The kitchen was only nice because one of her cousins had been paid 20 dollars to renovate it over spring break, but ever since then it had sort of become a meeting spot. Her family was larger than most, so the only way to properly communicate a message to everyone was to call a mandatory meeting, even if that involved dragging some of the others out of their rooms against their will.

They gathered around the granite-topped island table. Her cousin Clover was the last to join them, with the two youngest cousins in tow.

Her aunt opened the fridge. The others were talking animatedly among themselves, but silence briefly settled over them when a two-tiered chocolate cake was revealed to them. The younger kids gasped in absolute astonishment in the way only a young child could, while the older ones slowly smiled.

"As you all know, this year Conrad and Nova are turning 19." The cake was placed down on the table for all of them to ogle. "This'll be their last reaping, so tomorrow night we'll celebrate."

Before the youngest child could get his hands on the cake prematurely, Nova lifted the 8 year old out of the way and set him down on a chair beside her. She couldn't help but be mildly surprised by the sight of a cake like that, confused even — her family weren't doing great financially speaking, especially over the last year or two, so for them to somehow afford to bake a cake like that was shocking. Chocolate could be such a pain to acquire, after all.

The surprised silence didn't last long though.

"What if one of them gets reaped?"

"Nova stole my soldering iron. We should volunteer her. We can do that, right?"

Nova's eyebrows furrowed. "I gave it back!"

"2 weeks later."

"I don't even have a soldering iron."

"That's because you're 8, Brody."

"I'm bagsying the room of whoever gets reaped. I hate my room."

"I bet it'll be Conrad. He just has that face, you know?"

"It's randomly selected, Lukas."

". . . Is it–?"

"Enough." The stern voice of her aunt was enough to silence them all. Even Brody stopped to wipe his chocolate-covered fingers on a napkin. "None of you will be reaped, you know this, so stop goading each other. Relax, sweethearts. Cake is only for children who play nice, after all."

The room went quiet as this thought was pondered.

"So it's seriously random?"

"Lukas, where the hell have you been going every year?"

Their combined tools were littered across the table, although the owners could be told apart easily; while Conrad's were serious colours of black, red, and blue, Nova's tools had been decorated with pieces of colourful tape and stickers. Between them was a small burglar alarm, the outer casing discarded aside and the inner wirings exposed. Occasionally a loose connection would catch with the evening breeze and the thin cable would hopelessly flutter aside.

"Good thing we're doing this now."

Nova raised an eyebrow at her cousin.

"Especially if we get reaped," he continued. "We're the oldest, and dare I say we're the most competent ones. I'd like to see Lukas try to fix this."

"I doubt we'll get reaped," she assured him.

"Yeah," he agreed, "but we might."

"Yeah, but we won't."

"You say that with so much certainty," he noted, probing her for some form of agreement with him.

"I'm a woman of science," she said. "My odds are low, hence I'm not worried, and you shouldn't be either."

He snorted. "Could you imagine if it was both of us–?"

He'd barely finished speaking when she slammed her screwdriver down onto the rusty table. It shuddered against the porch, its legs probably ready to give in at the slightest nudge, let alone a heavy hit.

"It won't be, Conrad," she said firmly.

He wisely shrinked back in defeat, his hands up in surrender, only lowering them again once she was no longer shooting him such a murderous look. Sometimes her cousin could be so morbid that it was genuinely disturbing, and maybe at any other time of year she wouldn't have cared so much for his tasteless reaping remarks, but the night before was definitely not a good time to test her patience.

"Do you think you'd even survive long?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Maybe. Ever since I started taking that Mechanical Design class, they've had me lifting all sorts of machinery on a daily basis. I mean, look at these guns."

With a wiggle of his eyebrows that was simply comical, Conrad lifted one of his sleeves and bared his just slightly underwhelming muscles. He was a skinny boy, so for him to gain some visible strength was difficult in his defence, but this attempted display of muscles was laughable nonetheless.

"Hm," She made a small noise as she stifled her laugh for his sake, "yeah . . ."

He lowered his sleeve with a scoff. "Like you'd do any better."

"I dance," she reminded him.

He laughed. "And what? You'd pirouette your way to victory?"

Nova narrowed her eyes at him. "Who hurt you? No, it just makes me stronger, and faster, and flexible, and agile. And I'm clever."

"Fine," he relented, "so out of the pair of us, it's a tie."

"What? No." She immediately placed down her pliers. "I would come closest to first."

"The games aren't a dance competition, Nova," he retorted.

She batted a hand at him. "It's televised entertainment. I think it's more similar than you'd think. You've seen it. It's like those Capitol beauty pageants, except with us kids instead of rich models, and murder instead of talent contests."

"The Miss Panem contests would be so much more fun to watch if they had to battle to win," he stated. She wasn't sure how much she agreed with his statement. "Tiaras and heels could be weapons of choice."

Despite finding a little humour in his joke, she sighed. "If one of the boys gets chosen . . ." She stared at the closed front door of the family home, "will you volunteer?"

He paused for a moment. "Unless it's Lukas. He'll think he was selected for his good looks and charm. If I volunteered for him, he might take it the wrong way."

Nova felt a little bad for laughing, but at least could relax in knowing that Conrad's response had largely been sarcastic. Her other cousins, as lovely as they were, would simply never be able to hold their own in a fight to the death. None of them stood even a chance, and she knew it. The result of any of their entry would be a terrifying combination of tantrums, panic attacks, and tears, with not so much survival involved.

"And would you?" he countered. "For one of the girls?"

She nodded. "Yeah. It won't happen, obviously. But as the oldest, it's our responsibility to look after them. You know that."

He gave her a look of mild disagreement. Her gaze hardened.

"You know that," she repeated herself.

He relented quickly. "Yeah, yeah. Last year, though. Just one more day–"

His sentence was cut off when she lowered the tip of her screwdriver onto a live wire that was hovering over another loose connection. A shock zapped through his finger. He gasped in discomfort.

"Yeah," she snickered. "One more day."

The Justice Building hadn't changed even a little since she'd last seen it. It never did. She didn't live in a central area of the district, so travelling by train to the reaping usually took about an hour or so, which meant that this sight was rare. And if all went according to plan, in a few years she could probably get away with never having to take a single look at it again.

Clover was gripping her hand with all of the strength she had. They were lucky to be in the same age category this year, which meant that they were able to stand beside each other, while her other female cousin Furiosa was forced to stand elsewhere.

From the looks of things, Clover's anxiety was hitting its peak, as it usually did at that time of reaping day. It seemed to be the girl's one true fear, ever since one of her distant friends had been reaped and then killed immediately in the bloodbath during the games.

Nova lifted her free hand and tucked a stray strand of Clover's hair out of the way. Their hairstyles matched, since it was fast and easy for her aunt to do in a rush during reaping mornings. There wasn't really time for them to pretty themselves up or anything either, especially with 7 of the 9 kids heading to the same event simultaneously.

Her attention moved to the stage that had been assembled in front of the building. The chairs were occupied by the previous victors, Beetee and Wiress, plus Tiffany Glass, their district's escort. The Mayor was still saying her few words, most of it just sickening Capitol-glorifying nonsense that no one was really buying.

Tiffany then stepped forward. Her outfits were outlandish every year, but this year was no different. Her sage green wig perfectly matched her green ensemble, and her shoes were so tall and wobbly that it was as though she was defying gravity just by standing straight. The size of her fluffy skirts made her look like a doll.

But the smile didn't fade from the woman's face. It never did. She always hosted the reapings with such enthusiasm, although sometimes Nova did catch the small look of sympathy in her eyes, especially during more emotional reapings. At least there was a little piece of humanity in that exuberant woman.

"Hello, my dears," Tiffany said jovially into the microphone. She needed to bend her knees a little to reach it, "and may I wish you all a very happy hunger games!"

Nova nearly laughed. She did every year. But on the plus side, at least her poorly stifled reaction seemed to loosen Clover up a little.

"Now let's see . . ." Tiffany pursed her lips and glanced between the reaping balls. "Shall we get the boys over and done with first?"

There was no reaction. No one cared, really. Sometimes, with the way Tiffany presented the reapings, it was as if there was genuinely a gun being held to her head. No one in their right mind should still be speaking with that kind of beaming smile.

"Okay, the girls, I see." She strutted towards the girls' ball. "Don't all shout out at once!"

No one was shouting.

Tiffany's hand dived into the glass ball, her manicured fingers swirling around the folded pieces of paper. Clover whimpered, her discomfort growing with every second that passed. A slip of paper was eventually chosen and revealed to the audience.

Nova was calm only for her cousin's sake, her cousin who now had her arms around her waist, head buried in her shoulder. But she knew she probably needn't worry anyway. There were people with far worse odds than her or the other two girls.

"Nova Croft."

She looked at her cousin, but those words hadn't come from Clover's mouth. And then she looked up. Tiffany was searching the crowd with a hand shielding her eyes from the sun, the paper delicately held between her thumb and index finger. She repeated Nova's name again.

A circle formed around her and Clover. Clover was still clinging to her, this time in shock. Furiosa approached them, pulling Clover aside and warily ushering Nova towards a pair of Peacekeepers, who proceeded to escort her up to the stage.

"Ah, there she is! Come on up, girl!"

The walk was silent. No emotion was visible on Nova's face. Tiffany's hands came to rest on her shoulders, rotating her to face the crowd, a crowd of children and teenagers with the same impassive expressions on their faces. The girls showed no relief that they weren't reaped. There was no relief to feel. There was always next year for most of them, after all.

"Wonderful!" Tiffany's tone hadn't mellowed yet. "A round of applause for Nova, everyone!"

No one clapped, of course. Nova's eyes searched the crowd, eventually settling on Furiosa, who was weaving her way between the girls towards the aisle in the centre. She moved with purpose; no one hesitated to move aside for her.

Then their eyes met. Nova shook her head. Furiosa reluctantly stepped back towards Clover.

Tiffany glanced bemusedly between Nova and her cousins in the crowd. "Any words, my dear?"

The microphone was tilted towards her, but all she managed was a clipped, "No."

"Ah, well . . . Now, let's see which boy we have this time, shall we?"

The woman moved over to the boys' reaping ball. Chase Hammond was selected. He was a boy in her cousin Mattie's year group, a scrawny little 13 year old who was so underfed he could easily pass as a 9 year old if necessary. Other than his older sister immediately panicking and shouting for him, only to be escorted away from the event, there was little reaction to his reaping either.

"Wonderful!" Tiffany was nearly bursting with enthusiasm. "What a selection today! Let's hear another round of applause for District 3's tributes!"

Clover's crying increased in volume. Furiosa was calming her as much as she was able to. Conrad tried to reach the pair of them but was stopped by Peacekeepers, causing another confusing scuffle that resulted in him being escorted away from the event. The silence of the crowd meant that her cousins were all that could be heard, other than Chase's sister's screams from somewhere nearby.

Tiffany for once looked uncomfortable. Usually it was at about this point that she did. The Mayor said a few more words, including the Treaty of Treason as always, and Nova and Chase shook hands. Then Tiffany nodded to someone behind her, and suddenly they were being dragged inside the building by the collars of their shirts. Nova didn't even manage a small glance back before the doors closed firmly behind them.

A little part of her wanted to enjoy the train ride. She knew the tributes were always pampered and well cared for prior to the start of the games, but this was the first time she'd seen it for herself. Even just the dining cart they'd settled in was nothing short of luxurious, between the panelled walls, velvet carpets, and extensive arrays of food.

Neither she nor Chase had spoken yet. She wasn't sure if it was a good idea to get too close to him anyway. He reminded her too much of her cousins. Watching him die would be painful already as it was.

"I'm sorry."

Chase's voice still hadn't dropped yet. That boy hadn't even hit puberty. He was just a kid. That was all he was.

Suddenly she felt ill. "So am I," she whispered.

He definitely turned to look at her, but she wasn't sure if she could bear doing the same. Whenever an under 15 was reaped, it was already difficult, but having to compete with that child, against that child, was completely different.

But there would be other children, she remembered. She'd seen some of the reaping footage while they'd waited in the station for the train to be prepped. The girl from District 11 was definitely the youngest, just 12 years old. There was another from District 4, a curly-haired boy who was only slightly younger than Chase.

There were adults too. She knew she was likely the oldest, but some of those who were reaped were clearly approaching the cut-off age too. The Careers were. They always were. None of them would even volunteer themselves until they at least turned 15.

The boys from Districts 1 and 2 had volunteered themselves with such pride and vigour, and the girls had shown some enthusiasm too. From their districts, applause followed their reapings. Nova had never seen anything like it.

Her train of thought was interrupted by Beetee's entrance into the dining cart. He walked in with a smile that was watery and weak, like it would slip off his face at any second. She wondered if this was his reaction towards the tributes every year.

"Chase, right?"

He pointed to Chase. Chase nodded his head in fear, as if the man's outstretched finger was a loaded gun. He then turned to Nova.

"You attended my thermodynamics lecture a few weeks ago, didn't you?" he said. She nodded. "Lovely to see you again, Nova. Although the conditions admittedly aren't favourable, are they?"

She shook her head in agreement. She couldn't help but appreciate a familiar face. Beetee still occasionally held guest lectures at some of the schools in the district — you can never take the nerd out of a man — of which she'd attended about 4. His talks were usually less popular than any industry speakers they had in, but he was passionate, genuinely excited about electronics, in a way not many people were.

Beetee sat down opposite them and rubbed his hands together. "Strategy."

Chase looked puzzled. "Already?"

"This train ride is only 8 hours long," he reminded them. "Then we'll be at the heart of the Capitol. It's then that we act on our plans. But if we don't discuss now, then what plan will there be to act on?"

"Where's Wiress?" Nova asked.

As if on cue, Wiress entered the cart. She didn't look any different to how she did every year: dazed and just a little off.

Nova had seen her performance in the games before on replays during some years, but it was haunting, predominantly due to just how different the woman had been. She'd been young, energetic, beautiful, reserved yet so insanely intelligent. They'd marketed her as the quiet A* student at the back of class, charming the country with her shy smiles; she'd been an absolute magnet to the Capitol.

And now here she was all those years later, decades even. She was a shell of the person she'd been before. It stung to watch.

"Look at the children," she sighed.

Nova wasn't quite sure what to make of the expression on her face, but judging by the look she exchanged with Beetee she could only assume it was sombre. She sat down beside the other mentor with her hands in her lap.

"Plans to be made," she said with certainty.

Beetee nodded in agreement. "Absolutely. Neither of you are strong fighters, are you?"

The pair of them shook their heads.

"Then your survival skills will be your key to, well . . . survival," he concluded.

Nova sat back in her chair. "So the plan is to just . . . survive?"

He shrugged. "Yes. But you do it cleverly. You especially, Nova. I've seen your engineering abilities. Use your knowledge to your advantage wherever you are able to."

"I'm not exactly gonna build my way out of there," she argued.

Wiress let out a giggle-like laugh. "Yes you do. You have the power." But her excitement suddenly vanished. "I'm so sorry. To both of you. You're children."

Beetee seemed to agree. "But you have a fighting chance."

"What makes you say that?" Chase asked. He looked apprehensive of everything that had been discussed so far.

"Let's start easy," Beetee began. "Do you have any skills we can focus on?"

Chase shrugged, attempting to mask his bubbling emotions. "My dad taught me everything I know about electronics. He was an engineering manager. But I can't fight. If someone comes for me, I–"

"That's okay," Beetee reassured him. Chase looked like he was about to burst. "You don't have to fight. I'll go over some basic electronic principles with you, just to help you gain some further knowledge before you enter the arena."

Wiress gave him a thumbs up and a reassuring smile. Chase didn't look reassured.

Beetee turned to her next. "Nova?"

"I've never fought before," she confessed. "I'm not sure if I could . . . But I dance. And I think I'm strong enough to hold my ground."

"Good, good. You're already in a better position than I was in," he admitted with a short laugh. "Wiress used to dance too, you know."

Nova nodded. "My dance teacher was in the same ballet class as her."

Wiress seemed to agree with this point, leaning forward into her palms and smiling happily. Her ongoing apparent joviality was probably just a misplaced effort to soothe them, but that didn't exactly make her reactions feel any less unnerving and uncanny.

Tiffany approached them. Nova wasn't exactly sure where the woman had come from. Tiffany pouted at them, clasping her hands together.

"Isn't it solemn in here?" she commented, as if oblivious to Wiress' ongoing grin. "Oh, Nova and Chase, my two wonderful tributes."

For the first time, Nova and Chase genuinely exchanged a look, a mutual expression that could be summarised by the sentence, 'What the fuck?'. Nova was beginning to question whether lack of mental stability was a requirement to work for the games.

"We'll be in the Capitol in about 7 hours now, so it's probably for the best if we go over some ground rules." Tiffany sat back in an armchair near them and reached for a grape from the fruit bowl no one had touched yet. "Really, I have seen some of the worst-behaved tributes from your district."

Beetee looked in pain. Nova pitied him for having to put up with this annually.

"Your aim is to build a relationship with the people of the Capitol," Tiffany told them. "Smile, wave, sign autographs, and most importantly carry yourselves with dignity and grace."

"They want your attention," Beetee added. "They want someone to root for. Let that person be you. Since you're not Careers, you're gonna need it."

Nova sighed through her nose. "So, to survive, we just act as though we're having the time of our lives," she concluded.

Wiress nodded eagerly. "Eventually you'll forget that you're not having fun!"

For some reason, Nova highly doubted that.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Author's note: Remember that 2012 Hunger Games phase that everyone went through? Remember when we vowed to leave that in the past? Yeah. This feels like something that shouldn't have made it through to 2023.

I have a lot written for this already, I can't lie. There's probably more where this came from. I'm not going to sit here and promise to finish whatever this story ends up being, but I'll make an effort to.

Live, laugh, love.