Time can bring you down,
Time can bend your knees.
Time can break your heart,
Have you begging please, begging please.

- Eric Clapton.

Jynx Blackthorne, District Two, Victor:

The past year had been awful.

I stood there on my comfortable seat, staring at the passing in a bored fashion. The past year had been nothing but boredom. Slowly but surely everything I treasured had been taken from me – my mother had died after a long battle with dementia only three years ago, then my penthouse apartment in the Capitol was taken by the President after they found someone else more suitable for the job.

My victor title wasn't quite enough to entertain me. The novelty of being famous slowly wore off when paparazzi chased you everywhere, or when people had began to forget you and focus on the younger, more shiny Victors. Thirty years of fame had began to wear off, and I was beginning to question if the fame was even worth it – I mean, I had won the Hunger Games three times. I had killed fellow mentors and even my sister to become the person I was today.

"Jynx!" The silver haired District Two mentor, Fi-Fi, snapped me out of my day-dream. "Focus, please, your tributes will be here in a few minutes." Around me Avoxes were filling teapots with their hot contents and laying an assortment of cakes and biscuits. As usual, Fi-Fi was being awfully obsessive. "No, no, Meera, the pink ones go in triangles!"

I zoned out again. I had hoped this constant state of ennui would evaporate upon arriving at the Capitol, but it was only alleviated. I had to mentor some snot nosed brats. I didn't get to enjoy too many luxuries. It was all the same.

I couldn't stop thinking of my sister once I had brought her up in my mind once. People always thought I was a stone cold person. That was why my personal Avoxes couldn't be in a room with me for more than thirty seconds; over the past year they had been my only companions. I'd speak to them, fully aware they could never quite speak back.

Then I spent the following days watching my old Games. The moments when I was young, and when victory tasted sweet and when my knife was wet with blood. I'd watch myself rush through the Games, easily tearing down any tribute that dare stop me. I wouldn't ever skip any part of it, bar the moment I killed my sister. But even then, she put herself into that situation. The seventh Quarter Quell was one where those Reaped had to take in a sibling – she was my only sister. She knew if she volunteered she'd be up against me. And though we formed a strong alliance, I knew only one of us could win.

So I peppered her soup with poison. The poison was relatively painless and it was quick; in a few minutes she developed a fever and I knew what was happening. With a lump forming in my throat, I knew I had to walked away when she was bleeding from her orifices and collapsing. Her cannon had fired that night.

"And here are lovely tributes are!" Fi-Fi squeaked as a door opened. I looked up and glanced at the tributes, putting on my cocky grin. "You're early! But early is good. Early is always good!"

I had seen both of these kids around the District, which was rare. I had also seen both of them on the stage when they volunteered for the Games. But this was my very true, first impression. It was relatively negative as always: the guy was tall, beefy and strong. He had a naïve edge to him, one that made me pretty positive that he was going to die. With his immense strength he'd certainly crush his way into the Final Twelve, but was there more to him beyond that?

I wish I could say the girl was the brains to his brawn, but I wasn't quite sure. I knew she was famous for being the Mayor's whore daughter, and she was pretty, but beyond that I didn't know where her talents could lie. She could come in any place between twenty-fourth and first for all I knew, and that uncertainty unsettled me.

"Sit down," I said. They both did, albeit uncomfortably. I noticed the Avoxes immediately grab two cute china cups and fill them with tea, scuttling over to them.

"So you're our mentor," Lorelei said.

"Yes, yes," I smiled.

"Remember, she's your key to survival!" Fi-Fi lectured. "And considering she's won three Games, if there were any expert at surviving it'd be her!" She paused. "I mean, most Districts don't even have mentors thanks to her!"

I smirked. "Enough about me. Lets talk about the tributes."

"Well I'm-" The boy started.

"You're the butcher's son," I finished his sentence, watching his face freeze. "I know your father very well. He always had the best quality meat, dripping in blood, so raw. I love my raw meat and I loved watching the blood sizzle as it fried. So what's your name?"

"Jericho," he said, slightly intimidated though not daring to show it.

We leant over and our hands met for a handshake. I was taken aback by his strength and his powerful grip – a grip that even left me shocked at his strength. But I squeezed ten times harder, watching his face turn red as I overpowered his hands and slowly crushed them. Before any permanent damage could be made I released and slumped back, relaxing.

"I may be almost fifty years old and a woman," I smiled. "But that doesn't mean I'm not strong." I then slowly turned to glance at the girl. "Oh. And I know you. How could I not know you? You're thr Mayor's daughter, Lorelei. He may be the one with the political power, but you're the real headline grabber in your house aren't you?"

"I guess I am," Lorelei said, looking at me seriously. "I don't like it."

"Appreciate it now," I whispered. "It's gotten you more sponsors than anyone else before the Games have even started. Embrace the fact you're famous – play with it. You're both trained, right?" I said, grabbing a knife and sleekly slicing it through frosted cake.

"Since a young age," Jethro said.

"Yeah... same..."

"So lets not waste our time here and pretend I have to lecture you about silly little things like weapons and water," I smirked. "In fact, you guys are so trained you barely need me. They should have sent the best mentor in the Games to a District that has no clue what they're doing... twelve or eight or something," I grinned. "But I'm with you both. And you both have lessons to learn."

Jericho paused. "What kind of lessons?"

I liked Jericho; maybe he wasn't as dumb as I conjectured. He was attentive and interacted when it was needed.

"Motivation," I said, slicing the last slice of cake... "I mean, you have all the knowledge you need. Weapons, training, strength, speed and survival tidbits which are ultimately quite useless – you could learn them at the training centre anyway." I grinned. "But do you have motivation? I mean, you volunteered, but those who win have an aim, a desire... they're the ones who have the..."

Before anyone could comprehend it, a knife burrowed itself into the piece of fabric beside Lorelei's neck. Fi-Fi screamed and everyone looked shocked, making me feel quite satisfied. Lorelei store the knfie out, fabric bleeding onto her lap as she inspected the knife.

"... Strength," I ended my sentence.

Fi-Fi was still screaming.

"Oh calm down Fi-Fi, if I wanted to hit the girl in the neck the knife would have been in her fucking neck!" I shouted at her loudly. I turned to the tributes and automatically resumed a more saccharine tone. "So Jericho, what's your motivation?"

"My-?"

"The reason you got yourself into this whole thing," I said quizzically.

"Well... to make my father proud, to make District Two proud," Jericho smiled. "District One won last year, it's District Two's turn. I'm proud of my family and my roots – it's time to honour them." He suddenly came to a realisation. "And if I won, not just would I win honour, but I'd win gold. My family have worked hard to be stable their whole life. If I won, there would be no more hard labour for them and they could relax like they deserved."

"I like that kind of motivation," I grinned, glaring at Lorelei. "And you?"

"Me?" Lorelei paused. "Well... I..." I saw conflict immediately hit her as her hands found their way through her dark hair. "I don't exactly... know... I mean, to win I guess? Or to do my dad proud... I just..." I automatically knew that the usually honest girl was hiding secrets; her conflict appeared to be indecisiveness, but I knew it was deeper than that. "I'm doing what has to be done."

"What has to be done will only get you killed," I said quietly, a dark edge to my tone. "You don't want to die, do you?"

Lorelei glared at me. The glare was quick, but I noticed it. Either I didn't bother trying to help her survive or I ask her what life secrets she's managed to hide from the press that usually throw her around the celebrity gossip columns of newspapers. Before I opened my lips, a bleeping came from the earpod that rested on my ear.

I rolled my eyes. "Class dismissed, I guess. You won't be seeing me anymore unless you request me, which you can do at anytime. My only advice to you is to remember your motivation and to look happy on those chariot rides. Nothing too difficult."

As I walked to the door my finger rested on my earpod, Natalya's voice immediately addressing me:

"Jynx..."

"Oh hey! What do you want?"

"My daddy has a big favour for you-"

The rest of the sentence was drowned out as a knife thudded into the doorway beside me, burying itself into the wood. The speed of the throw was so impressive that even I hadn't had time to react, I was totally taken by surprise. The finesse of the throw was further empowered by the strength, strength enough to bury the whole knife into the doorframe.

I ripped it out and turned to Fi-Fi, who didn't scream this time but still looked shocked. Jericho observed his competition's skills silently, but I could only grin at Lorelei with a begrudging respect.

"I'm motivated," was all Lorelei said.

I opened the rosewood door and exitted feeling curious. I was sure Lorelei was motivated – I saw it in her every action. But what exactly motivated her?

"Sorry Natalya, something distracted me," I said, storming down the corridor and giggling as I barged incoming Avoxes away for the hell of it. "So, about that favour?"

Geonova Fillington, District Ten Escort:

It was ten o' clock at night – time for my tributes to stop talking to their mentor. I hurried down the corridor, seeing the flicker of candlelight shine through the glass door which led into the comfortable television room. As I approached it the door opened and a gruff looking man with rough features and stubble lining the contours of his face.

He glanced up at me and smiled.

"Nice tributes this year," he said. "Better than the past few years lot, that's for sure. Maybe they're in for a chance this time."

"I can only hope," I said, not usually this pessimistic in front of my tributes.

He sadly patted my back as he passed, and I watched him descend down the dark corridors of the long train before he disappeared in the horizon, probably returning to his private quarters. After an intake of air, I walked to the glass door and watched as it automatically slid aside for me.

My tributes were both in the room as I expected, and were unusually quiet. All lights had gone out, the electrical lights were off and the natural light outside had disappeared with the afternoon. But both tributes were still illuminated; Aurochs was slumped on his comfortable couch, absentmindedly watching the television as its light was cost off him, whereas Carlie lay on the luxurious carpet, embraced by the warm fire's glow as she looked up into the domed ceiling, stretching in a feline like manner.

I didn't want to disturb them. They both looked so calm and sleepy, which I wouldn't have expected after a hard day of being whisked away from your family into a battle to the death. The only noise was the occasional yawn from Carlie and the sound of giggling teenage girls coming out of the television.

After around five minutes, I stepped in and spoke as the glass doors closed behind me:

"So how was it, spending time with your-?"

Aurochs' head jerked to look at me, and Carlie leapt up and wrapped her hands around a candleabra. I stood and looked at them, shocked for a minute. It was good Carlie was so quick to react and resourceful, but she should know she'd always feel safe in the Capitol. The real fun – or danger – was when the Games began, so her fear confused me slightly.

"You scared me," she stated simply, setting the candelabra back on the table.

"Hey Geonova," Aurochs smiled amicably. While he didn't have the charisma or emotional intelligence Carlie did, there was something inherently more likable than him. I think what I liked about him was that he was laid back and down to earth. He acted like a normal teenage boy: he was pigheaded, casual and told inappropriate jokes. I didn't know what Carlie thought of him; she was quiet on the issue, but I liked him. "Can you believe this? The girls on the 'Hunger Games hotties' show ranked me in fourth places – fourth place. I am way better looking that the Two boy, right?"

"Maybe in your dreams," Carlie said, teasing.

"Take that back," he laughed.

"Okay, okay," Carlie smiled at him. She had opened up a little. "It's only stupid teenage girls anyway. And who cares about who is a hottie or not? We're all going to be killing 'hotties' like the Two boy anyway."

"Those shows are only comedic and lighthearted," I said. "A bit of lightness before the storm. How was speaking to your mentor like?"

"It was fair enough, considering he's never actually been in a Hunger Games before," Carlie shrugged. "He taught us lots of things... water first, food second, shelter third and weapon fourth."

She frowned. "He also taught us what to do with those weapons. Apparently, if you nick someone jugular they die in seconds. All the blood they need just goes out and..."

"... Cannons fire off," I said, trying to sound cheerful.

"Yep. Not the kind of thing my daddy taught me."

"He also taught us the importance of alliances, especially if you're from a lower District like Ten," Aurochs said. "So... Carlie and I decided to get in an alliance..."

"Really?" I gasped, happy for both tributes. "That's wonderful! I was hoping my tributes would get on enough to get into an alliance! This doubles your chances. Carlie is sensible, and you're strong Aurochs! I'm so happy for the both of you!" I still couldn't help but notice despite the pretty smiles that Carlie looked almost disappointed with herself. She was a mature woman, so I was shocked she could be friendly enough with Aurochs to get herself into an alliance.

"Yep, poor Carlie though, I have to warn her, I snore, I hog sleeping space, I sometimes chew with my mouth open," Aurochs humorously listed off his negative traits. "Oh, and did I also tell you that once I went out with my friend Finch and-"

"I'm going to bed," Carlie said abruptly. Before anyone could say anything she rushed out the room, exclaiming as she walked: "It's a long day tomorrow and I need some beauty sleep. Talk later Aurochs."

There was nothing but silence once Carlie left. Even though the door closed automatically, it almost seemed as if it slammed and left a gust of air in its wake. Aurochs and I stood there in complete silence, the sound of chilling laughter bursting out of the television every now and then.

"Did I say something?" Aurochs asked, puzzled. "I mean, I sometimes say things and forget they can be hurtful to people..."

"She's had a long day," I said. "We all have."

"Tell me about it," Aurochs stood up and sighed. "I miss my family already, which is kind of surprising... I'd kill to see them again. Pun not intended. It's just... when there's the prospect of never seeing someone again, you kind of regret all the stupid things you've said in the past, and you kind of realise their good intentions. And you kind of wish... that you could go back and set those things right..."

"I understand," I said gently.

"Not really," was all Aurochs replied.

I'd interpret his comment as aggressive, but it was said with a softness that just gave it an emotional honesty. I guess he was right; I couldn't truly understand the sadness of the Games. But I was unlucky enough to not understand the greatness of the Games – to represent your country and to have the prospect of fortune, fame and victory in the horizon, waiting for you to grab!

"Anyway," I smiled. "It's time for me to make sure Carlie is alright." As I left I said. "You should go to bed too, you need to look rejuvinated for the chariots! But if you can't sleep or don't care about sponsors, there's a great movie selection on the shelves in the third room in the North corridor. I do recommend The President's Perfume – it's a stunning movie about political deceit."

I quickly exitted into the corridor; it was completely dark now, all the ornaments and décor that cluttered it hidden, some exposed under the panes of moonlight that seemed out of the windows. I straightened my robes and slowly and cautiously made my way through the corridor. Eventually I reached the room Carlie had been assigned to, entering it cautiously.

Carlie's room was a large room, a whole private quarters to herself, which was pretty great considering she only had to stay in it for the night. It was worth more than a whole village in District Ten; a heart shaped bed that could fit ten men was in the centre, an ocean of black sheets spreading out and seeping onto the floor. Above it lay a large chandelier that reflected light into the whole spectrum of colour, it bounced off the pink walls and large, oak wardrobes which held Carlie's clothes.

But she was instead sat at a make-up table, slipping some lipstick over her lips. She paused a little when she noticed me from behind her crystal mirror, but continued applying the lipstick.

"You shouldn't do things like that," she said, puckering her lips together so that they were fully rouged. "My daddy said a woman's privacy is the most precious thing in the world."

"Oh, I'm sorry, we're much more liberal in the Capitol," I said, smiling. It was true; naked bodies were always used in the Capitol, and women were allowed to walk the streets with their breasts exposed as long as the occasion wasn't formal and they had their legs covered. Unwritten fashion rule.

"I suppose you are... the Capitol is an alien place..." Carlie said. "Can't believe I'm going there..."

"Is that why you were upset earlier?"

"I ain't upset," Carlie huffed. "It's just difficult being in an alliance when I know that I'm planning to kill him in one way or another."

I paused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean what I say," Carlie said, dabbing make up onto her face with a brush, smoothly applying it piece by piece. I stepped into the room and closed the door behind me, holding it closed tightly so that nobody – especially not Aurochs – could eavesdrop in on our conversation.

I almost hissed my next words. "You can't actually be serious."

"This is the Hunger Games, as I said earlier, doesn't matter if they're nice or from my District or my ally – only one survives. I'm kinda hopin' that's me, personally." She paused, but then resumed in adding make up to her face. "Look, I like Aurochs. I'll admit that. He's a great guy. But I don't love him – and do you know who I do love? My mother, my father, this guy I've been secretly seeing for almost a year... I need to kill if I can see them again."

"I know that, I encourage you to kill, but not Aurochs, your ally and District partner. He has to die for you to live – but maybe the Gamemakers can kill him, or a Career can..."

Carlie stood up, checking her reflection one last time. I could see the regret in her eyes, but ultimately there was a determination. When she laid down on her black covered bed, she cast me once quick glance:

"I can't rely on other people. I can only rely on my social skills; I've been taught to socialise by my dad, time to utilise it and use it to kill. My plan is to get three able bodied men. I don't care where they're from, but they have to be strong. When the Games progress and the pressure to kill gets high enough, I'll poison one..." Her voice cracked when she said poison, as if she couldn't believe she were doing this herself. "Then point the finger at the other. After a fight to the death occurs between the two, I'll stab the other in the back... possibly literally..."

Her plan impressed me. It could go wrong, but if it did go right – and with Carlie it could – she would have the blood of three on her hands and could very well manipulate herself into a victory. I paused, conflicted.

"Now leave Geonova, I need beauty sleep by tomorrow, and if I feel any more guilty I'll end up crying and ruining my make up. I'm still human. I know this is wrong, but you understand why I'm doing this, right?"

"Of course," I said hoarsely, moving to the doorway and not quite knowing how to feel.

"Oh, and Geonova?"

I paused when I reached the door. "Yes?"

"Turn the light off," she said. I clicked my fingers instead of doing it manualls, and Carlie disappeared under a coat of night. "And keep this conversation a secret between you and me, please."

"Of course," I repeated, as if I were a machine. I closed the door behind me and watched the blurry night speed away from the outside. I could have stood out there for a whole hour and feel as if I were there for seconds – or maybe I was there for seconds and it felt like hours. My whole world felt confused and torn.

It was my job to do everything I could to make sure my tributes survived. By not telling Aurochs of Carlie's plans, I was literally throwing him into the jaws of death. Maybe she'd poison him, make him fight to the death of stab him if he were lucky enough to survive those two. Either way, she was plotting his murder. But if I told him he would reject Carlie out of an alliance, stripping her of her only route to survival.

So what was more right? I had a duty to protect both tributes, but could currently only protect one. So which one could I choose?

… Either way, I knew the Capitol loved the moral dilemmas of the Games, it was by far the most entertaining aspect of them. Those moral dilemmas were something only tributes were supposed to understand. And yet those dilemmas were already starting to explode and consume me in their brutal flames.

Luster Harbetto, District One, Victor:

In the distance the sun was beginning to set. It looked kind of pretty, casting off so many of its different colours. I watched each of them pierce a cloud indifferently as I sat on the edge of a single bed, my suitcase besides me, waiting to get into the mentors' headquarter to empty its contents.

I had honestly never experienced mentoring before. The victory of the Hunger Games was sweet, but the mentoring was torturous; I knew that from day one. Not everyone was going to be quite as lucky as me, and I'd have to watch as one of my tributes – at best, but usually another – charge into the arena with dreams and are reduced into a hollow, rotting corpse.

The Capitol only sent us to one game in theory. But in practice they threw you into every single game, and one you couldn't fully play. You still felt all the emotions and – with the ability of sponsor gifts – could even interact and help where you could, but beyond that there was absolutely nothing you could do, all you could do was watch and feel, and maybe send something if you were lucky enough to scrape the money.

… If these Games were anything like the last... how could I cope? This years Games were still torturting me. I still dreamt of my victims, every single one of them. The red-haired Seven girl and her scarry faced District partner would sometimes stand above my bed and laugh as they stared down at me with vengeful eyes, and I could see them but couldn't move, only internally scream. Sometimes it would be Melanthe, and she'd be much worse; an arrow would be in her skull, dripping onto me. I would taste the blood I made bleed.

And sometimes I would hear the voices of old allies. The kind Melanthe would make a joke, Astrid a demeaning comment or Tarren would remind me why something in my head was stupid... I would say it was almost a coping mechanism, but another part of me knew that whatever it was, it wasn't healthy.

Thinking of my fragile mentality reminded me of my medication, the cocktail I would take just to feel a little less broken. They had been working well the past year, and though bad memories remained I could socialise, play piano and even leave the house thanks to them. But this had brought back new memories, and as I stared at the pills in my hands I knew they would do little to help.

I could just take many of them and leave the world. Leave everything; I had envied the surviving tributes for that. I stared at the packet of tablets, enough to melt my stomach into oblivion. I stared at them longingly, finding myself contemplating adding them to the stash in my hand for that split second.

"Luster?" An eerily calm voice addressed me from the doorway. I turned to see the short, blonde haired District One boy. "Leena needs you."

I sighed, gulping down the pills with a glass of water. "She's so demanding. What does she want now? I gave you guys the best introductory speech I could-"

"It's Lexie, she's not co-operating."

"What do you mean?" I said as we walked down the corridor.

"Well, as you know she's not trained for this," the boy shrugged. "So she isn't exactly trained for the... emotional difficulties normal people expect to face in the Hunger Games. I knew her brother, and he always spoke pretty low of her, saying she was a silly girl who was more interested in dancing than her loyalty to the Capitol."

I nodded and exchanged brief smiles with Pullox, though I understood why Lexie would rather dance than play the Capitol's gruesome games.

I actually kind of liked my tributes this year. The boy, Pullox, seemed nice enough, though something about him unnerved me. Maybe it was because he often seemed too nice to be real, or maybe it was the way everything that came out of his mouth was factual and indifferent. The girl, Lexie, was sweet too. I felt bad for her, because unlike Pullox she wasn't prepared for this; for the first time in years District One had forced a girl to participate. There were no volunteers.

It was kind of worse. People like Astrid, like Maximotus, like Jynx or me. We volunteered to get ourselves into a mess. Lexie had no say; all she did was live life day by day before mercilessly being snatched up into the Capitol and being forced to oblige with their sickening Games. She didn't ask to be a murderer or a corpse, and she was going to be one, the other or both by the end of the week, no matter how much advice I tried to give.

"Open up!" I heard Leena screech from the doorway. The District One escort had always been demanding and nasty – I remembered when she was my escort, she had often tried to train us by shooting plastic bullets at us and insulting us. Luckily, the training part was on my behalf, but Leena still strutted around and made derogatory remarks, treating tributes like they were training for the military and not like they were innocent kids. "Alexandria! If you don't open up this door it won't be a tribute that kills you!" She screeched, slamming her fists on the solid oak again.

"Hey! Hey!" I said, grabbing Leena's fists. "What are you doing?"

"She locked herself in. She's refusing to come out," Leena growled, her innocent features red with fury. I turned to ask Pullox to help me, but in the blink of an eye he had disappeared. I glanced at where he had stood, a little confused. If he could do that in the Games he'd be mega useful – he'd also trained too. Trained, quick and clever? If I was lucky I would only have to mourn one death this year.

"Okay, well threatening her and reminding her that she's probably going to die isn't helping, is it?" I reprimanded Leena. She frowned.

"You open the door then, if you know how to handle children so much!"

Without replying, I pressed showed her my artificial pinky finger, the one the Capitol had implanted to replace the one that had been bitten off last year. I stroked the fingernail in a specific direction and watched as a beam of a lazer zapped out, melting through all the locks and mechanisms slowly. Liquid metal that was once the locking mechanisms fizzled in a puddle on the ground as the door slowly opened on itself. I stood up and walked in.

"I'll handle it," I told Leena, cautiously entering the room.

Lexie's face wasn't visible. She was crouched in the corner of her golden, beautiful room, her hair covering her face as she sobbed quietly, probably hoping to not be heard. She had almost not noticed that I had entered, though she glanced up at me when I stood in front of her awkwardly.

"What do you want?" She said, defensively.

I didn't know quite how to reply. "To tell you that's it going to be okay."

She snorted, the exhaling air flipping her hair away from her patchy eyes, which were sore from crying. "You do know what I'm going into, right? The Hunger Games. I don't know about your Games, because I didn't watch them, but the general premise of the Hunger Games doesn't involve sitting around a campfire and singing kumbaya."

I couldn't help but chuckle at the joke. "No, not exactly. I wouldn't lie to you and pretend that they were," I slumped down, leaning against the wall next to her. "And I understand how you feel-"

"Bu-"

"And I understand you must have it ten times worse than me, considering I did volunteer for this," I smiled lightly, finishing her sentence. "But really, Lexie, what good is sitting around in a room and crying all day when you could be thinking up a strategy or learning how to fight?"

"I'll be wasting my time," Lexie said, slumping a little more. "I've always hated blood. That's why I quit training so many years ago to persue dancing."

"But you trained once?"

"Yeah," Lexie sighed.

"That already gives you an advantage over most tributes," I smiled. "And believe it or not, dancing is going to help you a lot."

"My brother always told me dancing was for girls."

"Well... you'd be surprised, I'm a ranged guy, but I know fighting is very similar to dancing. You need to be both strong and fluid, passionate and graceful, and you need to be unpredictable," I smiled. "You probably have better co-ordination and reflexes than most Careers. You just need to learn to dance with a dagger in your hand, and you need to learn to get used to blood, and you'll be all set."

Lexie sniffled, thinking over my words for a second. Then she looked up at me, smiling lightly. "You know what Luster... you're kind of right."

For someone so used to making stupid decisions, it was kind of nice to be right for once.

Robinetro Fidget, District Eight Escort:

"Do you think it's safe here? I mean, Langdon has been missing for hours-" the girl on the television asked to the boy who looked at her adoringly. They were both young, foolish and attractive; she had a heart shaped face and pearly blue eyes, he was tall, dark and handsome. They were star crossed lovers who had only just met and fallen in love. It was so beautiful as they sat there staring at each other lovingly, their faces kissed by the firelight.

"I know Wade is from District One Maya," the boy said. "But he'd protect us. He'd keep us safe."

"Yeah... the only thing that matters is that we both get out of here alive," Maya held the boy's hand, determined. "I know it's never happened before... not in over a hundred years, but we'll make it happen... somehow, someway."

They both leant in to kiss, but the tall, bulky boy, Wade suddenly jumped out of the bushes and disturbed them before their lips met. He looked absolutely terrified, his face pale, as he observed the teenagers who were so madly in love.

"I have something awful to show you," he said, looking horrified.

The couple followed the much taller, bulkier guy through thick rainforest, leaving their fire to slowly be extinguished by the growing humidity. Their walk was half an hour, so it cut to their location thirty minutes later. There was nothing in area bar a single tree. Maya was scared, so her lover held her hand tight as they approached the spot behind it, which cast off a shadow.

"Langdon!" Maya shrieked, her boyfriend hushing up her cries as they glanced at their old ally. The tiny, innocent looking thirteen year old was still alive, but only barely. His jaw was missing and his clothes were soaked in his own blood, which still continued to pour down his front. The tiny boy tried to talk, his tongue flapping everywhere uselessly, but he dropped down and immediately died with a cannon fire.

"Wh-who could do such a thing Leif?" Maya asked the boy, looking up into his eyes, terrified.

Across them, Wade smiled.

"Me," he said, suddenly plunging his knife into Leif's heart as Maya's screams filled the air. Leif slowly fell to the ground, managing to mouth his dying proclamation of love before he lay next to his dead ally, his cannon fire firing.

Maya looked at Wade, who was distracted as he revealled in his fifth kill of the Games. Ever since the Careers had dissolved he lured tributes into a false sense of security before slaughtering them. If Maya was clever, she would have ran while she had a good chance, but she slumped next to her dead boyfriend's body and wept profusely, begging him to come back.

She didn't even notice Wade come behind her, and judging by her despairing moans she didn't care so much either. She almost let the awful Career drag the knife across her throat, so with one last strangled cry she slumped on top of her boyfriend with blood spraying out of a torn artery.

I couldn't help but be entertained, popcorn in hand as I revelled in the Games of my youth. The Games nowadays were always great, but nothing was quite as fun as re-watching old Games and knowing the outcome yet still feeling as if the end was quite unpredictable.

"I guess I can kind of see why Mirane is sceptical of alliances and doesn't want to be with a weakling," a voice said from the doorway.

I felt a little guilty when I turned around and saw Darius shuffle into the room. He looked almost innocent in his slippers and dressing gown, with evidently tired eyes and messy hair. I quickly turned the television off, the camera still on Maya's blood squirting out of her throat, and patted the cushion next to me.

"It's a big day tomorrow, you should be sleeping. Is something up?" I asked.

"Well... considering my room is next to this one it's hard to sleep when you hear screams of agony and death," Darius said honestly as I poured water out in a glass for him. "But beside that... I guess I'd struggle to fall asleep anyway... I keep thinking about today. About the moment you called my name and I had to force my way onto the stage. About the way I had to say goodbye to my family and my best friend..." He took a gulp of water. "And about the following days. I keep thinking... when am I going to die?"

"With my help, never!" I smiled.

"So Mirane will die?"

He caught me in a trap. "Well, err, err..."

"I see two people when they're naïve enough to think the Gamemakers would let two survive – and Rayann surviving last year doesn't count," Darius sighed, setting his water down on the table in front. His gaze was directed at a vase of flowers. "It's nice to think like that. I wish I could delude myself into a world that is that nice, but... I know I'm going to die..."

I didn't answer. I just stared at the television, remembering Maya's throat getting slashed cleanly or Leif dying instantly as a knife drove itself into his chest. With horror I noted that both tributes were from District Eight.

"Sometimes the world can be nice," I said hopelessly.

"Oh yeah. Let me guess, the boy that brutalised those three tributes had karma catch up to him? In the final six or so someone got to him and gave him a taste of his own medicine?"

"No," I paused. "He won." Darius' face filled with horror, and I realised that for a boy that knew the world was brutal even he had hope for a better world. I quickly attended to his growing doubts. "But he was killed in the eighth quarter quell! Those tributes' mentor grabbed into his mouth and tore his tongue out with his bare hands!"

"That's awful..." Darius said, paling slightly. "And Jynx Blackthorne won those Games anyway. She's hardly a good person."

"I speak to Jynx sometimes," I said. "She isn't so bad. In fact, in some ways she's just like you: deep inside she's a kid afraid of the future, trying to reconcile herself with the fact the world she lives in is quite brutal. But she's accepted that; she's prepared to live with that. Are you?"

"No," Darius said. "But fortunately I don't think I'll have to."

"Da-"

"I wonder how it will happen," Darius frowned. "I doubt I'll be fortunate enough to have a quick death; I'm fast. I have a chance of escaping the Bloodbath. But there'll come a time when I can't run anymore, and I'll have to fight. And when I do I'll die and it'll be bloody and painful..." Darius' voice cracked. "I just hope... I really, really hope, that by that point I've accepted death enough to die with dignity, not flailing and screaming like those kids on the television."

"I don't want that," I smiled. "I want you to get out of there. The Games exists to teach the District kids like you a lesson-" I noticed Darius' face contort with disgust, and smiled. "Maybe you can give them the valuable lesson that the good can win."

"... I can dream," Darius said, standing up. "But I'm a weakling. People like Mirane are confident and smart. I don't even think I have those coming for me. She could choose better-"

"She has nothing against you-"

"No," Darius agreed, grabbing the glass of water I had poured to him and heading towards the door. "I've been conscious my whole life of people disliking me for my loser personality. And the one time I'm rejected for something else, I wish it was my personality that had gotten me rejected, because if it was I wouldn't doubt my chances."

There was a strong silence that hung in the air. There was no light in the room, and if anything moves the surrounding shadows in the night would ripple and transmogrify. Darius lingered as his hand reached for the doorhandle, before he glanced at me.

"Thanks for listening, Robinetro, I don't think many escorts would do that."

"It's fine," I smiled. "Now get some sleep. You need it."

Darius nodded, giving me one last look before leaving the room. I sat there alone, suddenly feeling sorry for the boy; before he had seemed so average, so I could be indifferent about him. Now I knew how he felt deep inside, what was going on inside his passive face, and it was absolutely awful. But the Capitol still needed to punish the Districts for what they had done... I just wished that they punished the more disgusting children, the real neanderthals.

Still, I couldn't bring myself to watch the end of the Games which I had recorded on tape, and I couldn't bring myself to forget that when it comes to the Games the bad guys can often win.

Hey! It's me again... that author who posts rushed, uneditted chapters (like this one!) after big periods of hiatus.

Did you miss me?

Anyway, that's my exams & my hiatus (to those who PM'd me panicking, I did warn you guys this would happen!) and I have lots of time to write. Which is convenient, because I have the next two chapters written. Aren't I wonderful?

So – I planned to reward you guys for reviewing and here is my really relaxed, subjective sponsoring system! Basically, I'm setting a % point. That means that from the chapters between now and the Bloodbath, if you review 50% of those chapters you can sponsor one big gift per tribute (tribute of your choice; you subjectively interpret what a 'big' gift is, and I approve) and if you review at least 25% of the chapters you can sponsor a small gift!

… This will continue throughout the Games, and will get harder. E.g – if you review 75% of the chapters between the bloodbath + final 12, you can sponsor a big gift, and a small one if you review 50%. And it will continue to get stricter.

So what do you think of my system?

~Toxic