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.
" I don't know... "he mutters quietly. While the boy wanted to believe and listen to her, he just couldn't get along with the idea of relying on someone else while in the games.
" Please listen to me. I know I'm no real Victor but as I've explained before my job before the Rebellion came along was that I literally placed bets on tributes to see who would win each year. That was literally my profession! You need to trust me on this! " she says slamming a hand on the table. Despite hating violence she learned from a young age anything in the entertainment industry could earn you huge amounts of money. And with a burning desire to live life to the fullest, money was often deeply needed at times.
Park simply nodded his head looking at her contemplatively.
"I just don't want to... " he akwardly spits out before picking up his fork and having another bite of his dinner, minty lamb.
"Fine..." Justice mumbles before getting up from the elongated silver and glass table and pushing in her chair. She walked through the dining room until she reached a small blue door. She opened it and went into what was for now, her room. It was quite simple of a room. The walls were painted a great blue and besides a bed and a dresser, it was sparsely decorated. Justice then walked over to her bed and flopped down onto it, sinking into the soft mattress.
As she closed her eyes she released a long and heavy exhale. She had absolutely no idea how she was going to deal with Park for the next week. He was nice enough but it was quite apparent her advice didn't matter to her. But despite all this she vowed to keep trying, she vowed to push Park to victory.
As Park slowly ate his lamp chop he saw out of the corner of his eye, his partner for the next few days, Hunter Gallowind. Hunter despite looking much older than Park, was only fifteen. The handsome blonde walked over to a seat next to Park and sat down, not saying anything. He looked at the much shorter tribute and sighed. He had hoped he could be partnered with someone who he considered of "value". Now creating an alliance would be slightly harder for the blonde.
Park noticed Hunters sigh but said nothing. He could sense Hunters disapproval, it wasn't the first time he received this kind of attitude about him. But he just kept on eating. Hunter may of not known this but Park wasn't as worthless as everyone supposed. Weak, yes.
But dumb, by no means...
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Bore Flickermen simply sat there, dazed and seemingly unaware of his environment. He laid back onto the bright orange and blue bed that had operated as his "home" or sorts for the past three hours. The young man had barely done anything. He just sat there, his eyes unfocused and glossy. He had no idea what he was to do...
For the past sixteen years of his life he had watched the games, unaware of the true sufferings they caused. He had watched as young women and young men killed each other and slowly lost their humanity. He watched as these teens lives became nothing but that of a show. And now, here he was, wallowing in sadness that he was finally starting to understand.
The young man stared at the ceiling, wondering what he should do. He knew he would die. He knew he would die a bloody and painful death. The boy believed there was no way he could possibly survive to throw and. It would of all been a waste, a bloody painful waste.
In the past two days he'd tried reaching out to other tributes, no one took notice. In the weeks following the announcement of the games he had practiced with weaponry, to ultimately no avail. He had lost all hope. What was he to do?
Bore sat up from the bed, a glimpse of hope of his eyes. Not of joyful hope though, of hope that he might just escape the wretchedness of the games.
He slowly walked across to his room, each and every step containing a purpose. He slowly approached a large window that was parralel to his own large and eccentric looking bed.
The window was about half his size, the sil starting at about his hips. He looked out the closed blue tinted glass window, an empty but warmly lit street below.
He stared at the street below for a few minutes, contemplating the choice he had the option to make. But then he decided.
He reached down to the bottom of the window and grasped the cold metal pulling it up. The entire window moved upwards, creating a discreet screech as it went along. Bore pushed it to the top and stuck his head out the window. He payed close attention for a moment before realizing what he was looking for wasn't there... A forcefield.
He then climbed up onto the window, crouching down ever so slightly to avoid hitting his head on top of the window. He looked for a few moments, painful decisive moments before officially deciding. But then he did it.
He jumped.
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News had spread fast.
It had been a mere two hours later that a sleepless Rosaylan Addella Sandler had decided to get some fresh air. The usually cheerfully young girl loved the outdoors and was tired of being cooped up all day. For obvious reasons though, she couldn't leave the complex. So she decided to open a window and simply stick her head out, easy enough.
But after a few minutes or taking in the pure air of the wealthiest part of the Capital she made the mistake of looking down on the streets below. And as her silvery white hair blew around in the gentle quiet breeze she saw his body, Bore Flickermen, the nephew of the infamous Caesar Flickermen.
She screamed a high pitch scream that could be heard throughout a quarter of the entire complex. The poor girl had just discovered the now mangled body of Bore Flickermen, who had sadly killed himself a few hours before hand.
Rosaylan brought her head back inside and slammed down the window, her breathes light and unorganized. She raced across the small dim room she was in and out into the living room, where her mentor was still awake, a TV playing in the background. The older and bearded man was standing up in front of the gold and bronze couch aware that something was ary. His face was filled with both curiosity and concern as he locked eyes with Rosaylan who was in full panic mode.
"Calm down, calm down!" he told her in a gruffy but sweet voice as he raced over to her.
Rosaylan looked at her mentor, her blue eyes starting to tear up.
"It's was him... One of the boys, he's dead!"
Hey guys! I really hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter that exclusively was about your characters! I also hope your okay after the suicide. If we're being honest I sorta had to put that in there due to some technical difficulties I have had regarding the tributes.
NOTE: If you are feeling suicidal or depressed please consult an adult or someone who can provide adequate help for you.
Anyways please tell me your thoughts on who you liked, who you didn't and all of your thoughts and suggestions!!!
Thanks guys for all your support!