Okay, first off thanks for taking the time to read this. Also I don't own the Hunger Games. I only wish I did.

~Helena:

I primp my sea green curls (no, it's not to match a certain sexy Victor's dreamy eyes...) and check my pearly teeth. Oh yes, I look fabulous for my debut as escort. Well, escort of a District that halfway matters anyway.

I've escorted the District 8 tributes for three years now; they are worthless in the Games. They almost always die at during the bloodbath and where's the glory in that? I want a fighting chance. With victory there comes fame, money, and exclusive party invites. I smile my award winning smile and gaze upon the wonderful reflection staring back at me.

I close my eyes and listen to that gentle crash of the ocean waves in the distance. It's...peaceful, much too peaceful. It makes me miss the traffic of 5th street honestly. How could anyone live with this, this, nature? Gah, at least 8 had the sound of machinary and industry.

District 4 has winners though. This is my career district. I'm going to have a chance.

"Helena?" my manager Darvis peeks his head in, "We're live in three minutes."

"Oh yes," I leap up, "Then my little Victor can volunteer!"

"Good luck," he mutters.

"Don't speak in that depressing tone!"

"Economic hard times..." he starts.

Eco-wha? "So you're saying?" I nod, pretending that I understand. And care.

"The training facility has lost quite a few participants. It's sad really."

Ok...whatever I guess. I step up on the stage and wink at Odair. After a quick adjustment of my notes on the podium, I start my speech. The 70th Hunger Games are all mine.

~Finnick:

The one thing I hate about being a Victor, besides the fact that my body is sold whenever I'm in the Capitol, is mentoring. I help these kids as best as I can but then I watch them die. It hurts almost as much as the nightmares that still haunt me, even though I was in the arena five long years ago.

At least this year I am nineteen, older than all the possible tributes. When I was sixteen I was a mentor to this eighteen year old Career, who resented the fact that I was younger. Resent is too mild of a word, hate would work better. To spite him, I didn't help him as much as I could have, bad I know. I mostly regret it.

Mags walks over to me; she is a mentor this year too. "Relax Finnick," she says in her garbled voice, "You will do fine."

I sigh and say, "I wish I didn't have to do this."

She gives me her crooked grin, "I know".

We both look up at the new escort oh-what's-her-name. She is just as annoying as the last one. Says the exact same junk too. I bet it's scripted. "Ladies first!" she says in a chipper voice. She reaches into the giant bowl and fishes around for a piece of paper. She slowly unfolds it, looking expectantly out over the crowds of kids. "Nyrah Cuda" she shouts out. Ugh, another death I have to watch, at least Mags is in charge of her.

The girl steps out of the sixteen-year-old section and walks slowly to the stage, glancing around nervously. I'm ashamed to say that my breath caught in my throat at first glance of her. No words can describe her well enough, at least not any words from my jumbled brain. She's got that sexy-without-trying appeal, it's hotter cause she doesn't flaunt it. Her flaming dark red hair blows into her face and a slightly shaking hand attempts to brush it back. After several swipes, she manages to push her mane out of her eyes revealing captivating eyes. They are green, but not like mine. They are practically neon and I almost expect them to glow like a cat or something.

Mags pats my shoulder. "What?" I ask without taking my eyes off the new tribute, Nyrah.

"Close your mouth, you look like a stupid fish," she whispers. Oops. Hope no cameras caught that.

The escort starts yapping again "blah, blah, blah, blah". The whole audience is laughs and the escort looks ticked. She darts glances every which way trying to figure out what was going wrong. I look again at Nyrah. She was mouthing, in perfect sync, what whats-her-name was saying, face expressions and everything. The escort couldn't understand what was happening. I couldn't help it. I burst out a laugh. Escort Lady glares at me, before she recognized who I was, and then she smiles a flirty grin, at least that's what I think it is. Nyrah glances my way, smiles, and winks. She's more confident now and I like it.

~Mags:

I don't like it. While the girl had the audience on her side, the Capitol is going to hate it. It's a dangerous line.

No volunteers. That's not a good sign. I know times are hard, but when are they not? Surely we can send in someone who can fight. No offense, but I seriously doubt this girl can use a weapon.

My standard strategy can't be used now. I rack my brain. How can I help Nyrah get out of the arena?

My brainstorm is interrupted by Helena, who looking quite peeved, announces the boy tribute's name triumphantly:"Nash Cuda!"

Cuda. Cuda...I wonder if the two kids are related. My suspicions are confirmed as I watch every drop of color drain from Nyrah's face; her eyes grow wide with shock and fear. A small boy, who looks like he was only nine years old, emerges from the twelve year old pen. He moves slowly and shakily. This boy is bloodbath fodder. I barely think it and I feel horrible instantly. It's my job to help, not criticize.

He finally makes it to the stage. He has the same haunting eyes as his sister. And there's another vision for my neverending nightmares.

I look over at Finnick. His face is unreadable. Poor kid, he already feels guilty about mentoring. And with this he doesn't have a prayer.

Nash finally makes it to the stage. His sister scans the crowd desperately. Obviously, she wants someone to volunteer, but she is greeted by silence.

~Helena:

I take one look at that pathetic little boy. Ugh, my chances go down the drain. "Any volunteers?" I call out. No one steps forward. So much for this being a Career district. I look again at my tributes; I'm shocked by their resemblance. "Are you related?" I ask

"Yeah, he's my brother" the girl says bitterly with a pout.

This will at least boost ratings! Who doesn't like a dramatic story about a family being ripped to shreds? "How exciting! This should be great!"

Nyrah stares at me in shock. Her eyes narrow, quite a frightening look. "How can you say that, bitch!" she yells at me. I see her fist fly forward a mere second before it smacks soundly on my jaw. I hear the sickening crack as I fall to the stage floor. Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! She's pulling her arm back for another blow when her little brother steps in front of her. He doesn't say anything, but he motions with his arm. Nyrah sighs and puts down her arm. She bends over and I flinch, but instead she helps me up. Rather roughly, I might add.

"I don't know what came over me. I guess that just hit a nerve." Nash looks at her pointedly, and then she mutters "Sorry."

The cameras are loving this. "No harm done," I sigh out, but my jaw is smarting; I'm pretty sure its broken. "Let's head to the Justice Building and say your goodbyes and then off to the train!"

~Nyrah:

The Justice Building is more luxurious then I imagined. The big soft couch beckons, but I ignore it. I can't sit still. I pace the room. Back and forth, back and forth. Soon the door flies open and I am caught in a huge bear hug by my older brother, Neru. Neither of us says anything for a couple minutes. I break the eerie silence "So... have you seen Nash yet?" Neru pulls back and looks at me. Oh no. There are tears in his eyes. If he cries, I will cry. I can't cry. I tell myself to be strong. I have to stay strong.

"On her death bed Mom told me to watch out for you two. We've survived, just the three of us, for the past two years. It's all crumbling apart now. These stupid Games! I hate them! I wish I hadn't had my birthday; I could've volunteered for him. Nash doesn't stand a chance, and he knows it. He can't win, but you can. Ny, you HAVE to win." He rants without stopping for breath. My emotions are in 'freak out' mode and I guess it shows.

He continues: "Please, Ny, I need one of you to come back...you two are all I have."

"You just need to shut up," I say, harsh I know, but I can't stand this right now. "Don't cry. Please." I say a little softer.

"Ok fine...nice punch" he says with a huge fake grin, his eyes show the pain but he's trying for my sake. "It was seriously the best part of the Reaping"

I roll my eyes. "If anything, it put me on the bad side of Helena, maybe even the viewers."

He rolls his eyes mimicking me. "Yeah, or it just showed you off as a feisty competitor."

I think about this "Oh crap! Do you think they will show it? Like on tv? I forgot about that!"

"They'd better..." He is interrupted by a peacekeeper barging into the room.

"Times up," he orders. Nero hugs me again and whispers something unintelligible in my ear. He walks out the door. This was probably the last time I would ever see him. I can't lose this chance.

"Hey Nero," I yell, "I love ya. You were the best big brother ever!" He turns and I see tears in his eyes. I shouldn't have said "were". I can't cry. I just can't. The tears won't come.