The Tributes were plucked, polished, and waxed. They seemed to be changed in every way. President Wynter was watching the parade and scanning the tributes. Her sister, The Head Gamemaker, watched beside her.

District One started to ride up the street. President Wynter fixed her hair, and stared at them. They were lightly brushed with gold and were wearing laurel wreaths. The girl had small silver circlets around her wrists, and the boy had one around his arm. Robes adorned their bodies, as they waved and smiled to the crowd. 

Togas, like the Romans, President Wynter noted.

The boy was waving and whooping to the crowd. The girl had a dazzling smile, bleach blonde hair, and blue eyes. She was winking and waving to the crowd formally, showing off her beauty. They rode in a golden chariot, and then came the District Two Tributes.

They looked like they were real stones. Their faces were completely covered in greyish make up, giving them the appearance of rocks. The girl seemed to be faking a smile and confidence, while the boy did nothing but sit.

"The boy is sitting. He's paralyzed." Wynter's sister muttered, taking in the detail. Then, she turned to her sister.

"If he dies quickly, he'll be of no use. Please,  let me fix him! Ratings will go through the roof, and the drama will explode!" Athena, Wynter's sister, begged.

Wynter sighed. This would be a long day, and she didn't want to listen to her sister beg. After all, they were just pawns in a game. It wasn't like he had a chance at winning, and her sister had a point. Wynter gave her a faint nod, and her sister's face lit up with joy.

District Three rode in. They horses were robotic, and whirred and whizzed. The crowd oohed and aahed at the sight. The girl didn't seem to be looking for sponsors, but she didn't look like she was trying to die. The boy was hyper, staring around and giving off smiles to the crowd. 

They almost seemed genuine, but there was only one thing that gave it away. His piercing forest green eyes. His eyes darted around, looking for an escape. The President tisked. He was only fourteen, young for a tribute. He was scrawny and thin. Not much to look at.

On came the District Four tributes. The boy was obviously wearing contacts, by the way he kept rubbing his eyes and adjusting them. He tried not to let them bother him, and stared around, smiling. His eyes gleamed with obvious intelligence, and let out fake smiles. They seemed authentic to the crowd, and he was already winning over sponsors.

The girl was lithe and young. Fourteen by the looks of it. Young people were cropping up all the time in these games. She had long brown hair tied in a braid, and had the signature insane smile all daredevils had, a smile that gleamed with mischief and bravery that made Wynter want to check her pockets. She had warm brown eyes with specks of blue, that stared defiantly at the crowd.

She was tall for her age, and she looked like she had a good chance of winning. President Wynter took a mental note of her. She was dressed like a mermaid, and even though the costume was embarrassing, she seemed comfortable in the spotlight.

District Five looked the same like they always did. Lightning and live electricity crackled down their chariot. The boy carried a fake lightning bolt, and the girl faintly looked like someone she remembered.

They both wore simple clothes. The girl, a plain chiton with a golden circlet on her arm, and auburn hair. The boy wore the same, and looked confident he would win.

"Zeus and Hera. King and Queen of the gods. Bold choice." Athena muttered.

District Seven rolled around. The girl seemed to be covering up her bare arms, and pulling down the hem of the dress. The boy was tall and rough, with a look in his eyes. A look that said he had seen danger, and lived through it. The girl was shy, and timidly waved to the crowds.

The chariot was painted brown like woods with swirling colors and brave designs. It seemed like the girl had had a part in making her chariot. Her fingertips were stained with brown paint, and a line of paint was smudged on her face, below her eyes.

District Eight was unmemorable. They had the chariot patched up with textiles, and their clothes were too. Apparently, they had gotten there hands on some vintage clothes from 2020. They had on dark jeans, and hoodies that were obviously old.

The girl had a zip down hoodie and a shirt that said "Thrasher" and the boy had a black hoodie that said "2020" with splattered neon paint on the front. They waved stiffly and formally, looking at the crowds.

District Nine looked like they were made out of wheat. Ther wheels had grains, and they both hold corn stalk looking staffs. The boy was winking and scanning the crowds, picking the richest looking people. He had short cropped blonde hair, and dazzling green eyes that you could get lost in.

The only problem was his pale skin. They had obviously tried to tan it, but it wasn't working. He was still pale. His height was fairly average, and he was muscular enough. He caught her eye and gave a wink. It was hard for President Wynter not to smile back, but she knew his type. He was probably a bully, who pushed others down to make himself feel good. He had the guts to wave at her, and then quickly moved on to another rich person.

Already looking for sponsors, I see. President Wynter thought.

District Ten had an assortment of animals with them. The girl was holding a soft rabbit as it nibbled a carrot. You could hear the cuteness in the crowd. She was obviously going for adorable. The boy was actually sitting on a cow, and had on animal print clothing, not really portraying a feeling like he wanted to be there.

District Eleven came rolling through. President Wynter recognized the girl. She was Callisto Meadowshire. She was related to a previous tribute. Wynter racked her brain for who, and suddenly remembered. The memory soured her expression. She would have to make this game extra hard for Callisto. The boy was lean and muscular, with short black hair. He had cocoa brown eyes, and tan skin.

President Wynter watched the last chariot come down. The girl had long brown hair that came down to her waist, and blue eyes with golden specks. She wasn't overly muscular, but could probably hold her own in a fight. She was lithe, and had the body type of a long distance runner.

The boy was unmemorable, probably just some street rat. The youngest tribute yet, around twelve or thirteen. He had blue grey eyes that held his story. They said he would win, that he would prove himself. He had a light skin tone, and dark hair. He was short, only about five feet. Broad shoulders, yet an agile form, that for some reason reminded Wynter of a cat's. A worthy competitor, no matter his size.

The District Twelve tributes had coal black chariot, and their faces were smudged and dirty like they had been in the mines, with pick axes in their hands and beside them. Totally unremarkable. Yet when the girl turned, you could hear the audible gasp. Diamonds shined, and lit up the place. The light was dazzling, and seemed to refract endlessly. It was amazing, and felt like a once in a lifetime occurrence. But the girl was shy, and seemed embarrassed that all of the attention was on her.

Athena looked in jealousy at the attention they were getting, and President Wynter decided to show a rare moment of affection and tease her sister.

"Is somebody jealous?" Wynter asked innocently.

Her sister's face seemed to turn bright red, and she ducked her head. Her sister was fairly young, not that old. She could still pretend to be a tribute, and looked like she was fresh out of college. But she was a genius. That's why she had been made Head Gamemaker.

These Games will certainly be interesting. President Wynter thought to herself, staring at all 24 tributes.

The crowd looked expectantly at President Wynter, and she faced them.

"It is an honor to serve your country. Thank you for taking it. May the odds be ever in your favor." President Wynter announced, as if they had a choice.

The tributes all had a mixture of politeness and respect on their faces. Some sincere, others not. Almost all of them were struck by a sudden thought.

I'm going to win this.

--__---__--__---__---__----

An honor. Yeah, right. More like a death sentence. the caged boy thought, listening at the faint sound of a TV somewhere outside the cell. 

Another water drop fell onto his face and rolled off. It was the only way he could keep track of anything, and it was driving him insane. Days were weeks, weeks were seconds, years could've been minutes. It seemed like time went differently in his cell. The TV that occasionally turned on was his solace. He could faintly hear it some days, if they turned it up.

I guess they wanted me to break, knowing Wynter's up there, having a good time. he thought bitterly.

The door opened, and he was unclipped from the wall. Light flooded the room as his pupils dilated. He was haggard and starved, bags under his eyes, and the light refreshed him, telling him there was still hope.

The shackles still held him prisoner, and he was brought to a room for his scheduled interrogation. He sat in the chair, across from the interrogator.

"So, Matthew, anything new you want to tell us?" the interrogator said, knowing he wouldn't respond.

"Isn't it dangerous to use one's whole vocabulary in one sentence?" he replied, thinking about his repetitive interviews. They would never change it up, the same question over again.

A single flame spread from under his seat, turning up the heat, as live electricity arced the chair he was in. He yelped from the surprise, but quickly quieted down. It still hurt, but he needed to control himself.

 " 'Don't show emotions. Their a sign of weakness.'  " he muttered under his breath, like a mantra.

" I repeat, is there anything else you want to tell us?" the man asked, amused at his state.

"Yes." Matthew replied quietly, surprising the man.

A flicker of surprise ran across his face, but he made his face devoid of emotion. On the inside, he was shouting for joy. He had been waiting for this moment for months. Finally, the boy had broke!

"The capitol sucks, and so do you." Matthew said, spitting in his interrogator's face, ready for any consequence.

The interrogator lost his temper and punched the boy across the face. The chains broke from the force, as he fell out of his chair. He pulled him by his collar, and then let go. He momentarily saw the fire in Matthew's eyes, a reflection from the chair burning from the open flame. It was giving him an idea.

He pressed a button, and the direct line to the Head Gamemaker cut on.

"I think I've found your Lab Rat." the man said, a cruel smile adorning his face.