Before I say anything else, I just want to give some humongous thanks to ShunKazamis-Girl, who's created and has been working on the blog. She really helped out with all of these incredible interview outfits and helped make them so much more in depth and true to life. All the amazing descriptions were made by her. I don't know what I would have done without her, so thank you so much!

And the blog has been updated with all this information and it looks beautiful. Make sure you check it out and send your appreciation to ShunKazamis-Girl! It looks absolutely amazing, so high quality and well designed. Thank you so much!

You can access it here:

the-saturn-games . weebly . com

Just remove the spaces. It's also on my profile.


Osiris Casimir

I might have spent like ninety nine percent of my time in the tribute dorm instead of exploring the facility, but I'm still fairly certain this new path I'm being directed down doesn't lead back there.

"Err…I think you're going the wrong way, mate." I try to smirk, but I can't even beckon a smile. The light dashing of snow should make me feel a tad more lighthearted and excited, but all I can feel is the enraged bitter air seeping in. "This is a shitty shortcut, it's taking twice as long with a lot more effort."

The new official helping me out seems to be a little shaky as they struggle to manoeuvre my bulky chair up the hill. He also seems to be allergic to speaking. I just slump back into my chair, trying not to be further frustrated by the little bumps I constantly feel as we go over the grooves of the brick path.

To make things worse, once we finally make it to the top of the hill, my unfriendly new friend takes a right…back to where we came from. The interviewer hall.

"Do you need a map?" I groan, as I try to warm up my fingers. "Or have you lost that too? Ah, maybe you've lost your mind as well?"

The official continues to stare blankly at the distance, a sorrowful look emerging from the prior blank slate. They begin to mutter something under their breath as they pass by a large fir tree at the base of the hill, decorated with an assortment of roses and golden baubles. I pay no attention to it, as I try to place my finger on why I haven't seen this guard before.

Most workers here tend to look…quite odd, obviously. They're of an age where they can legally have extreme surgeries and modifications, so there's usually a freak show of animal parts, tacky gems and other strange memorabilia they somehow find a way to attach to themselves. The point is, everyone stands out, to the point where they begin to blend in.

But this man…looks tame. He could do with an extra chicken leg on his plate once every a while, as he is rather gaunt. And his… hands are coarse and rough, worn down by the sandpaper of labour. It seems like his legs struggle to support him too, being moments away from giving way any moment. No Capitolite his age looks so tired, not unwillingly at least.

"I'm sorry." The voice croaks, barely able to string the words together. In a considerable amount of speed, he yanks out a pair of handcuffs and wraps them around me, chaining me to the prison once more. Now I'm like a statue, with no way to leave, even if I wanted to crawl away.

"What the fuck?" I shout, as the man starts to wheel me once more. I try my best to reach for him, but he's an inch too far away. And what would a punch or slap even be able to do? I'd still be trapped here, until another more generous tribute or staff member decides to save me. But they'd have to come eventually, wouldn't they?

The man starts to breathe rapidly, each one leaping out of his chest. I try to fiddle with the handcuffs, but there's no point. I can do absolutely nothing but accept my newfound fate. I'll just have to wait until I'm dropped off at whatever delivery point, like a worthless parcel. Blood rushes through my ear as this captivity makes my entire body ache.

Funny how I've never wanted to be able to run more than now.

"I'm sorry…please forgive me if you…you make it out." The man ominously asks, trying to clear his conscience. "I didn't get a choice either. It's…not my fault. Not that it's yours either…"

"What the hell are you on about? Make it out? Out of where?" I beg, my voice losing the strength it had once mustered out of foolish courage. I can feel the panic emanating from my entire body, as I desperately tried to yank the chains off of me. Trapped, like I've had a metal ball chained to my legs and dumped into an ocean. Now I'm drowning in the mystery and unprecedented fear of the situation.

The guard gulps, still looking forward. The cold draws tears in his eyes…he seems ill equipped to deal with such weather. The guard isn't from around here, is he? But where else can be from, other than the Districts?

"Tell me! Out of where? The…interviewing hall? The arena?" I ask, as the large venue grows taller. I can't even fathom a reason why we're heading back there, as the interviews are still occurring. It doesn't lead anywhere either…I'm not being kidnapped then, presumably.

Am I being used for ransom maybe? Does this madman want to use my newfound captivity as a threat maybe? Or a bargaining tool? But it seems impossible for this lone man to fight back against the swathes of soldiers and guards situated here.

Maybe he just…really disagreed with my interview message?

The horrible truth is soon unveiled however, when I'm shoved into one of the balconies hanging over the stage. The guard yanks back the gaudy velvet curtain lined with dust, unveiling a terrible sight. I can barely look at all the carnage, before a blindfold is chucked over my head. Cold fingers poke at my face and head as it's adjusted, before I'm completely left alone in the small box, with nothing but the small futon to rest my legs on.

I got glimpses of dead bodies being…dragged out of the venue? I can't even bother to coat it with a paint of naivety and unbridled hope, as no other alternatives make sense. The intense smell of iron tells me the truth immediately.

But what worries me the most (not that the dead audience members is a promising prospect either) is whether that was Grati on the stage? She…was squirming too, but her hands and legs were tied up and her face was covered with a shittily cut out shroud? If it wasn't for her curly hair, I wouldn't have been able to tell who it was…

Oh shit, she's in the same predicament too! But she was trying to fight back, somehow. That's the Grati I know…she'll attempt to solve any situation if she can and refuse to give up no matter what. Maybe it's perseverance, maybe it's foolish stubbornness…

But that means the tributes are being spared, while the staff aren't. These bastards clearly have something in mind, planned for them…but what is it? I feel my mind blank, as a foreign feeling of pure dread and fear settles over me, that I haven't felt since the day I plummeted and crashed from that fateful climb. A dread I can't ignore like I usually do, as I realise…I'm diving in the dark once more. And there's no safety net this time.


Nefeli Brightberry

The grandfather clock strikes the fifteenth hour, the pendulum vigorously hitting the bell a countless amount of times, similar to the monotonous cannons that fire in the arena. I can't contain my unfound paranoia any longer as the obnoxious noise plays. I storm over to the rota to see…that they've overrun by one session now. Gratiana isn't that interesting that she could go over double the amount of time allotted. Miri still hasn't been called either, though that might be better for her, as she's still poking at her eyebrows and wasting mascara, or whatever the fuck else she's doing in the makeup booth.

And where the fuck is Osiris? It only took me three minutes to get back here, even though I jogged at a pace most people would find pointless. His motorised wheelchair could probably get him here in a third of that time! There's no reason he has to take fourty minutes to get back, unless he's finding his inner soul and meditating in the woods, or some shit like that.

"Hey, you're like confused too, right? Do you want to try and find out what's going on?" I hear a voice over my shoulder, a bit too close in her personal space.

"Thank fuck, I thought no one would ever ask." I let out a sigh of relief, even if it's Tiara. I would have left herself, but I know that I've been skating on thin ice for too long. I had to be a good pupil and wait. So instead, I've been annoyingly pacing up and down the entire time, groaning to try to get anyone's attention. It seems like nobody cared.

But I never would have expected for Tiara to be so proactive. She seems like someone to just accept everything at face value and never step a toe out of line…good on her though.

"Here I am then, heh!" She says…sounding more awkward than I ever expected. It's probably because we're on two entirely different wavelengths, but that doesn't mean we can't get along.

Willow also feels the need to join in. "Can I tag along? There's a lot of tributes inexplicably missing and everything has halted…something is clearly up." She looks down, shuffling her seat. God, she sounds…like a mother? Not in an insulting way! That's a positive thing in my eyes, it shows she's caring!

Shit…I'm just putting my foot in my mouth.

"Is it wise to just go full out, guns blazing though? If something is going on…maybe it's better to wait here?" Tiara wonders, seemingly appearing more astute than expected. But she's also gone back on herself, despite suggesting the idea.

"When has separating from the group ever gone wrong? Who cares about some shitty horror movie tropes?!" I shove my worries away to get my own way, opening the unlocked door. We're not meant to leave, but…the guards clearly don't care. That's what minimum wages does to you.

Willow quickly hops along, leaving Tiara to follow like two steps behind.

"So, what's the plan? Are we heading to the interview hall?" Willow wonders, fiddling with a small little leather mini bag she was meant to leave behind. I have to slow down as they're struggling to walk in their high heels. Thank fuck I had the foresight to bring my Mary Jane boots with me in the room.

Both of them do look gorgeous…

They're just too…extravagant. Every gem lining their hems just reminds me of another bastard who'd insult me for steering clear from their prissy little wigs.

Willow nervously plays at her jewellery, yanking at her emerald heart shaped pendant and fiddling with her silver rings, taking them off and putting them back on again. Her meadow green tulle gown is…pleasant actually. It's not too overdone, having a full midi-skirt and slightly flounced elbow-length sleeves. It reminds me of a glorified prom dress, but she makes it look so classy. Like it's worth a million dollars.

And it's hard not to think that, when you look at how her dress has been embroidered with lavender, daffodils, and peonies, as well as embroidered pink, blue, and yellow butterflies, all splashed with flecks of gold. So ornate and regal…just like her diamond braided hair and light dabbles of black eyeliner, concealer and pink blush.

God, I hate that I can describe this perfectly to a tee. I never did pay attention in all of those fashion classes, but…I hold the fact that I'm a straight A student close to my heart and I wasn't going to let that falter! I guess old knowledge doesn't fade that easily.

Tiara, on the other hand, chokes you with the glitz and glam, not letting the untrained eye fall to rest. She also goes down Willow's route, with gold wildflower designs embroidered, though she goes the extra step with beads and lace, on a purple off the shoulder chiffon dress, with a floor length skirt. It's like two sides of…a golden coin.

And her accessories and makeup are much more extreme and typical. It looks luscious, but she does seem like she's trying too hard to make it work. Tiara's hair is styled into a Dutch braid updo, while she's drowning in dark purple winged eyeliner, purple eyeshadow, fake volumized eyelashes, vivid red lipstick, contouring, and highlighter as make-up.

And of course she's wearing a tiara. A crystal one, along with a gold choker both lined with quartz, pearls, opals, and zircons. And you can't forget the …diamond chandelier earrings.

"Seems logical to me."

I break the silence, realising my thoughts got

lost in the ocean of their fabric.

"I don't have any better ideas." Tiara almost falls over on the lumpy hotel carpet.

So that's what we do. I haven't really interacted with either of them yet, but they seem nicer than what I had judged them by. I sort of despised Tiara before, but she hasn't been impolite to me yet.

The walk is as pleasant as a panicky rushed walk can be. So what if only half the cast is missing? We fall into a monotony after a while, our steps synced up, until…

Willow desperately grabs her on the shoulder as they're about to leave. With a worried but albeit silent expression, she lightly taps on the window.

"G-guns?" I whisper, as I notice an unrecognisable figure slowly approach our dorms. He seems to be leading a smaller crowd, each holding a mismatch of rifles, bulletproof vests and facemasks. They're all of different sizes, some seeming a bit too old for such a vigorous job, some too unhealthy to be trying to storm a well guarded building.

This…is a funny twist, isn't it? I could sue these dickheads for trying to instill fear this way, as there was nothing about this in the contract (which I did read multiple times!)

"But we haven't heard any gunshots yet!" Tiara exclaims, hinting that perhaps the weapons haven't been used and oh shit…

I have been struck with way too many sniper bullet truths this past hour. Osiris and the others must have come across whoever these hooded hooligans or cosplaying sergeants are. But, yeah…as she said, we have no proof violence has been used yet!

And Osiris is a fighter (and probably Grati too, got to give her a little bit of credit, I suppose). They won't lose even if they're outnumbered ten to one, without any weapons or means to escape. Scrap that actually…that's a guaranteed instant loss.

"We could head around the back. By the forest route." I suddenly say after wracking my mind. It's a quick and not thought through solution but I have nothing else.

"And it leads to the station! That's the only way to communicate with the outside world." Willow lets out a slight smile, clearly more hopeful than before. She doesn't seem like one to publicly show her fears and worries.

Tiara fiddles with her fingers as we weave through the less frequently used corridors. Still no staff to be seen…though we finally understand why.

I don't feel nervous often on the other hand, but even my heart is trying to leap out of my chest. I can barely think straight as my mind desperately tries to explain this terrifying situation.

"I don't know if it'll be that easy though…as a majority of the city has shut down." Tiara ominously alludes to. She then drops the bombshell, as if it's just another new story to be forgotten by the next day. "Scuttle…might have died yesterday…and the public transport services have sort of shut down during the mourning period. Heh."


Willow Skies

Deep down, I know I should heed Tiara's warnings and try to find some other way out. But this is the safest option still. We're ill prepared to deal with the freezing temperatures and can only hide for so long. And I'm pretty sure the trains don't actually have physical drivers, so…we should be able to work something out?

Ah, this is near impossible. But what other solution do we have? Die of hypothermia in the endless forest trying to run back? Heading to the heavily armoured soldiers with guns?

And if Tiara is telling the truth, the inner city must be in turmoil. I can barely remember when the previous President stepped down, but who could forget the pure chaos that followed after during the desperate chase for power. And that was without a death…

So we're currently scrounging in our lush dresses, being denied the opportunity to change. The gate to the station has been blocked off, but there must be some sort of…hole in the fence? Maybe something has been knocked down? We can clearly jump it but would that alert too many guards?

"Looks like I'm stuck here." Nefeli grunts, as we approach dangerously close to the massive gathering near the main entrance.

"Don't say that! We could easily lift you." Tiara says, though she doesn't take her eyes off the gathering. It's hard to be convincing when she sounds so unsure.

Nefeli shakes her head. "Nah…I hate to admit that I'm a burden…I kind of am now."

I don't want to agree but…

"Even if you're weighing us down, you'll be just as useful here. You'll be able to survey the guards and see what they're doing."

Nefeli seems less than pleased to be left behind and I can't help but feel guilty…but it'd be foolish to try to ignore this unavoidable outcome.

"Just lay low and…we'll come to help you once we find an exit!"

"If we can get out." I sigh. "Yeah…just hide here for a while. We'll be back soon, hopefully."

Splitting up is always a smart idea. Before I even hoist myself up, I know there's no way this'll end well. It's foolish of us to even hope that we can pull some grand escape off as if we're top secret agents or something, when in reality we're just a bunch of bratty city rats.

Could we potentially surrender themselves and lessen the punishments? Who knows? Maybe the…the distant screams are just fake and…the armed soldiers who are sweeping the facility with weapons pointed out actually mean well.

I sigh as I drop down from the gate, an obnoxiously loud rattling noise being made as I accidentally catch my foot on it. It takes all of my energy not to swear out loud, as I yank my feet away from the mesh. Tiara lands with no problem of course, only making myself feel more foolish.

The station is ever so simple. With only one carriage going each way and a gum lined, graffitied covered path, it seems kind of unfinished. I've never seen a station that was entirely outside and overground and it's kind of charming…but now's not the time to appreciate such a design.

"No carriages…" Tiara whispers solemnly, toying with the hems of her dress. My heart shatters too as I stare at the turned off electronic board.

"That doesn't mean…" But I catch my breath. If that wasn't enough, a scream not too far away shatters the futile hope and biting air hanging over us.

This seems to spur a sudden bout of motivation in her new found acquaintance. Tiara frowns, as she pulls up her dress, showing her heels. Dangerously, she dangles over the edge of the platform, looking down the unused railways to see not a movement in sight. I do wonder if following the tracks can lead us out, but how long would that take? We surely can't be that far…

The city isn't as big as Scuttle likes to paint it out to be.

"We can try to get Nefeli and round…up anyone else we come across. I think our only solution is to follow the rails." I frown, after my frazzled mind fails to find her own leads.

"Would it be…like…wiser to leave them behind? Not that I want to but…" Tiara takes a moment to pause. "It sounds terrible, but…"

I secretly agree, but would I ever admit that?

And in a sick twist, I'm saved from speaking by…the shouts of a soldier, desperate to inflict whatever terrible deed they have in mind on me. Tiara doesn't let a peep out as she frantically jumps off the edge of the platform onto the snowy field, acting before I can even think of what to do. I quickly follow after, knowing that no matter how fast I can try to get away, the predators are always faster, stronger and more deadly.

I kick off my heels after stumbling on the landing, letting my bare feet soak up the freezing crystals. And I try my best to get away, but how can I beat a trained behemoth in a foot race?

And even if I cover some distance, they don't bother to shoot. They clearly want something from us which is why I only feel the flames of desperation burn brighter in the core of my brain.

But it's still not enough. The blistering wind blowing my hair won't help me, the out of breath Tiara who's barely in front of her won't help me, an imaginary God won't save the day and help me…

I have nothing holding my back, as the soldier pulls me back and kicks me down to the floor, my body crashing onto the hard, unloving ground. Nothing could save me here.


Miri Sunburst

I stand over the sink, a shaky hand clutching the almost completely used up lipstick. I'm certain it's almost at its expiration date, but it's still a little upsetting to see it's almost gone. Like I've used it this entire time I've been at the facility, so it's been a part of my signature look.

And it was one of Casimir's first gifts. It doesn't mean much, but it shows how much I've grown…from a desperate nobody, to just a cruel somebody.

This really is such an insignificant thing to be fretting over. There are poor kids dying out there from all sorts of disease and starvation and inhumane corporal punishments, yet one of the first times I've drawn tears here is over my favourite item of makeup. Or maybe I'm just using this little stick as an excuse to try to hide the fact I'm extremely nervous.

This interview…is the most important thing I'll have to face here. Not the arena, not the training, not the fashion show, but this! It's where most of the viral moments pop up online! And all I need is one great soundbite to blow up the algorithm and I'll be raking in the followers and cash! Or like a gagworthy twist to really establish myself as a main character. It feels like I'm falling to the sidelines already and I'm just not going to sit there and let it happen.

So I can't help but panic that I'm banking on a ten minute session which I only get one attempt at to stabilise my career in a fastly moving and oversaturated industry. I've probably already lost the small amount of footing I have in the murky pool seeing as I haven't uploaded in like….two weeks or so. My tiny fanbase has probably moved onto better and bigger things.

At least I look…so captivating. Whilst I'm not sure if there's a theme, they seemed to be striving for more classical and subdued looks for this interview. Like something you'd see your grandmother pull off exceptionally well.

As such, I feel a little…odd, in this fit but…

Oh, I can't let it reach me mentally. Just because I feel out of place doesn't mean I don't look gorgeous in it. It's a coral pink and ivory sleeveless wrap dress, with a V-neck, tropical leaf print, and a belt tied up into a bow. Like, these feel like my colours! But I'd never go for this leaf print, even if it does look lush.

I've finished touching up my makeup, going for a more natural look with only mascara, pink blush and concealer. So I swap around my jewellery, before finally settling on a golden moon and sun necklace, layered chain bracelets on each wrist, and a coral pink cloche on top of my head.

I walk out the empty make out booth, wondering how much time I had really spent there. It was a nice little place to have a quick cry and try out all those bullshit breathing methods that are meant to calm you down, but I had spent a lot of time away from the cameras. Like, more than what it allows in the long rule list we had to listen to when we got there. I tried to pay attention, but all the exceptions and loopholes they brought up have just escaped out of my head, so I have no idea if what I did was fine.

And…the waiting room is also empty? I was a little concerned about the booth being so devoid of people, but like…today's such a frantic day with such a tight schedule, there's no wonder the staff probably had a bucket load of duties to perform. The tributes have nothing to do but get ready and wait here the entire time we're not having an interview. My heart skips a few beats as I poke my head around a corner, yet again seeing a ghost town.

I blink, letting the silence evaporate from my mind. The empty halls remind me of a long lost memory from my youth, an out of fashion hotel design, a trend of architecture now gone. With no people, this abandoned space feels so…liminal.

I stay silent, knowing something must be up. My radars for danger are buzzing like crazy! It's a shame a walkie talkie or radio doesn't come with it so I can find out what's going on.

I creep towards the elevators, assuming that the tributes must be in their rooms for whatever reason. We were told all the other buildings were locked and access was forbidden, so where else could they be? And they'd have to be insane to go wandering in the freezing wasteland anyway.

The wait inside is agonising. Every rumbling noise convinces me the machines are going to fail and drop, the overly long beginning to start and stop make me believe the machine can't actually move and don't even get me started on that 'calming' royalty free music they found on the depths of the internet.

When I finally reach the peak of the building, I can barely contain my nerves. Fiddling with my gloves, I stagger out the elevator, only to see the most sickening sight of them all. The putrid smell of blood reaches me first, making me gag through my hand clasped onto my face. With no way but to go forward, I turn around to see…

To see…a crushed body, it's face being too bloody and beaten to tell who it could be. I instantly fall back into the elevator, stopping myself from screaming at the devastating sight. My fingers slam on the buttons, but I know I've been too noisy and the contraption is too slow. For a man who's stubby fingernails are covered in grime and crimson stops me before I can descend down. A bloody baton pokes out from the pocket of his camouflaged outfit, ripped and covered in stains too. His face is concealed by a peacekeeper's helmet, though it lacks the modern design and insignia…

And I quickly realise…that's the pre-war uniform! It's in all the videos we were forced to watch in assemblies and before the games! Flashes of images of war hardened and grief stricken soldiers marching on the graveyards of the districts, conquering the rebellious lands appear in my head. But they must have been out of commission for years! I've never seen a set in real life!

But I have no time to act upon this revelation. I kick at the man with my heels, missing as he easily avoids. All I can do is claw at him with her acrylic nails, drawing blood from his wrists but not much else. These uniforms were designed to withstand gunshots and chemical weapons…my bare hands aren't going to be able to do much.

I easily lose as the man grabs me, pulling a poorly hacked strand of rope from another pocket. I try to squirm and kick at him, but to no avail. He easily pushes me into the wall of the corridor, stamping at my legs to make sure I stop attempting to fight back. I can't help but let out a curdling scream of agony, as a crack of bones jolts through my body. The boots must have snapped…my…snapped my legs. I can barely fight to stand as flashes of blood explode in my eyesight, as I feel a tight sensation around my arms suddenly appear. I'm constrained…trapped…

But the pressure on my fragile back and the husky breaths crawling down my neck like a spider stops in seconds. The man lets out a roar of pain as a knife is forced into his arm, breaking through the seams of his shirt that barely stick together. Lycoris looks terrified as blood spurts onto his immaculate outfit, though I know…it's because he failed, not because he feels any guilt. His valiant efforts remain fruitless for the man continues to fight. He's thrust himself into the face of danger and failed…

I'm bound, unable to move any limb. My vision becomes blurrier, as I'm in a constant fight to stay conscious for my own safety and…to help him if he wins. Lycoris tries to stab once more but without the element of surprise, he fails miserably. I can do nothing but cheer for him, whilst knowing he's entered a losing battle. The man still doesn't use the baton for whatever reason, dropping it to the floor and letting it roll. I can't even pick it up or use it, but I manage to kick it through the fiery pain. It rolls to Lycoris…

But he doesn't notice. He can't, as the man twists at his wrists and kicks at his shin. They toss back and forth for a few moments, Lycoris occasionally being able to push back and almost trip him over…but the soldier clearly is too well versed at combat. An amateur Capitolite like Lycoris can only chip away at the statue of his body, whilst the soldier can completely crush it.

And even if he does hold him off, another two soldiers emerge from the corridor. A lot less bloody and more well dressed, though it's no saving grace.

"Run, Lycoris!" I scream, knowing he has no other option. He's already become a hero…he doesn't have to risk himself anymore.

But whatever happens next, I'm not able to find out. I lose my battle too, darkness overcoming my mind and sight. The pain overcomes my body as I crash too, no longer able to keep fighting.


Karrie Cataline

Rather rudely, I'm snapped out of a very disturbed state of slumber by a bright light being flashed into my eyes. I lurge forward without a second thought, near instantly remembering the dire situation, just to hit a dead end. Another disappointing conclusion hits me as I realise I'm again in an interview chair, though it's almost as comforting as it normally would be when I'm tied down with the rope digging into the burns they previously gave me.

Are they really that desperate for me to have an interview they'll have to trap me here?

The smartest next option is to observe my surroundings. Decima is…perched on the edge of the stage, though I can't tell a thing about her expression when staring at the back of her head. I always thought she was a little bit rueful and pathetic, so the fact she could be the secret plot twist villain seems hardly…surprising.

I quickly realise that she seems just as terrified when she casts a sorrowful glance at me. It's also not hard to see that her arms are also tied up (though she gets the grant of having her legs free. Let's thank our gracious kidnappers!)

Also, in the audience are the twelve other tributes! Hooray! Nobody is dead! Though not everyone is in amazing shape, which is hardly shocking considering we were all facing knives and guns and whatever other military bullshit which would make them seem scarier.

Though Aemil was hardly…frightening in a fighting sense, he was effective with a chloroform rag. Even the hunky Rowan was easily subdued with a stiletto kick to the heel and a headlock.

Most noticeably, Lycoris has a massive bruise on his face, Nefeli's one arm is bandaged up severely, Tiara has been given a headband too…and that's only the noticeable shit. There's probably a lot of achy bones and covered up bruises.

And everybody's still in their attires…it's very tonally dissonant, but it's a tad funny imagining everyone running in their doll-like dresses.

I still look good as fuck, which is really boosting my confidence. I feel more than ready to bite at these kidnappers now, but…I wish it was a little more comfortable, now that I'm tied up.

But I definitely stole the show, with my red avant-garde and punkish polyester tulle dress. Every little choice made designing this was perfectly placed, with ribbon straps, an asymmetrical skirt, and wildly volumized layers of tulle ruffles, bows, and raw edges. And I have thigh-high black leather boots with 3-inch stiletto heels, so I could gouge somebody's eye out if I really wanted too.

I wish I could fix my blond wig. It's like a wet style, slick with gel, but it feels like it was ripped off and poorly applied again. And my face is sweating under my swathes of makeup, of black glittery eyeshadow, thick winged eyeliner, volumized fake eyelashes, pink blush, and bright red lipstick. Thank fuck my arms feel light, as the only jewellery left over is a black choker studded with champagne diamonds.

Also, who could forget the soldiers who are currently pointing guns in everyone's current direction. Something tells me that even if I could escape, I wouldn't want too.

And now my heart is racing too. I try to steady my breathing but it's hard when I have fifty sets of eyes on me, following my every move. (I was never really here for fame anyway.) I can feel the sweat pile as an epiphany of how dangerous the situation hits me.

"Erm…Karakaxa!" Just hearing my full name from her now willowy voice makes me shudder. "So…I bet you have many questions…"

"Fuck you all." I spit, not even sure why. This is such an immature response but I need to tell somebody this to lighten the load in my mind. It's not even directed at Decima.

"Oh wow." Decima eyes the soldier, as if she's pleading not to be shot for my attitude. "I totally get why you feel that way but I…I have to ignore that. This is an interview, so maybe we can answer some questions and…"

"What the fuck is going on? Did you help with this bullshit? Did you organise it?"

Decima quickly shakes her head. She looks at some flashcards in her now sweaty hands, reading through everything to make sure she only says what is absolutely correctly. "We'll get that in due time, but…erm, I didn't…"

A red laser dot suddenly appears on Decima, just on her chest. She almost leaps out of her skin with a terrified yelp, but her only other reaction is silence.

I've never ever seen Decima in such a pathetic, spineless state like this before. In the face of death, she truly does wilt away…

"So, Karrie…you have the highest score! I mean, second highest. Impressive…isn't it?" Decima suddenly says.

"Yeah, but what the fuck is that going to do for me now." I roll my eye, not sure why they're trying to act as if everything is normal. This snarkiness is the only thing distracting me from the pure fear, so I'll continue to be a moody bitch.

"Don't worry! You're still going to be fighting! So…has your strategy changed at all?" Decima reveals, laughing awkwardly. Whispers in the audience break the odd silence.

They…still want to make us fight? That would certainly explain why they had prioritised keeping us alive whilst they slaughtered the rest of the staff.

"I wasn't born yesterday. I'm not revealing anything." I shut off this lane of conversation, realising my questions will most likely remain unanswered. So I'm not going to answer theirs.

"Don't be such a bore…sorry, sorry." Decima suddenly stops after realising how inappropriate it is.

"Why are we still fighting?" I wonder, taking the reins instead. A few of the audience members mumble in agreement.

"Erm…because the show must go on? That's what you came here to do…"

I can't help but shake my head, needing an answer. Not some bullshit deflection. "You're not fooling anybody. Recording has ceased and we're probably moments away from dying at any moment. So there must be some other reason…"

Decima stays silent, the red laser once again appearing. It hasn't touched me yet, but I'm not complaining. And I'm quickly growing used to the mamby pamby answers that help nobody, so my frustration is being slowly sapped away.

"Well, this seems like a good enough time to reveal the first twist…" Decima pulls out the first golden card, a lot brighter than the rest of the plain black cards. With a large cough, she announces: "The only way to leave the simulation is to die. There's no longer a way to quit and the safe word to get you out has been removed."

The cast murmurs a little, though I show no visible reaction. Any sign of shock or fear would just be playing into what the mean men with guns would want, so I just stare at my heels, the right one snapped off. Pretty sure a blister is forming there too, great.

That's fine. I wasn't planning on quitting no matter what was going to happen, but…not having the option is still a violation of our contracts. Say if it is a living hell in there, we'll just have to deal with it?

The more I think about it, the more it pisses me off. It is disturbing. But it's hard to stay that angry when there's more pressing demands, such as…the entire kidnapping situation? I'll just have to plan for it when the moment comes and we're still not left in the dark.


Lycoris Ashford

I know that nobody was ever planning on quitting. Everybody wants that worthless crown, whether it be for the fame, or money or just the ego boost that inevitably comes along with it. And in all truth, I'm not sure which one I want to settle with, but I wouldn't turn any of them down.

But…having this illusion of choice stolen away definitely rubs me the wrong way. It's obviously to keep us trapped in the simulation, as I'm sure a lot of tributes would try to quit immediately. Whether it's to escape or find out what the hell is going on…there's plenty of motivation to do so. This easily shuts this possibility down.

Trying to concentrate however when my entire face feels like it's been crushed, beaten as if it's a boxing bag. I had such an awful showing when fighting against the soldier and no delusion could convince myself otherwise. What even compelled me to leap in? Some sort of saviour complex maybe. It still isn't like me to dive head first into danger like that however…maybe it was the adrenaline addling with my mind.

I don't get the privilege of the prim interview chair, instead being lifted onto the stage on the shitty stool I had been trapped in when I lost the fight. The one leg that's a tad bit smaller isn't the end of the world, but it's enough to distract me from his attempts of calming himself down.

And of course…they've totally desecrated my outfit too! They must be teasing me because I've been stripped down to the bare essentials, now only wearing a black pinstriped suit on top of a jacquard waistcoat consisting of black-and-white checkered stripes and golden ornamental leaves. And of course, they're not going to leave me naked so I've been granted a light beige dress shirt.

All of the defining extras that make my outfit mine have been lazily strewn across the stage however. A bloodstained terracotta brown ascot and handkerchief, a topaz tie clip, a gold daffodil brooch and a cane with a gunmetal dragon at the handle glisten under the stage light, stealing my eye. And my hair, once styled into messy, tousled waves and maintained with touches of curling iron, pomade and sea salt spray have been hidden by an unceremonious beanie. It's all so insulting.

Maybe it's just a massive fuck you for how I tried to fight back. But what else was I meant to do? Let a defenceless girl be swooped up like that?

"Hey…what the fuck are you doing? Let me out of this!" I try to shout at the soldier as I'm carried like a sleeping child. I didn't expect my pathetic pleas to work. Now I'm not even sure why I attempted it.

Decima fails to maintain eye contact as I'm placed uncomfortably close to her. "I wish I could but…"

"Who are these people? Do you know these…soldiers?" I frown as my heart pitter patters, hoping to draw out some information.

"I don't…I'm sorry…"

"But…fine. Let's get this interview over with." I roll my eyes, not even attempting to cover up my true emotions this time. After this, I take a ponder out to the crowd, to see a group of likewise scared and annoyed faces. Finishing this shitshow isn't just to try to quell my nerves, it's also to calm them down too.

And I really need some medical attention. My entire body is in agony, aching in places that have never felt such pain before. I wouldn't be able to run if he wanted to, knowing I would collapse in moments.

Decima is shaking the most. I guess with no guarantee of any form of protection, it makes sense why she's so anxious. "Yes, let's very well do that. So...tell me about Tiara!"

"Erm…I take that…the news has broken out, then? We didn't do a great job of concealing it." I frown, not sure what angles I'm meant to attempt anymore. Nobody's ever going to see this, so I could just say one word answers, if I wanted to. But my ego stops me.

"Well, it was very apparent. And heartwarming."

Tiara briefly smiles in the audience, blushing slightly. I get her embarrassment seeing as we're wasting everybody's time.

"Thanks? I'm glad it's making other people as happy as it's making us."

"Ok…so how about…the games? Are you looking forward to them?" Decima struggles to get her lines out naturally.

"I wish I could say I was. What's hampering my disappointment is…why aren't we allowed to quit anymore?" I ask. I probably know the answers, but it'd be interesting to know the kidnappers' possible thinking.

It also begs the question again of what their general motives are and why they're doing this all. I can't help but wonder if it's linked to the death of Scuttle, but that event just seems so grandiose. Perhaps it's also being used as a diversion? But who would the city even care more about? Most likely the President, rather than a baker's dozen number of kids and minimum wage workers.

"I think it'd be more entertaining for our captors. I'm sure everyone would just quit immediately if they could." Decima continues to give vague throwaway answers.

So is this actually for their entertainment? Like the actual Hunger Games are? That's a frightening thought.

"Makes sense, even though…a lot of us really want this win. Are there any other changes?" I tap my feet, anxiously awaiting what could be next. I feel my mind pounding faster than his heart, as a river rushes around his body and brain.

"Yes! Getting onto that…erm, there's a time limit now! If the games have not ended in ten days, then the simulation will terminate, ending the games!"

Huh…how baffling?

"So we could just really…wait it out? But that just goes against what you just said!" I cry out. Do they want us to fight and die, or do they want us just to have a fun vacation in this simulation land?

Ten days…two hundred and forty hours…

That's not enough time to fight. But it's a quick enough time for all of us to make it out. Will something happen when the simulation terminates them? Will we be punished for not abiding by these quickly changing rules that have been pushed onto us?

"If only it was that easy…"

"I don't like what your hinting here…" I frown, knowing it must be expanded on by the other rules. If there is a 'but', it can't be positive. And the only ideas I can string together in his mind just seem more and more unplausible yet torturous.


Miri Sunburst

I can't deny that I have a talent for escaping all of my true emotions. It's not difficult to ignore all the negativity in my life when I can hyperfixate on something else. And it's usually done with a charming smile on my face, as I have to woo people over, or at least come off as an entirely different person. It's just a more extreme version of acting.

But I'm finding it incredibly difficult to do so now. Even if I could, I'd probably seem…sociopathic? If everyone else is shitting themselves whilst I'm on cloud nine, it's going to get a lot of odd stares. And I can't keep lying to myself that much, as my emotions will eventually catch up to me.

"Hey, Decima! Before we can start…erm…why are we still being interviewed? Is this going to be aired?" I wonder, as I fail to get comfortable in my position. Coming off as…clearly anxious but is somehow keeping it together is probably the best angle. It's kind of what I feel the most off camera, so it comes easily.

"No…"

"I don't see the point then. Are you just…mocking us before you put us in the games?" I'm still confused. I eye up the soldiers, who's covered up faces can't show any emotion.

I then stared at Lycoris who so courageously tried to save everyone…he threw himself into the guard's line of sight as they stormed the tribute building, but nothing could have ever been enough to stop them.

My heart shatters as I notice how clearly in pain he is. Shit, even my legs are burning as if they've been set on fire and then crushed by the weight of a freighter plane, but it doesn't compare to Lycoris's bruised all over and bleeding body.

"Kind of? I'm really sorry, this wasn't my choice…"

"Can we just get to the next big twist then?" I sigh, trying to ignore that pit in my stomach, created from a blend of fear and dread.

"In due time…so I heard you're kind of famous on social media." Decima asks, as she shuffles through a few of his cards. I roll my eyes at how stupid this all seems right now.

Even if I'd rather not talk about it, it's a good opportunity to speak about it and find out more about the future."That is…kind of a humble way to say it, yeah! Will I even have a career after this?"

"I don't see why not."

"Sweet?"

I anxiously await what's next, knowing the next twist could be sprung at any opportunity after a myriad of banal questions.

"So…why did you apply then?"

I try not to focus on the poison circulating around my legs, as an answer doesn't even pop to my head. "I thought it'd be a fun experience and I'd get to meet some great new people."

"Makes sense." Decima offers absolutely nothing back. What a dry and tiring interview. She knows there's no point of putting any effort into this, but her sudden…lack of charisma just feels like another insulting roadblock in their path. Like she's spitting down on them further, when she's the only ally the tributes have left.

Wow, maybe she's just being too harsh on Decima too…she's undeniably terrified too and no doubt in extreme pain, but…this is doing nothing to cool my nerves.

"Ok…?" I prompt after the next big silence.

Decima casts an apologetic glance to the cast. "Erm…well the next big change is…the bloodbath shall yield no deaths. There'll be a fifteen minute grace period, where every tribute will be immune from any attack." She reads off as if she's copying from a teleprompter, not a hint of passion or humanity being put into her speech.

Immediately, this strikes as something wrong in my mind. This seems like it should be a twist placed in our favour, but the sudden generosity seems startling. It's like…another puzzle piece has been added, except the ends are jagged and don't fit, it's from the wrong set and placed upside down. These twists don't seem to align or fit together well.

"Hold on…every other change has been to get us to fight! Isn't this kinda like…contradictory?" I say, knowing everything is set in stone. My confusion won't influence anything.

"I would say so, yeah?"

"Do they want to drag the games out? But wait…it can only last ten days?" I sigh, noticing how everything seems to clash against each other. It's making my head ache just thinking about everything.

"It'll all make sense in due time."

"Ok…can I just join the rest of the crowd please? You're not going to tell me anything else." I frown, just wanting to get out of this claustrophobic theatre. It's so large yet seems so cramped, as the walls seem to be closer together than ever. I should be focusing on attempting to stabilise my emotions rather than…stressing over what I won't ever know or be able to find out. And I can't do that with all this unappreciated attention on me right now.


Rowan Augustine

Taking deep breaths seems insignificant in the grand schemes of things. No pseudoscience therapeutic tricks are going to help me feel any more calm after everything I've been put through. And I'm sure the trajectory is only going to go on a further downwards spiral from here out.

I sit on the stage, my eyes shut to stop the blinding light penetrating into my sockets. I'm extremely uncomfortable due to the lack of consideration put in by our kidnappers, such as the fact that using the same size chair for every tribute might not work. I sink off the edges, which kills my back as I can't move. I wish I could rip the ropes off but with my movement so restricted, I have no choice but to just stay there and wait for the inevitable. Though even if I know I can't do anything physically, I can toy with our captors verbally.

"I'm not having an interview. Just tell us more about these twists." I try what every tribute has failed to do so far, even if I know I'm bound to embarrass myself.

"I don't think you get to decide that." Decima chuckles as her eyes don't draw away from the war equipment pointed at them. This entire time I've been staring at my black cane, with golden leaf and sunflower embellishments that's been teased in front of me. Perhaps they're scared it could be used as a weapon…though I don't get why they ripped my black brocade top hat off too. And all my accessories…missing, somewhere, on the stage I'd hope. My ivory lace plastron tie, my clear rhinestone cameo clasp, my citrine cufflinks and clear diamante waistcoat chain.

Now I just feel naked, only wearing a black brocade suit with a mandarin collar and gold embroidered trim at the blazer, white long-sleeved satin shirt and waistcoat with gold embroidery.

I remain as still as a stone, nothing about my face changing. "Ok? What can they do? They're not going to shoot me, are they? They clearly need us for their little lab rat experiments and with so few of us…they can't bear to lose such a vital tribute."

I'm making a lot of assumptions, even knowing that I'm not any safer than the rest of the tributes. To them, we must all blend together as faceless Capitolites. I imagine we're viewed exactly how the normal tributes are, as lamb being put up for the slaughtering block and nothing more. Nobody bothers to learn our names, or what makes us unique, or our aspirations and hopes and dreams beyond the games. Not an ounce of care is put in usually, so why should we be spared anyway?

"Maybe they'll shoot me and I'd rather not die here." Decima chuckles once more, a clear repetitive nervous reaction for her in their newfound circumstances.

"Shame…" I sigh, still not wanting anybody else to die. I decide to back down a little, not wanting to have a dead body on my already heavy conscience.

"Can I ask the questions now?"

"Sure. Why not? Doesn't mean I have to answer them."

"Ok, so…you can't expect me to say this, can you?" Decima gulps. She looks down at his feet and takes a deep breath, before ripping up the card into six small pieces, letting it flutter to the floor like snowflakes. She then immediately freezes up, expecting a gunshot, though nothing comes off it.

Rowan stares intently at the shredded remains, wishing I could just leap for it. "What does it say?" I wonder, already fearing the worst. About my severe mental health afflictions, or my shaky record with the law or any of the terrible deeds I've committed. I'm really…not willing to have them placed on the table for everyone to see, especially not now.

"I…we'll come back to that."

"Give me the card. Let me choose if we go through it." I beg, knowing there must be some way for a kidnapper to hand me a spare. I have to know if Decima is doing me a favour by risking her life for me, or if it's another hint to what the kidnapper's ulterior motives are. And I can't have this mystery clawing at my mind for however long we have left.

"I…"

"Urgh. Fuck this! Just end this interview now. What's the twist?"

Decima looks blown away. The least I could do is return the favour by finishing this interview to ensure that she isn't shot either, but it's hard to play the friendly guy when I'm terrified out of my mind. After some deliberating, I decide to finally give in if she does ask, knowing all Decima has tried to do for me. "Hold on, what about your alliance?"

"We get along well no matter what situation we're in." I frown, knowing it's the truth. My secondary concern that isn't my shaky mental health (which is hanging off a cliff at the moment), is the safety of my friends. I know I left them when they wanted me the most, which is why I have to try my best to protect them now. But what can I do trapped like this?

"Ok! Ok! Time for the next change. And sorry in advance but…" Decima is shaking more than ever, as she eyes a certain subset of tributes. I try to follow along but I get confused as Decima suddenly snaps back to me. "Unlike previously agreed, any disease, disability, mental health problem or other infliction will be carried into the games. Oh…besides Osiris, who will be able to move. He needs to have some chance."

Oh fuck…

I knew I'd still have to deal with his anger management still no matter what, as I hadn't made it obvious. It'd also be illogical to assume they could absolve something like that, no matter how futuristic this technology is. But I had hoped everyone else would have a fair chance.

Auberon is fucked over no matter what. How's he meant to survive the games when he won't be able to do anything? We can try our best to carry him over the coals and flames, though the sparks will eventually spit at him no matter how hard we try. He's a guaranteed goner.

"What the fuck? And the rest of us don't get a chance then?" I frown, kind of unveiling that I have something not quite right with me. But it's probably rather obvious and I'm…all for being an open book, in unusual circumstances.

I try to rock on my chair, do anything to help the clearly distressed crowd, but there's nothing I can do. The soldiers barely react, causing me to wonder if they're actually alive. Wouldn't it be fitting if they were mannequins or robots to add to the levels of mindfuckery that have happened today.

"It shouldn't be a problem for you, should it, Rowan? There's no need to make a scene." Decima tries to calm me down with all of the wrong words. What a condescending way to try to shut down my feelings…but I get where she's coming from. This'll be better for me in the long run, as a lot more of the tributes have suddenly become…near useless in the arena. My odds have leaped up drastically.

But I don't care about that. My ego is high enough that I'm sure I can beat most people anyway.

"You're acting as if I can't argue for my fellow tributes! Because most of them won't get the opportunity too down there!" I shout at our kidnappers, not caring if they kill me for being so provocative. I can't even fathom why they'd make such a pointless change. To make the games more realistic?

But there's no point…

"Sorry…but…"

"There's no need for this…sudden change in rules." I finally settle down a little, my fiery voice dying down to a clearly begrudged tone.

"I know! But it's too late to change it back! I'm sorry." She cries. Her words mean nothing for any of us, but it's not like we can shoot the messenger. Decima isn't even an advocate for these even if she tries to justify them. All I can do is just wait to be escorted off, knowing any move I could make would only result in wasted energy and anger.


Tiara Christal

From the frigid cold of running from the invaders to the uncomfortable stuffiness of the hall, I haven't felt a true state of comfort and content since before the private sessions. I don't like to admit how easy it is to make me anxious, but it seems that any challenge that has been thrown at my face in this hell hole has stressed me out more than it should do.

Maybe like…it's an understatement though, especially now. Nobody I've known has ever faced a challenge like this death trap before. It's one of those things that are so astronomically unlikely to happen, that it's almost insulting it could hit us. What a group of poor souls we are…

I wish I could wipe away the tears, or blow the wisps of hair away that are resting on the places of my forehead that I never cover up. I look down at my dirty knees, which disturbs me the most. I'm always so clean, so well kept, so sanitised and protected from all the grime I've never faced before…and now I'm being dangled closer to the boundary between my world and reality.

And even if I could cleanse myself, the reek of blood that overwhelms this very building wouldn't leave. A nauseous sensation flutters around my stomach, with no net to capture the escaping butterflies.

"Hi. Do I have to do an interview now?" I pathetically ask, hoping there's any form of sympathy to stop this charade. I can barely speak up in front of the crowd and yet I'm still being expected to be pushed through all of this.

"Sorry, yeah…"

"Like…why? I don't want to be a part of any of this shit. I just want to go home." I frown, realising how much of a small child I sound like. It's not as if I've been strapped into a long car ride like a bored kid, I've been forcefully taken, tied up and forced to dance for these freaks just so I'm not pushed to the lions. Yet, my wispy pleas deem otherwise.

"Trust me, nobody does." Decima frowns. I know she's meant to be an ally, but I can't stand Decima and her lack of…spine? She's just paved herself to the floor and let them all be run over by these guys! I know that she's just trying to preserve her life…but it's…

She was never like this before, was she?

I don't even know what I'm trying to argue. I can't fault her at all, I just need somebody to take my anger out on. I have nobody to shout at, or cry to, or just comfort me. And that might just be my new reality now.

"Exactly! Wait…do these people know how powerful my parents are?" I try the most pathetic play in the book, now sounding like an unhappy customer complaining to a manager.

Decima, the multi-millionaire celebrity who has dealt with Scuttle face to face before, sighs. "I'm sure they're aware. And I'm sure they can't do much."

"Right. That was stupid of me to say. They probably won't be put off, will they?" I frown, knowing how entirely powerless I am.

"Well, they've gone this far…"

"Yeah, why? What's their like…motivation?" I wonder, not even being able to assume what they might be trying to do. I'm not really a fan of those mystery novels or detective shows, but I sure wish I spent some more time on that sort of media before I came here.

"I don't know yet. Can I ask you some questions now?"

I roll my eyes at how insensitive these kidnappers are, but that's hardly a crime compared to everything else they've done. "Yeah? It's not the best of times for me…or anyone but…"

"How is Lycoris?"

"Well! We're doing well! But…there's more important issues right now!" I shrug. I realise how I've painted it as if we aren't, when we are doing fine, but I can't confirm anything seeing our current circumstances. We might not even be alive by the end of the games, seeing how mercilessly they've slaughtered the rest of the staff…

Fuck! I think I've figured out what the big twist is! They're going to kill us in the games! It'd be way too easy and convenient for them to do so!

And…why do the games happen? Entertainment? But for who? Erm…to punish the Districts? Are the Districts punishing us now? It's like a role reversal!

I think I've cracked the code! But the victory is bittersweet…as what if it is true? I'm not in the mood to die at all…

It's probably just me being overdramatic, like. There's probably no chance of that happening. Zilch. Nada. Near zero, maybe even lower. I'm just…overthinking things to scare myself. (Geez, my heart is really beating now.)

"Ok, how…do you think the games are going to go?"

"I don't know?" My mind freezes in place, as I hover over this scenario I've worked out. Thinking about it, I might not be as screwed as I thought. All the tributes with disabilities have been completely done in! (Auberon, Nefeli, Osiris…Baxter maybe? Such an unfortunate group…I'll have to hope they don't face a terrible end.) So I already have a major advantage…

But it doesn't do much to cool down my shaking body.

"Well here's another change! The Gamemakers have all been…how do I say this? They've all been…purged. There will be no contact between the outside world and you, unlike what was planned before. You will be left to your own devices in the arena and the only 'events' that will occur have been scheduled already."

I blink, barely catching it all. It takes me a few moments to piece together the effects of this change. Once it does, my eyes suddenly burst open, a singular teardrop rolling out. That means, all I'll have to worry about is the other tributes, mainly. I can be less scared of the unknown, but is that better?

At least…I know my chances better, but that seems very grim.

"Wait! They're meant to protect us too! And like…harm us! But that's not the point." I then realise. Say if there is some sort of psycho among us. We'll just have to deal with them as if everything's ok? Like, everyone knows there's no spoken rules to the games, but nobody likes it when the tributes go too far.

"Yeah…it's…a lot more like the normal games now?" Decima's words are really not calming, especially when she doesn't even seem to believe them.

I take a deep breath, as my feet dangle off the stool. "We'll still be safe, right?"

"Relatively so…"

"I'll just have to hope it's all alright then."


Willow Skies

I can feel a monkey paw curl somewhere in the distance. I've always wanted to be interviewed on a large stage, in such a grand and opulent location like this, but now the time has actually come and I'm being threatened with violence. My greed and desires have led me directly to such an awful circumstance, but how could I have known? Taking the shortcut to a famous life just seemed too easy and appealing at the time.

I sit on the stage in silence, not bothering to pry the poor sod in front of me. Decima is hardly panicking, yet she still seems so…distant. It's hardly comforting. I would be barely able to sit still, but with no freedom, I have to sit as silent as a rock. Instead, I can just feel the disease of dread and fear spread around my body like an infection, as my brain burns over a fire.

I know that whatever's going to be unveiled now will be the most drastic twist yet. Every change so far has only been connected by a spider's web, they just need that final puzzle piece to form the full picture. And the quickest way to get to the explosive end of the show is to sit through the interview. Every tribute so far has tried their best to rebel and failed. I wouldn't be able to succeed if I tried…I'm not any more special than the rest of them.

"Willow!"

"That's…me." I frown, the disappointment leaking out of my voice.

"Yeah…erm…are you happy with your alliance?"

I curse at her awkwardness, making it all so much more painful. What sort of exposition was that? "Huh…what happened to the rest of the intro? And yeah, I am extremely."

"Sorry, I just…really need to get through this." Decima's hands shake as she clutches the last card. She comes close to dropping it multiple times. At least then I would be able to read it myself and save the torturous suspense I've been put through.

I don't respond, only frowning over the prospect of what the sixth and final revelation could be. I keep waiting for a sentence that'll never come, before sighing and continuing on.

"So…what's your strategy for the games?"

"Win."

"How in depth."

"It's as much as I'm revealing." I frown, also trying to cover up that I really have no idea. With no means to communicate with my allies who I'm meant to lead whilst relying on…has left me with no concrete plan. I have fizzles of ideas such as not running from the Cornucopia and trying to avoid combat initially, but besides from that, who knows?

"I don't know why I expected more."

"It would have been rather foolish to do so." I mumble, now staring at her lap. I…would really like to know what everyone else is thinking and their strategies, but I'll never be able to find out. Now the stakes seem much higher, I wonder if the same levels of trust will still exist. Will our alliance still function as well? Can I trust those who I took a liking to?

"I…guess so? Should I reveal the final twist?" Decima sputters out. It seems extremely hard for her to do so, as it seems like she's dropped a bomb of words afterwards. She is blushing intensely…

I sigh. "Please do."

She looks down at the card. "Ok, so…I don't know how to put this…"

"You should hurry up…you have quite a large audience!" I try to give any advice to 'calm her down', though I realise it's extremely unhelpful. It seems like I'm scolding her, but if that's what I have to do to speed her up, than so be it.

"Well…"

I prompt once more, feeling my patience really wear thin. "Well?"

"Death in the simulation will result in death in the real world."


1. There is no a longer a safe word. The only way to leave the simulation is to die.

2. If the games have not ended in 10 days, than the simulation will terminate, ending the games.

3. The bloodbath shall yield no deaths. There'll be a fifteen minute grace period.

4. Any disabilities or diseases carried in the real world will be carried into the games. The only exception is Osiris, who will now be able to walk.

5. The Gamemakers have all been purged. There will be no contact unlike what was planned before. You will be left to your own devices in the arena, the only 'events' that will occur have been scheduled already.

6. Death in the simulation will result in death in the real world.


All these amazing designs below were created by ShunKazamis-Girl and can all also be found on the blog, as well as the previous chapters tribute's outfits. Make sure you check it out, as it has a lot of amazing information compiled into one place, it's so gorgeous to look at and it's so perfectly made!

the-saturn-games . weebly . com

Just remove the spaces. It's also on my profile and in the SYOT discord server.

Lycoris: Black pinstriped suit, striped jacquard waistcoat consisting of black-and-white checkered stripes and golden ornamental leaves, light beige dress shirt, terracotta brown ascot, brown velvet shoes, and a terracotta brown handkerchief inside the pocket square. Lycoris' hair is styled into messy, tousled waves and maintained with touches of a curling iron, pomade, and sea salt spray. As jewellery and accessories, Lycoris is wearing a topaz tie clip, a gold daffodil brooch, and a golden watch, as well as holding a cane with a gunmetal dragon at the handle.

Rowan: Black brocade suit with a mandarin collar and gold embroidered trim at the blazer, white long-sleeved satin shirt, black brocade waistcoat with gold embroidery, ivory lace plastron tie, black velvet shoes with gold embroidery, and an ivory lace plastron handkerchief inside the pocket square. As accessories, Rowan is wearing a clear rhinestone cameo clasp at the plastron tie, a clear diamante chain on his waistcoat, citrine cufflinks, and a black brocade top hat on top of his head, as well as holding a black cane with golden leaf and sunflower embellishments on the end.

Karrie: Bright red avant-garde and punkish polyester tulle dress with ribbon straps, an asymmetrical skirt, and wildly volumized layers of tulle ruffles, bows, and raw edges, as well as thigh-high black leather boots with 3-inch stiletto heels. There is a long blond wig on her head that is styled into a wet look with styling gel while there is black glittery eyeshadow, thick black winged eyeliner, volumized fake eyelashes, pink blush, and bright red lipstick as make-up. As jewellery, Karrie is wearing a black choker studded with champagne diamonds.

Miri: Coral pink and ivory sleeveless wrap dress with a V-neck, tropical leaf print, and a belt tied up into a bow, as well as coral pink 1-inch kitten heels. There is mascara, pink blush, and concealer on her face as make-up. As jewellery and accessories, Miri is wearing a golden moon and sun necklace, golden layered chain bracelets on each wrist, and a coral pink cloche on top of her head.

Tiara: Purple off-the-shoulder chiffon dress with a floor-length skirt and gold wildflower designs made out of lace, embroidery, and beads, as well as purple 2-inch ankle strap heels. Tiara's hair is styled into a Dutch braid updo while there is dark purple winged eyeliner, purple eyeshadow, fake volumized eyelashes, vivid red lipstick, contouring, and highlighter as make-up. As jewellery and accessories, Tiara is wearing a gold choker with quartz, pearls, opals, and zircons, diamond chandelier earrings, and a crystal tiara with diamonds and pearls on top of her head.

Willow: Meadow green tulle gown with a V-neck, 2 bows at the waist, a full midi-skirt, and slightly flounced elbow-length sleeves, as well as gold 2-inch stilettos. There are embroidered lavender, daffodils, and peonies, as well as embroidered pink, blue, and yellow butterflies scattered all over the dress' fabric. Willow's hair is styled into a diamond braid while there is black eyeliner, concealer, and pink blush as make-up. As jewellery, Willow is wearing a silver pendant with an emerald heart and 2 silver rings with emeralds on each hand.


Hi! It's been a very long time since I've updated and I'm sorry for that. I've been dealing with some kidney complications which have just drained all my time. But I'm hoping to get back to a weekly update schedule now that I'm feeling better again.

So this chapter's been through a lot. It was originally around 5k words, but I combined it with a previously scrapped chapter, changed the person back to what it was before, changed the interviewer and did a lot of reshuffling of POV's. It's now close to 13k! Writing it was a mess but I'm really happy with how it turned out. Sorry for such a long wait but I hope this chapter has met everyone's expectations?

And because I've changed so much, there may be a few incorrect pronouns. I've checked it so many times but I may have slipped up, so sorry for any mistakes there are. It also explains why some tributes have two POV's, which was also done for balancing.

And of course, we start the games in the next chapter. After two years, the pre-games are up and tributes will finally start to fall. Nerve wracking!

Thank you so much and see you soon.