"Although how can you know who you are

Till as know what you want?

(Which you don't)"

Dria Isatis, 13, District Six Tribute

Nobody comes near Dria. And that's fine with them.

Why would Dria waste their time trying to make friends when they'd only be ripped apart from them at some point? It'll be much better for all parties involved if Dria just stays away from other people.

Dria steeples their fingers as they examine the insects at the identification station. The girl from One scurries over, clearly intending to work alongside Dria, but a glare from the Six kid sends her hurrying away. Dria does not intend to be lured in by some sweet-faced, merry girls like the ones from Three and Seven, who obviously intend to talk and giggle and skip around the training room as if this is all some grand adventure. Dria knows that the odds are stacked against them, with them being so young and small. People like the boys from Two and Six could easily take them out if Dria isn't careful and prepared.

So they intend to be just that. They've so far fooled the Capitol into thinking they are shy and afraid, hoping that this will motivate the Gamemakers to keep them around. To make connections would just be a waste of Dria's precious time. They never made friends back in Six outside of their family. Why would that change now?

The only purpose that Dria can see from such pitiful alliances would be what people like to call "strength in numbers." But Dria doesn't need other people to slow them down, people who wouldn't understand them. They've always lived with the belief that it's far better to live even if it means someone else dying than to sacrifice oneself for another. Really, the prospect of saving someone else by dying in their place is simply ridiculous and clichéd. Dria doesn't even want to be near that situation.

So they hone their skills in an effort to be as well-rounded and self-sufficient as possible. And they watch the other Tributes.

The Careers seem to have collected another member, the boy from Twelve, who hunkers into the shadows and doesn't seem to be speaking much. The girl from Eight is practically throwing herself at the boy from Ten, batting her lashes and giggling like some lovesick fool. The girl from Ten has managed to get herself into the worst possible alliance, with the younger girls from Eleven and Twelve getting themselves tangled up in the wire meant for making nooses. They're all beside themselves with laughter and joy, not even focusing on training at the moment that Dria's looking at them.

Pity. Dria thought the girl from Ten had some potential, and yet she's gone and wasted it.

The pair from Nine just exude gentleness and innocence, which doesn't bode well for the coming days. And the twins from Five appear to be just at the breaking point, with the boy grimacing and shaking his head as his sister chatters.

Dria holds no pretenses that they could win this. But at least they're trying to get home, to their lush garden and (mostly) accepting family. How they miss their compacted neighborhood with houses practically stacked atop one another, the little ones chasing each other around the light poles and rolling down the hills. Dria can scrounge up some dregs of pity for the younger Tributes, who wander aimlessly about the Training Center like lost puppies.

The only threats they can truly fear are the Careers. But even they are unrefined diamonds, too few in number to really feel very menacing.

Dria cannot be too arrogant, they remind themself. They are only thirteen, and even if they boast survival skills and unrivaled memory, that doesn't mean they can just sail through the Games as though it's nothing.

They have to remember that.

The head trainer taps a microphone, sending feedback screeching off the walls. Most of the Tributes fall silent.

"Alright, you lot!" she says, speaking far louder than is really necessary, given she already has a microphone. "In just a couple of hours, it'll be time for your private sessions. Your mentors should've told you about this, but they probably didn't, so it's now my responsibility. The Gamemakers want to score you all on a one-through-twelve ranking, so that the Capitolites can place their little bets and pick their favorites to give fancy presents to in the Arena. You better have something neat to show the bosses, or you'll be scored low and you won't have anyone backing you. Got it? Cool. Now back to work!"

A spiderweb of murmurs spreads throughout the Training Center as Tributes mill about, their movements growing more frantic. Dria draws one long breath in, and exhales. This will be fine. They will simply show the Gamemakers how much they can do by themself, without anyone else's help. They'll surely fare much better than all the other people who stayed in their foolish little groups, where someone evidently did all the work while the others slacked off.

But Dria doesn't need any of them. They're better off alone. They just have to convince the Gamemakers of that. And also perhaps themself.

They are going to make their family proud, and put in some effort, even if their confidence and motivation are already starting to drain away, siphoned by the bulk of the Careers and the haughty indifference of the Capitol. Dria doesn't want anyone's approval... but it sure would be nice to score high for the private sessions.

Dria just has to pretend that this is all easy, simple, a piece of cake. Fooling everyone, even themself, will be no small feat. And yet Dria knows that's their only option, if they want to survive and make it even halfway through this mess.

The other Tributes continue on with their frenzied preparations. Dria feels their breath quicken just slightly, without their control, and balls their hands into fists, gripping their palm with their fingers as hard as they possibly can.

Nothing's going to shake Dria's resolve. They still have the upper hand in all this, even if it doesn't really look like it to the common eye.

So what if they're alone? That just makes them stronger.

...

Blade Cassidy, 18, District Six Male

Blade supposes he must join the Careers.

He sees it as a necessary evil, like many of the other things in his life. Destroying the crime bosses who killed his parents was a necessary evil. Continuing to kill criminals and peacekeepers throughout Six was a necessary evil. Becoming Victor and killing the president will be a necessary evil. He can only see joining the Careers as just another unpleasant task to join his legion.

They're a small lot. The girl from Four, calm and commanding; the boy from One, with his vivacious smile; the boy from Two, all stoic stare and perfect posture. And the boy from Twelve. The wildcard.

Blade watches them from afar for a brief moment. He feels that the Careers are hand-in-hand with the Capitol, and thus he despises them. People who outwardly seek to harm others shouldn't be trusted.

But then, isn't that what he does? Should he be hated, too?

He shouldn't waste any more time. He's delayed too long, hanging back and watching the other Tributes, picking up any small detail about them. He's an expert on finding information about people, for he had to do just that for the crime lords back home so that he could kill them and demolish their reputation (though it still doesn't seem like enough.) Now is finally the time for action.

He strolls as casually as he can toward the Careers, adopting the introverted but friendly disposition he maintains around his colleagues. As he approaches, the boy from Twelve's eyes flick to him and he turns slowly, the boy from One's animated chatter—complete with overexcited hand gestures—dying quickly as Blade stops beside them.

This will be much easier if one of the Careers know sign language, but he knows that probably won't happen.

"My name is Blade Cassidy," he signs, not looking at anyone in particular. "I have training. I think you want me on your team."

There's a long pause where nobody says or does anything. If the Careers don't accept him, Blade will just have to work alone, unsavory as that sounds. Just as he's trying to devise another plan, the boy from Twelve nods slowly and speaks to his allies.

The girl from Four appraises Blade, her expression smooth and calculated. She says something. The boy from Twelve signs to Blade, his movements slow and careful.

"I can translate," the boy signs. "Naya says you can join for now."

That's fine by Blade. He wasn't planning to stay with them long-term anyway. He doubts these spoiled, honor-seeking brats will take kindly to his plans of assassination.

Blade nods curtly, and falls into step with the Careers as they move from station to station.

He doesn't really need combat training. He's probably killed more than all of these people combined, not that he's enjoyed it. He's thought time and again about how he could just stop, disappear into the night and wait for his reputation as the Masked Killer to disperse on the wind. But if he wasn't enacting justice, what would his purpose be? Who we he be without it?

He watches the other Careers as they go about their training. The boy from Two, Tremor as he introduces himself, is toned and chiseled like a sculpture, his eyes holding a kind of captivating pulse. Blade knows that Tremor is a Peacekeeper, and this makes him hate the boy instantly. He'll have no qualms about taking him down once they reach the Arena.

The boy from One is big and muscular, but he has such kind, trusting eyes, and he moves like the entire world is cheering him on. He looks like someone who has not yet seen the cruelties the world has so callously doled out to Blade, and Blade really doesn't have any interest in talking to him.

The girl from Four obviously has some confidence in herself. She holds herself like a queen, and her skills really are unmatched. Blade feels grudging respect for her, but he can't pass judgement until he knows what her opinions are on the Capitol.

And then there's the wildcard. The unexpected variable. Blade can't really figure out the Twelve boy. He skulks around the training center like a shadow, obviously accustomed to darkness. There's something wild and unhinged about him, and Blade certainly can't judge him for that, as he's often overtaken by his own uncontrolled fits of rage and bouts of deep sadness. Any sane person would see Blade as a far cry from stable.

But Alessio does not seem appalled by him at all, unflinching as he translates for the other Careers. Then again, none of them have seen who Blade truly is. Everything about this alliance seems surface-level, as superficial as the Capitol itself.

And yet, there's something intriguing about Alessio. Out of all the Careers, he would be the one Blade wouldn't mind spending his time with. He's far enough from the Capitol, perhaps, to not be corrupted by their influence.

The Capitol, who brushed the death of Blade's parents under the rug as though it were nothing. The Capitol, who's never cared about him. Why should he care about them?

He's pulled from his spiral of thought by Alessio's sudden appearance beside him. Blade usually would have noticed him coming—or he'd like to think so, at least—if he wasn't so inwardly absorbed.

"What got you into the Careers?" Blade signs.

Alessio's expression is grim, downcast. "I've got some training," he signs, and Blade can feel his suspicion even through his hand gestures.

Blade eyes him warily. "You Volunteered for the Games," he signs.

Alessio nods. He doesn't make a move to offer anything more to the conversation.

Blade would normally walk away, because he's got more important things to do than talk, but... "Why?" he signs.

But he's never had a real friend before. Not that he wants any. Not that anyone would want to be friends with him.

Alessio hesitates for an excruciatingly long time before finally signing. "I'm looking for someone."

Blade supposes he's looking for someone, too. Though he's already found him. All he has to do now is get close enough...

But it's not vengeance or rage that dominate Alessio's expression. He looks mournful. The person he's looking for must be someone he loves.

Blade sometimes wishes he had anyone left to love, or anyone who loved him; a mother's embrace, a father's approval. He... he can't even remember his parents' faces, or the sounds of their voices.

Whomever Alessio is looking for, Blade hopes that he finds them.

...

Buck Taurean, 17, District Ten Male

Buck's always been just a bit more vengeful and deceptive than he should be. He supposes that everyone has ∠ flaws, but his is becoming all the more apparent as time passes. His brother always scolded him for it, this tendency to not always tell the truth exactly how it was. But who can blame him, after what he's been through?

He hopes that Felicia Simmons doesn't. He wasn't actively seeking allies; after all, what would be the point if he was just going to have to betray and possibly kill them at some point in order to win—which he does intend to do. But Felicia's so hopeful, and definitely a bit presumptuous, but she still seems like a nice-enough person. Even if he did have to lie a little in order to keep his strategy hidden. But no, he never lied openly. And Felicia's sweet. And kind.

Even if it doesn't feel real, like some old song they've both recited a million times... even if the things he's saying to her aren't really the things he's thinking... that doesn't matter. Because she'll have to die in order for him to make it out of this Arena alive, back to his little siblings and his struggling family.

His father died when Buck was just a child, a terrible accident that left the family floundering, his mother trying desperately to balance her husband's previous workload and her still-young children, like a waitress balancing too many trays. Buck had to step in. His father would've been proud of him, he hopes, not because he took on so much work at just the age of eight that he had no time for himself, but because he sacrificed everything he had so that his baby siblings could cherish the childhood they'd so quickly lose.

He has no idea what his family is doing right now. The ranch could be collapsing, his little siblings crying at night because they don't have enough to eat, while he could die in this cursed Arena and it wouldn't mean anything. That's what scares him the most; his family dying because of him. And that's why he wouldn't hesitate to kill Felicia Simmons if it came down to it. How could anyone fault him for that?

All he's ever wanted was to uplift those around him, keep the peace, make sure everyone was fed. As soon as this is all blown over and he's back at home, he can go back to doing just that. But right now, he can't refrain from playing dirty, if he has to. He has to weigh what's most important in such a fraught situation as this, and for him, that will always be his family.

What else is he supposed to do?

And what good would telling Felicia about all this do? She wouldn't understand; anyone can see that she's just a bit of an airhead. Not that he can judge her for that, either. In fact, he almost feels protection for this hapless girl that seems to be so out of touch with life.

Then again, he can almost revise that statement as he watches her with one of the trainers. He's been downplaying his skills the whole time, because he knows that his strength is his biggest asset and he doesn't want to seem like a threat just yet. Could it be possible that Felicia's doing the very same?

Seeing the bright comprehension in her eyes as she picks up the strategy puzzle and solves it in record time, that seems highly probable to Buck.

He has to think like an emotionless strategist here, if he wants to keep sane, so he can't help but feel that her intelligence would make it harder for him to betray her. And it would make her a bigger threat, one that would have to be eliminated quicker. Oh well. Sometimes, sacrifices have to be made...

(What is he thinking?)

"Buck?" Felicia's chirpy voice is like a splash of cold water. "You look a bit out of it. And, umm, I'm so tired from all those puzzles! I really need to sit down!"

It almost looks like she's trying to help him.

He smiles tightly. "I might as well come with you, then."

He knows that he has to make some difficult but necessary choices in order to win this. He's just gotta go with the flow, adapt to and even thrive in his surroundings. He's stubborn enough that he just might pull off a victory.

But what if he loses himself along the way? What if he comes home and his family doesn't recognize him? Does killing make a person evil?

Buck doesn't think so. (He hopes not.) He's butchered animals in his lifetime, and maybe... maybe it won't be that different.

But there's a small part of him, a tiny voice, telling him that it might not just be him and Felicia's alliance that's wrong.

Frustration builds within him as Felicia forcefully links her arm through his and twirls along the wall to a bench. This is what he has to do to win. He's a good person. And anyone who thinks otherwise... anyone who questions that...

They won't matter. Because they'll all be dead soon anyway.

(He could be dead soon. And then how would he justify it?)

There's one thing that he'll never forget, and that's his love for his family. They depend on him. He knows that will never change.

Even if everything else about him does.

...

Arcadia "Cady" Wilson, 16, District Three Female

It's only a matter of time before Wren tires of training. There's only so much they can do, especially since the Careers seem to be expanding by the hour, gaining two boys who look moderately intimidating, though of course Wren is sure to point out that they don't scare her one bit. The Careers hold court at the combat stations, and Cady already knows her fair share of survival skills. So it's only a matter of time before they wander away from training, both agitated and searching for something new to do.

As for Cady's own personal feelings... she's feeling more homesick than ever, wishing so deeply for Blue, her best friend; the nights at the campfire, the steady beeping of the arcade machines. Everything here in the Capitol is sterile and emotionless. Nothing can replicate the warm, crackly feeling she always gets when her friends clap her on the shoulder after she beats a particularly difficult level. The empty ache, the futile wish for home, is almost consuming her.

Nothing lasts forever. She's been afraid of losing her friends for some time now, and now they're across the country.

Do they even miss her?

Wren runs a few feet ahead of Cady and circles back. "You look stressed and sad, we should find somewhere to break into!" she exclaims all in one breath.

"I'm fine," says Cady quickly.

Wren grimaces and makes an incredulous sound, the high pitch of her voice distracting enough to bring Cady back from the brink of despair.

"Let's go! Did I ever tell you the story about that one time I kissed my best friend? Yeah, we were just running away from these people who were after us 'cuz we pranked them and we climbed up onto this roof..."

Cady sighs in contentment, lulled by Wren's story as they wander the seemingly labyrinthine halls of the Training Center. Cady listens intently, happy to just stay quiet and enjoy the infectious joy that Wren radiates.

Just as Wren is halfway through a wild tangent about waffles, they come to a big metal door, with large red letters stamped above the knob.

"Staff room," Wren reads dubiously. "Do not enter. Psshhhh. Don't tell me what to do, Panem!"

With that, Wren throws herself at the door and pummels it for a solid ten minutes as if it's her mortal enemy, complete with guttural battle cries and intense death glare. Wren doesn't show any sign of stopping until the solid-steel door breaks beneath her fifteen-year-old fists, so Cady sets about scheming.

She can feel a slightly maniacal grin creep over her face as she sees a crisply-dressed servant hurrying down the hall. "Wren, stop yelling at the door. I've got an idea, but we have to be stealthy."

Wren's eyes widen and she grins. "I can be stealthy!"

Her voice is high enough and loud enough to break glass, but Cady doesn't feel the need to point it out.

Somehow they get in, which gives Cady some serious concerns about the Capitol's security. The servant opens the door with a fingerprint and slips inside without closing it, as Cady had hoped. The two creep in as soon as the worker vanishes from view, and they're almost caught because Wren starts giggling uncontrollably and Cady's attempts to shush her go unheard. But the servant leaves as quickly as he arrived, and now they're in; not a Capitolite in sight.

Wren jumps up and down on the spot. "Yesss! We got the jackpot!"

They really did. The staff room isn't as much a room as it is a suite, if not an entire wing. There's an ice cream bar, a hot tub, a massage chair, and...

Cady almost faints. "Oh." She manages. "My."

"Heyyy, is this the arcade you were talking about?"

This is an arcade times a-hundred. The run-down arcade in Three would cower and grovel before this beautiful monstrosity.

Cady feels a quiet part of herself relax and let out a sigh of relief as she returns to her happy place. This arcade is incredibly high-tech, some of the games are even virtual reality, and there's a giant leaderboard with the names of a hundred Capitolites in big, blinking letters.

Cady intends to top that leaderboard before she leaves this building.

Wren claps her hands together. "I want to see the pro in action!"

Cady is more than happy to comply, sinking into the familiarity of her favorite arcade game; though everything is in higher resolution, and there are at least fifty levels to work through. She could stay here forever.

But no. Forever is a fantasy, a delusion. Cady has roughly a day and a half before she's thrown violently into the Games, where it'll be her and Wren against the world. Soon, she'll be at the Private Sessions, where they'll measure her up against all the other Tributes and reduce her to little more than a number, and Cady knows she won't be topping that leaderboard.

Still... to be here with Wren, who's enthralled with her unquestionable skills, whose smile can light up a room, who has more confidence than a primadonna taking the stage... and even more than that, to be in a bougie Capitol paradise, with an arcade that reminds her of home in the most beautiful way...

All of that makes everything better. It makes things seem not so dreary, paints light on the gloom and mildew of her darkest thoughts.

Maybe if they just stick together, and Cady stays and plays a little longer, and she holds on to this electric feeling, everything will turn out fine.

"You're all sad again!" Wren pouts. "Did you forget you were supreme lady of the arcade? The Capitolites wish they were as good as you, Miss Child Prodigy! And you've got me by your side. Obviously we're—we're gonna win."

It's not a 'we.' They both know it.

But Cady still smiles, and it's not as hard as it was before.

...

On the Steps of the Palace - Into the Woods

TADA! Operation training is complete! Yayyy I'm kinda glad to tell you the truth, it was not a walk in the park but at least we got character growth and RELATIONSHIPS and such! Speaking of which, here's a breakdown of the alliances so we know where all the kids are at!

Naya, the angsty bois, and Marquis!: Marquis (D1), Tremor (D2), Naya (D4), Blade (D6), and Alessio (D12)

Found Family: Arcadia (D3) and Wren (d7)

Tumultuous Twins: Columbia and Callisto (D5)

Grumpy x Sunshine or something?: Felicia (D8) and Buck (410)

Wholesome Soulmates: Asa and Luz (D9)

Jack and Friends: Jacqueline (D10), D11f and D12f (fillers)

Too Cool for School (loners): Caldwell (D4) and Dria D6)

I think that covers everyone! I'd love to hear all of your thoughts, whether through Discord or review, I'm not picky! As for next chapter, it's private sessions, and my terrible pregames planning means that one character who had a POV this chapter also has one next chapter, but if I change it I'll have to rearrange everything else, so apologies in advance for that! Otherwise, I think that's about all I have to say, I hope you are all having an amazing week and I'll see you next Monday.

Much Love,

Miri