from the Head Gamemaker for me to bring it to the arena."

"That's very sweet of him. Aeden does have that sort of reputation."

"He does. I'm very grateful to him and to everyone who has supported me," Bailey beamed. Then she rose, and left the stage.

"Next, I am pleased to introduce our volunteer from District Seven, the intrepid Jonas Tanner."

And just like that Jonas strode onto the stage, dressed better than he ever had been at home in a flashy black and red suit, a broad smile gracing his face.

"Jonas, I've got to ask, first of all, what made you volunteer?"

"Why not? After all, the Hunger Games is a competition of wit and intelligence as much as it is about brawn and endurance and I have a wonderful combination of both of them."

He wasn't going to tell them about the dare? Weston was shocked and almost breathed a sigh of relief.

"In addition to that, I was challenged to do so. Once I bring home the Victor's crown, my challenger will have to endure a lifetime of humiliation. After all, what's worse than knowing someone in the Victor's village and having to deal with the regret that it could have been you living there instead?"

"So you feel prepared?"

"Unquestionably. I am confident that the sponsors will agree with me when they see me in action tomorrow."

"Now, I've heard rumors, so I would like you to set the record straight. Jonas, how have you found yourself working with your mentor?"

"Well, Aeden certainly has his strengths as a mentor and I've taken his advice into consideration. I fear we may not have seen eye to eye, but that can be attributed to a difference in perspective. I certainly don't fault him for his approach and I hope he doesn't fault me for mine. In the end, I trust this will be a mutually beneficial relationship as it has been in the past several days."

"As a representative of District Seven, what qualities of that district do you feel you embody?"

"Primarily, my intelligence is subordinate to none. Secondly, I possess an unfaltering dedication to strenuous exertion which will profit myself and my allies and prove utterly detrimental to all those who oppose us. Lastly, Victory doesn't trouble me."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Many tributes have qualms with the actions they would have to take in order to obtain the Victor's crown, so they let that fear consume them, falling short of their goal. I have no intention of falling prey to this hamartia." Weston groaned as the interviewer looked at him confused. No one who didn't live with Jonas would know that word meant a "fatal flaw" as Jonas further lectured the interviewer and the audience. Calpurnia looked grateful as he left the stage and Weston felt almost as grateful. He could already imagine his brother's hamartia, his own confidence, destroying him.

Dennis Hughs, Leoric's father – District Eight.

Staring at the screen, waiting for his son to appear, Dennis Hughs found that he actually cared, if only a smidgen. If Leoric somehow managed to win this, if he came home with a Victor's crown, he would renounce all the insults he had ever thrown his way. All of the curses, the drunk nights, the shirking of responsibilities that had led Leoric down the path of worthlessness would be forgotten.

That was only if he won.

First Margery took the stage, steaking the spotlight in a deep purple strapless dress that brought out her eyes against her ebony hair. Dennis wasn't fooled though, behind the dress and the façade she had constructed for the Capitol was a killer. Everyone in the district had heard rumors of her "accident" at work years ago, an accident leaving her boss dead and Margery kept at arms' length by the community.

"So, Margery, meaning no offense to your stylists, should I not even mention the chariot costumes?"

"Oh, Calpurnia, they were stunning. I have never seen our district so aptly represented. I myself worked in a fabric shop for years. I feel honored that I was chosen to wear our District's most prized export in such a way."

"That's quite a relief. Speaking of your District, is there anything else unique about your upbringing besides your work in the factory that you'll be bringing to the Games tomorrow?"

"Everyone brings something remarkable to the Games. As for me, I think my most valuable asset is what I have learned in my time here. I might not have scored too terribly high in training, certainly not as high as I'm certain the Capitol's prized warriors or a Peacekeeper would have scored, but I'm proud of how I scored. I suppose as for the rest tomorrow will attend to itself."

"That's very interesting. Margery, if you could ask one question of a Capitolite, or a sponsor, what would it be?"

"If I had just one question, I wouldn't want to ask just an ordinary citizen. All Capitol citizens are unique of course and are so fortunate to live in a place like this. I admire you all, but if I had just one question, I would ask the Gamemaker, the head Gamemaker, Brutus Laertes what he looks for in a Victor. I know it is his first year as Head Gamemaker, and perhaps he doesn't realize what power he has in his hands, what power you all have in your hands, but it is phenomenal. So, I ask you Panem, what do you look for in a Victor?"

"I suppose we'll be contemplating that until we see you tomorrow, Margery," the announcer crooned.

Had she fooled them? She'd been playing the innocent fawn, admiringly playing into their Games, but there was more to Margery. If Leoric was going to survive he needed to be very wary of her.

Dennis could feel his hands clutching as his son took the stage. He almost matched his District Partner, wearing a deep purple suit with a dark red shirt beneath it. In contrast to the blaring lights behind him, the ensemble made Leoric's face look very dark.

"Leoric, Welcome. This is the first time we've really gotten to see your face in person. I've got to say, you're a very handsome young man."

"Thank you, Calpurnia. I haven't had much say in the outfits, so I think that's more of a complement to my stylists than myself."

"I take it this is different than your outfits at home. We really don't ever get to see our tributes in their true elements, do we?"

"Well, at home, I just kind of throw on whatever I can find, so it's nice to have someone get me all dressy. And this time I can breathe without having to adjust the sheets around me."

"And what have you learned in the last couple of days, Leoric?"

"I've learned what I needed to, made allies with the people I needed to. We'll see tomorrow how that all pans out, I suppose, but I'm not afraid."

"There's a lot of that going around. I always expect that sort of attitude from volunteers, people who wanted to be here. You, though, you were reaped. Don't you think you'd feel a bit of remorse when it does come to it and if you have to kill?"

"It may sound awful, Calpurnia, but I've already learned to live with no regrets. I just want to live. And maybe my district partner was right with her question, asking the Capitolites, the Gamemakers what they want in a Victor. I think she may have missed part of the point of the Games, though."

"Wait, Leoric, tell me something. Are you two working together? Your stylists have, after all, styled you to match."

"No," Leoric said and Dennis felt slightly relieved. He couldn't trust Margery, couldn't trust anyone, really. "I respect Margery, but both of us mutually agreed that it would be better if we split up, found allies that were better suited to our own needs. I think, as tributes, we shouldn't ask what the Capitol wants in a Victor. We need to catch them off guard and make them root for what we already are, for the tribute who deserves to be the Victor, not some mold. After all, our previous victors are extremely diverse. That just proves it's not the viewers, or Gamemakers who make the ultimate decision. It's the tributes themselves who convince them, like lawyers make a case to a jury."

"That's very eloquent, Leoric."

"I have my moments," he said, his mouth hinting at a grin as he left the stage.

Dennis crossed his arms, hoping Leoric's moments would last, but if not, Dennis was already as prepared for his son's death as Leoric seemed to be for the Games.

Cassius Shadi – District 8 Mentor

They had no idea what was coming, Cassius thought as his tribute left the stage.

The words and the eloquent speeches could only last so long before the reality struck, before death encompassed all of them. That's what the Hunger Games were, in the end, perpetual death and hell, until only one tribute remained breathing. And the hell didn't end there. After death struck, your only choice was to live with it. Cassius wondered whose doom that would be.

—"Speak, strike, redress!" Am I entreated

To speak and strike? O Rome, I make thee promise,

If the redress will follow, thou receivest

Thy full petition at the hand of Brutus!