Writer's Games Entries

Task 1: "The Interview"

The designer's team do their best with my look and outfit for the interview. I don't know how many times I've sighed over this thing. The last couple of days have all been about the physicality to kill, the skills to survive. It's been all about making allies, observing your competition and learning of their weaknesses, but today it's about the shiny dress and the smooth-talking attitude, which I know I don't have.

I couldn't really care less about this part of it. I've heard it's good to get sponsors, but whatever words I say in that interview won't be able to save my ass if I get in trouble in that Arena. The skills that I've been taught with the sword the last couple of days, that's what will save me. That's what will see me victorious. Whatever I say in that interview, no matter how I act, won't do me any good when I step into that Arena tomorrow.

As I snap out of my thoughts, I faintly listen to my designers chatting about this and that, the typical jabber that one would expect to hear in the Capitol: designs, outfits, what they drank last night etc. They don't get me talking. In fact they've stopped trying. Instead they just do their job and prepare me for the interview. I get to see some of the first interviews as they finish me up.

The first ones are Careers...well most of them if you count out the tributes from District 3. They are quite strong this year, but I know that so am I. I'm actually a little disappointed that they never saw me fit to join their packs. Of course, being a newbie with weapons probably tore my candidacy to pieces. They're quite a special bunch this year too. It's caught my attention more than once, I'll tell you that much. But I don't need them though. I have a set of allies which will serve my needs for as long as I need them to.

"Alright, Rex, you're just about ready...looking fresh and shiny. Let's get you down to the studio. You're soon up." My personal designer says. I haven't listened to her a single time during this whole thing. I haven't even bothered to learn her name. I don't listen to any of these people in the Capitol. Only the instructors down at the training-center have had my attention because their advice has mattered, but nobody else. Not even my District partner when she's her nicer self.

They're sending me down in a classic and casual black suit without the tie. My jacket is all black, covered in tire-rubber on the outside. My shirt is grey, lighter than the jacket. Rarely have I thought of anything more appropriate for the occasion. The colors reflect my district just as much as it reflects my personality.

Getting down and getting in line, my District partner is standing in front of me as she's the first to be interviewed of the two of us. I've observed her on more than one occasion as we've spent more time together than with any other tribute. I know her to be very unstable. On one side she can be terrified, nervous and shaky, like an innocent school-girl that was unlucky to get reaped. On the other side, there's a more sadistic personality that can spit in the face of anyone.

As she gets up on the stage, I can immediately tell that the one present now, is that sadistic personality. I remember how she laughed when she volunteered for the District. Even the peacekeepers were hesitant on getting closer to her. How the interviewer manages to stay near her is beyond me, but in the middle of the interview something happens. She turns into her vulnerable self. All of a sudden, whatever stamp as favorite that she did have, vanishes in the moment it takes to blink.

She's up there for about five to ten minutes as a man walks over to me and guides me to the back of the stage as my turn is up any second now. The interviewer on stage is the famously known Ruby Shimmer. Honestly she's too much for me: giggly, bubbly and not to mention too damn naive for her good. She'll take my words literally even when I'm being sarcastic. Considering I find this part of it all rather pointless, perhaps I can find a way to enjoy it anyway.