Hunger Games (DNF)

Part 1, Chapter 3: the Capitol

Final chapter for tonight. I hope you like the story so Far even though it starts off a little slow.

And also a lot of the tributes are just rando's, just bodies to scatter here and there in the story.
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George POV.

I woke up to the gentle rocking of the train. There weren’t any windows in the room so I just assumed it was probably around 10am. After a quick stretch I climbed out of the bed and headed out into the hallway as I attempted to stifle a yawn.

Darryl, Philza and Beetee were all gathered around the table as I rubbed my eyes and sat down. “Morning George,” Beetee greeted as he sipped on a steaming coffee.
“Morning,” I replied as I sat down and grabbed a piece of bread, not bothering to be formal with eating as I ripped a bit off and shoved it into my mouth.

Philza nodded a good morning to me as he passed me a cup of coffee which I grudgingly took and drank to wake me up. “We are about 10 minutes away from The Capitol, so we will be taking you to meet your stylists for the parade tonight then.”
Both Darryl and I hummed in acknowledgement as Beetee encouraged us to eat more, which we both did.

There was a solemn silence in the air as we passed through one final tunnel before zooming across a bridge towards the centre of The Capitol. Both my eyes and Darryl's, widened in awe while the other two men seemed unfazed. The bridge was a hundred feet above water, forming the large lake that surrounded the utopian looking city. It was a marvel to look at, even if this was probably going to be the last place I’d ever see outside the arena I had to admit it could look worse.

The train sped into the station and immediately was enveloped by a crowd waiting eagerly to see the tributes, as in me and Darryl. People were waiting by our platform and as we stepped off of the train, surrounded by peacekeepers, we were almost blinded by all the camera flashes coming at us from all angles. Philza and Beetee were on either side of Darryl and I as the four of us were loaded onto a truck which drove through the busy streets to the Training Centre where all of us would live for less than a week before getting sent into the arena.

It was in the centre of the city and the large building towered above the rest. The truck drove into the underground parking lot and the doors slid open. A ramp was given to help Beetee roll his wheelchair down and he and Philza watched as Darryl and I were taken over to an elevator that took us up 2 floors to a large room where designers were setting up tables to help ‘pretty up the tributes,’ for the parade.

Darryl and I glanced warily at each other before being separated by the peacekeepers. As I was led down towards an empty room where I was supposed to be cleaned and have my hair done, because that was important. I glanced into all the rooms and saw many other boys sitting on tables, getting their hair done or waiting uncomfortably to meet their stylist. I met a few of their eyes and gave them sad smiles until being told to sit down in an empty room.

I did as I was told and rubbed my hands uncomfortably while waiting and watching as capital designers and stylists ran past to find their tributes. After a few minutes a tall man with slightly messy blonde, almost brown hair came into the room. Looking meek, I glanced up at him and he gave me a small smile as he reached out to shake my hand.
“Hello George,” I noticed he had an incredibly deep voice, “my name is Eret, and I am going to be your stylist.”

He gave a smile as I tentatively shook his hand. After taking a deep breath I mumbled a hello, “you are here to make me look pretty… aren’t you?”
“Apparently, but I prefer to say I help you make an impression.”
“What kind of impression could I make?” I furrowed my eyebrows as I spoke.
Eret’s bright blue eyes met mine as he pulled down his glasses to wink at me, “guess we’ll just have to find out.”

Clay POV.

It was an extreme shock when both me and my best friend Nick were announced to fight in the games for District 4, knowing that only one of us could win. But we had to wait to deal with that later, he and I had just been dragged off of the train and into the tribute centre where we were separated.

We were some of the first tributes to arrive and so the place was empty as I was directed into a small room where I was to wait for my stylist. As long minutes passed I saw a lot of tributes being led past this room and into rooms of their own. All of them kept their heads low to the ground, except one.
A small boy, who looked about a year younger than me, with brown hair and brown eyes that shone with worry. His eyes met mine for a moment as he walked past, I sighed at his appearance before going back to staring at the wall. The boy looked quite small and dare I say weak, and would probably stand almost no chance.

10 minutes had passed, dozens of tributes, peacekeepers, designers and stylists walked by but my stylist still hadn’t arrived. With a huff of annoyance I stood up and walked out of the room, immediately receiving glares from peacekeepers who tried to send me back to the room.
“You need to return to your room.” One said, as he gave me a small push backwards in warning.
“Look, I have been waiting here for ages, am I just going to sit here until I die? Where the hell is my Stylist?” I asked, not caring about what could happen to me seeing as I might die in a few days.
“Go back in there, or I will break your legs.” The peacekeeper growled. I solemnly nodded and turned around, with both my hands scrunched up into fists.

After I returned to the room and received one final glare from the peacekeeper I opened my hand. I’d managed to pick his uniform pocket and I grabbed a sheet of paper. I figured it wouldn’t have been useful but I was corrected when I unfolded the paper and realised it was a list of tributes.

My eyes skimmed over the list of Tributes, looking at the list of the people I’d have to end up fighting. Their names, districts, ages and a photo of each person were written down.
(Some of these characters are made up, or last name is made up)

District 1:   Miles Neilson, 18
                  Jayden Parlane, 18
District 2:   Fletch Richards, 18
                  Mike Matthews, 18
District 3:   George Davidson, 16
                  Darryl Noveschosch, 16
District 4:   Nick Craig, 17
                  Clay Smith, 18
District 5:   Isaac Hudson, 13
                  Percy Paige, 15
District 6:   Fundy Damen, 18
                  Zane Mitchell, 15
District 7:   Karl Jacobs, 15
                  Blake Williams, 12
District 8:   Oscar Kings, 13
                  Oliver Kings, 13
District 9:   Alex Scott, 15
                  Harrison Grice, 16
District 10: Adem Walker, 17
                  Charlie Slime, 17
District 11: Quinn Sparrow, 16
                  Kallum Kriss, 13

I looked over the list and the photos of each of my fellow tributes. My green eyes lingered over my own photo and the photo of my best friend. Although they shifted over when I saw the photo of that small boy who walked past earlier, George… it's a cute name.

I stayed staring at the picture of the small boy from District 3, he was extremely cute, I won’t deny that. And with him being from District 3 it could be quite helpful to be with him for the games. Although he also would be cute to spend time with.

But before I could even think I heard someone coming towards the room. Finally my stylist decided to show up.
A tall skinny woman walked into the room wearing bright flamboyant colours which almost made me throw up in my mouth.
“Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.” The woman apologized in her annoying capitol accent. “I lost track of the time, you weren’t kept waiting too long were you?”
I would have complained but I bit the inside of my cheek to stay quiet, knowing that if I pissed her off I would probably have to wear something ridiculous like a bikini or something else embarrassing and water related.

I just nodded accepting her apology as I hid the paper in my dirty shirt pocket.