There are other districts, to be sure, and you figure that they aren't that much different than yours: the architecture might be different, but at the very core of it, there are houses and industry buildings - and maybe even some discontent, too - just like yours. If the circumstances were different, you'd be rejoicing at this chance to venture out of five, to see your world. Instead you're staring out the window, and each district is only a flash of green to your eyes. Nothing more.
"Quit day dreaming and get over here," a rough voice calls out to you, and you turn to see one of your mentors, Surgel. She looks to be in her thirties, with close-cropped blonde hair and dull brown eyes. She's not much too look at - not muscular, but not skinny either. You've never seen her smile, not once; she's constantly walking around with anger in her eyes, lips twisted like a frayed wire. You can't remember what games she won, but it was based purely on luck, not strength or wit; she'd made the right alliance, and when it came down to the final two, her partner had been bitten by a snake. (how can she mentor you when she did nothing herself).
She's the last tribute to win from five, so the odds are clearly not in your favor. You haven't seen your other mentor, Bennigan. He won the forty-fourth games, if you remember correctly, through pure strength. He'd be some help if he wasn't drunk 90% of the time; you haven't seen him since the reaping, and you probably won't seem again until the tribute parade.
To top matters off, your fellow tribute hasn't looked your way since the reaping, so there's no alliance there, either. He's a olive-skinned boy with distrustful eyes and a permanent scowl, and you can't even remember his name, much less any identifying features. (your better off alone anyway). You never were one for friendships, though, so maybe his retched attitude is a blessing, not a curse.
You'll settle down to listen to Surgel, abandoning your perch and the wisdom of the window, but you know before she even launches into her speech that you're going to have to do this one on your own; you probably won't survive - no really, you need to start accepting the fact that you're going to die - but it doesn't mean you have to take it lying down.
(let the capitol rue the day they allowed you to have a brain).
A/N: I'm not entirely pleased with this one - too much explaining, not enough writing - but I'm also tired of letting it just sit in my doc manager. Feel free to tear this one apart.