TW: Very brief moment of animal injury mentioned in Vet's POV. Please DM me here or on Discord if you'd prefer a summary or would like to know what to skip.

Vetiver Brune, 18, District 10

Vet has never been more uncomfortable. The bed in the Capitol apartment is too clean. Too luxurious.

Vetiver Brune is not made for this luxury.

He's spent most of his eighteen years outside. Hunting, gathering, training, even sleeping. When he did go inside, it was generally for the betterment of the dogs.

Everything he's done is for his family. And even though the Hunger Games isn't in his plan, it makes no difference. He must win. He has to see his dad again.

(But when he looks at the faces that surround him, he simply cannot imagine a world where killing them would make him feel good.)

Blood splatters in his mind. But it's not human blood. It's Mavericks. It's the badger's. The blood spilling from the creature who has a piece of Maverick's fur tangled in its teeth. The smell, how could Vet forget it?

The sound of the pup's cries torments him. Or, are those his own cries?

He didn't see Jon at goodbyes. Did he make it home in time? Was he at the reaping?

Vet shudders. He's lived in isolation so long that he cannot remember the reaping protocol.

It wasn't until Becca said something to him that evening, something so nonchalant, that the dust cleared in his mind.

Everyone is required to attend.

What is going to happen to his father if he hadn't shown up?

"Oh God," Vetiver's voice does nothing to conceal his fear. Still in his sweatpants and t-shirt, he barges out of the bedroom. Rushing through the hallways, he nearly collides with the first person he's seen since the chariots ended.

(Vetiver is still getting used to that. But he's not sure he'll ever like it.)

The sullen face of Ellis Winslet, the only victor to win two Hunger Games, stares at the young boy.

"Calm down," he says softly. Vetiver didn't realize how much of a panic he had.

"My father-in trouble-my dad-I don't-" Vetiver's words struggle to stay coherent and his breathing does nothing but make the world around him spin. If Ellis wasn't holding onto his arm he would probably collapse and that still wouldn't save his father.

"Hey, hey. Slow down. Slowly inhale…and then exhale…I can't understand you," Ellis's calm tone brings Vetiver's breathing back down to normal, yet the world still spins and his father is still in danger.

He's going to stay in danger unless Vet can get his words aligned.

"My father…I don't think he made it to the reapings." A single sentence. That's all it takes for Ellis to understand. The way his eyes widen. The way his grip tightens on the boy's arm.

(Ellis had a family, too. And he did nothing as they were dragged away to the Capitol. Murdered for him to witness.)

"What's his name?" Ellis asks. Vetiver tells him and Ellis leads him to sit at the kitchen table. An Avox places a glass of water in front of them both. But all of Vet's limbs give way and any movement might end up killing him.

If not here and now, in the Games. And who would be left to take care of his dogs?

"I need to understand the situation, Vetiver," Ellis asks. It's a simple request, but one Vet can't find the words to comply.

He starts simply. With how the Brune's provide for themselves and their pack. He describes…a version of the injury. Brief enough for Ellis to understand. He explains the pressures put on them by the District, placed on them by the Capitol.

"He hadn't made it back from his hunt. I never…I never saw him." I never got to say goodbye.

The look Ellis gives him is the same one he's seen many times before. The same one he saw when he took the stage back in Ten.

Vetiver wasn't sure if he was trying to apologize or relieve him or both. It wasn't successful at any of it.

"Vet…" Ellis begins.

"No. I can't lose him. Please, please. He's all I have." Vetiver isn't prone to tears. But recently, it's all he can do to keep himself from breaking down.

Ellis leans back and Vet wishes he could get inside the mentor's head. Vet doesn't know much about Ellis. He knows he was reaped and won the 70th Hunger Games, then only five years later, was pulled into the 75th Hunger Games when the Capitol decided to reap tributes from the existing pool of victors. He knows he lost his wife, son, and daughter-in-law to the Capitol. And just when he thought he was safe, they sent both his grandchildren in.

(Ellis Winslet knows loss like no one else. Which may prove beneficial to Vetiver.)

"I'll…see if I can talk to the mayor. And I'll see if someone can check on your property. Please…don't get your hopes up," Ellis's words are tough and leave little room for hope, but it's just enough for Vet.

He's lived so long without any, even a light dash may hold him up.

Klara Esosa, 18, District 2

It's only their first full night in the Capitol, and the Capitol is more exciting than she thought it would be.

She didn't talk much to her allies before the chariots. It's more important to get a sense of who everyone else was. She decided on that strategy back in Two, and they had no intention of dropping it now.

Already, it's proving to be useful. Just as Klara expected, Amatus injected himself as leader and no one got in his way.

What they didn't expect was not one, but two requests to join the Careers. That took Klara off guard.

At least everyone in the Careers had the sense to not open the door to those strangers, not yet. As arrogant as Amatus is, he made the right decision.

(Klara isn't sure if that trend will continue.)

What they didn't expect is for any of them to intrigue her so much. Especially not someone from One.

She's not sure what specifically draws her to the quiet, unassuming girl. Maybe it's the way her eyes fall on everyone around her. The way she's making her assessments.

(It's smart. Klara would prefer to have her on their side.)

(She'd also prefer if the girl kept her discoveries about Klara to herself.)

But she won't know anyone's true potential until training the following day. For now, Klara is left alone to her own devices. Their mentor offered any advice before she went into her room. But Klara couldn't think of anything pressing to ask.

So many unknowns. Klara recalls a time when her life was filled with anything but. They were privileged, she knows they were.

Living on top of lies. Her father's actions will haunt her for the rest of her life. The consequences of his actions thrust her into a life they never expected.

But they've come to terms with it. At least, that's what she tells herself to help her eyes fall into the darkness at night.

(A much sweeter darkness than the ones that lived in her father's death trap.)

Maybe when they return as victor, they can pay to have those apartments fortified. To clean the Esosa name so horribly stained by a man who no longer shares a breath with the rest of the district.

He got off too easy, Klara thinks to herself when the nights are long. Parts of them know it's a horrid thought. The rest of her doesn't care.

Many what-ifs run through her mind. What if Eleanora joins the Careers? What if Dahlia? Will either of them improve her chances of returning to Two? What if they worsen it?

Klara knows they won't lay down their life for anyone. They never have. They never will.

A headache starts to form, so Klara forces her mind away from the future. There are too many possibilities, they can't even keep them straight.

She rolls over to their side and their gaze falls out the window. A small sight into the life of the Capitol. She's close enough to the ground floor she can see dozens pass by. Smiling. Laughing. A glass in their hands. Music fills the streets.

And the fighting hasn't even begun.

Is this what Klara's life will be like when it's all said and done? Will they cheer for them when she's crowned victor? Will they mourn the kills she's bound to claim?

(Will she mourn them too?)

She thinks about the blood on her father's hands. He knew what he was doing when he authorized the construction. When he cut corners. Too many dead to count.

(Some of these kids didn't ask to be here. What will Klara do in the face of that resistance?)

She flips around to the other side, her body shivering despite the temperate air.

This is no time for fear, they remind themselves over and over again. It takes time, but they're able to lull herself into a slumber.

(Not a restful one.)

No. This sleep transports her back to District Two. They're on the top floor of an apartment. Her apartment.

Her father's apartment.

She's, what, twenty stories in the air? It's hard to tell over the skylight.

They don't belong here. They've never belonged here.

The ground begins shaking underneath them and she stumbles across the collapsing concrete. With each step, they feel no closer to safety than they were.

But their mind and body won't let them stop moving. In the middle between flying and falling, Klara loses her grip on what's real and what's fake. The building is so real. The concrete, it's the same as in her own apartment. But the way everything moves is just too unnatural.

(It doesn't make a difference. She's terrified.)

Down, and down they go. Reaching for a light that's ever so diminishing as they fall into darkness.

But not even darkness can save them from the fear. If she's not careful, it'll stay imprinted in her body until the day she dies for real.

Bazooka Wildbrand, 17, District 3

Bazooka has spent the last few days surrounded by various faces and voices she struggles to distinguish. At home, she stopped trying a while ago. It's easy to get by in a District full of thousands of others without needing to distinguish them.

Bazooka is quite good at not drawing attention to herself. Which is why her…slip up nearly cost her everything.

(And that's why she had to get out so quickly. She's lucky this happened so close to the reaping. If it hadn't…)

Unfortunately, anonymity is impossible here. Everyone seems to want to know about the strange girl from Three who volunteered. And Bazooka doesn't really care about being known.

No. She's ready to get her hands dirty.

She fondly recalls the magnitude of her creation at home. The one that, to her dismay, alerted the authorities to her actions.

In retrospect, it might be the best thing that's ever happened to her. The materials here are sure to be grander. She can perfect her creation. She can expand her knowledge.

And she fully intends to use it all to win.

She's so eager for training to start that she wakes up earlier than her district partner and her mentors. The only people that surround her are the Capitol Avoxes. She can't tell if they're the same ones who served her the previous night. She relies on voice most of the time, but, well, that doesn't matter when they can't speak.

Oh well. Bazooka collapses to the couch and turns on the television to let the time speed by. As she expects, reaping recaps, outfit discussions, and Capitol bets fill the media.

The indistinguishable faces of her competitors flash through the screen, a convenient nameplate under each one. Unsurprisingly, praises are high for the Careers with little attention spent on everyone else.

Bazooka doesn't mind that. She doesn't need eyes on her. Not until she's ready.

"Hey," a voice sneaks up behind her and she turns to face her district partner. They've spoken just enough for her to be certain.

"Hey." She moves over to leave enough room for him to join her if he wishes. But he stays where he stands, his eyes focused on the propaganda.

Bazooka tries to make sense of it. He surely can't find it engaging in any way. It's the same shit they shove down their throats in school, except dialed up to a thousand. Here, where people enjoy being told what to think.

"Why…why did you volunteer?" The words surprise Bazooka. She's not sure why. Her parents asked the same of her during her goodbyes. She fabricated a version of the truth then, for their safety rather than her own. Better they didn't understand than know too much.

"Because I could," her words come out sharply, and Mishra is taken aback by it. "I could ask the same of you."

He clears his throat and pulls his gaze away. Bazooka doesn't really care why. But whatever she can throw his way as a distraction, she'll take it.

"You'll see." He pulls himself away from the room, and away from any further questions. Not that Bazooka had any.

She's more relieved he's gone than anything. The less energy she needs to spend on someone else, the more she can spend on her plan. It's hard not knowing for sure what the Capitol will provide her in training, but that makes brainstorming various possibilities all the more fun.

And of course, training will have more options than the arena will. She won't even know what arena she'll be in until she's in it. Her expectations need to be low, as annoying as that may be. She just has to remind herself that whatever they throw her way, she'll be ready for it.

Because when she gets into the arena, that's when the real fun will begin.

Davidson Zinaro, 16, District 6

That night isn't very restful for Davidson. He hadn't expected it to be. Everywhere he looks, he sees his sister.

He sees her at the dining table, talking to her mentor. He sees her on the television, dressed in Six's best, carried along by a chariot of horses. He sees her beside him.

And he can't help but think it's his fault.

His eyes begrudgingly open when a knock at the door brings him the words he's so desperate to avoid.

"Training."

With no other option, Davidson forces himself out of bed and dresses in his mandatory training outfit.

But when he looks in the mirror, it's not himself he sees.

So he stops looking and abandons this room of nightmares hoping the world can cut him some slack for five whole minutes.

Exa and Maude are talking on the couches and don't hear Davidson until he joins them.

"You recover from our showcase?" Exa asks. Davidson gives half a shrug.

"As good as I'm going to." He reassures the young girl. It does…something, he thinks, to alleviate some of her anxieties.

(He has a few of those he'd like to alleviate himself.)

"Join us?" Maude asks. Davidson does just that.

All things considering, Davidson appreciates his district partner and his mentor. Exa is strong, despite her younger age. And Maude is well adjusted, at least as much as Davidson could expect from someone who went through the Games and survived.

(Everywhere he looks, he sees her. Did she sit here? What advice did Maude give her? Did she take it to heart?)

(Was she scared?)

"I'm sure…this is a lot for you." Maude's voice brings him back to the grim reality that surrounds him.

"Everywhere I look, I see her there," Davidson says, his voice soft.

"I understand. And that's to be expected, Davidson." She leans forward, almost warning him of the revelations she's about to make. "Her being here…the impressions she left on the trainers, and the Gamemakers, they're all about to unearth themselves."

"I know." And he does. These thoughts, these realizations have all but taken over his concentration.

He had really just accepted her not being here and now he's thrown back into a black hole of repressed memories and he knows there's only more to come.

"It's not a bad thing, Davidson. She was well-loved. And you can be too, if you play it right." Maude's words drag him out of the hole.

"What?"

"I know it's weird to continue that role since she's no longer with us. But, I really think it'll help you stand out." Maude continues to explain the ins and outs of training that Davidson and Exa should expect, but Davidson lingers on her previous words.

She was well-loved.

When she was in the Capitol, Davidson watched every second of her screen time. But he never really listened to what the Capitol was saying about her.

It was praise.

There are many moments with Harleigh that Davidson remembers with a fondness that no one else seems to.

(Everyone around him, at school, they never saw the Harleigh that Davidson did.)

But if the Capitol did…

Davidson Zinaro's world shattered when Harleigh was reaped. It shattered again when his own name was called.

But Harleigh hasn't left him defenseless. And for the first time since he's arrived, he's now able to acknowledge that.

He thanks her for that.

Roman Euroka, 16, District 9

Roman lies on the Capitol-manufactured bed, with Capitol-manufactured clothes sprawled around him.

He's no stranger to physical exhaustion. He's actually come to relish in it. When his muscles burn, and his heart races, it means he's alive. He's fighting.

But here in the Capitol, it's a different kind of fight. One he'll never stop until he returns home or…

(Roman doesn't want to think about the alternatives.)

The sun makes an appearance and Roman knows training will begin shortly. He pushes himself up and reluctantly dresses in more Capitol-manufactured clothes. And despite nothing inside him wanting to, he finds himself in the living room.

His district partner isn't anywhere to be seen. Luca, their assigned mentor, asks him to take a seat.

"First day of training. How are you feeling?" Luca asks.

How is he feeling? Roman hasn't spent a lot of time thinking about himself. Ever since Ermias's name was called, Roman hasn't spent a minute thinking about anything else.

He always knew what he would do if it were one of his brothers called at the reapings. Deep down, he's always known that truth. On the surface, he just never thought it would actually happen. There are so many names in those bowls, and Ermias Euroka is the name they pick. Two slips of paper. Two too many.

"I guess I'm…overwhelmed," Roman says. It's not untrue, but something about saying it out loud…

"That's…natural. I felt the same way. Ha. That was so long ago," Luca's words muddle into something incoherent and Roman just feels pity for the old man. His arena left him with a head injury so severe his words frequently ramble off into nothing.

How long until training begins? Roman doesn't know what time he's supposed to be down there. But Hem hasn't made an appearance, and neither has his escort.

"I think you should start with the stations that you think will be your biggest weakness. Whatever that may be, you'll know better than me." Luca opens his mouth for another thought, but it never comes to light.

Roman doesn't think it's horrible advice. He's aware of his magnitude of weaknesses. But, how is he to decide which one's his biggest?

(When has he ever spent this long focused on himself above all else?)

The anxiety starts to rise again. Soon he'll be surrounded by everyone else, many like him volunteered to be here. He's seen them all already, at the chariots.

That was last night? How?

The hours are long and painful in the Capitol, but the days are too short. Because each one that passes brings him closer to the arena.

Time didn't pass like that at home. The hours with his siblings raced by too fast. Days were long and tiresome. But it's those hours that made it worth it.

(Home is the only thing that grounds him. It's what he's fighting for, now. Hell, isn't it what he's always been fighting for?)

"Please be there for them," Roman whispers to his mother as she pulls him into a hug. Something between a hiccup and a sob releases. Roman doesn't know what to make of it. He just hopes she can provide him with this one ask.

"Do you have to go? I don't want you to go," Moss pulls at his shirt, his face stained red. Roman knows he doesn't even have a full grasp of the severity of the Hunger Games. He's too innocent. Roman won't take that from him.

"You shouldn't have…volunteered…" Ermias says, his eyes falling to the floor.

The boy can hardly accept the truth they both secretly acknowledge. Roman's chances of survival, compared to the thirteen-year-olds.

But who is going to take care of them while he's gone?

And if he can't stop thinking about his family, how is he ever going to make it through these days in the Capitol?

Eleanora Darzky, 17, District 5

Eleanora is ready.

She's well rested on a few hours of sleep, with a plan of action laid out in front of her. The details have yet to be inputted, but that can come later. She now has a direct path to the alliance she desires, there's not a lot that will stop her.

She runs into Aleida on the way to training.

"I heard you made some enemies." Eleanora didn't intend to stop. She wants to be the first to training, to get a lay of the available stations, and to further develop that plan of hers.

"Enemies?" Eleanora repeats as she faces him. To her surprise, he doesn't have a drink in his hand. He needs one. He looks awful.

"Your…stunt with the Careers? What was that about?" He gestures for her to join him on the couch. But she doesn't move.

"Answer my question, and maybe I'll do the same." Eleanora's arms cross and her patience ticks down.

Aleida's eyes fall on the drink cart. He only looks for a second, but it's long enough for an Avox to pour him something. He hesitates before sending it away.

"A Victor friend of mine noted you approaching them. And then you left, and someone else approached them. And that person walked away much less pleased than you were. So I ask again. What was that about?"

Memories of last night rattle around Eleanora's brain. She remembers half of his comment, of course she does. She did exactly what she came here to do. What no one at home thought she had any capability to do.

"I asked to join the Careers." This actually takes the mentor off guard. And he laughs.

"That's what I figured. And?"

"And what?" Eleanora snaps back. A scowl on her face, and Aleida has the audacity to continue laughing.

Just like the mayor. Just like her parents. They won't be laughing soon.

"Did they let you in?" A simple question, really. A yes or no.

"Of course they did," she says. They'll see what I have to offer immediately. They're different than District 5.

"Alright. Well, I wish you would've told me."

"Why?" Eleanora didn't expect him to irritate her this much with his questions. She regrets not ignoring his words. She could be in the training room by now.

"Contrary to everything you seem to think, I'm here to help you. I've…seen these things unfold before, okay? I can help you navigate it." Eleanora almost laughs at how confident he makes himself sound. It's cute.

"I will keep that in mind. Can I go?" She wishes her district partner made some kind of appearance to further push her point, but he's still not here. For a moment, she wonders if he made it down already. She hopes not. It would only further frustrate her. Another disadvantage she gets placed on her.

"Whatever the Careers told you, or promised you, you're the first one they're going to betray. Keep that in mind, okay?" His words don't settle with her as she stands up and heads to the elevator. The only thing she's wanted since she stepped out here.

They all think they know better than me.

(I thought it would be different here.)

I'll show them.

Conrad hasn't felt comfort since his name was called for the reaping over fifteen years ago.

Eighteen-year-old Conrad had no idea what would be in store for him.

Thirty-three-year-old Conrad still hasn't figured it out.

Aleida left for the Capitol days ago, leaving Conrad in a strange silence. He hasn't been alone, truly alone, in ages.

He forgot how peaceful it can be.

But the peace is misplaced. Conrad knows how much danger he's in.

And Tatiana's warning sticks to his brain like a cancer.

He trusts Aleida. But Aleida drinks, a lot. Even a hint of Conrad's location to the wrong person…

He can't think about it. It'll eat him alive.

That would be less painful than whatever the Capitol offers him, he reminds himself.

The curtains stay drawn. Every other Victor knows Aleida's in the Capitol, which leaves his house is empty. So, Conrad can't offer a single reason for them to think otherwise.

But it's so early that Conrad rewards himself with a short peer out the top window. Looking out into the smog-filled factory of a District that Five lends itself to.

It reminds him of home.

He never thought he'd long for Six. Not for the Peacekeepers, or the smog. But for the beat-up old deathtraps he rode in.

For the adrenaline they granted him.

He doesn't ever think he'll feel like that again. Staying on the run grants him a different kind of adrenaline.

Coupled with anxiety, Conrad has long stopped wishing for it to be over.

He knows they'll never stop. The attractive bounty on his head proves him right.

He frequently wonders where the leader of the failed rebellion found herself. Kate Wakai, the woman who pulled him into this mess. He's long since lost contact with her.

(He'd long lost contact with everyone until Aleida stumbled into his life.)

Pulled in his own mind, he realizes how long he must've been staring out the window. With a quick glance to ensure no one saw him, he pulls away and slips back into the comfort of the darkness. He may find himself flipping through the television. Or maybe he'll continue to tinker with the appliances in the kitchen.

(But as he finds a way to kill the time, he's blissfully unaware of the stranger who had passed by. Another Victor, maybe. Or just a citizen enjoying some time off work.)

(Maybe it's better if he doesn't know. Maybe he can enjoy the peace, as long as it may last.

Maybe he'll finally stop having to run.)

sorry rb I love you I promise.

thank you em and goldie for helping me with words I struggled with them a bit.

uhhh yeah last chapter before trainings begin.

next round of pregames povs!

training day 1 pt 1: choux, amatus, eleanora, astel, dahlia, roman

training day 1 pt 2: ronan, klara, davidson, owain, vetiver, reagan

training day 2 pt 1: cali, exa, hem, becca, mori, oswaldo

training day 2 pt 2: mishra, valerian, tamin, bazooka, aizen, chaffinch

and there will be another subplot chapter thrown in there somewhere.

til next time

~moose