Apologies for any missing italics* 

CAPITOL MALE - WOLFGANG WESTERFELD 

I'm bored.

I fix the bowtie that's wrapped around my neck like a noose, and let out a yawn. I'm wearing a crisp, three-piece suit. My stylist, Hester, says that this was the rage a long time ago. It matches my haircut, which I kept in an undercut. Hester's angle is to go vintage.

In the lowlight, my suit is a midnight blue. My bowtie is a shade of azure, giving me a touch of much needed color. The suit is well tailored to my body, hugging and showing off my assets. My shirt is a dazzling white, and my shoes are black as I requested. I left the blazer unbuttoned, as a personal touch. All around the suit are Baby's Breath, my favourite flower. Some are pressed onto my face, almost like temporary tattoos. They encircle my neck, and my arm. I'm confident in the interviews with Wisteria.

Someone taps my back. I turn my head slightly, and raise one eyebrow. "Yes? Lavender, what do you want?" I ask.

Her blue eyes light up with alarm. "I've got to go to the bathroom! Could you tap Lilith? She's the girl in front of you." She pleads, eyes wide. I sigh, and do as she asks. Lilith looks at me, and I redirect her to Lavender. Together, they leave for the bathroom.

The blonde boy turns toward me. "Why are you going last?" He says, in an unsurprising low and husky voice. His eyes are magnetic, pulling me towards him. "I thought the Capitol would go first." He states.

I shrug. "I don't know. They said they're keeping up with tradition that the Districts go first, and then the Capitol. Besides, we were last minute additions anyway." I say, looking straight into his eyes.

"Well, I don't care. I'm still going to kill you, you know." He says, and I smirk. "I've been watching you during training, and you don't seem to be much." He continues, degrading me.

I know what's his angle. He's going to try and intimidate me, try to scare me. It won't work. However, I'm going to give him what he wants. I'll play into his strategy. It'll be fun, anyway. "Am I?" I ask. "You won't really know until we're in the arena, will you?"

He does the most unexpected thing. He chuckles, eyes closing for a moment. In that moment when he let his guard down, I see he is beautiful. His face is strong, angular. His nose is straight, and he has jawline for days. His blonde hair shimmers, and he looks like an angel.

Or the devil.

Before I can reply, the girls have returned. Lavender looks much calmer now, and the girl, Lilith, is quiet. I doubt Lavender had to use the bathroom, she just wanted to talk to Lilith in private.

One by one, the line grows shorter, each of us waiting for our turn to sit with Wisteria. I for one am personally excited! Wisteria was at my 12th birthday party, but we didn't get a chance to talk. Today would be the first time I would.

Soon, it's the boy's turn. Before he steps onstage, he looks back to me. "Aren't you going to wish me luck?" He says, a small smile forming on his face.

"Good luck whoever you are." I say, mimicking his actions.

The smile stays on his face. "I'm Eros. And you're Wolfgang." He said. Then, he goes onstage.

I'm not really surprised that he knows me. After all, I'm from the Capitol. Every other tribute has to know us.

My eyes travel to the massive screen where they show us Wisteria and the interviewee. To my surprise, there are three people onstage. I don't really pay attention. In my mind, I'm already panicking.

Why is there a third person onstage? Is it a loved one, or someone else from the Capitol? I'm not exactly sure, and I don't want to find out. What if my dad doesn't come? What if he stays, and what if I'm embarrassed?

I'm drowning in these questions. I don't even realize that Eros is done, and so is Lavender. Someone prodding me brings me back to reality. "It's your turn. Get up onstage now!" A gruff voice orders me, and I blindly obey him.

The lights blind me, if only for a second. I squint my eyes, hoping they adjust. I can hear the applause, the cheer, and I know what I have to do. Ignoring the lights, I give a smile and wave to the crowd. I take a step, before I fall face flat.

An ocean of gasps is created, and I'm swearing at myself mentally. My one chance to impress the audience, and more importantly Wisteria, and I blow it. Still, I plaster on a fake smile, and walk over to the chair.

Wisteria smiles at me, and I can see through it. She tries to appear innocent, friendly. Her eyes betray her, because I can see the malice laced in them. Next to her is my father.

She beckons me to sit. I take my chair, and smile again. Smiling is what I was born to do. "Hello, Wisteria!" I say enthusiastically. "Forgive me for that entrance, I guess I'm too excited to walk straight!"

She laughs. "It's okay, Wolfgang." Her eyes scan my face, and she wraps her arms around my father. My fathers eyes are calling out to me for help, and I'm bewildered as to why. "Oh, Wolfgang. It looks like you've got a few scratches on your cheek."

My hands fly immediately to my cheek, and she is right. I feel the wound, but it doesn't hurt. "It's alright. I don't want to spend too much time fretting on this wound." I say, giving an uneasy smile. "Let's get on the interview?"

Her head cocks slightly sideward. She takes a breath, and asks, "Well, Wolfgang. You're from the Capitol! I remember you when you were still a baby. How does it feel?"

I gulp. It's a trap. Her arm is still around my father's neck, and I notice the razor sharp nails trailing the skin on his neck. My eyes widen slightly, and she knows that I noticed. "Well... I'm just glad I'm reaped! We can't have the people in the Districts having all the fun now, do we Wisteria?"

"Right you are, Wolfgang!" She says, laughing. Her nails drop, and I let out a low sigh of relief. The audience is hanging to her every word, completely oblivious to what she's doing. "So, tell me. Why the Baby's Breath?"

"They're my personal favourite. They're white, simple, and plentiful. Innocent beauty." I say, emphasizing each word. I have to drag this out; I have to keep my father alive. His eyes are wide, but he's nodding along to every word I say. "Also, they were my mother's favourite flowers. It's a connection to her."

Her eyes flicker downwards, for a moment. Then they gaze right back at me, challenging. "And you're all about innocence, aren't you Wolfgang?" She says. "I remember your twelfth birthday. You set a man's pants on fire!"

"Oh." I murmur. "I was young then. Innocent."

A red eyebrow shoots upward. "Oh. So, does that mean we should discard you, as a tribute? Innocence does not win the Games." She says, her grip tightening on my father's arm. He opens his mouth to protest, but Wisteria stops him. "Look, even your father agrees with me. Do tell me, and the audience why you can win this."

My mind goes blank. I wasn't expecting this to be the interview I was going to go through. Not at all. Things have gone horribly wrong. "I think," I begin, "that the other tributes will kill each other first, so I'll just survive until the end."

Her mouth opens in silent laughter, and I know I'm making a mockery of myself. "No, that's not what I mean!" I protest, knowing whatever I'll say next is lost on laughing ears. "I can survive, but it's going to be a surprise! Just watch out for me during the Games, and you'll see! Just you wait!"

I don't notice that I'm already on my feet. My ears are ringing, and my voice is hoarse. I've been shouting, and even Wisteria's composure is wavering. Everyone is deathly silent.

She opens her mouth to speak, but the buzzer goes off. "Well, it seems that's all the time we have for Wolfgang!" She says, in a voice of pure venom. "We'll see you in the Games, Wolfgang. We'll be watching."

As I leave the stage, I see Eros still hasn't gone to his room. He sees me approaching, and he nods. "Good work!" He mouths. Then, he turns to leave.

My stomach grumbles, and I realize I'm hungry. I'm just not sure what for.

~~

DISTRICT 1 MALE - DANELIEUX LEON 

He wakes from a deep slumber – only to find out that the past events weren't his dreams,. His name is Danelieux de Leon, and he is in the Capitol Quarters for Tributes. The title makes it sound like an insane asylum, and that's what it is. He'll go along with their "plan of amelioration," he'll take his "medicine" and secretly resist it. But in the end, he'll end up in the slums. He'll be labeled "unstable" because that's what the Games do. They unhinge you.

~

Over at the breakfast table, Allium greets him. "Morning," he replies. As much as he'd love to have her on his "team," he knows he's scared of her. Back at the Academy, all the lower level kids feared her. She was grace and poise, yet unachievable. All girls from One share a trait: their artesian facial features, but she has much more.

"Oh, hello, hello!" Their stylists say in cue. Danelieux finds it odd how they can have perfect pitch, yet still sound horribly cacophonous. To a singer, it is a great insult. But he says nothing, it is not his place.

"Yeah, good morning and all that fun stuff," Allium plays with her fork, turning the silverware over in her hands, like a never ending cycle.

Autumn, Danelieux's stylist, sits directly in front of him and watches as he slips some hot grain in his mouth. He chews carefully, sure to not make even the slightest sound. God forbid he chews with his mouth open! He'd probably be executed for not having manners.

He waits until he's sure he swallowed every last bite, "Why are you looking at me?" The intent stare from the odd woman creeped Dan out. Was she observing him? Making notes on his table manners? The way he wiped his mouth?

"No, you silly boy," she says flirtingly, "I was just drawing you. I need to make some special adjustments to your costume." With that, she stands up, leaving Danelieux even more confused.

What costume? It's so early, there shouldn't be an event yet. And there shouldn't, but this part of the Game was the most dangerous, at least to Danelieux. It could trap him in his own words, rather than his own deeds. It could label him easily: liar, cunning, beautiful, strong, memorable, or neither of these. They'd all add up to whether or not he'll get sponsors or not.

Sure, they're very important. But they're not in the Games. Although, allies...they sure are in the Game. They could help him. But where could he get them?

He finished his bowl, and before he could get up for another, he and Allium were grabbed by the crook of their elbows; escorted into a deep, dark hall. Full of possibilities, and many terrors.

~

"You're kidding, right?" She had to be kidding. He wished she were so he could smile without force this time. There was no way Autumn could expect Danelieux to wear that getup. It was far too simple for District One. Danelieux may have not been a snotty brat back home, but he did have a sense of style. And this was definitely not style.

An eccentric and wired crown sat on his delicate head. That wasn't even the problem – the crown was quite alright. It was his actual clothing that bothered him. It was very offensive to him. He was all up for having female Gamemaker's and even a leader. But to be dressed like one? He thought it was a joke, but apparently not.

Mesh covered his face. "It's not horrible, really. It's just not...me?" the ending came out like a question; as if he didn't know the answer.

Thin, gossamer webs spun and swirled delicately on his features. They became too annoying, way too quickly; they hung at his at eyes, slightly blurring them. His hair had been dyed as well, it was no longer a dirty blonde, but a perfect, sunshine yellow.

Danelieux hates this part the most, though. "Ah, yes. Tunics, they're so manly." Yes, all heroes wore tunics! It was very stupid to Danelieux, but he appreciated the effort from his stylist and team.

When getting him in, they had no problem. Danelieux is quite fit, and he matched the size perfectly, allowing the deep greens to seep into his skin color. The length was ridiculous, yet comfortably so. The tunic reaches his knees, and is thin enough to see his layer underneath the surface.

He turns one more time, for Autumn, when she dismisses him.

Hmm. If go to the kitchen, this might get soiled. But if I go to my room, it will get wrinkled. "Daniel Lux Delion!" A voice snaps him from his thoughts. His name is always mispronounced, "Please report to the main floor. Wisteria Wiles would like to see you," the voice beckons. He walks over the elevator, stepping inside and pressing the button with a star.

~

The host's cat eyes shine with knowing when he's directed to the stage. The audience is already cheering him, but he doesn't know why.

They don't know anything about me. How can they cheer me on already?

He steps past the curtain, goes towards the edge of the stage and takes a subtle, yet dramatic bow. This is the Capitol, after all. The lady with the caramel hair pats the luxurious seat next to her, asking him to sit. He obeys, since he can't openly disagree and say he'd rather stand.

"Why, aren't you a sight?" A loud chuckle escapes the audience, and nervous laughter escapes Danelieux's lips. They can't see what he's seeing. They don't see her, his mother, being tied down. They don't see her lips tremble in fear, dazed and unable to see because of the strip of cloth covering her eyes. They don't see the slight tremor in her hands, as they lay limply to the side; her mouth is taped. They've thought of everything. His mother can't escape.

She's bait. One mistake on his behalf, and she's gone. But how will they kill her if this is live? No one else is on stage, except for himself and Wisteria...Wisteria. It must be her.

"Thank you, you're not so bad yourself," he took no more than ten seconds to realize that his mother had become a pawn.

"Oh, what a charmer!" She pats his arm, in what he hope's is a friendly touch. But he didn't expect to feel a large cut appear on his forearm. He didn't expect for it to begin bleeding so soon. But it did.

"Tell me, Daniel Lux," he began to cringe openly. She didn't bother to learn his name! "How was your life in District One? Earlier, while talking with you partner," she begins to admire her talon-like nails, scarping bits of stuff from underneath each one, "I learned her beliefs. She said some horrible things about One."

His life in One? Easy, "Well, I went to a special school since I was small," he began to bite his inner cheek, he almost let the school name slip. Almost, "We learned so much! And then we'd have weekly lessons in combat! It was a great experience."

"Do you have what it takes to win?"

What kind of question was that? It didn't matter; Danelieux was in the Capitol, not home. "Uhm. Yes. I believe so," she raises one eyebrow, asking him to innovate his response. "Like I said, I went to a very special school. I trained my mind when my body practiced, and participated in physical education. But, essentially, it all comes down to whether people think of me as a threat. And I'm pretty neutral for now; I don't have friends or enemies." He drops the question with a shrug.

He can't talk about the past when his mother is tapped down and probably drugged. He can't talk about his past when she's right there. So close, but far from his reach.

She quirks her eyebrows up, startled by his ambiguous response. "There's so much I'd expect from you, the way you come from a district of luxury, how you feel such obligation to have both brains and brawn. It seems like every tribute has that these days. Let's just hope you're thrill seeking looks help you in the arena. But, I do have a final question for you: brains or brawn?"

He doesn't show hesitation. He knows what his father wants, what the Gamemaker's want, what Wisteria wants. "Brawn. I'm a bull and I'm here to win." The buzzer sounds and Wisteria wickedly grins. She stands with the crowd as they applaud him away.

But when Danelieux turns back, he sees that she has gone in a different direction, towards his mother. He tries to run back, but an invisible force knocks him back down. Wisteria bends down and whisper's something. His mother tenses as a finger crosses her neck.

Wisteria's eyes taunt Danelieux, because they know the truth. Danelieux de Leon is unhinged. 

~~

DISTRICT 2 MALE - VENENIUS LINGUORE 

It was clear from the moment Wisteria saw Venenius that he was not what she had expected. The reveal of his mother, tied next to the Capitol woman, though, was enough to let him know he'd gotten more than he'd bargained for as well.

Dressed from head to toe in a thinly threaded collection of pink, petal-like streams of fabric, the boy was a sight to behold. The few specks of green in his shirt bringing out those in his otherwise sea-coloured eyes, and the rosy colour of his garment bringing the tiniest amount to his cheeks, it was perhaps the first time that he did not look as though he might be struck by some illness or another. However, as the entirety of Pamem saw him there, looking healthier than he'd ever been, there was one thing that was clear in the minds of all.

Venenius Linguore did not look much like a Career ought to.

Though he was not as trained in the art of weaponry as he perhaps ought to be, Venenius knew he was master in an art that would prove far more useful than swordsmanship: language. With words, one could paint the prettiest or most frightening of pictures, and from that moment on, anything was possible. To the untrained eye, it looked as though the easy smiles on the faces of the Host and tribute looked as though both were perfectly at ease, they were a sign that they had understood that the other was a threat - that the challenge was first extended, and then received. For the first time in his life, as he saw the person he loved most rendered helpless, Venenius wondered if perhaps he'd met his match.

"I love the outfit," said Wisteria, a smirk coating her face. "Very cute. You even smell pretty."

"The stylists tried to replicate the smell of oleander as much as possible - obviously they couldn't use the real one, seeing as it's, to an extent, poisonous. I told them that shouldn't be a problem; by now, you must be immune to all kinds of poisons!"

Wisteria rolled her eyes and crossed her legs. The threat made by this so-called guest of hers, while it went over the heads of their audience, was not lost on her. She readjusted in her seat, making her smile slightly more exaggerated - just enough to let Venenius know he crossed a line. He smiled at her, knowing fully well that he was perfectly safe; to the average Capitol citizen, he'd done nothing wrong, after all.

"So, Venenius, why don't you tell me about Two?"

"It's foggy!" A pause, presumably for people to laugh in their seats back home. Nobody had told Venenius just how artificial everything was, but by now it was no surprise to him; it only made sense, after all. Even if this was made to be live, he would have to be foolish to think the Capitol would let go of their power. At any moment, were he to step out of line, they could shut this entire thing off and destroy both him and his mother.

But Venenius didn't plan on stepping out of line; it was so much easier to meet expectations at first than to let them down right away.

"In all honesty, I'm glad to be here in the Capitol. Everything is so nice here - not that it isn't nice in Two, of course. But it's so different, it feels like I'm in another world. You're all doing something right!"

Laughter again. From watching years of interviews, Venenius could tell this was a good sign; the crowd was more likely to remember someone who could make them laugh, no matter what else might happen. Long forgotten is the woman, a stranger to them, who is tied to a chair, watching helplessly as her son fights the most crucial battle of his life. But Venenius hasn't forgotten; he never forgets. Smiling like an angel might, his mind races at miles a minute, plotting things far less heavenly than his look.

"I have to say, Venenius, you don't look much like most people we've seen from Two. Do you think that might affect your chances?"

The jab was clear: Wisteria didn't expect him to last, especially if he planned to keep on taunting her passively while earning the Capitol's adoration. But Venenius was well aware that she had far less power than she'd like to think. So long as the cuts he delivered were little more than scratches, he was perfectly safe.

"Oleander doesn't look particularly deadly either. If you ask me, that's what makes it all the more dangerous: you don't expect it to kill you until you're lying on the ground, gasping for your last breath."

"So you think you'll win, then?"

A clear grasp at straws, at this point. The timer was showing there was less than a minute remaining, and Wisteria had failed to land much more than a scratch. Despite everything, however, Diana Linguore was safe; her son hadn't acted out of line in any way, after all. Frustration begun to show on the host's face as her welcoming air started to look less effortless.

Venenius grinned. "Does a spider catch its prey?"

When the timer rang, Wisteria's groan was almost as loud as Diana's sigh.

~~ 

DISTRICT 3 MALE - JACK DARKWOOD

This is it I finally thought to myself. I went through my entrance a millions times in my head and yet I was nervous. What really want is to be remember. To do this I had bring the best interview these people ever seen.

"Thank you for the interview" said Wisteria. "Now our next interview is Jack Darkwood from district 3 but before we begin he has given me a unusual request but I decided that I am going to grant it. So if you will please dim the light's."

The lights started to dim and The Pheonix written by Fall Out Boys started to play. This was the moment I have been waiting for. All of the sudden my wave of confidence returned me and my fears had suddenly vanish. A smile crept onto my face. I had my faverite pair of jeans on with my dark red hoodie. I slid my hood over my head and waited to be called.

"Here he is ladies in gentlemen!!!" said Wisteria reading off the note cards I have given to her." The mysterious man you all been waiting for. Give it up for Jaaaack Darkwoood!!!!

Time to put on a show. I ran out there full force, ready to have a good time and you know what mrs.jerk I mean Wisteria had to try and ruin my fun. There was my best friend Nate. Being tortured to death if he was not already there. My first reaction was to run up and try to save him but I knew if I show sympathy they would know that I had a big weak spot and use this against me again. So I had to just act like I had no cares. I kept dancing around punching my fist in the air like I have just won a big fighting tournament. When the song was over. I went over to join Wisteria on the couch.

"Well that was very, umm....."

"Inspiring." I said with a smile.

"Sure we will go with that. Now for the first part of the interview I would like to ask you if you would like to say hi to anyone out there watching the interview. Maybe your families or friends."She said the last part with a devilish smile.

I reminded myself that I cant show fear. So using the coolest and smoothest voice I could I responded. "Nah. I'm a free spirit. Living life all on my own."

"Well we all now know you don't get many friends do you? Maybe you should work on the personality of yours. It seems like it could get you into a lot of trouble. Besides that next question, Whats your favorite flower and why?"

"Favorite Flower?" Was not expecting this question what so ever. "I would say impatiens bequaertii, the dancing girl flower. The reason is that they are interesting. Every flower is shaped like a person and yet it feels like each one has a unique quality. Just like each tribute in the games, Each one has his or her own unique set of skills. Actually I am wearing one of the flowers right now under this jacket." I unzipped my jacket quickly and took off the flower to show the crowed. "So as you look at this flower don't just take a look and think cool shape. Each one has its own unique quality."

"Wow that was pretty deep" said Wisteria who seemed like she woken up from her daydream."Third question what kinda of weapon would you like to use during the games? I bet the crowed would like to know."

"I would want.." Waited a couple seconds for dramatic pause."A Gamboy with pokemon yellow! in it."

"What the f#!& kid! Why the hell would you want a Gamboy in a game where you kill people!?"

"The real question is why not? If im going to hide in a tree or somewhere might as well Catch Em All. Also it would be kinda funny if you think about it. Imagine here you are in the games about to stab someone to death and all of a sudden you hear Pokemon music somewhere." I started to smile of the thought of this or maybe it was because she seemed a little red in the face from me answering her question in such a stupid way.

"Well....I think that's enough for this interview don't you think?"She said with a angered voice.

She was really ticked off so I decided to back down. "Yeah I think it was a pretty good interview."

"Thank you Jack for your....your...interesting interview."

"You are very welcome!" I said with a mischievous smile.

"You may return back to the other tributes."

With what she said I headed back. Hoping people enjoyed the show.

~~

DISTRICT 4 MALE - CORRADHIN COLE

Corradhin awoke expecting his fingers to brush cold stone. He expected to crinkle his nose at the dead colors of the environment, the result of year-long drought. He expected to run his hands over words fueling superstition about said drought, engravings that broke him every day, the lettering of the second line sending silent fury coursing through him. "Beckett Wynn Malen," it would say. There would be no date of birth or death, only the cause. "101st Hunger Games."

Instead, he had awoken indoors, cold and alone, hating the world and the Capitol freaks that surrounded him, scrutinized him with beady eyes.

They descended on him like starving falcons. They picked and they scratched, talons digging deep, tousling his hair and ripping the clothes off his back. Half the group busied themselves with adjusting his suit, while the other half took a black pen to his neck, drawing foreign shapes.

It felt like hours before they had him dressed. The button-up beneath his jacket was a cream color, and the suit covering it a dark purple, almost black. Strange for an interview suit... The strangeness: no sleeves. Both layers stopped at the beginning of his arms, covering only his shoulders. His arms were the main focus, it seemed, muscles clearly visible. A black band was wrapped around either of his wrists, and from those bands grew veiny tendrils, black branches that crawled up his arms. They dug into his skin, like tiny nooses tightening-- The gallows aren't something to look back on. Especially since I took part in them.

"Cadelon wanted everyone to represent their favorite flower this year," someone said. Eager for distractions, Corradhin turned to her, feigning interest. "The purple is the center of a henbane." He caught sight of another veiny structure in her hands, pieces all haphazardly weaved together. The crown was gently placed upon his head. "I'm glad it wasn't something like 'daisy' or 'tulip.' Would've been difficult given your...appearance."

She took a moment to admire her handiwork before ushering him away. The next five minutes consisted of intense power-walking until he came to a corridor. And he could've sworn on his life that every set of tribute eyes was on him as he marched along. Wide eyes, dropped jaws, glares. I either look really good, or really bad.

"And now, welcome the notorious Corradhin Cole!" The host's cackle overpowered the crowd's uproarious cheers, and the familiarity of the voice made his face flush a deep red. She made me write the notes. Oh-ho-ho, I'll have lots of "fun" with her.

His sheer determination to make Wisteria's job a living hell tonight forced a confident stride into his step as he ventured onstage. The cheers were deafening, assaulting his eardrums. I hate them, every last one of them.

But nothing could compare to the hatred he felt for the retired Gamemaker once he saw who sat beside her. Corradhin paused mid-stride, squinting in case he mistook the elderly man for someone else. Grandfather?

"Come on dear, it's only Nigel." Wisteria's grin was twisted as she beckoned him forward.

"Yes, come on dear, it's only me," the man mocked. A croaky chuckle followed, along with a twitch in his lip.

Corradhin caught sight of his face in a massive screen as he walked. He let his eyes wander to the shapes on his neck, which he now realized were little vein-like lines, starting on his shoulder and ending at his jawline. As much as he hated these Capitol people, he had to admit that they'd done some good work on making him as intimidating as possible. And, let's be honest here, I look pretty damn good.

"So, now that we're all settled," Wisteria began, "how do you feel about seeing him here?" She nodded at Nigel. Here we go.

Corradhin cleared his throat. "Don't get me wrong, I love him and all, but...I expected him to stay home when I left. I bet this brings back bad memories." As he stared at his grandfather, he couldn't help but pity the man's confident smirk. He's struggling.

Wisteria smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Thank you for answering honestly. Next question."

"Oh, come on," Nigel huffed. He flashed a wink at his grandson. "You can't be that ready to send the next eligible Cole to his death, can you? Oh, right. That's all you've ever wanted to do, ever since...well, you know." Wisteria couldn't hide the glare that dominated her face, and Corradhin couldn't help but smile. He's got you now.

"Refrain from speaking. This is Corradhin's interview, not yours." The agitated host turned back to the tribute. "Motives for volunteering?"

Corradhin felt a pinch in his stomach, and looked down the end of his nose at her. You know my answer. "To get vengeance, obviously." A low groan came from Nigel, a rumble. Ignore him. Ninety-three year olds make sounds all the time.

"What for?" Wisteria's face held a knowing smile. "It couldn't be because--"

"Beckett, yes. I volunteered in sake of Beckett." Corradhin let his eyes wander to the crowd. They had gone silent, on the edge of their seats. Each of them knew why tensions were so high between the three. "I figure I can fix my image, after those notes you forced me to write last Games."

"Oh, Corradhin," Wisteria cooed. She snapped her fingers, hidden between her chair and Nigel's, catching his attention. The crowd saw nothing. Wrapped around her thumb was a thread, as thin as hair, which she waggled around. Another groan escaped Nigel. Others wouldn't see past his wrinkles, but Corradhin saw Nigel's pained face. The thread wrapped around Nigel's legs. If he looked close enough, Corradhin could see little dots of red spring up on his pants.

Wisteria continued. "I know you're lying." She paused, glancing at Nigel's lap. "Tell us the truth."

Corradhin's charm flew away, just like the words from his mouth. "You filthy bitch."She's hurting him. And if I let anyone know, she'll kill him. I'm not dense. I know what she's planning. He spoke through grit teeth. "I volunteered because you killed Beckett."

"That's what I like to hear. But are you sure it was us that killed him?" Of course it was you. It was all you. "There's a conspiracy roaming around."

"Yeah? And what's that?"

Her expression was maniacal. "They say Beckett was reaped to lure you into the Games last year. It worked, eventually."

No. He clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth together so hard he thought they'd break. No, this can't be my fault. Not again, she's lying. "I'll kill you."

Wisteria only laughed. "I always did have a soft spot for those with a death wish. A face as handsome as yours, it'll be disappointing to see it all scratched and marred in the end. Let me just say, I loved running Beckett ragged."

Corradhin was on his feet, fingers curled around the front of Wisteria's shirt. "I bet you had fun breaking him, huh? Well, guess what? I'm going to have fun breaking you just the same."

"Cor! Down boy, down!" Nigel tugged on his grandson's arm, which was the only thing that could break the boy of his enraged stupor. Corradhin released the host's shirt and eased himself down.

"I only have one more question," Wisteria drawled. She hadn't been expecting the sudden outburst, evident by her lethargic movements, as if waiting for time to catch up with her. I hope she pissed herself. The tribute breathed deeply, calming himself, while the host licked her lips and went in for the kill. "How do you feel about being the reason Beckett died?"

Corradhin felt a growl in the back of his throat, suppressing another outburst. The crowd erupted in gasps, as if a fire had started right before their eyes. They were fearful, awestruck. They can't be that scared of me... Then he looked down. The artificial black veins on his arms were pulsing up his arms, flickers of crimson rushing up at a hundred miles a minute before fading to black again. This happened repeatedly. It was like blood speeding through him, visible.

Even he was scared of his appearance.

And to him, that was a cue for his next words. He looked up to Nigel briefly for assurance; his face said go for it. Corradhin narrowed his eyes at Wisteria, at the crowd. "You killed my best friend. And now, I'm bloody pissed. Well, hold on to your flowers, you pansies. Because you've made me mad. And only Beckett knew what I'm really like when I'm mad. You're going to really wish you didn't fuck with us, because this was the last straw. I'll fight through the scratches to make sure you feel what I'm bringing. I swear, Beck, I'll make them pay."

Corradhin stood, his veins, both artificial and real, pumping wildly with adrenaline and rage. "You may not have gotten your Retribution, but I'll get my Vengeance."

A pin could drop and everyone would hear it. That suited Corradhin just fine. Wisteria's fierce glare and Nigel's lopsided smirk told him he'd done well. He'd made a name for himself.I'm the boy who sheds blood. And I'll be the first to do just that in the arena.

~~

DISTRICT 5 MALE - DUSTIN OCTAVIUS 

There were only three things that I knew for sure in this godforsaken place.

One; I was dressed in a ridiculous pink and purple tuxedo that was supposed to represent a water lily.

Two; I was sitting next to Wisteria Wiles, this year's host for the Games.

Three; my little brother, Thomas, was sitting right next to her.

As the countdown from 2 minutes started, signaling the beginning to the interview, Wisteria wasted no time and jumped straight to the point, "So, Dustin. What are you plans for the Games?"

My Dad always told me that honestly was the best policy, so I decided to go with that. However, seeing my little brother tied up to a chair was a little distracting, to say the least. But I didn't want them to do anything more to Thomas, anything that might hurt him, so I sat up a little straighter, cleared my throat, and began to speak.

"Well, um, I have some uh, allies, and they'll help me get through, um, the Games, I guess."

At my stammer, true to my prediction, the audience chuckled. Wisteria smiled too, but the smile didn't quite reach her metallic grey eyes. I tried not to look too flustered and chuckled along with everyone, hoping that I was doing this right. In reality, all I wanted to do was to get Thomas out of here, and go back home. Oh, sweet, sweet home. How I miss it so much already.

As the laughter died down, Wisteria leaned forward in her chair for dramatic effect and asked, "Well, that's certainly interesting. Your, um," Wisteria mimicked my 'um' and got the audience laughing again. True to my game plan, I played along, but this time it was my laugh and smile that felt forced.

"Tell us a little about your, um, condition," Wisteria finished, to another hearty round of laughter. What's so funny about a boy with a speech impediment?!

I sat up straighter, gritting my teeth in rage, "I got my, uh, stammering problem when I was, um, around ten. The doctors, uh, they don't kn-know where it came from," I swallowed, memories resurfacing into my mind, "But-but I, uh, got used to it. It was, um, hard at first but then, uh, I just, you know, got uh, used to it."

The audience cooed, and suddenly my spirits brightened. So, they were liking me now. Hopefully they were. My mentor had paid me a visit when I was just about to leave my styling room to go to the interviews. He had said that I needed to "act cute" and use my stammer to my advantage, and "never talk back to anyone". In short, I had to be a good boy, which I always was.

But this...this was different. Thomas was here, for goodness's sake, and he looks...bad. I couldn't quite place it, but he looked, almost robotic. I had a sudden desire I ask why he was here, and what they were doing to him, but I clamped my mouth shut. Never talk back to anyone.

But these were The Hunger Games.

You needed to speak up.

I didn't.

When the interview was finally over I scampered off the stage in a hurry. Wisteria had promised me that Thomas would be fine, and that he would be delivered back to District Five all in one piece, cue laughter from the audience. But I felt ashamed. Ashamed that I, Dustin Octavius, the boy with the stammer, didn't speak up. I played it safe.

In the Games, nothing was going to be safe.

I was screwed.

~~

DISTRICT 6 MALE - ARTHUR PENN

He looked down at his "costume" in disgust. Yellow was not his colour. However when he looked up at some of the outfits the other tributes were wearing he felt a tiny bit better.

"Remind me again why I must wear this?" He asked no one in particular.

"Because it represents your flower mate." A voice piped up. Arthur looked over to meet blue eyes framed by black hair.

"Hi, I'm Kale." The boy stuck out his hand.

"Do I know you?" Arthur was not in the mood to talk to anyone. All he wanted to do was get this fucking interview over and done with.

Kale looked downcast and he shuffled his feet. Arthur was struck by how beautiful the boy's fac-outfit was.

"You called me mate. Yet I have never met you before." Arthur was getting angry. Not at Kale, but at himself for thinking that way. What would his father say? Arthur shuddered at that thought. He didn't know, but he could guess.

"That was my mistake." Arthur's head jerked upwards at that. Kale's voice revealed something his face and posture hid. Kale's eyes sparkled and Arthur got lost for a moment.

"I'd never be friends with someone who could be such a prat."

Arthur fought back a surprised laugh and flashed back.

"Nor I with one who could be so stupid. You don't go making enemies with the other tributes before the Games start!"

Kale shrugged and grinned up at Arthur who got lost for a second time. He tried to find a way out, but he only realized he was getting deeper. It shocked him to find that he didn't care.

"District 7 Male is up next! District 7 Male!"

Kale lent forward and beckoned. Arthur felt himself move closer to the boy. Kale lightly slapped his forehead.

"That's you, dimwit!"

Then he was gone and Arthur was faced with a tumult of emotions and an angry Escort. She was dressed in bright, nearly neon blue dress. It didn't match her pink hair...

"You're up next Penn! I have to tell you something first. One of your friends from your district will be up on that stage."

Arthur looked down at the little fat lady. Horror spread though him.

"What the fuck do you mean?" He asked his voice dangerously calm.

"I, um, No, not I...Umm, it was the Capital's idea." She stammered. "The Capital decided to get someone you are friends with and have that person on stage as the interview happens."

Arthur shut his eyes and pinched the bridge between them with his right forefinger and thumb. Can this get any worse? He thought

Apparently it could, because the escort then told him about how. "If Wisteria Wiles wasn't happy about your answer she would make the chair the guest was sitting on give a little electric shock."

What the shitting fuck is that?

"And you cannot give a false answer because if you do, Wisteria holds the right to kill you on the spot."

My God, the whole world is insane.

Arthur kept his face straight and emotionless but inside a war was raging. Who would think up such things? It had to be Wisteria. No one else could be so cruel. His thoughts were still whirling around him when he was pushed toward the stage.

"And now." Wisteria sat there with a calm expression on her face. Arthur steeled his to look the same. She would get no show of weakness out of him. "We have the male tribute from District seven. Arthur Penn. And his friend. Morgana Penn."

The two of the them were marched onto the stage from the opposite sides of the wings. Arthur met the eyes of his stepsister as she was being roughly manhandled into sitting on a metal chair. Her black eyes flashed and her black hair looked tangled.

Shit.

He took a seat and turned to look at Wisteria. Cold fury ran through his veins and it shone through his eyes. In her chair, Morgana jolted as the first current ran through her body. Arthur ground his teeth but gave no other indication he was under stress. The interview just smiled.

"So...Arthur, what made you volunteer?"

Arthur stared straight back into her eyes, he met her gaze without quavering.

Truth be told, Arthur didn't really know himself. That whole day had been a blur. He didn't remember anything before walking up the stairs to the platform.

"I wanted to do our District proud," He stated easily. "The male tribute who was reaped didn't have a chance. I figured that if I played it would be at better odds. So I volunteered."

"Odds. You see this as a Game?" Wisteria looked the tiniest amount interested and Arthur grabbed hold onto that.

"It is called the Hunger "Games" for a reason." Arthur lent forward, letting his interest slip out without meaning to. He truly believed this and the whole audience could tell.

"It is a game. A game of risk and chance with your own life at stake. You bet against the odds and play against whatever the Game Makers throw at you. Be bold and gamble all and you have the greatest chance at winning. All or nothing. Your life against the other tributes. It's a fine sport and one that means that the contestant needs more than physical strength to win."

"How very true" Wisteria hid her interest better than Arthur. But the boy still could see the gleam in her eye.

"Tell us about your costume."

Arthur blinked but took it in his stride, however, his brain stumbled over an answer and plucked hold into the first one it came across.

"Yeah, bright isn't it." He looked ruefully down at the thing and heard the chuckles from the audience. But also a small gasp from Morgana. His fists clenched.

"How does it show your flower?" Wisteria asked and Arthur looked up at her.

"My flower is the Sunflower."

Wisteria snorted and Arthur raised an eyebrow. Inside he agreed, however. He then looked down at his costume again and thought about how he could describe it. Yellow. That was the first thought which sprung to his mind.

The outfit was simple, and a bit plain. Arthur hated it. With black trousers and white belt, his yellow shirt was bright. Too bright. He was certain his face looked shallow and washed out under the bright studio lights. I didn't think this through. When Arthur was asked about what flower he was, he just shrugged it off and blurted out the first one which came to his mind. Now I'm paying for it.

"There is not much that shows my flower other than the colour in this." He gestured to his top.

"I suppose it is the colour that tells more than the design." Least that's what the escort and stylist said.

"The white stands for purity and all that shi-stuff" A loud whimper from Morgana. Arthur felt sweat break out on his forehead. "The yellow for the main colour of the flower, and the black for the dedication." Arthur shrugged. "I'm not one for symbolism or anything like that."

"Too bad."

Arthur felt like, no, he knew he just had made a terrible mistake. His eyes darted over to Morgana and saw that she too had a sheen of sweat on her forehead. From pain, not anger or nerves. Wisteria watched with this eagle eyes.

"Introduce us," She said softly. Arthur turned back and clenched his jaw.

"This is Morgana Frey. She is my half-sister."

"Half?"

"Same father."

If she is going to get short, so will I. Although Arthur knew it was a bad idea.

"Interesting, How are you, Morgana?"

Morgana's eyes flashed and Arthur waited for it.

"I'm fine you bitch!" She spat

There is was...

"What did you call me?" Wisteria's voice was cold and hard. The audience on the edge of their seats. Arthur begged Morgana silently to keep her mouth shut. She got the message for Morgana just shrugged and looked away.

The interview flicked her left wrist and Morgana jumped slightly before biting her lip savagely. Arthur felt helpless and he hated the emotion that swept over him. He pushed it to the back and turned to the interviewer.

"Are we done?" His voice was cold. Wisteria looked taken aback.

"We can be." She raised an eyebrow and waited for Arthur reply.

Arthur stood up. He looked down at the women for a long while before he spun on his heel and left the stage.

As he left the stage, he noticed how quiet it all was. He looked up to see the faces of the other tributes. Some looked at him in pity, others in shock.

Well, I fucked this up didn't I...

It didn't help when his mind replied for him.

Yes, you did...

He left the backroom and sat in the corridor, putting his head in his hands he just shut his eyes tightly.

"Shit"

~~

DISTRICT 7 MALE - REED QUILLEAROY

Trees, towering high like mighty giants ready to crush with their feet, tangled roots would be the toes aimed to trip. Moss coated the trunks, legs, hanging down from branches like blankets. The air was filled with sweet smells, flowery scents that sent Reed spiraling for the source. Perhaps it came from deceptive fruits, dangerously beautiful plants, or perhaps it only came from the buckets of perfume and cologne that had drenched the tributes of these next games.

Reed peered around the corner, inching his way closer to the line. He regarded each tribute warily. There, that girl from Two, she was a mighty tigress lurking in the tall grass, waiting for the right moment to strike. Her orange dress was the matted fur. All that's missing is black stripes. Maybe a tiger lily would've suited her better.

He let his gaze jump over to One, Danelieux; now he was the king of the jungle, a lion. A dirty blond mane spread over the top of his head swiftly like a crown. Dandelions. I wouldn't have guessed by his name, or anything. Reed chuckled. Then he found Venenius. Another Career. A snake, a python, venomous. When the games started, he'd sink his teeth into unsuspecting tributes, poison rushing through too quickly for saving.

The rest of the Careers would be from Four, the deep creatures that swam through the winding rivers of the jungle. The girl, Amani, was an electric eel. She would roam mindlessly, only aiming for survival. Still, barely noticeable flashes of electricity flashed through her. There was no telling when she'd whirl on you and sink her jagged teeth into your skin. These Careers, they'd sting Reed. They'd try, anyway. But you can't sting what you can't see. I'm too quick, too sneaky. I'm small, I'm sweet. I'm like the poison dart frog. But don't touch me, because my poison will seep through your skin. I'm so excited! The biggest adventure, and it's real.

All the tributes up to six had been interviewed, and now they sat in a row of chairs set aside for those finished. The guy from Four --Carrot den?-- was nowhere to be found. Another Career, another animal. What kind?

As he mulled over hundreds of possibilities, he didn't notice footsteps approaching. A hand landed on his shoulder and he jumped, spikes of discomfort digging themselves in his stomach. It stung. "Hey there, kiddo," Three said, "You're jumpy. Nervous?"

Reed craned to look at the guy. Hm...seems more like a sloth. Probably lazy. Slow. A bit hairy. Why does he have a caterpillar on his upper lip? He shook his head, shying away.

"I'm Jack, but I'm guessing you knew that." Jack yawned, as if bored, but Reed saw his eyes dart down to his own for approval.

Reed shook his head again. "I didn't really care to memorize it. You don't seem like a threat."

Jack's laugh was a chortle, an annoying sound that made Reed's ears rattle. "Oh, you're a cute little thing. Funny, too." He pretended to wipe a tear from his eye.

I never liked sloths. Reed turned tail and walked away, leaving Jack to his own devices. "Okay, I'll see you later!" he hollered. Reed rolled his eyes. I wonder if there's anyone else here that stands a chance against the hunk of bravery that is me. I may be tiny, but this kitty got claws. Rawr.

Reed looked up just in time to see a figure marching towards him, too caught up in his own mind to notice the child. He was fuming, jaw clenched, lip curled in disgust. A panther. He slinks around like a panther in his dark suit, they won't see him when night falls. And then, he strikes. They collided, and Reed went crashing to the ground. "Oomph!" the man said, catching himself. "Watch yourself next time, kid," he growled.

Reed peered up at him from under his lashes. You're just as faulty as I am. Next time someone'll have a sword in their hand and you'll impale yourself.

Carrot-den narrowed his eyes, straightening his posture. But there was something that made him double-take. He squinted, leaned closer. His eyes grew to the size of moons. "B-Beck?"

"No. I'm Reed."

Carrot-den took a minute to let this sink in. "Right. Right. But, damn, you look just like him when he was younger...Only thing missing is the eyes."

"Okay. Y'gonna help me up now?" He did knock me down.

"I'm sorry, Beck--Reed. I mean Reed." The man thrust an arm out and Reed took hold of it. He was on his feet in seconds. "Look, I didn't mean to...."

Reed, like with Jack, left the Career on his own, having heard his name over the intercom. Carrot-den stared after him, looking more like an abandoned baby monkey than a panther. Guess the Careers aren't as tough this year. At least last years' Four was nice.

In seconds he was onstage, and "awes" rose from the crowd as he gave them a lopsided grin. He caught his face in the screen; he wore a suit, which started a dark brown at his pants, and was scattered in patches on his top, like large burn marks, stains. Where there wasn't brown, there was red. "A withering rose," someone had said, "Because once you're in that arena, that's what you'll be."

The host, Wisteria, waved him forward, nails like talons beckoning him forward. A harpy eagle; she was at the top of the food chain. And the girl beside her, eyes darting wildly to and fro, she was a mere cockatoo. Reed's sister.

"Hi, Lana," he said, waving as he plopped down in the seat across from them. She didn't reply.

"Hello, Reed Quillearoy. How are you feeling?" Wisteria's voice was soft, but there was a cold undertone to it, like metal left out in the snow for hours. If Reed were to touch this harpy, his fingers would freeze to her.

He scooted his chair away. "I'm okay. Lots of animals out today."

Wisteria chuckled. "I bet you have a very eccentric imagination, is that right?"

Eccentric. Never heard that before. I'll have to use it. "Oh, yeah. I've been wandering the jungle all day. Tomorrow I bet I'll be in castles."

Wisteria snapped her fingers, and a whimper came from Lana. Reed paid no mind. She's always whining. "I don't think an imagination like that will be very helpful. Tell me, Quillearoy, what makes you think you have a chance?"

Easy. I'm the poison dart frog. "I'm small. I'm sticky. I'm smart. If I try hard enough I'll get there."

"Yes, well, that's what most tributes think...Why did you volunteer?" Wisteria tapped her foot wildly, and Reed noticed a small button beside her foot. He flashed his green eyes up to hers.

"I was bored."

Wisteria's claws landed on the button, and Reed looked over to see Lana's body twitch. What's this? I wonder...I'm sure she won't hate me. Cockatoos don't hold grudges, do they?

"Is it less boring here?" Wisteria asked. The tip of her shoe was millimeters from the button.

Reed tilted his head, stroking an imaginary beard. "Hm..." He glued his eyes on Lana. "I'd say it's more boring. Districts are fun with trees and fields to hide in. This place just has a bunch of ugly people." Termites. They're like termites. All you have to do is draw circles and they'll follow them absentmindedly.

Wisteria ground her heel into the ground, and a series of twitches wracked Lana's body, tossing her back and forth in the chair. Her head snapped back, eyes bulging. The crowd was aghast. They'd been fairly quiet the whole time; it was then that Reed noticed smears of red beneath Lana's chair, a failed attempt at mopping...blood?

Reed wrinkled his face. "Are you killing people?" he asked. A simple question, as innocent as they get. But Wisteria's beak expanded in a sickening smile, a row of sharp teeth ready to bite. She reached out, gathering Lana's hair in her fist. Her body had stopped convulsing, but she'd gone limp, save for fearsome eyes that begged Reed to do something.

It was then that an idea occurred to him. Why be the frog when I can be the cobra? Why be the hero, when I can be the villain?

"Reed Quillearoy, what's going on in your mind right now?" Wisteria squawked.

He deadpanned. "I think you try too hard to be evil."

And then, just like that, five needles the size of Reed's fingers penetrated the tender flesh of Lana's throat. Her eyes held betrayal, deceit. And Reed clapped.

Isn't this quite the plot twist? Eccentric! Lana's back arched abnormally as the needles were shoved even further through her. And then, the needles were gone, and Lana sort of sat there motionless for a moment, and then her body slumped away from the chair, head cracking against the tile, body splayed across the floor.

The buzzer went off.

~~

DISTRICT 8 MALE - NED LEANDTHRED 

As time slowly ticks by I prepare myself. My outfit is simple, green cargo pants and white shirt with a glitter yellow picture of district 8's logo. Sparkles??? My youngest personality added glitter to the dye. I also make up a small vial of liquid. After all, they want an interview to remember so I'll give them one...

As my name is called I take a breath and step onto the stage where I see my best friend Emmy Russell tied up. She looks like she has been tortured. Why???

Then the cameras start rolling. Unfortunately, Wisteria is nowhere to be seen and the Capitol knows that. After a minute she finally comes on the stage. She isn't happy.

"I TOLD YOU TO WAIT! DO I NEED TO DO YOUR JOB TOO?"

I ask if she's normally like that. Some people nod. I take a seat. I normally suck at public speaking so I am extremely nervous.

"A tribute that is more than meets the eye? It's interesting but I hope that doesn't get him killed . Capitol, please give it up for Ned!"

I fake a smile and wave. I need to get this right. My life is on the line.

"Tell us about how you felt when you were diagnosed with MPD."

"It hurt just like a bee sting does but I learnt to control it and my best friend was the only person of my age that supported me. If she could've volunteered for me she would've."

"Is there anyone back home that you miss?"

"Of course, my family and my best friend that you brought here." I glance at Emmy. She looks in pain. "Is she ok?"

"Yes, but this is your moment not her's. Is there anything else you want to say?"

This is it. Only one shot so make it count.

"To my friends and family. Stay strong no matter what happens to me. To the Capitol, thank you for letting me experience the last days of my life in luxury. To my alliance, keep fighting no matter the odds."

My eyes turn blue. I pull out the vial take a breath. My last word before I die must be creative. I take a look at Emmy and remove the lid. I tip my head back and mouth just this word.

CHEERS.

I promptly collapse.

~~

DISTRICT 9 MALE - STEVE YOUNG

Bright lights dimmed just enough to allow Steve to see as he walked out. His long legs were decorated in black suit pants that had been specifically made for him. He blinked an eyelash out of his eyes and sneezed. Perfume and makeup filled the air. Very girly, but it wasn't for him.
No, it was for the thirteen billion girls that all had to be dolled up. The outfits were creative, at least, his was. It started with an extensive wash and then a yellow shirt bright enough to make the sun wince. Little strands of silver weaved through the yellow in delicate flecks. From there he had donned a dark purple jacket that hugged his muscles and cast a mysterious look. His hair had been extensively washed and combed up while they had shaved off his tiny beard. In his suit pocket--a single, perfectly cultivated Snapdragon flower.
Around him, people ran left and right. His stylist had abandoned him hours ago to work on his district partner, Yukana Chambley. She was apparently wearing some sort of pretty white dress.
Why is everyone dressed up as flowers? Is this some sort of Rose parade? He laughed silently to himself as he waited for his turn, mind spinning on wheels of gold and blue. What did the bee say to the flower? Hello, honey!
Finally, it was his turn. He adjusted his blue spotted magenta tie and walked up the steps to the stage.
"All the way from District Nine," called out a sharp and slightly scary voice, "is Steve Young! Steve, come on out. We have a special guest for you."
He felt his throat tighten up at that as he went to his seat. There, right before him, was Shelia.
Shelia.
With a grin he hugged her, his strong arms squeezing her body close as his lips lifted upwards. "Babe!"
"Hey, Steve," she said. Her voice was soft. Weak. Something's wrong. "Have a seat, will you?"
"Yes, Steve, take a seat," Wisteria, the hostess, ordered. She was scarier in person. Nails like a witch's, sharp and long, and a thin body encompassed in a large carnation dress. It was strange, over the top, and just enough to give him nightmares. She gave him a short smile. "Lovely outfit."
"Yeah--if you're into the 'I just escaped a greenhouse' look." He chuckled, glancing back at his girlfriend. She looked radiant as ever with her plump sides and corn-colored hair. Her dress was wavy and bright orange. Perfection.
He gave Shelia a broad smile, "I'd say you're as pretty as a rose, but a rose ain't got nothing on your beautiful tulips."
At that she let out that pretty little laugh of hers, teeth flashing and round cheeks blushing. "Ain't he a riot!"
Wisteria, who was about as cheery as a dead field mouse, only shook her head. "I can appreciate a funny man," she said, "but beneath that. Tell me, Mister Young, what skills do you bring into this arena?"
He shrugged. "I'm strong. I can run. I can fight, climb..."
Pursing her lips, Wisteria shook her head. She turned to the side for a second, sharp nails digging into the metal of her chair. Her metallic eyes pierced his soul, forcing him to talk, to spill everything.
"Are the Games a joke to you?"
"Yes."
It was automatic. It was easy. Shelia, though, let out the smallest cry of pain. Tears flooded her eyes at the same time confetti began to rain down on them all.
Steve felt as though there was a scar crossing his heart. Lies that brought him into the world and lies that would kill the one he loved. Life, death, a giant bloody scar, bumpy and ruined. Something to be seen and scoffed at, something to be hated and hidden from the world.
But the scar was really on her, who had electricity of some sort wound throughout her body.
Wisteria giggled. It sent shivers down his spine. "Let's move on, shall we?"
The crowd, who couldn't see what he saw, laughed and cheered her on. Steve felt like ice had replaced his bones.
"Steve, tell us, what's your game plan? Your strategy for winning?"
"I..." His throat felt sore. He couldn't lie. Lying hurt his gal, his Shelia. Fuck. I can't get her hurt! "I want to win. Anyway that's possible. I--I hate losing. I can't stand it. I don't care how many...scars I get. I don't care if I lose an arm, an eye...all I want is to get back home. To get back to Shelia."
They 'ooh'd and 'aw'd that, a few hooting. Steve's heart beat fast in his chest. Is my answer good enough? Damn! Better, Steve. Don't let them hurt her.
He cleared his throat, "Really, I'm going to win for Shelia."
"Ah, yes. Nice. How sweet."
Shelia's eyes bored into his forehead, worse than the metal ones that Wisteria held. Her pain was obvious. Wisteria's a robot. Some sort of--of freaking robot terror-freak.
"You know, lovers don't do well in the arena. It'll be sad when your body is brought back, now, won't it? Does that scare you, Steve? To know that you'll be dead?"
Shit. She wasn't going easy on him. Maybe if I can avoid her questions long enough I'll wake up and get a real human. Dang androids. Always trying to break you.
Shelia answered for him, her voice still nothing like he knew it to be. She sounded meek, mild, almost timid. "Oh, he's coming home. We're going to get married, you see. Steve and I, we've got a life to live. The Games won't take this from us."
"Are you excited, Steve?"
"No-" He was cut off by Shelia's small cry of pain. Answer real. Real! "I...yes, I'm excited. My soul is absolutely shaking. I've always wanted to meet a boogeyman, you see." His answer wasn't a lie but it was a joke. Steve knew he was excited. The prospect of the perfect Game--if he won, his family got everything.
"You don't like losing, do you?"
He chuckled, trying to calm his ever beating heart. "No. I mean, losing is fine--I just hate doing it. Who doesn't?"
"Is there anything you want Shelia to know in case this goes bad?" she asked, crossing her legs. The high heels on her feet were distracting with their bright neon yellow and greens. He could tell from the way she sat that she was the type to get high off of other's pain and drunk on their sadness.
"I'd..."
He couldn't answer.
It was the Reaping all over again. He had two minutes to talk and he couldn't. The entire time he made jokes. Pat had laughed until she cried. His mother had cried the entire time, never once even smiling. Shelia hadn't gotten to show up, she'd waited too long. By the time the train rolled out he only got a glimpse of her tear streaked figure waving and running after him. That had been enough to rip his heart.
"I want her to know that I love her," he chocked out. Wisteria 'tsk'd under her breath and Shelia let out another small cry. Tears streamed down her face. Whether from the pain or his pitiful lie, he couldn't say. The whites of her eyes stained red as her mouth fell agape. Betrayal stung like a bitter friend as it slit her neck and left her for the flies.
I hope I die out there, he thought. He never wanted to see that face again.
"I love you," she whispered back. Pain lined each word spoken. "I love you, Steve."
He nodded, barely holding back his own tears as he stood. In a short walk he was before her, leaning down and wiping away a tear as he kissed her gently on the forehead. She smelled of home--of wheat and grains. Her skin tasted of sweet bread and burnt life--the odd, silvery taste that lingered in his mouth.
"I'll return home. Nothing can stop me," he muttered against her head. A rush of hot, searing electricity filled his mouth and body, flowing straight from hers. Another lie. Quick, he rephrased himself, "I'll try not to let anything stop me."
"Well, it's been lovely. Thank you, Steve."
That was the end. Time for him to go. For Shelia to return to...home? To stay in the Capitol, free for torture? I'll win, and we'll both return home. I'll do it, I'll win.
"Goodbye," he told her, voice falling to a low sigh. With a gentle hand he removed the flower from his pocket and pressed it into her tiny hands.
Shelia wiped away all the tears that she could before responding, her voice clear and sweet. "Goodbye, my love."

~~

DISTRICT 10 MALE - ALLIUM MEEDS

~~

DISTRICT 11 MALE - APERIO CORNWELL

Aperio wrung his hands nervously, his palms sweating uncontrollably. He couldn't help but shift from foot to foot as he waited backstage. With his left eye, he could only observe the other high-strung tributes; some talking to one another, some glancing constantly toward the ceiling. Dropping his gaze onto his elaborate clothing, he couldn't help but despise it. The black tuxedo adorned with white coursed, barbed fur didn't suit the young boy's taste. What was wrong with his stylist?

Pulling down at the sleeves and hem of his jacket, Aperio silently prayed the interview wouldn't be hard. Being mute was a challenge not only for him, but for everyone else around him. He was constantly misunderstood and shut off. Did he want pity? Not really. But when the soft and daunting voice of Wisteria Wiles, the host, boomed through the speakers calling him to the stage, he mentally cried. And as he walked at a staggering pace toward the door, he wished all the world that someone would take pity on him right then.

Aperio felt as if time had frozen. The furry scarf that draped around his shoulders swishing along with his slow movements, the barbed ends continuously stinging his scarred cheeks. He never asked for any of this, and neither did he want it. But he had no say in it, now did he? He didn't, like the rest of his life. He had no say in anything. And at the very last moment when he passed the threshold of the door, he felt like he was being controlled. And he wanted it to stop. Being dressed to represent the massonia flower, he knew he could stab anyone at any moment.

As soon as the bright lights shone on Aperio, he wanted to turn around and run. But it was the second person beside Wisteria Wiles that made him reconsider his option. His mouth slightly left agape, he could only shake his head. "Mother?" He exclaimed, slightly above a whisper. "Well, what a way to greet the hostess!" Wisteria Wiles grinned ever so slightly, her eyes begging to differ. And at that moment, Aperio built up his knew found hatred for the pretty host a few feet away from him.

"I'm joking, dear one. I'm Wisteria Wiles the host, and over here," Wisteria making a hand gesture toward his mother, "your beloved mother."

Mentally rolling his eyes, Aperio inwardly growled. He was about to say something, but realizing he couldn't exactly speak, he only mumbled incomprehensible sounds.

"I'm sorry?" He heard the host question. Glancing up, he met the eyes of Wisteria. Suddenly she recalled, for Aperio noticed the shift of expression on her face. "You're the half-blind and mute one!" The tone of recognition obvious in the voice of Wisteria.

Nodding once, Aperio met eyes with his mother. He noticed pain, fear, confusion. He didn't like how uncomfortable she looked either; tied up and vulnerable. Walking forward and taking a seat that was directly facing Wisteria, he knew that the audience could still see his glum indication toward the situation he was in. Some awed, some cooed. And maybe, just maybe, others booed. But that didn't matter to the young boy covered in scars, he knew nothing could hurt him. So putting his best smile on, he gestured Wisteria to begin her interview.

"For your sake, I'd ask yes or no questions. Answer them quickly and correctly," Wisteria began, looking Aperio directly in the eye, "or else your mother over here would suffer for your mistakes."

Glancing to his right, the audience was watching intently and ready to cheer when given the right time. All Aperio had to do was act innocent and be, to his grudgingness, honest. Looking at his mother, he knew he had to do this for her; she had been the one to raise him and give him the provisions needed for daily life.

"Now, what is your district like? District 11?" Wisteria began, her voice sweet. "Is it harsh, or nice like the Capitol?"

Moving his hands to cross over one another to form an X, Aperio knew he has given the right answer when Wisteria's grey eyes lit up. But inside his head, he cheekily smiled. The Capitol was disgusting and full of idiotic idiots...like the one in front of him. Oh, all the redundancy.

The interview went on, Aperio forcing fake smiles and knowing no one would lay a sharpened nail-polished finger on his mother. Question like "how many siblings do you have?", "what if you become victor?", "my, how did you get those scars? Working too hard?". And yet, Aperio kept thinking that the host in front of him, still hid something up her tight sleeve.

And when Aperio couldn't stand her low and calm voice anymore, the final question was blurted out, "Finally, my dear, how did you lose sight in your right eye?" That technically wasn't a yes or no question (neither were some of the earlier ones), but Aperio did have to answer. So he looked at his mother who had stayed silent the whole time, her eyes trained on her 12-year-old son.

He glanced at Wisteria and then back to his skittish mother. Guessing the host finally got the clue, Wisteria grinned widely, her pearly whites shimmering in the spotlight. "Why yes, you, Annie! Tell me how your son lost his eye sight." Her eyes glancing at the edgy Aperio.

"W-well, the, the, I, um...he hit a tree!" Annie began her voice quivering, "He was playing o-one d-day, when he h-hit the tr-tree!"

Aperio glanced unbelieving at his mother; didn't she know she had to tell the truth? She was knocking at death's door! Letting out what sounded like a groan, Aperio glanced in Wisteria's direction, and she was fuming.

"You're an imbecilic liar!" The host screeched, "I didn't want to hurt anyone, especially not in front of this innocent boy, but you called it on yourself!" Her hand reaching out for Annie's neck. Aperio couldn't watch and he couldn't do anything. He had no say, and everybody knew that. So he ran offstage. Not because he was afraid that Wisteria might attack him next, but because he didn't want to be blind in the left eye from watching what the insane host might do to his guilty mother.

~~

DISTRICT 12 MALE - KALE EMRYS

Kale wrung his hands together. His breaths were slowed and even but his pulse rate was through the roof. He was well aware of the sweat which seemed to pour off him. He swallowed once and licked his dry lips. He heard the noise of the crowd and wished he were a million miles away from this place. The Capital of the World. Gods. He heaved a sigh and looked around the nearly empty room. Why did fate seem fit to place me here? Why? Kale wished he knew.

"You're up next District 12!" His escort came bubbling up

"My name is Kale." And I've already told you that a hundred times.

"Yes, well. After your fellow District companion, it will be your turn to be interviewed. I now need to tell you a few things."

Kale heard something in her voice. It made his eyes dart to meet with a fear he couldn't explain. He saw the emotion in her eyes and wished he could interpret it to be anything other than what it was. Pity and sadness. It was so unlike her normal happiness that Kale dreaded what he was about to face.

In front of Kale flashed a TV screen. He found himself looking at a 3D image of himself in his costume rotating slowly. He looked at it with a puzzled expression, even if he already knew what it was. Carmella, Kale remembered her name even though she wouldn't use his rolled her eyes at his foolish expression. She had named him a bloodbath tribute and placed bets on the Capital's male tribute.

Kale swiftly took in his appearance on the now screen. He looked like someone out of a dark horror novel. Clad entirely in black, with a black cloak which swept the floor. He didn't look like Kale Emrys. The Capital swiftly had taken his image and personality away.

I do like the cloak though. Kale mused as the crowd roared again. It was long and had a hood that would cover his face if he pulled it over. The edges were trimmed with tiny little gold-red beads. When he walked, they shimmed in the light and made his slim figure seem even more opposing then it was. His shirt was a tight fitted doubled breasted affair with long sleeves, dotted with those beads. His trousers were also tightly fitted and Kale felt very uncomfortable.

At least they didn't put that purple outfit on me. Kale shuddered again at the remembrance. He was so lost in his musings that he didn't hear Carmella tell him about his "friend" which was also on stage. He did hear the roar of the crowd and his name however and he looked out onto the stage just in time to see someone being led out on stage. Kale blinked once and everything seemed to go in slow motion.

"Now." Carmella stepped forward and brushed imaginary specks of dust of Kale's black tunic. She hadn't noticed anything different "When you go out there, remember to smile and be yourself." She stopped for a moment, her whole body stilling. "Actually don't be yourself. Act smart for once." She started to move again and continued to brush Kale down. Kale just stood there frozen, watching the men escort Freya on stage and tie her hands behind her back

Wisteria Wiles was sitting primly in her chair, her hands folded and her ankles crossed. Her fiery red hair tumbled down her hair and her eyes were latched onto Freya's shaking form. Then she looked up and into the wings. She looked at Kale who tried to met her gaze. His eyes dropped and he missed the smirk that crossed the interviewer's face.

"We are nearly coming to a close." Wisteria said to the audience. They "awww'ed on que and Wisteria held up her hand. Dead silence as she spoke. "The final two Districts, twelve and thirteen." Boos went up at the last number and Wisteria grinned a smile which made Kale think of a wolf.

"But from District 12. The male tribute..." Kale tensed and waited. "Kale Emrys!"

There was his cue and Carmella pushed him forward. It had him stumble as he entered the stage from the right and the applause turned into laughter. Kale gritted his teeth and fought to urge to turn and glare at the escort. Now I look like a fool. I need to impress them, not show them a bloodbath tribute!

He walked the rest of the way safely and prided himself in the fact that his cloak billowed after him and his stride was measured. He was still numb from the shock of seeing Freya however and he ruined the effect of a lofty contender by reached out a brushing a finger across her cheek gently as he passed.

"None of that Mr. Emrys." Wisteria spoke up in a gentle but deadly tone. Her eyes flashed and Freya let out a tiny whimper. Not enough for the crowd to hear but enough for Kale to take note of. He glanced at her and saw her eyes reflect the pain she was feeling. He then saw the type of chair she was sitting in. It had wires running into the back and attached to Freya's back and arms were circle patches of a white material.

My God, she is being slowly electrocuted.

His brain worked overtime in those few seconds and he realized this is was Carmella had been rambling on about. He wished he had taken notice of her but now it was too late.

"Now, Kale, your outfit. Tell us how it reflects your flower. The Queen of the Night Tulip" Wisteria put so much contempt into the last word, the audience laughed again and Kale felt a blush working up his cheeks.

"Well," He coughed and then heard another whimper of pain come from the girl beside him. He hastened to reply to the question. "Both the design and the colour show what the flower symbolizes." He gestured to his outfit, Wisteria snorted and her hand twitched. A louder whimper form Freya and Kale felt like screaming.

"Yes, we can all see it's black." The interviewer said with scorn. More laughter.

"Umm, the flower stands for mystery and elegance. The cloak and the colour stands for both the mysterious side and the elegance of the flower. It is also a symbol of power." Kale allowed himself a smile. He tried to forget everything around him and just focused on getting out of this alive. He had seen the small blades on the ends of Wisteria's nails and they made him nervous. She would use them too.

"The whole design on the outfit symbolizes the power. Finally, the flower is a symbol for farewell and the greatest farewell is death. The colour of death is black, hence the colour of this outfit." Kale gestured to himself. He looked up nervously and saw Freya twitch and her hands clench in pain. My answer was not good enough. He felt a small growl leave his lips and the microphone picked up on it as did the interviewer.

"Tell us Kale. How do you think you will go these games?" She said as she lent back with another small twitch of the hand. Kale felt helpless and he cast a look of anger at the lady next to him. She just smiled a cool smile and her hand jerked again.

Kale sighed and answered.

"I don't know. I don't think anyone knows until they are out there in the arena." He shrugged and sat up carefully, his mask slipped into place and he didn't react when Freya whimpered again.

"Interesting. And tell us, what will be your strategy?"

Kale blinked at her and raised an eyebrow. She looked surprised at his response and if the cry that came from Freya was any indication, a little anger was involved.

"Simply...To win. I don't want to die and I don't want to alert the other tributes to my plans." He said calmly. Although inside he was slowly killing Wisteria. I wonder how much a human body can stage before it dies...

Silence and Wisteria looked begrudgingly impressed. A buzzer sounded and Kale was about to rise when she held up her hand.

"Tell us the name of your companion here first Kale."

He looked and saw that Freya's hands and back were bloodies. Bile rose in his throat and he tore his suddenly tear-filled eyes away from her. He still loved her, even if she didn't love him. He rose to his feet.

"Her name is Freya," He looked down at the two. Wisteria relaxed, as did Freya. But both for two different reasons. The interviewer had found a weak spot in the dying seconds of the seemly short interview. She smirked and Kale fought the urge to strangle her there. She knew! He turned on his back and left the stage. Her soft laugh ringing in his ears.

~~

DISTRICT 13 MALE - EROS DEMAKIS

"God, I wish I had some cigarettes with me right now!" I shout.

I'm craving a cigarette right now. It's not the nicotine that I miss. I just want a distraction. It's hard work, trying to look nonchalant. If I were to tell the truth, I'm exhausted and scared. However, I can't afford to show fear. These people want blood, and I'll give them that. I'm going to make sure that it isn't mine.

Suddenly, I hear shuffling. I turn to look, and see that my District partner is leaving with the Capitol female. They're probably going to discuss their alliance. She's shady, but she's been spending time with the Capitol girl. Chances are, they're going to ally. I didn't know her all that well, back at District 13. I still don't care for her.

As she leaves, a bored looking boy is left standing alone. He's leaning against the wall, fixing his bow tie. His hair is pewter black, which looks strangely blue in this light. "So... why are you going last?" I ask, working my charm into my voice. If there's one thing I'm 100% sure of, it's my charm. I know it works, and I'm going to use it as a weapon. "I thought that the Capitol would have to go first."

He looks straight into my eyes, and shrugs. "I don't know. They said they're keeping up with tradition that the Districts go first, and then the Capitol. Besides, we were last minute additions anyway." He says. I'm taken aback at his gall, but I don't let him know it. I'm going to intimidate him.

"Well, I don't care. I'm still going to kill you, you know." I smirk at him. "I've been watching you during training, and you don't seem to be much."

He rolls his eyes, ever so slightly. "Am I?" He asks. "Well, we won't really know until we're in the arena, won't we?"

I can't help it. I let out a chuckle. In the corner of my eyes, I notice the girls are coming back. Still chuckling, I turn back on Eros. The line becomes shorter and shorter, and I find my mind wandering back onto the topic of Eros. I scold myself mentally. I can't afford distractions.

Soon, they're calling me. I pat my pocket, excited. I have something planned for Wisteria, and the audience. Just as I step onto the stage, I turn around to look at Eros. "Aren't you going to wish me good luck?" I tease, voice low. I'm enjoying this more than I should. I can't let this go on for long though. I have to focus.

"Good luck... whoever you are." He says, smugly.

I smirk. "I'm Eros... and you're Wolfgang." Before he replies, I step onto the stage.

The crowd roars their approval, but I stay silent, only giving a slight nod towards them. I walk composed, inviting. I know how to play a crowd, and how to make people like me. It's a talent.

My eyes travel towards Wisteria, and I give her my most winning smile. She smiles back, and to my shock, my father is beside her. He is stony faced, and is avoiding looking at me. I reach the chair, and shake Wisteria's hand. Her grip is like stone, and she smiles back at me.

I ignore my father, and look directly at Wisteria. "Hello, Wisteria." I say, dropping my voice. "I'm Eros Demakis."

Wisteria waves her hand at me, razor sharp nails glinting because of the overhead lights. "Oh please," she says, "We know who you are. Every girl and boy in the Capitol wants you in bed right now!"

Chuckling, I shake my head. Work the crowd, Eros. Manipulate them. "Sadly, I can't be with everyone. Only a few will be in bed with me." I turn to the audience and wink. Collective recoil among the members of the audience makes me grin. I turn back to Wisteria, and her hand is on my father's. My brows furrow, and I'm bewildered. I don't let it show on my face, but it is evident in the pause between Wisteria and I.

"Eros, my darling Eros." She says, scanning me from head to toe. "What's with your outfit tonight? You look ravishing, but it's completely unrelated to your District."

My entire body is on fire. It's worth noting that it was not, literally. I'm wearing an all white suit, with bright red tinged on the sides. I look like I am on fire. My hands travel to my hair, and they are disappointed. When I got to the Capitol, I still had long hair. Then, my hare-brained stylist Ytterbium cut it all of! All she left was a small portion that I could make into a bun. The scars on my arm are hidden, but they'll be seen soon.

I cock my head. I stand up, and Wisteria follows me with her eyes. I turn to the audience, and shout, "Here! I'll show you!" I leave my hair alone, but my hands travel to the buttons on my coat. I unbutton it, and let it drop to the floor. The room is silent, deadly silent, and I'm pleased that I have the attention. In the corner of my eye, I spot Wisteria's eye twitching. She does not like having the spotlight stolen. This makes things much more satisfying.

Sighing, I tug at the ends of my shirt. A few people in the audience lean forward slightly, as I take my shirt off. Ytterbium had a little hoo-ha that she planned, and she specifically instructed me to do it tonight. As I take my shirt off, a burst of amaryllis explodes from my body. It doesn't affect me, as it's purely cosmetic. I disappear into a cloud of pink and white, and the audience roars their approval.

The smoke billows away, leaving me standing with a bouquet of amaryllis. I walk back to Wisteria, and she's looking at me like I'm a piece of meat. Her eyes hold a mixture of rage and admiration. Sitting down, I give her the bouquet. "For you." I say, not breaking eye contact.

"I... Thank you." She says, taking the flowers. "What on earth did you bring these for?"

"They're my favourite flowers. They're delicious!" I say, boring my eyes into her. She knows the flowers are poisonous. This is a huge gamble, and I'm terrified of the consequences if I lose. I can't lose this. I pluck one flower away from the rest, and offer it to her. "Eat."

She looks at the flowers uneasily, but it's gone in an instant. She's found a hole in my plan. She grabs the flower, and offers it to my father. He's still silent, but he looks at the warily.

She thinks I care for my father! I realize. Well, the joke's on her. I don't care for him, not at all. I see her, expecting me to react, but I only give so much as a smile. She's lost this round, for sure. Suddenly, she gestures backstage. I crane my neck to see what's the fuss about, and my eyes widen.

No. No! She can't have found him! How? My mind is racing with questions, and I know I'm about to slip. She looks back at me, smile plastered on her face. "You know Psyche, don't you? I thought you might want two people from your home here with you!"

Grabbing the flowers, she orders Psyche to sit. Once he's in his place, she hands him the flower. "Eat." She says, but it's more of a command. Pscyhe's eyes flicker up to meet mine, and I rush to stop him.

"Stop!" I say. "I'll eat that. I'm rather hungry..." I grab the flower from his hand, and shove it into my mouth. Instantly, I feel nauseous. The poison is fast, working its way into my system. Psyche still hasn't said anything, but Wisteria is grinning like a cat.

"Well," Wisteria says. "If you were hungry, you should have eaten before the interview!"

She's about to say something else when the buzzer goes off, signaling that it's the end of my interview. My head has grown light, and I'm seeing double. Still, I have to put on a show. I walk over to Wisteria, and kiss her on the lips. The audience gasps, and I make sure to give Wisteria some of the poison.

I break away first, and smile. "Thank you for having me!" I say, and give one last wink to the audience. Wisteria's face is composed, but her eyes deceive her. I bow, and leave quickly. I don't make it far before I heave.

A metallic taste invades my tongue. I brush my hand against my lip, and find that it's bleeding. I curse at myself, but I'm still pleased.

Like the amaryllis, I'm beautiful but deadly. Time to show these people my true colors. Time to show these people the true Eros.