Money is the reason we exist,

Everybody knows it, it's a fact, kiss kiss.

– Lana Del Rey

Pullox Shimmers, District 1, 18:

Oh god.

This was the Capitol. Considering these people were the highest in the society that is Panem, I expected a lot more from them. My escort was dumb, everyone given to me was dumb. My stylists could make me look nice in my dazzling suit, but they couldn't even add up simple sums. And the Capitolian crowd? I'd experienced them twice, and they'd only proven themselves to be screaming, Neanderthal excuses of human beings. All my life I'd been raised by people inferior to me. I thought that I could escape all of them, but I was launched out of the frying pan and into the fire. I thought District One was superficial, but the Capitol was a land where I was draped in petty sparkles and paraded, expected to act for their stupid whims and impulses.

As the chariot moved out of the stable and into the neon lit streets I looked at them all, smiling and trying to look charismatic. I was good at being a chameleon, at pretending I cared, or that I was charismatic and kind. Every day of my life I pretended I cared. There were few things I truly cared about... My sister... Victory... Knowledge. I think that was all, those three things, though I acted like I cared about everything that surrounded me.

That was my special talent. I'd try to see what personality the Careers wanted me to adopt, and I'd simply adopt it. Once I had gathered their trust or become the underdog I'd pit them off against each other. I could see tension in District Four waiting to ignite already, so it was time to bring that to light. I was well trained with a sword and with knives, but lacked the physical prowess most Careers had; I was short and though I had managed to develop a bit of strength, it was nothing compared to either of the Four tributes or the mountain that was the District Two boy.

To top it all off, I wasn't quite as psychotic as the Careers – I didn't like the thought of killing too much, with all that blood and gore – what I did like was watching people suffer in life, to watch them lose, to toy with their emotions and watch their world crumble around them. After their emotional besmirching I'd finish them off quick and simple with as little mess to clean as possible. End of story.

I had to remind myself to keep my façade, to not look indifferent or uncaring, and thus forced a twisted smile across my face.

"You don't look happy," my District partner said. She wasn't a ditzy bimbo One girl as I had hoped. But at least she wasn't trained, even if she had an IQ over fifty. "Here, smile."

Glittering nail varnish seized her nails, and even though the girl was younger then me I couldn't help but find her attractive. Her sapphire laden dress perfectly complimented her petite frame, and she smiled down at me with kind eyes. I couldn't help but like her.

Her name was Alexandria. I trained with her brother. Though competent, he never made it to the Hunger Games. If Alexandria was anything like her brother she was definitely a threat, but she carried some kind of attractive naiveness with her. Those glittering hands seized mine and Alexandria smiled and lifted our arms together, forcing the crowd to erupt in their disgusting giggles and screams for romance. I began to smile and wave too.

"The One male, Pullox, and his District partner look comfortable," the commentator said. He wouldn't be used to my shy, smiling appearance for long. That would all change when the Games begin. "They carry with them the typical glittering One attire. Though nothing new, it's bound to get them some willing sponsors. And their chemistry is undeniable, those looking for a Romeo and Juliet in the Games may have just hit the lucky jackpot! And our One tributes may have too, as hopeless romantics would simply love to sponsor them!"

The spotlight faded off us, and the roses landed at my feet as the Capitol began to throw the prettiest flowers at us. I had always admired my chameleon like strategy, but Alexandria, though not as calculating as I, had certainly possessed a gift for capturing people's hearts. She had even made me like her a little, when she wasn't crying and being pathetic. She managed to seize a rose, and was demurely inhaling its perfumes while waving.

"Thanks," I said with a light smile. "You may have just gotten us some sponsors."

"I did?" She said with widened eyes, as if she didn't expect it. Not only did others underestimate her, the girl underestimated herself.

I replied with a curt nod and the spotlight washed over the Two tributes as they made their way through the gates. They themselves had looked impressive. The girl was pretty: blue eyes, dark hair and a sweet smile. I guess if you looked past his gruff appearance the Two boy seemed more handsome than I; he was tall, muscular and had strong features. Though I couldn't be certain, he could be the heartthrob of the Games. The heartthrobs were always killed because beyond the power to stupidly smash everything in sight and drown in their simpering narcissism, they were ultimately useless.

The Twos both had good costumes, as the Careers always did. Their costume was original too. They weren't statues or miners, they were symbols of justice, with stone crowns resting on their head and a large, pure white book of law in her hands. The boy held brass weighting scales that moved rhythmically, leaning one way one second and another the next. The Capitol adored the costumes and cheered and cried for the tributes, probably still hoping for their blood to wash the floor beneath.

Neither of the Twos played with their audience's adoration, which was a shame, but their chariot had made up for that by shooting brilliant beams of light shot from torches in the chariot and illuminated their features. I tried to deafen myself from the screams, but the citizens adored the very things the Two tributes' costumes epitomised: hope, justice and freedom – which was everything Panem lacked, really.

I thought of those who starved in Panem. Like the Capitolites, I was indifferent to them. I had been raised in immense wealth and prosperity, even more so than others in District One. For some reason my parents adored me and gave me everything I wanted. The best healthcare ensured I grew up well, the best education filled my mind with many facts and figures, there was always food, warm water, electricity and shelter available for me and great training to ensure that I could enter the Games come age eighteen and claim an immense amount of money and fame. It makes me sound more fortunate than the weedy underlings, but it was ultimately a curse I grew up with every second of my childhood.

I was bored with my life, where everything was handed to me and there was little to strive for. I began to find it fun to play with people's emotions, and I slowly learnt how to read people and twist and bend them to my every will. I would purposely do badly in school to anger my parents, I would manipulate kids in school to fight each other and gather a degree of satisfaction whenever someone's temper burst, or they had been reduced to tears. I was sheltered from the world of pain and sorrow, so sought to create it myself in order to actually feel.

Which was why death intrigued me. But not the gore and violence... Why did so many idiots in the Hunger Games love blood? Blood was a red, liquidated clump of cells that spilt from a wound. What they needed to learn to love was the source of the blood. The pain, the misery and power and the knowledge they could do that. The fact they could control life and even induce death. That was what excited me.

Despite my momentary bursts of satisfaction, there was very little in life I cared for until my sister, Floy, was born. She wasn't shallow and superficial like everyone in the District. The blonde haired bundle of fun was caring, she noticed phenomena and worldly patterns the average imbecile overlooked and wasn't tricked by the superfluous things in life. I did everything she wanted. I played with her, I made her laugh and protected her from harm. She made me feel something, and to add a bonus I didn't have to tear everyone down in order to feel tall.

I was a little annoyed when a booming voice interrupted me from my train of consciousness: "Here are the District Two tributes, courageous crusaders of peace and justice just like the Peacekeepers in their District, lets take a moment of silence to remember those Peacekeepers who do everything to protect our freedoms," the Capitol managed to descend into silence for a mere few seconds. "The Two boy looks dashing and competent. And the District Two girl? She is apparently a local celebrity in her District. Lorelei Draven and her father have captured the hearts of some in the Capitol here with her apparent scandalous private life!"

"The Two tributes look... Strong," Alexandria said, trying to keep composed. "And the Two girl is famous."

"She's competent," I said, keeping a professional facade. She was probably a stupid ditz in actuality.

Lexie nodded. "Are you strong?"

I frowned. "Strong enough. I can use weapons. I'm intelligent. I did volunteer," I grinned at Lexie in a way that made her look concerned. "I wouldn't volunteer if I didn't think I had a great chance. Are you?"

"I'm quick, I... I don't know," Lexie smiled, not trying to think of the fact her death seemed so imminent. "I think I'm in with a chance." She shrugged, looking at me with an innocence my sister had.

I tried to forget my sister. She meant so much to me and everywhere I looked there was a reminder she existed. Some Capitolian dresses were covered frocks and pink materials, I thought of how she loved them. I thought of how Alexandria possessed her sweetness, naïvety and understated intelligence.

But I couldn't let my sister forget that Alexandria was merely a target I would play like a chess piece and that I was here to win, not to think of her. Floy meant the world to me, but her sweetness couldn't triumph the sweetness of victory, her beauty couldn't conquer the beauty of pain and her love wasn't enough to totally annihilate my hatred. I was raised to win these Games, to outsmart everyone else in the Hunger Games and to spend my life in fame and fortune, as a known victor. That was why I was here, that was my ultimate motivation.

The spotlight eventually moved to the District Three tributes. I rather enjoyed their costume; they were bound together by a large chunk of metal, cogs spinning off their costume in union, sometimes grinding against each other and releasing steam. The cogs twisted and turned in unison with the cogs on their chariot, and people in the Capitol clapped mildly for them.

The tributes, however, weren't as impressive as their well thought-out costume. The Three boy only stood there and looked on almost indifferently, trying to ignore the Capitol. His District partner was a little more tactful, but I knew she was certainly shy. She'd wave politely at the audience metres away from her. She'd get a little more confident in time and was soon beaming brightly, waving enthusiastically and blowing kisses next to her bland District partner.

"Trojan Reed is a little strange, isn't he?" The commentator said, as if Trojan couldn't hear the insult. Still, the boy didn't flinch or seem bothered. That indifference was actually somewhat startling. "But his District partner, Elizabeth, is such a sweet little thing... As they always are... But will she be a survivor?"

No. I would.

"They looked cute," Alexandria said.

I wanted to know why she had to talk. Maybe nervousness, maybe she was amicable. I just wanted to be silent now the cameras weren't on me. But this was the Hunger Games – I always had to put on a show, whether to trick the people around me or to make the Capitolian audience adore me.

"Hm, will they be good competition though?"

"I... I don't know," Alexandria admitted. "Guess we'll wait until training to find out."

I only nodded lightly and then gave a charming smile: "Anyway, Alexandria-"

"Call me Lexie."

"Lexie," I corrected myself. "Well, I was speaking to Honora, the Four girl-"

"I saw."

I was tired of being interrupted, and cut to the chase. "She wondered if you wanted to be part of the Careers, and frankly I think you could be a wonderful addition to the alliance."

Alexandria's eyes widened a little. "Seriously? You think I'm capable enough of getting into the Career alliance?"

"Simply put, yes," I smiled, trying to emulate warmth. I omitted the fact that Honora was only going to accept people if they had garnered a training score of nine. "You're better than you think. And even if you weren't close to him, I knew your brother well, I owe this to him. And you're from my District. District loyalty, right?"

Lexie smiled, still overjoyed at the prospect of being taken into the Career alliance. I was content with her silence but then she leant in and hugged me, and though the spotlight was moving onto the District Four tributes Lexie had still managed to capture their attention once again. A roar of cheers ensued and I felt myself blush lightly as she pulled away, taking her mane of dark hair away from my face.

"And the Four tributes are impressive this year!" A voice boomed, prompting me to glance at a large screen where District Four were visible. "The girl looks stoic and somewhat angry, but we expect that in a strong tribute, so look out for Honora Flloyd folks!" I was once again reminded of my sister, Floy, just a similar name triggered memories and I smiled lightly. The Career girl who dominated the screen before me looked and acted little like her, though. "Ross certainly knows how to impress his audience, though!"

Both Four tributes were dressed up as mermaids. Ross, the Four boy, was doing the cliche smile and wave act but it worked. His muscles were defined by oil as he lay back, flipping his golden tail and laughing lightly. The girl looked almost comical, though I knew Honora wouldn't be a laughing matter when thrown into the arena. She sat looking unimpressed, her bulging muscles making her look far too strong to be a petite, sleek mermaid girl.

Both tributes held tridents, and I knew they knew how to use them. As I thought of dark things, such as death, the audience clapped and cheered as seashells that were scattered around their chariot managed to eject multiple bubbles that pelted up and languidly trailed down, reflecting multiple colours: red, green, purple...

The Capitolians all screeched, clapping and trying to seize any bubbles that floated in their direction. Looked like District Four would manage to cling onto a good few sponsors this year. The stage props were certainly bedazzling.

The spotlight quickly flickered over to the Five tributes, though before it managed to get to them our chariot jerked as it managed to get into the Capitol's main square. Suddenly the two isolated seas of audience, divided only by the road we travelled, had disappeared behind a few walls as we made it into the empty square with District Two following close on our tail.

A screen still projected the Five tributes: four impressive outfit sets had been presented to the Capitol, but there was always a disappointment and this disappointment came in the form of District Five. The Five boy looked like a possible contender, big and hulking, but the Five girl stood beside him awkwardly. They were both dressed up as mutations, and embarrassing ones at that. The boy was a bear with the tail, fins and gills that belonged to a shark. His District partner looked a little more cute, put into a small pig outfit with bat wings draping from the side. To their dismay, the Capitol only clapped politely as they passed by and I noticed the District Five girl spat in their direction.

She was interesting. And stupid. Looks like I didn't have to worry about her, then, and the only thing she had to worry about was herself if she was going to spend her time showing contempt for the Capitol, a force which could crush her like she was insect without any further thought.

"Well, aren't the Five tributes the most interesting bunch!" The commentator laughed. I could see him up on the balcony, speaking into the microphone with a smile on his face that was almost as bright as his multi-coloured, rainbow like dreadlocks. "The girl is called Leda Viscoy, and though the Capitol are booing her antics she seems like she could be fun." There was a moment as the commentator smiled. "I don't know what to say about her partner, Magnus Carmine, but we saw his convict attire at the Reapings. He could promise to be an interesting tribute!"

Magnus Carmine. If he survived to make the final eight I'd remember his name and personally make sure that he'd die. He seemed like a threat. He was physically strong and – judging by his prison sentence – he wasn't afraid to hurt others.

My gaze flickered to the commentator again and I noticed a serene looking President next to him. The grey haired, wise looking man observed all of the tributes contemplatively as his daughter sat beside him. I knew I wouldn't have to face her, because she had been thrown into the arena last year. She was disguised as a hooded creature that had slashed and torn at every single one of the tributes she could reach. Another reason she wouldn't be in the arena next year was because she had been caught in an explosion and almost killed, though you couldn't ever tell; her face was pure, pale and unblemished and she hungrily observed the tributes reel into the square of death.

District Six were the ones who currently seized the Capitol's attention. They were dressed up in attire that was a homage to hover boards, and though their outfit was a simple, metallic suit, they impressed the audience as it allowed them to hover a few inches above in the air. As the horses charge forward and pulled their chariot, they levitated and hovered in union with it.

Alexandria and I marvelled at Capitolian technology. Both of us were rich, both of us knew the best of the best gadgets in District One, but neither of us were used to this kind of technology. In the Capitol people could alter their faces, communicate with someone thousands of miles away and even fly.

"That's the Six tributes! Brandy Gripen and Sebastien Keating have both seemingly put on a good show," the commentator said. Little more, little else. At this point, unless the tributes really showed off, very little was said of them. This bias existed in every Hunger Games.

I was the one with the advantage. Mentally, strategically and in terms of District. Every tribute that began to surround me was, in one way or another, a threat. And I couldn't wait to play the game like a chess board, to twist and turn each piece across the arena and knock them off one by one until I was the last person standing. It was so interesting being introduced to all of these tributes, knowing that in two weeks they'd all be dead and I'd be standing on the mountain that is their corpses.

Freya Garnsey, District 12, 18:

I had enjoyed the chariot rides.

Being reaped... being thrown onto some stuffy old train with a stylist that made me want to rip my ears out... Yeah, that was a drag. I didn't know why of all people it had to be me who was Reaped. I mean, after all, I was one of the few people in District Twelve who wasn't either ugly, simpering or weak! I was the girl who sold her body in order to survive. I had no sob story. I did it because I liked money and I liked sex. I was a whore, and contrary to your cliche story character I wasn't remotely morally grey about it. We pay for everything that's naturally instinctive to us, food, for example. I don't know why selling sex was any different.

Not just that, but it gave me a few advantages. I knew how to flaunt my body. I wasn't the most attractive girl with my narrow features and messy hair, but I was confident. It wasn't the body that made you attractive, it was how you painted it and acted. As black steam was poured around my District partner and I, I threw my hands through my newly styled, glossy hair. I pouted my lips, which looked so much fuller with the right lipstick applied. I let the dress, which rolled down like real smoke, hitch up and show off my favourite features – long, sleek legs which looked so perfect.

"District Seven are-" the commentator stopped. As if anyone would focus on District Seven. Both those timid weasels were dressed up as silly origami figures, awkwardly trying not to fall over as their outfits were so lumpy. Everyone's attention was on me as I looked up at the sky, making sure everyone saw my eyes, the brown of them highlighted underneath charcoal make-up.

"You're stealing everyone's air time," my District partner said, no accusation in his voice, just a statement of fact.

"Don't hate the player, hate the Game," I smirked. "I mean, I hate it, and unlike all these miserable little weasels I don't deserve to be here! But I'm in this competition. Everyone is a threat and the Games start the moment your name is called. I want everyone to die," I put one hand on hip, pouting to the crowd as the camera passed the Seven tributes and awkwardly lingered over to the Eight tributes, despite the fact it desperately longed to lock onto me. Male tributes were throwing roses that landed on my feet, a surefire sign of success. "So I have to outshine you all."

"Good job," he said earnestly.

"District Eight are interesting," the commentator said, bored. The tributes didn't look too bad, dressed up in silks and satins and looking moderately dapper. Still, they were no highlight. "We think these tributes could be interesting; the boy seems nice and moderately charming," I burnt with envy inside as the girl made the crowd cheer, waving with a beaming smile. "But the girl is the crowd commander. We certainly like her."

"Darius Cortez, District Eight, sixteen and Mirane Saffell, District Eight, seventeen," my District partner said. He was uncharismatic, but at least his smoky black outfit and slightly messy hair seemed to look quite nice. "I wish we had more information on them. All I know is that Mirane's father was sitting at the side of the stage, meaning he was deputy Mayor, and that I could hear Darius' family call out his name at the Reapings. They were devastated."

"You remember all of that?" I asked, dropping my act for a second. "I didn't even know their names."

"I remember everything."

"Everything?" I snorted. "You have a good memory, but that's not true."

"You're called Freya Garnsey. You're eighteen and five foot seven – you weigh nine stone, you live with a man named Gregory. In the train you ate chicken, broccoli, mashed potatoes with gravy and had trifle for desert and three glasses of champagne," my memory went back to my dinner, it was fuzzy, but I knew he was right. He knew what I ate better than I did. "You had three slices of toast with marmalade for breakfast and a cup of coffee. You picked up a cereal box, but decided against it. You probably didn't want to gain weight, because I saw you look at your reflection ten times last night and eight times today. You're vain."

I couldn't remember any details. "You're making that up-"

"I'm not," he grinned.

"How do you know my weight?"

"I only caught a glimpse of the tribute profile they made of you as they collected your DNA, it was only a glimpse, but I remember every glimpse," he noticed my quizzical expression. "I don't know how. My eyes just kind of feel like a camera. Everytime I blink it's like I take a picture, and that picture lies in my mind to be collected any time I want it to. It's always been something I can do, but people say its weird."

The District Nine tributes weren't impressive this year. The boy was uncharismatic, and his District partner had a mystery to her but still failed to engage the audience. Their chariot rolled by with them being dressed up in an outfit made out of tin cans, and then it passed out of the spotlight without little comment or fuss. Both tributes would probably die in the Bloodbath and be forgotten before they were even remembered.

District Ten was a little better, but not much. The girl invoked my jealousy though. She was probably that girl who assumed she was better than you – I detected her snobbery as she stood there as a shepherdess, pink dress flowing out before her whilst tied together in cute ribbons. She held a small leash, attached to it was her bulky District partner. I suddenly felt extremely pissed that all attention had moved off me; District Ten was much better than District Nine. The boy seemed to go along with the girl and they even looked like they had fun.

"The stupid shits," I hissed to myself. "I hope they die slowly and painfully."

"Jealousy is bad."

"Shut up, brainbox," I snapped at him, glancing at him. "Actually... What is your name? And why are you in this chariot and not paraded into the Capitol on reality TV as one of those freaks that can remember everything presented?"

The boy blinked. He was muscular and a good few inches above me; he had the strength advantage. He replied with a low, almost unsettling voice: "I hoped all of my life I would be educated and would be able to go somewhere, maybe take an exam and score high enough to go to a Capitolian University and get a permit to live here..." His voice trailed. "My father called me a dreamer. He didn't notice my gift, told me nobody passed those kind of exams. I guess my dreams just crumbled to dust beneath me and I was forced to labour in the mines for long hours for the rest of my life. I try learning whenever I could... I steal textbooks from school, I have a book on hunting animals and one or two fiction books. It's not enough to make me educated, but I know every book word for word..." He frowned. I actually felt bad for him. "Even if my memory wasn't so good I would still repeat them word for word. I've read them so many times."

"You look like a typical District Twelve boy, I can't believe you're... You."

"And you look like a typical whore," he replied. I didn't feel stung; I knew who I was. "But I'm sure that somewhere in there there's a human."

"Ha!" I laughed. "Me? Human?" I paused. "Maybe in another dimension, I'm not the most humane girl in the whole world," as the crowd zoomed past I leant over my chariot, waving to people and laughing as I continued talking to Luke. "I'm no psychologist, I don't ever recall having a bad past. But I would have a bad present if I didn't do what I had to do. Lie, steal, cheat, sleep with married men whose wives wouldn't give them oral sex or something," I shrugged. "What we call humanity is slang for our moral compass or whatever. My moral compass is broke. The only thing that threatens to ruin our humanity is our drive to survive," with that I stood, ensuring my cleavage was on display as I glanced at him. "If you survive the bloodbath, maybe you'll understand what I have to say."

"Maybe," Luke said uncertainly.

There was a pause. I felt awkward, but turned and smiled at him weakly. "I don't like many people, but you're a cool kid Luke."

For a split second, he smiled back.

The spotlight shone on District Eleven for a few seconds. They were in okay outfits, enclosed in what looked like a brown seed. Everybody gasped when the seed kept cracking open and numerous green leaves and stems would break out with roots falling down their legs and leeching onto the ground. The greenery and plantation would then revert, shrinking back into the seed and then resprouting moments later. The outfit was impressively technical, but beyond that it probably wouldn't collect too many sponsors. That was my turn.

My heart froze and the spotlight hit me. It was empowering, in the same way plants absorbed light I absorbed it, used it to empower myself and become the most memorable tribute of the night. A tide of deafening cheers struck me as I twirled around, the smoke around me eddying as the wispy hem of my dress span with me and became one with the smoke. After impressing them with the technicalities of my outfit, I was quick to exploit my sexuality: I grabbed my dress, sliding it up my seductive legs. I pouted so people could see the fullness of my lips. I made sure my cleavage were on display so that men could admire my breasts.

The cheers were overwhelming. Though he smiled and waved, which was unexpected, I knew they weren't for Luke. They were for me; I was confident, I was sure of myself, I was attractive with the right hair and make-up and I was loved tonight. I could almost feel the sponsor money rain on me. In the Districts I was hated by everyone – I'd stolen from everyone, or slept with their husband or split their parents up. But here I was a golden girl. Men wanted me, women wanted to be me. I had coldly told everyone I didn't care if I was liked or not but with the crowd chanting my name, I suddenly knew what it felt like to be adored by the majority. It was empowering.

I was disappointed when the chariot slid through the gates and into the square, though I could still hear the audience chanting my name. I sighed with satisfaction, slumping down into my seat and smiling giddily to myself.

"You're the highlight of the night," Luke said, sharing my happiness with a small smile. "I don't think that's ever happened to District Twelve before! Not in over a hundred years anyway."

I grinned to myself. "Well, I'm a special snowflake, aren't I?"

The following procedures were the same every year. President Nystalgia gave the standard speech of the meaning of the Games and how these Games were going to be absolutely wonderful; last year he gave many dark hints about the nature of the Games, and they proved to be true as there were so many twists. I was quite assured that
these Games would be standard. No twists, just a standard Games. That meant the only problem was avoiding death, which was still crappy, but more bearable.

We hopped off the chariot and our escort greeted us, being particularly affectionate with me by stooping down to my height and kissing both of my cheeks. The plain faced, dull haired Lillian McNicks annoyed me – why? Because she was nice. Not just was being nice a boring personality trait to have, but everyone who was 'nice' was always a false, sweet smiled backstabber. Lillian didn't care if we lived or died, she was just doing a job to get money, and I resented her for not at least being honest about her nastiness.

"You did so well," Lillian sung our praises for both of us after all the fuss was made and we made our way to our rooms. As much as I liked Luke, it was me who had done well, not Luke, and everyone knew it.

We continued trudging on, all of us entering an elevator. There was a somewhat chubby woman who I recognised as District Four's escort, and her tributes were in there with her. One was a tall, relatively attractive Four Career, who had an amicable vibe to him. Beside him was a taller and more brutish girl with messy hair and a hmenacing grin. She gave me the most malicious look as we entered, and I was tempted to flip her off, but knew the trouble wasn't worth it.

Instead I winked at her District partner, making him smile coyly. I knew at that moment that he was an idiot whose balls had domain over his head. Luke handled it worse, looking nervous as we had to stand next to the intimidating looking Fours.

"Hey Portia!" Lillian said conversationally.

"Hey! You look wonderful!" They hugged briefly, and I deduced they must have some kind of history. They complimented each other and exchanged a brief catch up before the elevator doors slid open on the Fourth floor, prompting the lightly dressed Four tributes to struggle out of the elevator – walking certainly seemed difficult when you had a mermaid tail.

"See you around," the Four girl hissed as she stepped out.

"Yeah," I said, smirking to her District partner. "I'll make sure I see you."

He gave me a lasting look, which dissipated behind the closing of elevator doors. There was an awkward silence as Luke comprehended that though he was strong for a Twelve kid, he'd be nothing in comparison to brutish Careers. Not feeling dismayed, I leant against the elevator wall. I wouldn't handle them with muscles, but my body could kill every one of them if I used it correctly.

"The Careers aren't as bad as you think," Lillian said, trying to ease the obvious nervousness that leaked into the atmosphere.

"Nah," I agreed as the elevator doors slid open. "They're worse."

I sashayed out of the elevator, my mentor and District partner behind me. I couldn't help but notice how grand the Capitol was; the ancient ornaments and realistic painting that surrounded me were worth more than my entire village. Every minor detail was dashed with the tiniest hints of detail; gold skirting boards, carpets made from the finest materials and what looked like real molten silver forming a lining of paint over the ceiling. To say I was impressed was an understatement.

This feeling of awe ascended when I entered District Twelve's quarters. It was... Marvellous. The ceiling was so high that it seemed as if we were in a Cathedral, many walls were made of thick, water filled glass — they were fishtanks! Only the bedrooms walls, bathrooms walls and the walls separating us from the corridor were formed from plaster. I stood around in awe, Luke even looked impressed. The furniture was regal, the kitchen full and the architecture was jaw dropping.

All my life I had lived in a slum. I started off as an emaciated girl in an average earning family (in District Twelve terms, average earning meant barely avoiding starvation). I had grown up and changed, but had still never experienced luxury as a woman who worked as a prostitute, living in a run down apartment with a man who saw me as a mere object to play with.

"District Twelve has the nicest living quarters," Lillian told us. She courteously accepted a glass of champagne from an Avox who approacher her. "Thank you, Serma. Anyway, we have great decor, a beautiful view from the balcony and if that doesn't satisfy you we have access to the roof!"

"Is the nicest room compensation for the highest morality rate in the Games?" Luke asked bluntly. I smirked.

Lillian looked taken aback. "Wh-No! Of course not!"

"But we're both going to die," I said matter of factly. An Avox approached me and began pouring a glass of champagne. "I hope not to. So lets be positive: one of us at least is going to die." That would be Luke.

Before Lillian said anything, she looked around carefully and blatantly monitored her next words just in case they were caught by hidden microphone or an Avox wrote them down to send to the President or the Peacekeepers in exchange for liberation. "I... I wish the Hunger Games weren't so tragic... Just like you," she said. "But I am trying my best to keep both of you alive–"

"That's impossible."

"But I'm trying! All you need to do is listen to me and your chances improve, so since training starts tomorrow I advise you-"

I snatched champagne from the Avox before me. She looked startled, but I slowly grabbed my heels and tore them off my aching feet before I stormed towards the balcony doors, giving Lillian one last glare.

"Are you stupid?" I snorted. "You can't try with the impossible. You can't fix what's permanently broken, you can only keep one of us alive and that's still unlikely – don't play moral. You can't ever be moral. Try as you may, when you work for the Capitol you can't throw yourself into a moral grey."

With that I moved out into the balcony, the door slamming behind me as I sat on one of the plush couches set out before me, looking down at the streets of the Capitol where people still parties and probably was all night. Celebrating death seemed a little strange to me – and I was a careless bitch. Panem had millions of citizens, so twenty three dying every year didn't ever seem that bad, and minuscule in comparison to the thousands that died in their masses of famine or disease. I was indifferent to that death. But to be indifferent wasn't quite as bad as celebrating the bloodshed.

I took a swig from the champagne bottle, the liquid swirling around inside the bottle reflected the stars, neon lights and hovercrafts above me. I could just stare into its contents all day, before taking another swig and watching waves of champagne crash over the reflection of all those lights in the sky. I enjoyed being alone, away from the fuss of everyone else. Too bad I couldn't ever be alone.

"What do you want?" I said, my speech slurred.

"To check up on you," Luke replied, closing the door behind him. He smiled. "Lillian is remorseful. She didn't mean to upset you; she's actually-"

"I don't know what remorseful means and I don't want to know," I snorted. "I don't really care. I've never cared about people, that's why my mother kicked me out-"

"A parent shouldn't do that," Luke said.

"Is that what they say in your stupid book? Yeah? Welcome to reality," I growled, though I quickly found myself relaxing. "Or have some champagne?" I thrust the bottle in front of him, though he refused a drink.

"Suits you," I shrugged, taking another swig. "Yeah. I did some pretty messed up stuff as a kid. I kind of guess I was lost... My dad died in a mining accident," I looked at Luke seriously. "Don't pretend to give me sympathy. It happens to a lot of people in District Twelve, it's common, I'm surprised your dad is still alive after working in those mines. I didn't even get to know him, really, so I doubt it ever... Got to me."

"Maybe it's not the memory that hurts," Luke suggested. "It's the lack of it."

"Maybe..." I paused. "Or maybe it was my overbearing mother. After my dad was stupid enough to get blasted into smithereens she became some kind of hippie do gooder, helping raise money for other orphans in District Twelve. It didn't change much, I knew that and she denied it. But she still gave money to other families while ours just scraped by. I wanted a life of luxury... After all, all of my dreams have been crushed. District Twelve's air is polluted not just with soot," I glanced at Luke and finished off the champagne bottle, letting it drop off the side of the balcony and hoping it hit a pompous Capitolite. "But with the broken dreams of its citizens. You wanted an education I wanted... To do something, I guess... Sing, maybe get an education myself. But I wasn't granted the homeliness of having a dream in reach."

"I relate," Luke said sympathetically.

"The only time I ever felt complete was with a man," I mused. "Their arms around me, their strength, the gifts they gave me. It made me feel complete. Why not combine that?" I grinned. "Spend my time with men and enjoy luxuries for having those brief moments of satisfaction with the men I slept with? I became a prostitute as soon as I was thirteen. And I didn't care, my mum kicked me out but I didn't care about her, and I had the money to rent out a grubby little apartment, thanks to Gregory."

"Gregory?"

"He was a Peacekeeper, his wife was in District Two and he had no way to get his rocks off while he was at home," I giggled. "Even if he was home she wouldn't do the things he wanted. He was a perverted lech, really, so he wanted me to be his little slut and play his dirty games. I got an apartment, clothes, food and money for it. If he didn't enjoy dehumanising me, if he didn't think he owned me... And if I didn't miscarry his baby," I said this as if it were a meaningless event in my life. Maybe it was the only one that had actually hurt me. "It'd be a great deal."

"Sounds like slavery."

"Slaves don't get paid."

"They get fed," Luke told me sternly. I got what point he was trying to make, and it was valid.

"I guess... But Gregory is cool, and not half bad in bed," I grinned, standing up unstably. The world began to spin around me, the past playing in my mind over and over as I stumbled over to Luke, feeling the urge to vomit. "You make a lot of friends as a prostitute Luke. Do you want to be my friend?" I cupped his cheek grinning. "I'll make you a good-"

I didn't remember the rest of the night after that, just vaguely stumbling over and hitting my head on the floor harshly so that darkness had quickly replaced my blurry vision.

Hey! Thanks for your reviews!

I have 2 things to say-

First, to the people who criticised Leda for believing the Capitol, I agree with you she was naïve and silly to believe their lies. But in a society like Panem that's the only info she gets, she's constantly told of the Capitol's supremacy and honesty every day, and though she has been mistreated by the Capitol like all District citizens, she still falls for segments of their propaganda (I mean, look at the citizens of North Korea), so yeah, that's an important thing to mention.

Secondly! I'm so sorry if I changed any tributes during my writing of the Games. Whether I changed their name slightly, or their personality/history dramatically, I do it for a purpose (mainly story ... Or remembering their name more easily).

Ta-ta for now!

~Toxic