The PokéGames (A Pokémon/Hunger Games Crossover Fan Fiction)

Chapter 5: The Capitol

I was shoved out into the flashing lights and steady spotlight beams of a hundred cameras, Chet at my left and Flint behind us. I had to walk about 30 feet to get into the train station, and then another 20 feet to get into the train, which was, surprisingly, not underground like the rest of the trains in Kanto. The whole way was lined with people angling camera lenses, microphones, and those flashbulb-umbrella-thingers, trying to get the perfect shots of us. I began walking at a normal pace, making sure that I stayed next to Chet. The poor kid still looked kinda deer-caught-in-headlights-ish. With that expression, he reminded me of Kyle.

Then, remembering what Flint has said, I attempted to curve the corners of my mouth up, in what I was hoping was a confident little smirk. Not happy, just confident. Trying not to blink too much from the lights, I looked straight into as many of the camera lenses as I could, hoping that I was giving them good shots. I had to make sure that the people in the capitol liked me; that way, I'd make sure to get sponsors, who could then send gifts to me in the arena. I also needed to make sure that the other tributes, who haven't been reaped yet, knew that I was a fighter, and I was going to give these Games my all and never give up.

The next thing I knew, I was being guided by a police officer into the train to go to the capitol. Chet followed close behind, but Flint had taken his sweet time getting to the train, letting us walk ahead. I couldn't decide whether it was to avoid being in our shots, or so that he got his own.

As soon as the professor stepped into the train, the door slid shut, just barely missing the tail of his white coat. We suddenly slid into forward motion. I grabbed the wall so that I wouldn't lose my balance as the high-speed transport accelerated.

I was immediately guided off to my own section of the train, with a giant television, a leather sofa, a huge bed overflowing with pillows, a bathroom with a shower, and drawers absolutely busting with things: Shirts, pants, dresses, skirts, tights, shoes, soaps, lotions, creams, shampoos, conditioners, perfumes, all sorts of fancy things that we never had at home. I wished that I could live on this train car. Since it was all here, just for me, I decided to take advantage of it all.

The first thing that I did was take a super-long shower. At home, we had to share the bathwater, which meant short, in-and-out dips, no soaking in the water for ten whole minutes. And the water in the shower stayed warm the whole time. I felt so invigorated, and yet somehow relaxed standing there, the warm stream of water sending tingles down my back and the hot steam rising around me. The coolest part was probably the soaps. There were so many different kinds, and they all smelled amazing: pretty and flowery, or musky and spicy, or fruity and mouth-wateringly delicious.

After my amazing shower, I dried off in this big, fluffier-than-a-cloud towel, and went to the closet to find some clothes to wear. I wanted to wear something that would be to dressy for home, but not capitol-y, and definitely not a dress. After digging around through all the clothes, I found it: A high-waisted short semi-flowy skirt, not too short, though, with a tank top tucked in, and a black leather cropped jacket over top. A wide, black leather belt right at my waist finished the look.

I then flopped onto the bed, and once I had sunk into the mountain of pillows, I grabbed the TV remote off the bedside table. After much confusion over all the buttons, I finally flipped on the television. Of course, all eyes were trained on the Reaping. I crashed down from my pampered high, remembering why I was here. I focused on the screen, which was displaying shots of an island square. The Sevii Islands were the next region to be Reaped. There was a girl and a boy already standing on the stage while the anthem played. The girl, who looked like she was trying to hide her shock, had frizzy brown hair and was tall. She had to be older than me. The boy was scrawny and short. The poor guy looked like he was on the brink of starvation, and was looking down with absolutely no expression on his face. They shook hands, and then were guided back to the large building behind them to say their goodbyes.