"Instruments as weapons and mutts." The president said with a disappointed frown. "Really, Chess, I expected more.....From you anyways." He stirred the porcelain teacup that sat before him on the small mahogany table.

Chess cocked his head to one side, deep in his shallow thought pool. "I expected more from me too, rather to phrase it more correctly, I expect more from me." He smiled arrogantly at the president who simply looked at the man suspiciously. "This is only phase one, Mr. President! 'Let them down easy onto a pile of burning stakes,' is what I always say."

"Care to let me in on these phases?" The middle aged man asked very slowly, quite apparently not sure if he wanted to know. Chess was a terrifying sadist who had somehow been bundled into the personality of a ditsy fifteen year old girl which only made the man more concerning overall.

Chess raised his eyebrows then raised a finger to his lips devilishly. "If I told you I'd have to kill you and all that jazz. Speaking of killing people though," he sidetracked, changing the subject much to the presidents irritation, "would you do me a favor and kill that sponsor Harlow or whatever her name is? She seduced my best man and now she won't leave. I try to kick her out of the gamemaking office but she just keeps coming back! Like an undead mosquito!"

The president was not amused, he leaned in toward Chess resolving himself to finding out what the strange man had planned. "Chess, we are going to talk about these phases now or you are going to be the one dead."

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Congratulations to Lyric Mason and Noel Way for making it through voting!

Your tribute is walking down one of the long halls behind the stage when they notice a opening that leads off into another room. You walk in  and see that it appears to be the control room of an incredibly old recording studio that must date back to the 2,000's. Somehow or another you wind up inside the recording bubble that is sealed off from the rest of the room. (The small room with the microphones that an artist would sing in.) The door closes behind you locking you in. A clone of yourself materializes and steps forward to attack you. You open your mouth to say something but as soon as the smallest whimper leaves your throat it is as if all of the air is being force from your lungs.

The door will open as soon as you beat your clone in complete silence, you can't grunt, speak and least of all scream. Your clone does have the ability to speak. 

You are to kill one person in your entry and you get two ballot deaths. 

This is due October 9th at 8:00 EST