down by the seaside {jack&teddy}

[rook]

that's disco, baby!

Your appointment with Teddy Ursa hangs over you like a creeping shadow of authority. You feel as if you are beginning to perspire - a misbehaving school pupil awaiting the headmaster. You aren't sure why. You've never met this man before, only seen him on your television screen during mandatory viewing. And yet, you sweat all the same.

You were barely a child at his crowning ceremony. You have few memories of his coronation. When they paved the streets of Six with gold, if only to cover up the trail of red behind him. Six's first victor in generations. It was unheard of. It was groundbreaking.

You have no ill-will towards the man, in fact you almost admire him. Not because of what he has become, but because you see through the portrait they've painted of Teddy Ursa. You know what he is. He's a murderer.

(Esprit de Corps): Just like you.

(Encyclopedia): Murder. The crime of unlawfully killing a person especially with malice aforethought.

(Authority): Ah, but this is lawful. What he did was very much permitted within the confines of the Capitol's rules. The same cannot be said for you.

You sit in the training center adorned in your grey tracksuit, a big bleeding number 6 burning on your back and down your leg. That's what you are now - a number.

All around you the other tributes prepare, learning new skills and improving their fitness. All the while you sit there on the bench, staring through the thick mop of brown hair that half-covers your eyes and darkens your glare. You are out of shape, unfit, and unprepared.

But you have killed before. And you are hungry.