DISTRICT 1 MALE - AZRAEL THANATOS

I stand below stage, waiting to climb the steps to the crowded auditorium. My heart pounds, and my hands are slick with sweat. Rubbing them against the thick fabric of my black jeans, I bite my lip and watch the others around me.

The air conditioning clicks on beside me, making goosebumps pebble my skin. With a shiver, I continue to fight back the rising tide of bitter terror that is rising in my soul. Bile bites at the back of my throat, but I push that back too.

A voice comes over the loudspeaker. "Everyone please welcome Azrael Thanatos from District One! He's dashingly charming, but all too real. The Gamemakers are sure to have their hands full with this one!"

The crowd breaks into laughter and clapping at that pronouncement from Vaeyln Xiava, the Capital's interviewer.

I take a deep breath and let it out, steeling myself for this. It won't be easy at all, but I knew that the moment that I was Reaped. It doesn't matter now. I'll do what I need to. I always have. My past is riddled with dark places best left hidden, but through them all, I've always been a fighter.

It's kept me alive through the long, harsh years of my childhood. Fighting in the illegal underground ring has become my lifeblood. I've even killed a person or two. One of them was in cold blood. An interview shouldn't frighten me.

Each footstep echoes around the small underground hallway as I walk up the steps and shove aside the heavy black drape that covers the backstage entrance.

Brilliant lights blind me, and I blink away tears. After the dimness below stage, this seems like the sun is shining straight into my eyes. In a few moments, I'm able to see again, and my eyes are drawn to the huge screens. They're all honed in on my face.

I'd planned to hide my feelings. All of them. Just as my mentor taught me to. But despite the blankness on my face, my eyes give everything away. Their green depths smolder with an unholy fire as I scan the crowd.

Apparently, they like me despite my obvious anger, or perhaps because of it, because every person in the place comes to their feet, screaming and pumping their fists in the air. A dizzying sea of colors and lights undulate out in the darkened stands where the audience watches. I truly am on display for all of the world to see.

I take another deep breath, wishing I could close my eyes for just a minute. Just for one single moment to block out everyone and everything around me. But before I completely lose my nerve, Vaelyn grabs my arm and pulls me towards the two chairs at the center of the concrete stage.

"So... Azrael, you have some very interesting attire." She eyes my casual jeans and button up shirt with a raised brow.

I laugh, the sound cold and forced in my ears. "Yeah."

"Care to explain?" She waves for me to sit down.

I comply with an icy smile. "I don't like dressing up."

"I can see that. Man of few words too, eh?" She grins at me and leans forward; with a conspiratorial whisper, she asks, "Do you think you can win?"

Taken aback, I watch her with narrowed eyes for a few moments. Then I roll my eyes. "Every tribute here tonight is either going to be modest about it or say they'll win."

"And you, Azrael?"

"Me?" I smirk. "I think I'll win, of course, but the truth is, none of us truly knows the first thing about our abilities until we're put into a position to use them."

She nods and sits back in her grey chair.

I shift, trying to find a comfortable position. It's easy to guess what she'll start asking about, and I'm beyond nervous. I'm almost sick thinking about it. Sure, I can be cryptic or choose to lie, but I hate that I'm being forced into either of those positions. Questions about back home or my past should be strictly off limits. Period.

"Well, can you tell us a bit about the Reaping? I'm sure everyone's wondering how you felt. Coming from a Career district and all, you must've been quite proud to be picked for this."

I scoff, then run my hand through my hair. "Proud? No."

"You weren't?" Her eyes widen, and then her brows draw together in a frown.

Another laugh bubbles out of me, this one more nervous and tinged with amusement. "No. I wasn't."

"Then were you scared?"

I sigh. She'll never figure this out. People in the Capital only understand two emotions about being Reaped, really. Being scared or being proud. And maybe being numb. They won't get what I'm about to say next. "I wasn't scared. Nor was I devoid of feeling. I was livid."

Her lips thin, and her pencil thin brows come even closer together, almost touching in the center of her forehead. "You were what?"

"Angry. I hate you all for this."

She gasps softly. "Surely you don't mean that. I mean, it's not our fault you're here."

"And just whose fault is it, then?" I challenge, crossing my arms and leaning back in the hard chair. This stupid thing reminds me of an electric chair used to punish criminals. And that's what I feel like right now. A criminal.

The crowd goes silent, the quiet deafening in the wake of the murmurs and cheers.

"You rebelled."

"And you decided this should be our punishment for it."

"That's a rather..." She glances around the auditorium. "A rather interesting viewpoint, Azrael. Are you sure that's really what you think?"

I glare at her. There's no way I'm revising my opinion of them. This is all their fault. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"It's understandable that you'd be upset with this, I suppose." She examines her fingernails, clearly indicating that she does not, in fact, believe that it's understandable. "Let's move on."

"Yeah, move on." I give her a feral smile.

Even the lightweight button up I'm wearing is making me sweat. Or maybe it's just the nerves causing that.

"Do you have family waiting back home?" Vaeyln asks.

I stare down at the grey concrete beneath my black and white sneakers. "Maybe... I'd like to think at least one of them is."

"What do you mean?"

"My brother might be," I whisper, unable to meet her gaze.

"I'm sure he's watching right now and cheering you on."

"Maybe," I repeat.

"What's his name?"

"Tav." His name catches in my throat.

"What about a girlfriend? You must have one."

I look up at that and smile, fighting off the tears threatening to spill down my cheeks. "I sort of did. But she's sick. Probably going to die. I doubt she's coherent enough to know I'm here."

"I'm so sorry."

"Whatever..." I brush it off, struggling to recompose myself.

With a few deep breaths, I bring myself back under control and meet Vaeyln's gaze steadily. "I don't think she'll be there when I get back."

"And her name?"

"Persephone." I look out at the crowd. "She was the only reason to win this thing... But I found out just before leaving that they don't expect she'll live past my first day in the arena."

The crowd gasps and boos.

"Sad, huh?" I mumble. "Someone as sweet and loving as she is shouldn't die like that." I'm not making sense anymore. I'm just rambling because my pain is overwhelming my rationality.

The buzzer has to sound soon. I can't take much more of this.

Vaeyln leans forward and rubs my arm. "You keep your chin up, Azrael. Keep believing she'll be there when you get back."

I bite my lip to hold back a bitter sob as I nod at her. "Thanks. I think you should end this. Sorry... I just... I can't do this. Can we be-" I cut off and shake my head.

Getting up, I flee the stage. Tears streak my cheeks as I shove past rows of astonished tributes. I can tell no one expected me to fall apart, but thinking about my dying fiancée is all it takes. She means the world to me, and I know the doctors are right. She won't be there to greet me if I win.

The guy from 2 - Alexander, I think -snickers as I shove past the girl from 2. I don't acknowledge him as I race down the hallway. Peacekeepers shout at me to stop, but I don't. Taking the turns sharply, I find a hidden nook behind the stairs to the outside world and collapse.

The tears come full force then, and I just sit there, crying until the Peacekeepers come and force me to go back with them to where the other tributes are waiting.

"Can't handle the pressure, Thanatos?" Alexander sneers.

"You wouldn't understand because you've never cared about anyone in your live, Monte," I hiss.

"Never needed to. What kind of a Career cries in front of everyone, you coward?"

It takes everything in me not to kill him then and there with my bare hands. My throat tightens, and I step towards him. My fists clench at my side, but the Peacekeepers tug us away from each other before I can punch him.

His last taunt rings in my ears. "You'll be the first to wet my blade with blood in that arena. Count on it."

"We'll see," I whisper to him. "We'll see."

~~~~

DISTRICT 2 MALE - ALEXANDER LE MONTE

Vaelyn Xiavia was as beautiful as they say, with her elegantly arranged scarlet hair and wide green eyes. She was also, unfortunately, just as arrogant. The kind of woman who played men like they were Ken dolls. Which was why Alexander liked her immediately. Over-confidence blinds people, makes them susceptible to manipulation because they think they're invincible. The amusement gained from watching her prance around like she was the queen of the world was a bonus for him.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, now we have the young man from District 2. He caught your attention with his charm, and blew you away with those beautiful eyes - Alexander le Monte!"

A roar of applause came from the crowd, signaling his turn to be interrogated. He loosened his navy blue tie as he walked, glad that his mentor could no longer try to strangle him with the piece of cool silk. He plastered an easy smile on his face, hiding the discomfort caused by the fitted black suit.

When he walked onto the stage, the stage lights turned to focus on him as he made his way to where the Host sat. From where he stood, the audience looked like a mass of disorientated, multi-colored pixels. He took a seat on a grey cushioned chair beside the woman who was wearing a long, formal golden sequin dress that looked more expensive than real gold itself and hugged her body like a second skin. She may not be exactly the type he'd like, but from a purely male point of view, she looked strikingly sexy.

"Alexander, my, don't you look good?" She starts, with a grin that showed teeth brighter than the white lights shining on them.

He laughed. "I do, don't I? This tie matches my...beautiful eyes, was it?" A frown flickered on her face at his blunt mockery of her introduction, but in a flash she was laughing with the crowd. The laughter subsided after a few seconds, and she continued.

"Now, Alexander, you come from quite a famous family. We all remember the killing spree of Victoria Kendall in the 85th Games, and Gabriel le Monte's impressive survival skills in the 88th. The son of two past Victors, do you think you'll be able to continue their legacy?"

He couldn't help the smirk that twisted into his face. What an expected question. "Of course," His interviewer seemed unsatisfied with his straightforward answer, her eyes trained on him as if trying to prompt him to continue.

When it became obvious he wasn't going to, she forced out a chuckle. "I can tell you're confident. But surely, there must be some obstacles you think you'll possibly face?" Her eyes were cold, and practically screamed at him not to give such a brief answer again.

That wasn't a problem, though. Alexander had spent a large amount of time studying his competition - the way they moved, how they fought and whether they could kill without mercy. "I suppose, in terms of dangerous opponents, Achmetha is the most prominent threat. He stands out to me the most. He's strong, ruthless and not solvable with a mere alliance. But he also happens to be a minor problem." She looked surprised at his last sentence, the way he'd described the boy didn't sound like a minor problem at all. "The fact that his ruthlessness is so pronounced makes him an obvious enemy to competitors, it's a mistake he made. I'm focusing more on surviving the arena which apparently will be rather tough this year. More than likely, he would be killed by someone else."

If Vaelyn didn't fully understand, she didn't show it.

"Interesting...moving on from that, everyone has someone they're fighting for. Who's that special person, Alex?" Of course she'd ask something like that. Alexander had prepared for it beforehand, telling himself that he'd be fine, that he'd simply talk about his parents - making them proud and all that. But then his face flashed in his mind, and all the despair came back to him again.

Dead. They told him that Ryan was dead, murdered. That Ryan was gone. For a long time, the news failed to sink in. It seemed as if he was floating, but the weight in his chest felt like the entire world had been carved into his heart. It was a weird experience, that he, someone usually so unfeeling, was feeling so many things at once. Only when he tried to sleep, did it finally hit him. Dead. Gone. Ryan had left him, all alone in a world full of dolls.

The crushing pain of his first loss never quite left him, lingering like a dark cloud in his mind. Victory, once achieved often enough, becomes meaningless. And yet, every time he fought, he put all his strength and ability into crushing whoever dared to go against him, into squeezing the fight out of his opponent, in hope that their pain would take away his. But the one thing he so desperately wanted to leave him, from some cruel twist of fate, became the only thing that stayed with him forever.

"No one." He responded, hoping that he hadn't seemed too troubled by the question, that would only lead to probing. He wasn't lying, technically. He wasn't fighting for anyone that still exists.

"Aw, come on," Vaelyn urged, obviously noticing his unwillingness to answer. "There's no need to be shy," Her smug tone made him want to bash her on the head with the metal chair he was sitting on, and he struggled to calm himself.

"I fight for myself, and no one else."

She pouted, but didn't comment further - a smart move, considering her life was in potential danger otherwise. "Very well then. Tell me, how much do you desire to win, Alexander?"

He stared at her, for a moment, as if he didn't quite understand. Then he laughed, and the confused audience laughed with him. He laughed without bothering to hide the insanity that seeped through the cracks often so carefully held shut.

"I don't desire to win, Ms Xiavia. If I win, I win because I've killed everyone else. Desire doesn't bring anything," Whispers rose in the seats, and even the admittedly collected woman in front of him seemed taken aback. There were murmurs of agreement and a slight note of fear. Good. Now they will no longer think of him as a pretty face with pretty words.

"I see. Well, then...thank you, for your intriguing interview. May the odds ever be in your favour." She gives him a smile, then rises, her hand gesturing at him like an auctioneer would display a rare piece of work as he stands. "Ladies and gentlemen, Alexander le Monte!"

And the crowds go wild.

~~~~

DISTRICT 3 MALE - ACHMETHA

I looked at myself in the mirror and flashed a grin, trying to look as genuine as I possibly could. I hated - no despised - this part of the games. The interview with the small minded host, Vaeyln Xiavia, would be grueling at the very least.

I straightened my tie, and glanced one final time into the mirror. My usually wild brown hair was slicked back with a little sweep in the front. My suit was completely black, minus the stark white tie and undershirt. I looked like a fancy bureaucrat. Come to think of it, I was about to lie like one too.

Chuckling slightly, a real smile appeared on my face. Good, It'll be easier to deceive everyone that way. I thought to myself.

"Next up is a charming young man from the third District, Achmetha!" I heard Xiavia exclaim, her voice rich with anticipation.

That was my cue. Walking past the tributes from District Nine caused me to smile a little. The girl, Roxanne, gave me a thumbs up. Nodding to her I saw Threadson frown before slipping up the stairs.

I strolled in a second later like I owned the place. I sat on a cream colored couch facing her. I looked relaxed, yet inside I was as tense as a wound up spring. I could feel a slight tremble in my hands; undetectable by anyone. I could feel myself starting to perspire along the edge of my hair. My smile was nearing its breaking point while I waited for the seeming never ending applauded to cease.

She smiled, relaxing at the false impression my body was giving. "Welcome, Achmetha, how does it feel to be here?"

"Well, to be honest it's amazing. Though a little nerve wracking." I flashed a sheepish smile as I lied. More like tiring. Dealing with so many imbeciles was annoying, and was maddening to put up with. Then there's the people who seem to think they'll be staining their primitive weapons with my blood.

"I hear you've been working on a type of weapon." She looked at the cameras. "Mind telling all of us what it does?"

I nodded, figuring that this was coming. I just didn't realize she'd lead with it. "Certainly. It's a bullet that paralyzes anyone it touches. Also, it releases a gas that numbs them to the pain of finishing off their lives."

It wasn't a total lie. It did paralyze them and released a gas. They wouldn't feel anything because they would already be in so much pain that they would never feel the knife carving out their hearts. Not that I cared if it helped them; I loved to watch them writhe in pain.

"My, my, that's amazing. What's the reason behind numbing them?" Her eyes glinted with a hidden challenge.

I took it in stride. "It's not for my sake I can assure you, but for the audience and the families watching. I, as you should know, love to watch people suffer. It shows who is the strongest."

She laughed nervously. "What caused you to have this outlook?"

"Watching the games of course, but that's not all. I was sent to a mental institute by my feeble-minded parents who feared me. I saw so much and learned a lot from there." I noticed my grin was trying to turn into a scowl. Like how to conceal what I truly am.

Breathing in and picturing everyone lying at my feet dying kept my emotions in check. This started to help me calm down. Though what truly helped was the need for a sponsor that kept me calm.

"Oh, I think Rycotta is going to have so much fun with you. Twisted and insane." She looked confident. "Aren't you worried about the competition?"

Time to play naïve. I let my smile waver as to make it seem I was nervous. "Not really. I honestly can't tell who is a threat and who isn't. Heck, I don't even have any allies because of this. Unknowns are far too much of a risk for me."

The crowd made a pitying noise. I couldn't believe they actually bought that! It seemed like a really transparent lie in my opinion.

In truth, roughly half of the tributes were allied with me. Some knew of the others I was allied with; others, however, thought I was just desperate. I Knew that a few were teams too, and logically, I joined in with them.

"Oh my, so you're going to be a lone-wolf? That's a dangerous game to play." She acted worried, but I knew she was just acting. Her voice seemed to flat, and her eyes weren't nearly as wide as the should be.

"Indeed," I laughed. "But then again I'm used to it."

The crowd hushed. "What do you mean by that? Don't you have any friends routing you on?"

I rolled my eyes. "People like me don't have friends."

"How about your family?" She leaned in close enough for me to smell the expensive perfume she wore.

"Like I said my parents are to dimwitted to appreciate what I'm doing." I could feel myself starting to get emotional. "And before you ask, no I don't have any siblings that I know about."

I faked a yawn. "Could we talk about something else? Anything other than my tech."

"Of course, we don't want district 3's shining star to be bored." She laughed slightly. "How are you liking the Capitol?"

I smiled. "It's great; it's very colorful."

"Who do you think will be the first to die?" she asked.

"The weakest of course! My bet will be that twelve year-old boy," I stated.

This seemed to anger the crowd. Obviously they rallied behind a underdog. It was simple psychology that they would.

The buzzer sounded before she could reply.

Nodding to the crowd and waving to the cameras, I stood. As I walked off the stage I heard her say, "That was the charming Achmetha. What a lovely interview it was."

Walking back into the room underneath the stage I saw Demetriot, the District 11 male, talking to the District 6 female. I think her name was Gloxinia. I could tell she was pretty enough to manipulate most of the weaker minded people. Not me however, my mind was strong enough to resist.

~~~~

DISTRICT 4 MALE - BECKETT MALEN

Beckett stared at the stage from where he stood at the front of the line. Sweat spilled from his pores and soaked his itchy suit, and every now and then he failed to resist the urge to scratch. He was next in line and, as much as he tried to pay attention, he couldn't catch a full sentence of his district partner's interview. She was confident with her words, and had a posture a high-standing Peacekeeper would die for. Sponsors would rain down on her by the bucketful, no doubt about it. But Beckett? He knew himself better than anyone. He was nothing like the other tributes he'd seen thus far. Someone had already given him the nickname "Softie."

"Let's hear it for Anastasia of District Four!" the host boomed.

Anastasia bowed before strutting off stage, cheers ricocheting down the hall the remaining tributes waited in. As she passed him, she patted his shoulder and uttered a brief, "Good luck."

"And now," the host, Vaelyn Xiavia, said, "Please give a warm welcome for our District Four male tribute, Beckett Malen!"

What if I say the wrong thing? What if I'm not good enough? What if they don't like my answers? What if I trip, or puke, or offend someone? What if--

Someone elbowed him in the back from behind, and when Beckett refused to turn around, the person snickered. It was probably someone from Five. Taking a deep breath, he took his first step onto the stage. As soon as he was visible, his face appeared on either side of the stage on massive screens. Lights shot over to him in a blinding fashion. At one point he stumbled, nearly falling flat on his face, but caught his balance just before he tipped too far. As if his limp wasn't a downside as it was. As soon as he found the chair he ceased his clumsy walk and sat.

Vaelyn reached out for a handshake, and Beckett returned the favor with a nervous smile. She waited a few seconds after releasing his hand before wiping her hand on her pant leg. I've already messed up, Beckett thought, panic rising. Please just start the questions so we can get this over with.

Thankfully, she did. "So, Beckett, how are you liking the Capitol so far?"

What to say, what to say...erm... "Well, uh, it's different. Definitely enjoying the lack of fish smell."

This comment earned him a few hearty chuckles from the crowd, and he mentally sighed with relief. He wasn't on their bad side. But the night was still young.

"I'm sure you are. Speaking of fish, what was it like for you when you were reaped into the Games?" Vaelyn had a soft smile playing on her lips, hands clasped over her knee. She was making it a lot easier on Beckett than the other tributes. The air around her radiated kindness and warmth. Beckett found himself relaxing in his chair.

"Well, it sure was a surprise. But it's a surprise for all of us, isn't it? It's not every day you get chosen for a fight to the death on national television, is it? I sure didn't think I'd end up here, wearing this itchy son-of-a-gun..." Beckett trailed off to scratch his shoulder.

More of the audience laughed this time, pleased with his response. He was obviously getting along better than a few of the other tributes, who had ended up offending the citizens greatly.

"What about your family? Have you left anyone behind that will miss you?"

Beckett thought about this one. There really wasn't anyone waiting for him. But he knew he was waiting for someone. "If you mean people missing me, no. But there's one person I'd like to see one more time. Sadly, him and I aren't on very good terms at the moment. Not for several years, that is."

Vaelyn gave him a sympathetic look, and the crowd followed suite. Beckett raised an eyebrow. It wasn't that tragic. His former best friend simply wanted nothing to do with him. The Capitol didn't really care. "That's unfortunate," the host said. "But who knows? Maybe if you win you'll be able to see him again."

"Oh, I don't think I'll win," Beckett said without thinking. A few confused mumbles rose from within the audience. He gulped. Did I say the wrong thing? Did I finally mess up? Oh no, oh no, I've really done it now...

"What do you mean by that?" Vaelyn's gaze was similar to the crowd's.

Beckett glanced at the line of waiting tributes before answering. "You have to kill to make it back home in these Games, right?"

"Correct. But I don't see why--"

"Exactly. You see, I won't play by those rules. If you expect me to lay a finger on any tribute when the game starts, you're sadly mistaken." Beckett held a new sense of confidence, and crossed his arms over his chest. He already messed up, so what was the point in holding back now?

"But how will you defend yourself? Surely you don't plan on letting others kill you?"

"You're right. I'll defend myself but you won't see me with a knife or a bow in my hands." Beckett paused, pondering whether he should let his strategy be known. "I'm smarter than I am strong. Expect to see me with ropes."

Vaelyn looked relieved. "Whew! I thought we had a tribute that wasn't going to put up a fight. But now I see I was wrong." She turned to the crowd. "I've always had a thing for the water, he's a sure contender in these games. A mix of both brawn and brains."

This comment earned a round of applause. It was more for the host than for him, but he didn't mind. He was pretty sure he'd played his cards in such a way that he wouldn't be seen as a target. The weak could kill themselves off in the minds of the strong. Sure, Beckett was "supposed" to be a Career, but with this interview, it was obvious that he was not.

Vaelyn leaned over to check the timer before asking another question. "Even though you say you won't win the games, do you think it's a possibility?"

"I honestly couldn't care less if I could or not. It all comes down to who kills who, and if anyone comes after me."

The crowd looked taken aback, gasps making their way to his ears. Vaelyn furrowed her brows. "So what you're saying is, is that you don't care if you live or die?"

"Nope. I couldn't give a single darn if I do. There are some people out there that really deserve to live beyond this silly competition, and I know for a fact I'm not one of them. No one is waiting for me. I have no clear aspirations, no set goals. As long as the person will do something for the better in the end, I'd gladly die at someone's hand."

As soon as he finished his last word, the buzzer went off. Beckett rose from his place and limped away from the glare of the lights and the surprise of the audience, not giving Vaelyn a chance to wish him good luck or whatever mandatory outro she was supposed to give.

Off the stage he went, marching past the line of confused tributes. One of them reached out and grabbed his arm. "Hey, Softie."

Beckett turned to the boy. He'd met him during the Parade and, despite his hatred of the nickname, they had agreed to truce. He couldn't really say no to the guy: it just wasn't in his nature to deny people things. "What do you want?" It was difficult to keep the fresh annoyance out of his voice.

"Just wanna say good job out there. You really fooled 'em. Not going to kill anyone my ass!" Cameron chuckled, wiping a fake tear from his eye.

Beckett was indifferent. He stared with a face devoid of emotion. "I'm really not going to kill anyone." His tone was too serious to be taken for a joke.

Cameron raised an eyebrow and Beckett shoved past him. There was a place at the back of the line where chairs were set up for those that had already been interviewed. Finding his chair, he sat, and began fiddling with the woven bracelet he'd brought as a token. I won't stoop so low as to put my life above anyone else's. I won't kill for the sake of my own life. It's not right. How or where we all grew up doesn't matter. No one's importance triumphs over another. I just wish that the people here would realize that. Maybe someday. But for now, killing reigns, and I'm about to go right in the thick of it.

~~~~

DISTRICT 6 MALE - TOBY WINTERS

The Capitol had strange ideas as to what presentable clothing was. In Toby's mind it was a nice shirt, preferably blue with horizontal red stripes, and dress pants. That was not what they had dressed him in. Rather, he was dressed up in a fancy red and black suit that fit him snug, and the tightest black pants he'd ever worn before. Around his neck was a black tie that felt like it was choking him. The only thing he had control of was his hair--which he insisted was slicked to the left instead of the right.For the past few minutes he'd been waiting backstage for his turn to go up there and talk. Narian was a few feet away with their mentor, talking to the woman quietly. Her short brown hair was styled in a messy sort of way, very pretty, and she had sparkly makeup around her face. Toby didn't know much about dresses, but he knew that hers was perfect.It was a dark forest green dress with puffy sleeves, the color making her eyes pop. Her muscular body looked more feminine than he'd seen it before. Back in the district they didn't talk too much. She was quiet and he was loud. She had no friends and he had tons...yet seeing her now, Toby almost regretted not getting to know her before.Maybe it's a good thing, he thought. If I'm to win it means she has to die. So since I don't know her...it won't be anything. Death is death, after all.Still, he hated having nothing to say and nothing to do. So he walked over to her and placed a big grin on his face, "You ready?"She shook her head.Toby chuckled. "Guess it's a good thing I go first, huh?" She didn't say anything. "Well, let's hope we can make some friends out there. We both need sponsors, and at the very least we can always share with each other, right? So if you get injured and I get something to heal me, I'll help you. If I don't win it might as well be you."She nodded ever so slightly.Her silence was worse than the tie, and he coughed, a little too loudly. His words got louder the more he talked, "I'm really hoping not to make a fool of myself. My Mom says I do that a lot." He laughed. "Dad says it too."Before he could say something else, or she could run away from him, there was a roar of clapping and the sound of a female speaker. "Now, we have Toby Winters, our District 6 male tribute!" Vaelyn Xiavia said. She had a pleasant voice that wasn't too loud or too quiet. "Come on up here, Toby."Without waiting, or letting his nerves get to him, he did. Toby's smile didn't falter in front of the lights, and he managed to wave at the crowd. Be nice, he thought. Don't look bad. They want someone to root for."Hi there, Mrs. Xiavia," he said. His body felt awkward standing so he sat down in the chair next to her, focusing his attention on the strange woman.She pushed back her gold and blue curly hair from her face before responding, a smile painted on her gold lips. "My, my, aren't you a sight. What do you think, Panem?"The crowd laughed and clapped and he found himself chuckling, giving them a wave and a smile. He knew he wasn't bad looking, though he couldn't say the same for his clothes. They were nothing compared to hers, though. She had on a bubble dress that was shiny and bright, pushing up her chest while making her waist look small and her legs even longer. It was gold colored too, with flecks of grey blue mixed in."What do you think of Panem, Toby?"He shrugged and crossed his legs. "It's big. Lots of vehicles, though I definitely think you guys are way too attached to your screens."She let out a bark-like laugh and asked, "What do you think of the other tributes?""I think that if I have to hide, there's no way these guys are gonna miss me," he said. Then he grinned, "I feel outta place. They're so trained and good at stuff, and the most I can do is not trip on my face every few seconds!"He could feel himself getting louder, but they only were amused by him. Laughing. Grinning. Shaking their heads. Xiavia was the same way, a smug little smile on her face as she crossed her legs."Not very good at hiding, huh?" she asked, then turned to face the audience, "I am intrigued by this boy. However, I can foresee him losing in a game of hide and seek in the arena!" That got another rise out of them. Then she looked more serious, "So, Toby, are there any special skills you have?"He tilted his head and scrunched up his face, thinking for a moment before responding. "I'm good at making traps, and using weaponry to my advantage. A gun doesn't need bullets for me to shoot it, and I'm good at building things.""Ah, as one would expect seeing the district your from. Tell me, what's it like at home?"There was no nerves hiding in his body--everything was calm, loud, and easy. So Toby let it get even easier when he responded, "At home things are great. I have loving parents and I happen to live a good life. We don't always have a lot, but that doesn't bother me. Things are easy going as long as you don't focus on anything bad.""How so?""Well, when I was young my grandparents died. I told myself that didn't matter--they were old and lived good lives. About a year later my aunts died. Again, I told myself it didn't matter. And here...I guess I'll do the same," he admitted. Knowing that his grin had slipped he brought it back, though it didn't show his teeth anymore. "I don't really want them to die, but I can't worry about that."She looked a bit surprised, then shook her head and grinned a little. He watched as she checked the time quickly and knew his time was running out.Xiavia batted her long, blue rimmed eyelashes and smiled, her white teeth perfectly shaped. "Well, you're certainly interesting."He shrugged, raising his hands in an embarrassed, "what can you do", sort of way."Let's hear it for Toby Winters, everyone!" At that, he knew it was time to stand and leave. One bow later and he was off the stage and giving Narian a small smile before she was called up there as well.They were clapping for her, and from the back he could see how shy she was out there. It would be a miracle if she lasted in the games with that reserved style. One more look at her and he knew what he had to do. The girl was his ally, whether she liked it or not.Out of the shark tank and into the frenzy hall, he thought. Looks like I have some work to do on you if either of us want to win, Narian.

~~~~

DISTRICT 11 MALE - DEMETRIOT SHIELDS

I look at the crowd as the Ebony comes out from her interview with Vaelyn Xiavia. She smiles at me, probably trying to reassure me. It doesn't work very well. I despise crowds and I'd rather not have this woman asking me questions about my private life.

I step onto the platform as Vaelyn introduces me to the crowd. "Let's welcome Demetriot Shields! He's both mysterious, sly with a touch of shade. Not to mention the eyes..." She's smiling hugely and stands up to shake my hand as I approach her.

I plaster a fake smile onto my face and sit down, trying to get comfortable in the padded chair.

These were my potential sponsors, and though they are all featherbrained idiots, I need their help if I want to win. Let's hope this goes better than I think it will. I thought, biting my lip.

Vaelyn tilts her head toward me and begins the questioning. It almost feels like I'm being interrogated, and I don't like the feeling at all.

I try to relax and calm down.

"So, Demetriot, what was it like for you before you were chosen for the games?"

"I lived with my brother. We would go to work every morning and come back exhausted at sundown, hoping for food. We usually went hungry, but sometimes, sometimes the people who were supposed to feed us would give us the food we were supposed to be getting." I know I sound bitter, but I can't help it, really. All of those days with nothing to eat except the few things we managed to sneak out of the fields. I have every right to be mad at them for making me put my name into the Reaping so many times, just for food.

Vaelyn looks a bit startled at the underlying current in my words. You can't control our feelings, Vaelyn. You may try to discourage us, but you're bringing us together more than ever before. I thought with small satisfaction.

"I...see," She says slowly. "Well... You didn't look happy when you were chosen at the Reaping. What were you thinking when your name was called?"

I want to say, "I was thinking all of you idiots at the Capitol can rot in the ground before I'll cooperate with you." But I keep myself in check and instead reply, "I thought it was completely unfair that I had to leave my home, but I guess I'll have to get used to that now. Nothing is going to be fair from then up until the day I die."

The crowd is silent, but Vaelyn laughs, trying to lighten the mood. "Demetriot, I think everyone here is wondering this. Do you have anyone back in District 11 who is waiting for you?"

I nod, remembering that Thomas is watching this. "Yeah. I have a younger brother. His name is Thomas."

Vaelyn nods knowingly. "And is he old enough to be chosen in the Reaping?" She asks.

I nod, realizing that it could have been him up here being interviewed instead of me. Anger begins to roil inside of me, and I check the clock to see how much time we have left. Two minutes. I've only been up here for a minute. I don't see how any of this is your business, lady. Hurry up and get this over with. "Yes. He just turned twelve a month ago."

Vaelyn's voice drops slightly and she leans forward like she's about to share a secret. "If he'd been picked, would you have volunteered for him?"

Not if I could avoid it. Not if I could run. I want to say, but I don't. "Yeah. Thomas is too young for the Games.  If he'd been picked, I would have volunteered for him. He doesn't deserve my parent's fate."

Her eyebrows go up a bit and Vaelyn leans back in her chair. "Your parent's fate? Could you explain?"

"They were murdered by the Capitol, because they talked too much." I keep my voice normal, conversational even, but I want to pull out the dinner knives I'd hidden in my sleeves and hurt someone. I wonder how my stylists react to that. They'd probably be horrified.

I turn my anger down a notch, forcing the scowl off of my face and smiling as pleasantly as I can manage. It's probably a grimace, though.

"Well, that's very sad. I'm sorry for your loss," Vaelyn says, not sounding the least bit sorry.

The crowd sighs dramatically, murmuring their condolences.

I nod, still trying to tune my anger down. "It's been a few years since it happened." I add, not really wanting the crowd's pity. But, if it gets me sponsors...

Vaelyn smiles again. "So, what's your strategy for the Games?"

I try hard to look pleasant, but the anger rising inside of me won't stop trying to surface. "Survive. Don't get killed before everyone else does."

Vaelyn laughs. "Well, is there anything in particular that you'll be looking for at the Cornucopia? Or are you just going to run?"

I consider the question, calming down a bit now that she isn't asking more personal questions. "I think that what I'll probably be looking for is a knives or a bow. If I find a sword, then that's a bonus. Other than that and food, if I can find it, I don't think I'll be going for anything else." I say. "The sooner I'm out of the bloodbath, the better."

Vaelyn nods. "Since you're from District 11 I have to know, do you enjoy working in the fields?"

My anger comes back to the surface again. Would you people enjoy farming other people's food? People who eat so much that they have to take drinks so they can throw it up and keep eating? People who don't let you keep any of it? Of course I don't enjoy it! "No. It's useful when you need to know plant names, but I can't say that I enjoy working in the hot sun. I don't get to keep any of the crops, so why should I be the one to farm them." I try not to growl.

"Well, if District 11 didn't farm the crops for the Capitol, who would?"

"Maybe the Capitol should farm its own crops." I snap angrily. I hate you people, and maybe it's time you know it.

Vaelyn cocks her head. "Hm. Well, that's an... interesting idea, I suppose." She clearly doesn't think that, and I have to wonder why she even bothers to say it.

I roll my eyes. "Are you done? Because I'm leaving. Enjoy the show. Maybe I'll get lucky and one of you people will somehow end up with a taste of your own medicine." I stomp off the stage angrily.

Ebony gives me a look as I pass her. "What are you doing, Demetriot? You're supposed to be winning sponsors, not alienating them." She snaps.

"I don't care. I refuse to cooperate with this entirely inhuman way of killing people. It's mean and cruel and they aren't getting my cooperation with any of it." I want to yell obscenities at them, but I don't. My mom always had a rule against swearing, and I intend to keep it, even if she is gone.

I look over my shoulder at her as I pass. "I'm leaving. If anyone asks, I'm in my room." I stalk out, glaring at the Peacekeepers by the door. Apparently they decide I'm not worth their time, or else they're afraid of what I might do if they interfere, because they let me leave.

~~~~

DISTRICT 12 MALE - WILEY TERUS

I have never been so nervous in all my life.

"Wiley, are you okay?" Melody's voice shakes me out of my daydreams. Make that my daymares. Here I am, standing in line waiting for my turn to be interviewed, and every single embarrassing scenario my mind can create is running through my head, one after the other. What if I trip and fall flat on my face? What if I trip, fall flat, and then sprain my ankle and have to hop around like a bunny or something? What if my pants fall down and I'm left standing there before all of WattPanem in my underwear? Maybe they'd fall down while I was hopping.... As that thought runs through my mind, I quickly grab the waistband of my grey dress pants and tug them a little higher.

"Wiley?" Melody waves her hand in front of my face, and I almost jump in fright.

"Oh! Huh?"

"Are you okay? You look pale." she asks softly. Our eyes meet, and we both quickly look away, me because I don't want to see the pity in her stunning blue eyes. It seems ever since my name got called at the reaping everyone has looked at me with pity.

It's because of my age, I think to myself. You're the youngest. You'll never get out alive, even if you could kill someone.

"I-I'm fine." I say. I stare down at her dress, which is really pretty. It is a deep blue, perfectly matching her eyes, and falls a little past her knees. I can imagine her twirling in it, the skirt flying out around her, her cascade of curls splashing against her face as she spins. I find my lips curving into a small smile as I imagine it. We knew each other a bit back in twelve. Talked a few times. Now we are district partners, soon to be enemies in a fight to the death.

And then all at once I suddenly imagine her lying in a pool of blood, her throat slit open and her beautiful dress torn and bloody. My knees weaken, and I grapple for something to hold onto in order to keep myself from falling.

I can't do this. I'm going to die. I'm going to die.

"What are you doing?" I look up and realize that I am clutching the arm of Meri, the district thirteen girl, in a death grip. She is tall and beautiful, and somewhere I'm sure behind her huge hazel eyes decorated with sparkling jewels is a smiling, bubbly person. All I can see is fear and despair.

"Sorry." I murmur as I let go of her arm and step away from her. I can feel goosebumps prickle up on my arms as Melody's name is called. She leaves, and I am left alone in the room with the tributes from thirteen. Meri has busied herself with staring at the screen on the wall projecting the interviews while the boy-I think his name is James-stares straight ahead, unblinking as he periodically pushes up his glasses. I guess we're all pretty nervous.

Melody's interview is done all too soon. I can hear the applause, and Vaelyn Xiavia-the hostess-is introducing me. The door opens as she declares my name and the audience goes wild.

This is it. Here I go.

I'm out the door and on the stage before my mind can comprehend what's happening. There Vaelyn is, grinning broadly as she extends her hand toward me. I am suddenly standing before all WattPanem, shaking her hand, unable to process everything that is happening around me. Cameras flashing, the crowd cheering, Vaelyn's blinding smile and freakish pink hair. And then we're sitting, the applause is dying down, and all I can think about is how fake Vaelyn's teeth look. They must be fake; no one's teeth are that white.

"Wiley," she begins. Her voice is twinkly like wind chimes and actually sounds like she's truly interested in me. "First things first, how are you liking the Capitol?"

"I'm not." I say before I can stop myself. My mouth has obviously taken control of itself, for I have no idea where that answer came from, however true it may be. "It's too bright and colorful," I continue. "You need sunglasses to just to see."

Vaelyn laughs and I imagine a wind chime blowing in the wind. Tinkle tinkle. "Hasn't anyone bothered to give you any?"

I shake my head gravely. "Nope."

What is my character here? I'm not sure. My mentor Ingrid told me to be the cute little boy that everyone will swoon and mourn over, but I'm not sure that's who I'm acting out. I tell myself to just answer truthfully and get it over with. It's not like anyone will sponsor me anyway. I'll be dead by the second day, if not at the blood bath. I inwardly pray right up there on the stage that the pain won't last long.

Vaelyn laughs again, but then leans in as if she's about to tell me a secret. "Now, Wiley. Let's be serious a moment."

You mean we weren't before?

"You are our youngest tribute. It must be so hard for you, being so young and being thrown into these games. So tell me," she leans in farther. "What is it like? To be chosen and be so much younger than the rest?"

I swallow hard past the lump in my throat. She might as well tell me to have a good death and boot me off the stage right here and now. But I'm still up here. And I have the mic. I clear my throat, resisting the urge to wipe the sweat that is trickling down my forehead.

"W-well," I say. My voice cracks in a very noticeable manner, and I can hear a few chuckles from the audience. I swallow hard and try again. "If you can imagine what being thrown into a pack of wild wolves is like, then you might have an idea...."

"Oh, I can imagine." Vaelyn said with a note of sympathy in her voice. "It must be terrible."

I can only nod. This woman has no idea.

"Tell us about your family." she says, instantly changing the subject.

I looked down at my hands clutched tightly in my lap. "Um... I have a little brother and sister."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Morgan is eight, and Patrick is six."

Vaelyn clasps her hands together. "Oh, they must be adorable!"

I have problems trying to return her smile. "Yeah... they are."

"What was the last thing they said to you?" Vaelyn is on the edge of her seat now.

"That they loved me. And that they were cheering for me." My eyes return to my lap, and suddenly I feel as though the weight of the world is on my shoulders. The harsh reality that I will truly never see my family again hits me hard, and I inhale sharply, trying to force back the tears that threaten to fall. I cannot be weak. I must be strong. If I am going to die, I want to be courageous, not known as that snivelling little boy who cried on stage. Tears could be saved for later, as in never.

"Ohh," Vaelyn's dainty white hand flutters to her heart. "I'm sure you love them dearly."

"I do." I reply huskily.

She makes a clicking noise with her tongue. "Oh, now you've made me sentimental. I wish you luck, Wiley. The young don't usually last very long." She dabs under her eyes with a handkerchief, and I can only stare. How heartless and fake are these people? Am I the only one who can see right past her powdered makeup and teary eyes? Oh look, some of the audience is dabbing at their heavily powered eyes too. And some guy just blew his nose. I can't believe how... how fake they all are! They have no idea what we are going through and there they are just sitting there crying out of pity for me? Soon they'll be cheering for my death.

I don't want their pity. It's just as fake as they are.

"Now, Wiley." Vaelyn says. "Our time is almost up, but I have one more question for you."

I don't answer. I just stare at her, waiting.

"If you don't win, which one of the tributes would you want to win instead?"

I reword it in my mind: Since you are incapable of winning, who do you want to win instead? It makes so much more sense my way.

The answer is out of my mouth instantly. "None of them will win."

Vaelyn looks taken aback. "None of them?"

I nod slowly, gravely. "You don't win the Hunger Games. If you survive-and they call that winning when really it isn't-you're not living anymore. You're just existing."

Vaelyn opens her mouth to speak, but the buzzer is sounding. Then she is shouting my name to the roaring crowd. She reaches for my hand to lift it up, but I wrench away and turn my back on her. I dash off the stage and through the door, letting it slam behind me as I take off running. I don't know where I'm going, but I know I'm getting there fast. I practically crash into the elevator doors. As I repeatedly press the button for the twelfth floor, panting and out of breath, only one thought flies through my mind:

I'm not going to survive this. I'm going to die. I won't even be existing anymore.

~~~~