CW: Swearing in Hoover, Caden, Jann, and Rhys's POVs.

Hoover Galloway, 14, District Ten Male

Every inch of Hoover's body ached and stung as his stylist eased him into his parade costume. It was tight-fitting and incredibly heavy, which didn't help him at all. The stylist saw his stuffed cow and thought it was so cute, they made him a whole new outfit to match it.

Hoover explained to the prep team that he had brittle bone syndrome when they jerked him around trying to clean him up, and while they were gentler and made sure not to break any bones, the comment about "if you win, they'll fix that for you" wasn't entirely appreciated.

Hoover knew he was doomed. He knew it. His family and friends knew it.

The only thing comforting him was the fact that Billy had promised to look after Skye.

When his stylist told him to look in the mirror, Hoover tried not to wince at how gaudy the costume was. It was supposed to be a cowboy, which Hoover could see, but the number of sequins made him uncomfortably obvious. He didn't want to be in the spotlight. He didn't want people pitying him and reminding him how doomed he was.

The stylist handed Hoover his stuffed cow and smiled. "You look great!"

Hoover smiled. As silly as the costume was, he knew the stylist put a lot of hard work into it, and honestly, the fact that they were inspired by his prized possession was sweet. "Thank you," he replied.

"Are you ready for the parade?"

The thought of standing in that chariot made his blood run cold, as he imagined everything that could go wrong in there. He nodded quickly and the stylist gave him a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. They will put a shackle on your ankle when you go in there. You'll be perfectly safe."

It didn't help calm Hoover's nerves in the slightest. Still, while his smile became more forced, he smiled all the same. His heart began to pound as he got closer to the stables, but the sight of the horses calmed him. It was almost like home. Almost. He was even allowed to pet one of the horses as the finishing touches were put on him.

That was when his very annoyed district partner stalked into the chariot. Hoover looked up at her and began to innocently warn her against scaring the horses… and felt a pang when he saw her in a pink, marbled jumpsuit with an equally pink cowgirl hat.

Dawn rolled her eyes. "They train these horses for all their lives," she replied bluntly. "They're fine. Me, on the other hand… Fucking hell."

As he carefully climbed into the chariot, Hoover realized with another pang that more eyes would be on him. He looked around for something to hold onto, but there was nothing. Only a chain around his ankle kept him "on" the chariot…or would be what dragged him behind.

"You okay?" Dawn asked.

Hoover shook his head. "I don't want to fall out."

Dawn frowned at him, and for a moment, Hoover worried that the older girl would make fun of him. "You won't."

Hoover had toyed with the idea of asking Dawn to be his ally. She seemed kind of mean, but definitely, someone who could keep him safe in the arena…if he made it past the bloodbath, that is.

The odds of her agreeing were low, but would it really hurt to ask?

What the hell? he thought. You miss all the shots you don't take.

"Do you…want to be allies?" he asked carefully.

A pained look crossed Dawn's face, and Hoover immediately had his answer. Dawn slowly shook her head. "Sorry, kid."

Hoover deflated. "Oh… Okay. Sorry."

The chariots lurched forward and Hoover felt his heart jump in his chest. However, when he looked around at the overwhelming crowd, he noticed Dawn's positioning in the chariot.

She wouldn't ally with him, but perhaps she would last least keep him from breaking any bones tonight.

That would have to do.

Jann Cotton, 18, District Eight Male

Jann found that he didn't mind his parade outfit, a jet-black crop top, black rugged jeans, and a massive patchwork cloak with dark fabric and silver stitching. Sure, it was an interesting choice, but it showed off his muscles and scars.

I would hope so, anyway. I worked really hard for those!

Besides, the more sponsors he had under his thumb, the better.

According to Cordy, some people were already fawning over him. Jann wanted to laugh at that. Fawning over him over a Reaping? Sure, he volunteered, but that just showed how shallow the people at the Capitol were. They ate their fancy food, and lounged around in their fancy homes, all while the districts slaved away and murdered children like Krystian every year.

How nice it must be, he thought bitterly, to have your head so far up your own ass that you have no idea what shit smells like?

Of course, it didn't matter if people noticed what he was up to. What mattered was that people noticed him, loved him, and wanted him to make it far into the Games.

The only people that had to notice his plan was that bitch Puer Begonia and the snake in charge of the shitshow commonly known as Panem, and by the time they did, it would be too late.

It didn't matter if he died in the arena. In fact, Jann was comforted by the idea of seeing Krystian and Luke again. What mattered was that he got the job done, and in order to do that, he needed to appeal to the rich assholes in the Capitol, play nice, and smile for the cameras.

They would love him, and the Gamemakers would fear him.

A shift under his cloak brought him back to reality, and he noticed Blanca had huddled underneath it.

Jann sighed. The poor kid didn't deserve any of this. He shifted his cloak just a bit to allow Blanca to have the right amount of cover. He adjusted the red strings hanging from her hat to hide her face just a little more. As much as she needed to show her face to the sponsors, that advice would only fall on deaf ears, if Blanca even heard it at all. Besides, the Capitol was already sending this poor girl to her death. They didn't have the right to expose her to the bright lights and imposing cameras that made her uncomfortable.

They had no right to turn her into a spectacle.

Jann took a moment to look around at his competition. He took note of his two fellow outlier volunteers, the boy from Nine and the girl from Twelve. There was also the Careers, a group he was sure he could break into if he played his cards right…with hilarious results depending on the dynamic.

He thought back to Krystian's strategy when he was in the arena so long ago. The girls from Three and Twelve were resourceful and intelligent, and while Krystian had outlived them both, they helped him get further than the bookies predicted. They had him as a bloodbath, but he made it to eleventh place before the Gamemakers audaciously decided that a lone wolf just wasn't a part of the narrative.

Perhaps Jann could repeat the strategy…but with some adjustments. After all, the girl from Three looked rather intelligent despite her timidness.

Still, he couldn't rule out the Careers, if they would take him.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. Who said he had to decide between the two alliances? After all, Amber Reeves had pretended to join the Careers while she set up an ambush. Sure, the plan failed miserably, but she had been betrayed.

If he could trust his allies, his forming plan had a shot at working.

He just had to see who he could trust, but that was tomorrow's problem.

Tonight, he would smile, wave, and flirt with the crowd.

Tonight, he would make an impression on the Capitol.

Tomorrow, he would make an impression on his competition.

Florin Cassia, 18, District Eleven Male

Florin felt as though he could move mountains and hearts with the ensemble he wore.

Leaves were woven into his hair, and he wore a bright red crop top that was soft, but see-through, as well as flowing red pants. Both were dotted with silver gemstones. "It's supposed to be a strawberry," his stylist, Lorenzo, explained. The outfit itself was a bit too sheer for comfort, but confidence went far in these situations.

Florin did wonder if the people of the Capitol would recognize the strawberry motif of this creation his stylist had worked so hard for. He hoped so. After all, having hard work go unrecognized was just horrible, even if that hard work was to make him look pretty before he was sent off to die.

He looked around at his fellow tributes. Some looked intimidating, like the Ones and the girls from Six and Ten. Others looked scared or shy, like the girl from Eight and the boy from Ten.

Then, his eyes fell on District Two's chariot, and Florin immediately cursed himself for the way his heart nearly jumped out of his chest. Standing next to the chariot, gently stroking the neck of the horse, was the most beautiful work of art he had ever seen. He was tall, dark, and handsome, with muscles that could have been sculpted from marble. He donned a stark white tunic and pants that had layers of bright silvery-white chainmail. He donned a headpiece that looked like it could have been forged in the heart of District Two, with leaves from a laurel tree woven into his hair.

A knight in shining armor.

Florin didn't realize he was staring until the boy looked up from the horse and their eyes met.

Florin once again cursed himself as the boy's eyes widened a bit before immediately looked away shyly.

He was in a relationship…but when did that matter? Not to mention he was going into the Hunger Games. Clementine would forgive him for trying to find some happiness before he passed.

The boy was a Career, and likely looked down on him, but he was just so handsome, and his reaction to Florin's staring was far from any reaction he expected from a Career.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Florin looked away from the chariot and towards Tal, who was looking at him with concern in her eyes. She was dressed in a similar outfit to Florin, but it was clear from her headpiece "I'm okay," he replied. "Just…distracted."

Tal frowned. "You sure? You were looking pretty intently at the Two's chariot. Were they messing with you?"

Florin shook his head. "Not at all. Just had a new composition come to mind. I'd like to get one final piece out before the Games begin."

Tali's frown deepened, and it was clear that she didn't believe him. Then, her eyes went wide and to her credit, lowered her voice to a whisper when she said, "You have the hots for one of the Twos!"

Florin blushed. "…is that bad?"

"Don't you have a girlfriend?"

"She'll understand."

"She'll…" Tal shook her head, brushing off the comment. "So, you're like…going to go for it?"

"I mean, I'll probably crash and burn but he might be receptive to my advances."

"He? So, it's the boy?"

"I mean, can you blame me?"

Tal shrugged. "I mean, I wouldn't know, but hey, if you think you have a shot, why not take it? What's the worst that can happen?"

Florin blinked. The worst that could happen was that the boy killed him in the bloodbath, but…there was something about him, something that separated him from his enigma of a district partner.

Something poetic…

Florin put on a small smile. Perhaps there was a chance, but he wouldn't know until he tried.

Caden Asher, 18, District One Male

Caden was all smiles and smugness as he was escorted to his chariot. His skin itched a bit from the golden paint his stylist draped him in, but it all paled in comparison to how magnificent he looked. His stylist had taken a page out of Cinna Markov's book this year, as he had donned a headpiece that glowed like candlelight and a silver toga. "A candle," she had explained as she put the finishing touches on him. "Let's just say I had plenty of inspiration in recent years."

Caden just grinned. He was going to blow everyone away.

When he reached his chariot, he found that Little Miss Full of Herself was already there, dressed in a similar outfit. "Well, you look fantastic," Safira said. Was she…batting her eyelashes?

"Thank you," Caden replied, trying not to let his brief annoyance show. "You look fantastic as well."

Safira hadn't given off a very good first impression, first stealing the volunteer slot from Label, then trying to flirt with him the moment they got in the car towards the train station. He wasn't entirely sure he bought her story about Label not wanting to volunteer. She seemed so enthusiastic about the whole thing, that the thought of her "suddenly" getting cold feet was…questionable to him.

However, as long as Safira seemed competent, which from what he heard, she was, who was he to complain? Caden could have done much worse for a district partner.

He mounted the chariot and looked around at the other tributes. "Look at them," Caden sneered. "Cannon fodder, all of them."

Safira scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Seriously. I mean, look at the little one." She motioned to the skinny boy from Six. "Five dollars says I can break his neck the moment the gong rings."

Caden laughed. "I love it when a Career launches next to a little outlier. It's always hilarious. It's like the Capitol wants us to get an early kill."

A mischievous look sparked in Safira's eyes. "Shame on you, Caden," she said teasingly. "Don't you know that they're less privileged than us?"

The two Careers laughed once again. Caden decided, right then and there, that Safira wasn't so bad. She was at least capable of keeping up with him, and that was all he could expect really.

"What do you think of our fellow Careers?" he asked.

Safira looked at the Fours, and then the Twos. "Well, they look strong, so that's promising. Still, I'd rather get to know them in training. Someone can look strong, but still be pathetic."

"If it comes down to it," Caden suggested, "I'll have your back if you have mine."

Safira considered it for a moment, then gave Caden a nod and a smile. "Deal." She extended her hand, and Caden shook it firmly.

The final call for tributes was blasted over the loudspeaker, and within a few minutes, the doors to the Avenue of the Tributes swung open. The cool summer evening breeze hit Caden, ruffling his hair, and the roar of the crowd hit him full force.

Caden puffed up his chest and put on the biggest, most confident smile he could manage. This was it. He was about to enter the world stage for the first time, not as a hopeful, or volunteer, but as a fully-fledged tribute from District One.

A future victor.

He wondered what Amos would think as his chariot glided into the world's view. Would he be worried? Doubtful. Proud? Should be. Caden also thought of what his family, particularly Baron and Slade, would think and say when they saw him on television.

He could already imagine them acting all happy for him but secretly fuming. After all, he did what neither of them could do, what they'd given him shit for his entire life.

Caden's grin widened as the chariot began to move, and a single thought reverberated in his mind.

Who's the best now?

Rhys Marcel, 17, District Three Male

Rhys was used to being around chatty, fun-loving people.

So far, the only member of his district team that was either of those was his escort.

His stylist was overly focused and required quiet to work on…whatever it was he was wearing.

His mentor was a good listener, but that was about it. Gaius had actually disappeared when they arrived at the Capitol, to say hi to his other mentor friends.

His escort harped at him a lot. Something about children being seen and not heard. (What a prick.)

As for his district partner…well…

Rhys wasn't entirely sure what Cordy's deal was. Whenever he tried talking to her, she froze and looked at him with wide eyes. Sometimes, she'd even squeak with surprise. Other times, she'd just stare blankly at him. So far, the only two facial expressions she seemed to be capable of were scared puppy and dead stare.

Fuck, he really missed Zander and Quinn. He missed them so badly that it hurt. His parents too. He even missed school, which said a lot about his situation.

He had laughed when he was Reaped, and he was still laughing and cheerful when he was on the train, but when he laid down for bed that night, and he realized that it wasn't his bed in his home, it all hit him like the train he was on, and he had cried himself to sleep that night.

A deep ache settled in Rhys's chest. Was this really it? Was he really going to be dead less than a week? Never see his friends and family again? Never see his eighteenth birthday? He was imagining the way he'd celebrate being out of the Reaping. Now, that would never happen.

"Fuck, this sucks," he muttered, trying to keep the panic he had felt the previous night rise up in him.

Cordy turned to look at him like he had just said the most intelligent thing she had ever heard in your life. "What?" Rhys asked defensively.

"You need help," was all Cordy said.

Rhys laughed dryly. "You think I'm a weirdo."

Cordy just blinked at him. "I never said that."

"You were thinking it," Rhys replied. "Don't worry. You're not the first, you won't be the last, take a number, get in line, and all that jazz."

This got a small smile out of Cordy. "It's okay. People think I'm weird too."

"Yeah, I know. So, you have a plan for this whole shebang?"

Cordy shook her head. "No."

"Oh good. I'm not the only one."

Truth be told, Rhys had no idea what he was supposed to do besides smile and wave. He supposed he could have ripped off his shirt and done something chaotic to put himself on everyone's radar, but perhaps that was going a step too far.

After all, he would have to deal with his stylist for the entire week, and, well, Rhys shuddered at the thought of offending her.

"Smile and wave?"

Cordy nodded. "That's what I was going to do. Statistics show that ninety-five percent of victors smiled and waved to the crowd during the parade."

Rhys hardly believed that. "Yeah, and eighty-six percent of statistics are pulled from the ass," he said jokingly.

Cordy shot him a look and Rhys knew immediately that he had fucked up. "I ran the numbers last night on the train to determine my strategy for this parade."

"Wait, seriously?" Rhys blinked. He liked to think he was intelligent. He was from District Three. He had to be intelligent to make it in the world, but this was a whole level of nerdiness that he couldn't even comprehend.

"Seriously. You should try it sometime." With that, Cordy turned away from Rhys.

Rhys sighed. "Look, I'm sorry if I offended you. I'm just…my flabbers are ghasted is all."

"It's a difficult situation for everyone involved," Cordy said curtly, "but you would do well to watch your mouth, or else you might offend the wrong people. Look at the girl from Six for example. She cursed at the Capitol on the Reaping stage. I doubt she'll win now."

Rhys shrugged. "Maybe she was under a lot of pressure. Or maybe she doesn't have a filter."

"Neither do you."

Rhys sighed as the doors opened and the anthem began to play.

It was true, yes, but did she really have to say it?

Vaughn Burchell, 17, District Five Male

Vaughn didn't want to get too big for his incredibly ugly britches yet, but already, he knew there was a very high chance he would win.

His competition wasn't even that insane. The Careers were boring, his fellow outliers were equally boring if not more, and he had a cute girl on his side. An insufferable cute girl, but a cute girl all the same.

Vaughn didn't even have to fake his signature smug smile when he entered the stables and made his way towards the chariot.

It didn't take long for Leonie to appear as well, dressed in a tunic adorned with lightning. She looked like an absolute goddess in it. "You look lovely, Leonie," Vaughn said, hoping that Leonie would at least flirt back.

"I know I do," Leonie replied. "I appreciate your compliment though. You look…" She frowned a bit as she looked him up and down.

Vaughn just shrugged. "You don't have to say it. I look ridiculous. Wind turbines… Still, at least my arms are exposed. I can show off these guns." He flexed for good measure and Leonie rolled her eyes with a smile.

"Silver linings, I suppose," she said wryly. "So, since we're allies, how to you want to handle the parade? Hold hands, perhaps?"

Vaughn chuckled. "Didn't Saffra specifically tell us not to do that because it was too much like…" Damn, he could never remember her name. "Catnip and Peeta?"

Leonie's smile became sly, and she giggled. "Which is exactly why we should do it! After all, while we may never sell the Star-Crossed Lovers bit, we can at least show…district pride now, then maybe some romance after that?"

Vaughn hated how that made him blush. He wanted to say no. He wanted to tell her the truth, that he still hoped to get Oriane back. His conscience was screaming at him, telling him this wasn't right. Leonie still had a boyfriend back home, if he recalled correctly, and while he and Oriane were broken up, it still felt like a betrayal.

Then, he remembered that Oriane was the one who dumped him, for standing up for himself and defending his family. Oriane was the one who broke his heart, not the other way around, and she couldn't even be bothered to say goodbye to him, leaving him without any sort of closure.

No, Vaughn had nothing to apologize for, and if Oriane wanted to get back together, it had to be on his terms. Besides, she could hardly blame him for hooking up with Leonie. He was in the Hunger Games after all, and while he was certainly going to win, who could fault him for wanting a bit of companionship during the stressful days ahead.

He wondered what Oriane would think when she saw Leonie at his side. Would she be jealous? He sure hoped so. It wouldn't matter in the end though. His relationship with Leonie wouldn't last forever if you could even call it that. Vaughn wasn't stupid. He heard all about Leonie and her antics. He knew she was using him, so why not return the favor? Ultimately, none of it mattered. In the end, one of them had to die, and unfortunately for Leonie, it had to be her.

For now, however, he just smiled at her. "Whose to say we can't do both?" he said with a smug smile.

Leonie smiled back and only rolled her eyes slightly this time. "Sure. Both it is."

The chariots began to move, and Vaughn felt a rush of air and exhilaration as he and Leonie exited the stables and entered the Avenue of the Tributes. He reached for Leonie's hand, and she took it graciously.

Everything was going to work out. He had a plan, he had Leonie, and he knew he would be just fine.

Note: Edited because I can't discern dream from reality and I didn't write Vaughn's POV as a result.

The boys are back in town! I didn't intend for the chariot chapter to be all guys, but when I chose to swap out Florin and Tali, it happened. I decided to start using some chapter titles to hint at the arena a bit! See if you can guess what it is!

With that, we are finished with Pre-Games Round 1! Next chapter, we'll check in with our non-tribute friends and then it's time for training! I'm still delegating POVs for Round 2, but once I finalize pre-Game alliances, that should fall into place. If you have any tributes you wish to see your kid ally with, let me know! I can't make any promises but I'll try my best.

Additionally, while nothing will be set in stone until the bloodbath chapter is posted, I am getting to the point where I am going to have to decide who lives and dies in the bloodbath. While I won't be outright bopping kids whose submitters have vanished, I will be prioritizing people who are active over those who are not when deciding placements. If I haven't heard from you in a while, be it in reviews, Verses, or anywhere else, and you're still following this story, please send me a review, or a DM, just to let me know you're still here!

Until next time everyone!