CHAPTER 3 {The First Night}

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A/N the last portion of this chapter is not for the very faint of heart. You've been warned.

The boy sat there. Simply sat there, blank faced as three men removed layers upon layers of make-up from his face. Each man looked almost exactly the same, with paper white faces, heavy blue eye makeup, and neon green hair that glowed in the dark.

As they took damp grey sponges to Pluto Ryder's face, Pluto looked up at a small holographic TV in the upper corner of the dull grey room he was currently in. It was showing the Chariot Rides that happened merely an hour ago. They were currently showing the huge District Chariot, that Pluto himself was in. The boy initially started looking for himself but instead found himself looking at something far more meaningful. As soon as he saw it, he quickly grabbed a small romote from the glass table to his right and paused to see the image in more detail . He looked at the background, seeing a teenage girl who appeared to be a few years older than him. She had light brunette hair, with pink tips and pink eyes to match. It was his sister, Clara Ryder.

He must of stared at that image for more than ten minutes. Just a simple blurry image of 12 young people being sent off to their deathes, and in the background a barely recognizable blur of the only member of his family he ever felt close to. He would of cried... He would of cried for hours but he couldn't. He had to be strong. He had to be strong for himself and for her.

As soon as the three make up artists were finished removing the makeup from his face he immediately got out of the black leather chair he had been sitting in and quickly ran out of the room and into the brightly lit hallway that connected all the tributes' changing rooms. Despite the entertainment side to the games being somewhat dulled down it seemed as if Publicity and entertainment could never completely separated from The Hunger Games. It was intrinsically part of its very nature.

Pluto slammed the door of his changing room, not even bothering to say goodbye to his stylists. He leaned against the bright red door and hung his head, holding back tears. He stood there for a few minutes gently sobbing before the bright yellow door parallel to him opened up and another male tribute walked out of the room and into the hallway. Pluto looked up, wiping a singular tear from his face. His eyes met with those of West Coast.
The taller young man looked at Pluto for a few seconds before turning away and walking down the hallway.
Pluto simply watched as he walked away, taking in a few deep breathes before starting to walk in the same direction as West.

"Hey... " Pluto started, running a bit to catch up with West.
"I uh, think we're in the same living situation." Pluto stuttered as he looked up at West. The older boy looked down for a second and ran through his memory, seeing if he could identify who the boy was. It took a moment but he realized it was the shorter boy who had been dressed up as the District 3 theme.
"Yeah... I think you're right." he said slowing down a bit.
Pluto noded his head in response, deciding not to say anything.

As the two walked through the halls and stairwells of the training complex no words were exchanged. Pluto just trudged behind West, looking about the complex in an amazed manor. He, like all the other tributes, had lived in the Capital his entire life. But coming from the "poorer" region of the area he had never encountered beauty like this. It was simply intriguing to him, despite him keeping a straight face the entire time.
When they got to their living quarters Pluto went immediately for his bedroom, not bothering to look around or trying  associate himself with the mentors or West. He needed alone time. A time to think. The games were starting soon, and he needed a plan, a good one at that.

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"Make an alliance!" Justice Rivers yelled in frustration as she looked at the young redhead who sat across from her.
"Park... As your mentor I'm telling you your chances of winning will nearly double if you make an alliance." she advices the tribute she was in charge of mentoring, Park Crawley, this years youngest tribute. So far he was proving to be way to stubborn and independent to a fault.

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