The (Undecided) Hunger Games

**CAREERS:**Crassus Beryll, Aurelia Rhynestone, Varve Arkose, Mina Limestone, Floyd Elver, Marlo Leach, Beam Hackworth, Gauge Railway, Prunus Grove, Lionel Salsum.

**ANTI-CAREERS:**Esther Starkweather, Syrus Lawson, Verena Chambray, Milton Broodmare, Cicely Steer, Bryonia Coriander, Bristel Avento.

**5 & 7 ALLIANCE:**Corin Greer, Juniper Larch.

**FEMALE ALLIANCE:**Vision Faith, Rayna Garners, Oreo Dutton.

**LONERS:**Vesper Graymark, Acantha Halder, Gannex Barathea, Millet Oat, Neome Cobalt, Castor Hayes, Burns Militum, Chroma Gwyneira, Circinus Draco.

## **Train Rides (District 4)**

The bright lights set up along the long, narrow corridor had been switched to dimmer ones as night fell. By staring out the long glass panes, you could see the wilderness pass by like a blur as the train continued to go onwards, its sheer speed never ceasing to impress. The low humming sound of the moving train was the only thing keeping the train from absolute silence; for most of its passengers had moved onto their compartments, where they slept. However, not quite *all* of them had done so.

The two tributes representing District 4 were polar opposites at first glance. Chin-length hair, skinny and exhibiting a slightly tanned complexion, the female tribute definetly was not lacking in beauty, but compared to her District's standars, she could easily be considered average. The boy, however, was different. Piercing grin, charming smile, perfect alabaster complexion and neatly spiked black hair, Floyd Elver had conquered the heart of many teenaged girls from the Capitol after his performance at the Reaping, where he volunteered and pumped his fists once up on the stage, to which the District clapped wildly. Unlike many people would think, however, Floyd was not naive-minded or self-centered, and his kindness and reverence were noble traits commented on by his home District, along with his enraptured look and heart-melting grin.

Both were commendable trainees at the academy, evaluated as two of the best by the local trainers. However, something that bothered their respective District was the fact that both seemed hideous, and, at the best, vague. Floyd could've had any girl he possibly wanted to, but always stuck to himself, never really going out to make things happen unless he absolutely had to, and Marlo, the average-looking girl with breathtaking aim was no difference. While her innocence was well-known in the District, nothing else was known about her.

And in that night, the two of them spoke to each other for the very first time. Not that they did not have any opportunities to do so previously, for they had been in the same class for as far as they could remember. But that time, the table had turned. They were in The Hunger Games, and were soon-to-be allies. And they hailed from the same District. That contributed a lot, but nothing would've happened had Floyd not been to the main compartment of the train, where he found Marlo. Her short hair was tied in a precarious bun, and she had swapped her fancy Reaping dress for a far more simple outfit; a black sleeveless shirt and shorts, along with a pair of basic flip-flops. She was sitting on a bench, leaning her forehead against the cold glass pane next to her, her lips pursed together.

Floyd calmly sat himself next to her, his lips forming a warm smile as he greeted her. She did the same, albeit her eyes appeared to be elsewhere. Taking note of this, Floyd quickly reassured her that there was nothing wrong, and asked her if she could clear something out. Marlo was caught off-guard, but agreed to answer his questions.

“I was thinking about what you said earlier, after volunteering. . . about your morals. And I have to say, I am quite confused as of something you said.” Floyd stated, his hand brushing his bangs back in place as he glanced at Marlo, whose lips were still pursed. Her eyes, however, were no longer drifting off, and she seemed focused. She wasted no time in answering, in a low voice.

“And what would it be?”

“I don’t quite know how to put this, so here it goes: You do not desire to inflict harm on the tributes that will be facing us once we get into the arena.” Floyd said very matter-off-factly. Marlo, however, was not offended, and once again, in a low voice, she answered him.

“Precisely.” She did not know where Floyd wanted to get with that seemingly unnecessary conversation, but she had always been a patient person, never to shoot anyone down with her words or possibly offend another person.

“Okay. Given that, why did you volunteer?” There it was. Marlo clicked her tongue, turning towards Floyd.

"You tell me something, Floyd. I wish to know, why do you think one volunteers? You seem smart enough. I'm sure you'll have the answer for my question."

"Well, we're Careers." He took a break and glanced over at Marlo, whose eyebrows were arched up. That was not enough of an explanation. "We are expected to display our merit and bring pride to our Districts from an early age. By volunteering, we are not just proving our worth, but exhibiting it to not just our District, but to the entire nation as well. We are expected to preserve our power by letting everyone know we, and most importantly, our District, is the absolute best."

"Interesting." Marlo looked away, gazing out at the window, no longer looking at Floyd, who was not finished.

"But you did not answer my question, Marlo. I truly do not believe that you volunteered simply for the purpose of bathing in glory and appearing strong. You do not strike me as that type of person." Even though words came out of her mouth, she did not look at Floyd.

"That's because I am far from that. From an early age, I was tagged as weak, and was ridiculed and mocked by my own sister." Her words had a sad tone, but her posture was still determined.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Floyd placed a hand over her shoulder, but, in a delicated manner, Marlo waved him off.

"Don't be. I doesn't really matter right now. It seems as if that happened centuries ago. . ." Once again, her eyes driften to elsewhere.

"Okay. I'm glad to know you feel like that." Floyd said after a pause.

"And so am I. I do have some concerns about you, though, Floyd."

Silence. Marlo continued:

"We've been in the same class ever since we were kids, and yet you never approached me. Why did you suddenly get so interested about my problems?"

"About that, I wasn't really outgoing back then. However, I do feel bad about it."

"Don't be. I was merely making an observation, Floyd." Marlo reassured him in a soft voice, thankful for his honesty.

"Good to know." He answered, but his tone was no longer friendly.

"Yeah. Nevertheless, I have recently polished my skills, and have started to think not just like a fighter, but a survivalist as well." Marlo was once again speaking in a serious, low tone. Floyd did just the same, but his words were softer.

"That's really impressive. Is that why you decided to volunteer? You think you're ready for the upcoming trials?" He placed a finger on his chin, as if trying to picture an image on his head.

"No, Floyd, that that is not the reason why I volunteered." Marlo smiled.

"Really? How so?" Floyd appeared genuinely interested.

"In the heat of the moment, I do admit that my midset was leaning for that type of thinking, but my goals are far from that. I do desire to win, as you do. But not for my District, let alone for my family, that mistreated and shunned me for years. If I am to win, it will be for myself." Marlo bravely spoke, the smile in her face never fading.

"Well, I wish you the best of luck. I truly do. Nevertheless, t's getting late. I suppose I should head over to my bedroom to catch some sleep." Floyd was truthful about wishing Marlo luck. He always put others' needs and wishes in front of his own problems, a trait that Marlo admired.

"Very well. Good, night, Floyd."

At this point, Floyd was already on the compartment's door, but as Marlo said goodbye, he came to a halt, placing his hand on the wall, before looking over his shoulder, smiling:

"Good night, Marlo."

And as he walked off, the train continued to speed towards the Capitol.

## **Interviews (District 9)**

Not a single word comes from the girl's mouth as her prep team gets her ready. She does not dare to open her eyes; as she was instructed to by her prep team. Its first member, a short woman with plain brown hair, had introduced herself as Layla, and she quickly bonded with Rayna, whose simplicity and kindness earned her multiple fans in the Capitol. Layla was nowhere near being as genetically altered as the other members of the prep team; the only artificial thing about her being the tattoos littering her arms. They appeared to be stenciled in brown; with multiple patterns of circles and lines starting from every visible skin on her arm. Layla wore the traditional prep team uniform, with a golden ruby-encrusted python necklace hanging from her neck, along with a friendly, warm smile that never left her face.

Then, came the co-leader and second member of Rayna's prep team; Cisco, whose dusty blonde hair and skin nearly resembled parchment. The most shocking feature about him, however, where his tattoos. After a few moments of staring at him once they first met, Rayna quickly came to the realization that he was a living, breathing map; for Panem in all its flaws and scenarios were tattooed on his skin. Each wagon, each building and each house was there. Rivers flowed down his arm, emptying into the form of a lake on the palm of his left hand. A wheat field was placed on his wrist, each piece of wheat carefully tattooed by the Capitol's finest artists. Rayna's eyes watered as she took note of this tattoo, that resembled her home so perfectly. By looking out to his cheekbone, Rayna could see in detail the image of a man eating an apple; his wife sewing a new shirt behind him. Each thread of the cloth appeared to have been drawn by hand onto Cisco's face.

Then came Cario, the last member of the team. At first glance, it appeared as if the slim, tall woman was wearing a metallic jumpsuit, but at closer look, one could see that it was not the case. Her skin was composed entirely out of metallic patterns that were, due to a reason not acknowledged by Rayna, still flesh. Overlapping oval-shaped scales composed her entire body, and unlike the other members of the prep team, she was not wearing anything at all. Her long aquamarine hair was composed of stick-straight locks that fell halfway down her arms, nearing her waist. Her piercing eyes were of the same color.

When Rayna first met them, she was not startled, as many would assume. Kind and accepting, she quickly offered her hand to Cario, and then did the same to all the other members of the prep team, who shook it happily. The trio of Capitolites continue to do their work on Rayna. Mascara is applied swiftly but accurately. A thin, small brush sweeps over her lids, giving them color. Another, even smaller, wet brush glides over her eyelashes, and then over her bottom lids. Soft lipstick is dabbed onto her full, chapped lips and something else glides over it.  Then, Cario comes on, holding a black fabric case containing Rayna's interview dress.

"Rayna. . . close your eyes." She whispers softly, and Rayna, always obedient, does just that. Holding her arms halfway up, she feels a silky material slide up her body. Sleeveless. Short. Soft. All these characteristics are noticed by Rayna as the prep team finishes adjusting the dress. A sharp intake of breath leaves her mouth as she is told to step forward and put on her shoes. Heels. Very high heels. It appears as if there is something curling around her ankles, reaching the area below her knee. However, her eyes remain closed, until someone speaks again, only this time, it's Layla's voice.

"Open." Short and straightforward. Rayna does not hesitate to do so.

An involuntary squeal leaves her mouth as she is startled by a beautiful, young woman standing in front of her. Rayna is about to ask what is happening when she notices something. The woman moves, and does everything Rayna herself decides to do. The woman is nothing other than her own reflection in the huge mirror assembled before her. Rayna mutters something under her breath, before examining her appearance more closely.

The sleeveless purple dress is quite short, just above her knees, and it flares out. A purple ribbon of silk in a lighter shade is tied above her waist, giving her body curves it could never afford to have due to malnourishment. In the back, everything above the waist is completely open, showing off Rayna's bare skin and leaving little to the imagination of the viewers. Her golden shoes, matching the pins attached to her purple dress, are high heels, and straps wrap themselves around the lower part of Rayna's legs, as if they were snakes. Her loosely waved strawberry blonde hair was not tied whatsoever, and freely cascaded down her shoulders in glossy strands, nearly reaching midway past her arms.

She looked absolutely stunning. She didn't even bother to deny it. Why would she do so? She really did. The prep team laughed in pure glee at her reaction, before escorting her towards her respective place in the line, where the other tributes were assembled. She took her place behind her District Partner, Millet, who didn't even bother to mouth a small "hello".

The interviewer and master of ceremonies, Eucilo Mayall, took his place on the stage, and one by one, the tributes' names were called, and the interviews had begun.

Districts Zero and One were relatively average, with the exception of the girl from District Zero possessing a troubled, gory backstory in which her friends were slaughtered in an accident involving a wild bear. The boy from District Two was ruthless and cut right into business as his interview begun, making shameless references to slaughter and the bloodshed of his oponnents. His District Partner appeared to be even more mentally off, cackling gleefully after insulting Eucilo and providing the audience with bloodthirsty and snarky commentary; to which Rayna cringed. The handsome boy from District Three had a smooth, buttery accent and Rayna could tell that most of the teenaged girls form the Capitol were crushing on him at that point. The girl from Four was surprisingly kind-hearted, and the boy from Five was quiet and shy. District Six, in which both tributes were strong and capable career recruits, came and went, and the boy from District Seven had a conturbed, interesting backstory.

Both tributes from District Eight were quiet and humble, with a layer of intelligence in their eyes. Then Millet's turn came in. As Rayna had never had a real conversation with him, she paid a little more attention to his interview. Misunderstood loner-based, Millet could be easily described as the mysterious type of boy that is difficult to analyze and is seemingly distant overall. A real book aficionado, he stated to be typically seen with a novel in hand. He also admitted to be a very literal person, to the point where he writes poetry in his free time. Rayna was amused by Millet's interview, until she realized she was next. She wiped her sweat-drenched palms in her dress, and went rigid as Millet left the stage with his usual emotionless expression, right before Rayna Garners was called. She sighed, and moved onwards, towards the stage, where Eucilo awaited. Smiling like she never did and waving at the crowd, Rayna took her seat, and the interview had started.

*To be continued. . .*