Panem's Got Talent: Audition Week!

[bailee]

✰  SAMMY PEPPERWOOD .

"Hi, my name is Sammy Pepperwood, I'm fourteen years old and from District Ten, and I'm hoping to make some magic live here in the Capitol!"

I knew my parents were going to kill me, but you only live once, right? And I just couldn't pass up the opportunity to go to the Capitol and see it at least once, live and in person. And I knew for sure that no matter what, Thad would be proud of me. It was just a matter of impressing the judges, and wowie, they definitely were not going easy on anyone!

I walked downstage to the panel in front of the judges, my heart pumping fast with adrenaline but luckily my outgoing persona challenged every anxiety that was held from deep within. I let out a big sigh to let loose all of my anxieties before I handed Josiah Layton a brand new, fresh pack of cards. "Would you mind unwrapping this new deck of cards for me, Mr. Layton?"

I took the newly unwrapped deck of cards from Josiah Layton's hands and opened the new deck, spreading the deck in front of the judges. I tossed out the joker and the ad card behind me and pressed the spread neatly back into my hands. "Now, Aloysius, would you mind giving this deck a good shuffle for me?" I handed him the cards and crossed my arms as he shuffled the deck for me. When he handed the shuffled deck back to me, I smiled and thanked him.

"Now the first card, from this brand new shuffled deck," I told the judges, "will be an ace of spades." And without a doubt in my mind, I flipped over the ace of spades.

"But, that's not the only ace here," I told them, as I revealed the next three cards to be the remaining suits of aces. "Now, Nilima, Saber, Aloysius and Josiah, if each of you could sign one of these aces so we know these are the only aces in existence with your signatures."

As they signed the cards, I giggled, "if my magic career doesn't work out, maybe I could just sell these for a profit!" The crowd laughed as I took the newly signed cards from their hands. I placed one of the cards face down in front of the judges,
the remaining three in my hands.

"Watch as four cards," I took one of the three cards in my left and, making it magically disappear into my right. "becomes three," I flipped over my right hand, to show it wasn't hidden within, and made it reappear next to the one on the judges' panel, "and becomes four again."

"Let me do it again,"

And I took one of the two remaining cards in my hand, placing it face down on the judges panel. I then pressed my palm against it, making it disappear from under my hands. And then I made it magically reappear next to the two other cards on the judges panel.

"Once again, I'm Sammy Pepperwood, and this is magic in real life!"

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[ ✰ ]

> Saber: "I'm bored. Next time just stand in line at the next meet and greet if you want our autographs kid."
> Aloysius: "I like this kid's spunk."

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[bailee]

✰  FRIDAY EVERLEE .

It wasn't like I wasn't actually talented.

Fourteen years of dance lessons later, here I am. One of the most famous bitches of District Three yet I was still a stranger to the eyes of the Capitolites. All of these followers, all of these dancing videos yet these obtuse bitches still had no idea who I was.

Well, if I was nothing else, I was a petty and vindictive bitch, and I was going to make sure they knew who I was.

"I'm Friday Everlee. District Three. Influencer. Dancer. The whole bit," I told the judges, my perfectly painted cuticles pointing to my chest as I smiled. I just knew my tits looked so perfect and perky in this Capitol lighting and damn, even if I didn't make it past the audition (which I was going to), I really needed to talk to the lighting crew because this really took my aesthetic to the next level.

"I'm going to show you why I'm going to be Panem's next big thing," I told the judges, "and why I believe I should be sitting next to you at the judges panel in a few years."

And without further ado, the lights dimmed and the music started playing, and I began to do what I knew best.

Dancing.

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[ ✰ ]

> Saber, sleepily: "Sure, I guess you can go through. You should teach Risky some of those moves."
>Aloysius: "Meh"

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[tick 12a / calla]

✰  SABRINA TSANTO .

"I need a crystal ball, can we get a crystal ball?"

"Not that tarot deck - this one."

"Jeff, spotlight over here!!"

It's no different from the streets of Seven, really. It's a little flashier - a little cleaner - but they're all just as much of a sucker as the people back home. Five bucks for a fortune, good lord, Mama was a genius.

There was a woman with blue hair backstage, more than willing to work the gossip mill for me. Did you hear about Risky's secret fling? Man, I hear Saber's got some reeeaaaaal daddy issues! I've got sage in my hands when the stage lights turn on, two candles balanced in my palm like I was born with them there. Mama lent me her real nice shawl for this gig, the one with the stars embroidered into it that's supposed to be good luck.

And we both know how we feel about luck. But we're psychics - gotta make a living somehow!

I flip the tarot cards for Nilima - hey-o seven of cups, you're gonna make it big kid! There's a flourish and a puff of smoke. I throw the knuckle bones for Mister Honeycutt and ask him when the last time he saw his aunt was.

Think of a number. Think of a shape!

Three. Square!

Have you ever been truly lonely?

Wow, there's a ghost on your shoulder, Mr. Layton, I can see it right there. Blonde hair, green eyes, sound familiar?

What's something that no one else knows about you? Look under your seats - there it is!

[ ✰ ]

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> Saber, annoyingly: "Ugh, I hate fortune tellers. They always believe they're right. Well sorry sweetie, but it's a no from me. And let me guess, you saw this already? ohhhhh spooky!"
Aloysius, amazed: "Brilliant! How do they do it?!"

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[Tom]

✰  CARTER LAWS .

Carter Laws had made a lot of mistakes in his life.

Coming back to the capitol; that was probably his number one mistake. Sure, he could have ignored his brother and father who still believed Carter should live his life and not think about what the Capitol has done, but he can remember the way the mutts tore him apart. He could remember how uneasy it was to hold playing cards in his hands. He could remember the nightmares, the fear, the cockiness of a boy who was terrified. And yet, he still finds himself here, waiting for his turn on stage. Cards in hand, waiting to perform a magic trick; something he hadn't done in years.

Not since Maxwell died.

All he wanted was to be back in his garden, smiling at Nico or helping Aranica with her home. It was his brother's idea first. Jack having seen the commercials and sign ups all around town. The use of Mitchell's name upon his tongue as if it would convince him to pick up his cards once more. A silence fills him as he can remember them standing next to a grave. Tears in their eyes. Jack and Carter were brothers no matter what, but he couldn't understand why his brother insisted on it. His father found the idea thrilling. Mitchell would have done it. And that's why he's here. For Mitchell. Except, the producers tell him to give a sob story about Maxwell. Not even letting him mention his brother from almost a decade and a half ago.

Carter gave the capitol what he wanted. Only because he's tired of holding it all in. They tell him they'll play it for the show, but he doesn't care. Panem's already seen him cry more than enough times. Maxwell Temple wouldn't mind. At least, he hoped he wouldn't. Nine was on the way back, he should stop by for a visit. A small smile as he thinks about leaving behind a bundle of lavender for him.

After being called on stage, he lets himself fall into the past and present. The smile on his lips extend farther as he can feel the poison of his anxieties bubbling. His voice catches the air first. "Hello Panem! It's been a long time. I'm Carter Laws of the 80th! From District Twelve! Today I got a brilliant show for you!" Fanning out the entire deck in his hands, he shows the audience the cards. All of them pristine and perfectly symmetrical. A few more shuffling back and fanning them out until he stops. His eyes go to the judges.

"I want each of you to think of a card. Any card at all."

Stepping over to them all; he lets them think for a moment, before he watches with a smile. Once he's certain all of them have a card in mind, he tosses the cards into the audience. A scrambling mess of paper flying behind them as he smiles. "Now, make sure you remember that card because we're going to get back to it, but for tonight. I'm going to choose the joker to be the star of our show." His fingers ache at the edges of his heart. He continues carefully.

"As you all know, Maxwell Temple was a dear friend of mine. He held onto the joker for all the time he was in the arena. I'm going to find the joker in just a mere few seconds. The cards are clearly spread out in the audience and I have no clue where any of them have ended up."

A timer starts as he looks to the crowd, a smile on his lips as he rushes over to a little girl. A cute jacket of many colors is heavy on her shoulders as he looks to her. His words fall. "Can I have your card, Sweetie?" The card comes forward and he holds it in his hand before he shows it to the judges, he smiles. Flips it around and it's not the joker, but an image of Maxwell Temple. The same image he saw in the sky from the vault when he died and came back.

"You may be asking yourselves if Carter Laws has failed, but I will assure you, I did find the joker. Sweetie, would you turn around for me please?"

The little girl looks confused at him as she turns around; his smile glows as a giant card of the joker rests on her coat. A quick bow as he gets back on the stage. And then he smiles once more.

"Now I hope you remembered those cards I told you to be thinking about. Look up in three. Two. One! Bam! There's each of your cards stuck to the ceiling!"

Another bow as he says his final words.

"And that's all for tonight! Hope Panem has had a fun night with me!"

There's a bitterness to his heart as he says the words.

"Carter Laws!"

[ ✰ ]

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[kap]

✰  KIARA RIDER .

I've been a dancer since I was a kid, and when I decided that I'd never volunteer for the Games, I devoted even more of my time to dancing. I'd say I'm pretty graceful on my feet, and I've started teaching dance classes of my own. It's a serotonin boost every day that I get to dance, and now, getting to dance on stage in front of people makes me even more excited.

I used to think that performing in front of such a big crowd would make me nervous, but to be totally honest, it's got me pretty hyped up. As I was getting ready for my performance, I felt pretty confident. I'd practiced a lot. I'd perfected my dance moves to the best of my ability. I felt like I was going to nail it.

When I reached the stage, I introduced myself.

"Hello everyone," I started. "My name's Kiara Rider, and I've put together a dance routine that I'm pretty proud of." I look out at the crowd.

"Here we go," I say. I adjust the faux fur cat ears I've got on my head, and ready myself as the music starts.

[ ✰ ]

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[tick 12a / calla]

✰  LEVI BENTON .

Mom's guitar feels more like a battle-axe than anything. I pick at one of the stickers on the back, all fading and blue, and try not to freak out.

"Do I need to introduce myself?"

"Just go." The stagehand says, fiddling with their headset and squinting out at the lights, "They'll talk to you after."

I wish Jed was here. I don't know if that'd make me more nervous, seeing his face in the crowd, but it'd be nice to get him away from the ranch for a little while. I know he's not into folk music as much as the rest of us, he's country born through-and-through, but he deserves a break too. Maybe we could've walked around the Capitol a bit, I don't know, sipped on cherry sodas and pretended to be the people we aren't.

He's the only reason I'm here - him and Beau, who went through all of Mom's things last week and pulled out her old songbook, begged me to try and sightread the ink. I told him I was pretty shit but it didn't matter, stuff like that doesn't matter when you're Beau. So I played through the songs, and my brother sang along, and it was nice. Then he pulled out the flyer.

And here I am.

[ ✰ ]

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[tick 12a / calla]

✰  EBRAM AINSLEY .

The academy wanted to send students to the Capitol to show the District's prowess.

The students?

Please.

Ebram's a bladesmaster. One of the most prestigious trainers in Two. He eats his students alive and he turns out only the most successful careers. He works with the mayor for god's sake, has anyone ever wondered why the Strauss house hasn't been shut down yet? Has anyone wondered where those bloodthirsty little beasts get their super secret training?

The producers seem wary to give him weapons - what, they think he's one of the scared little tributes trying to break out? Not fucking likely. He can respect the craftsmanship though, especially when he runs his hand down the swords and the knives and the axes. He's a showy fighter sure, that's half the job, if you can't put on a show then you can't put on a fight.

The ex-gamemakers have seen countless training sessions, where little twelve year olds from the Seam try to make a mockery of career training. Hell, Ebram's trained some of the kids they've seen. Alexander Chastmen? A star student. The gamemakers had given him a ten when they'd seen him. But they've never seen anything like this.

[ ✰ ]

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[tick 12a / calla]

✰  AXEL MORRISEN.

Anarchy? Dead.

Annie? Depressed.

Me? Juggling.

I fall off the unicycle and eat floor. One of the balloons pops. Someone's baby's crying.

Aren't we all just someone's baby?

Hang a donut from a string, watch me eat this bitch. See Ma? No hands! Check under your seats - oh there's nothing there? Huh. Guess I forgot.

Haha oops.

I high-five myself and do the macarena.

My uncle's a clown - not Alabastor, the other one. Don't know why I mentioned that. My brother's a jackass and my sister's gonna kill me once she finds out I'm here. There's a guy that lives on our street that I'm pretty sure is a mime by trade.

I channel him.

The beret goes flying. I play the anthem on bicycle horns.

There's a zoo of balloon animals at my feet - shoot, I ain't got any talent. One of the stage curtains catches on fire. The stage manager's eye starts twitching.

I wanna go home.

[ ✰ ]

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[Deleted]

✰  AMARILLO .

So this is like, totally insane. Any other 15 year old would have frozen up and backed away, but not Amy the Fantastic! She's coming in with her eyes on the prize and both hands on the leash. Word in the audition lobby is most other trainer's have been getting the axe from Mr. Saber, but she's determined to walk away unscathed. 

"Come on, Tarra, we've got work today!" She tugs her beast on stage: a 16 pound cabbage lizard with a teal-green collar. "Hi, I'm Amy and this is my baby, Tarragon! She's from right here in the Captiol, and I'm from District 4." She rocks on her heels as she speaks, nervous smile and socks up to her knees.

"And are you a trainer, is that the talent?"

"Yes! I work at a Gym for it and everything. No worries though, I'm no rookie."

"Is that so! I gotta say, you don't look nervous at all." 

"Well, I had a minor freakout last night in the Hotel room, so I just dyed my hair and moved on. Now that I'm here I can't wait to get started!"

"Alright Amy we aren't going to make you wait. Show us what you've got."

"Sweet! You heard that, Terra?"

Don't let them see you sweat!

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[ ✰ ]

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[gamemaker kelsier]

✰  PIETRO BABINEAUX .

"Hello," I whisper softly.

The crowd stares at me and its lovely, this is how a flower must feel the first time it blooms in the spring. My smile is so wide that everywhere I turn my gaze, it reflects back at me.

Pinstripes on one side, polka dots on the other and a big white ruffle around my neck to complete the look, I know I'm adorable. Never mind the bloodstains dotting the hem from when I pricked my fingers trying to sew it.

"Hello, hello," I whisper, as if I'm telling a secret, "I'm Pietro, the clown! Sometimes I'm glad and sometimes I frown!" I point to the heart painted on one side of my face and then the raindrop on the other.

"Hullo!" comes the excited shout of a child, "Hiiii," comes another.

I smile, wider, this is my favourite part. "What's your favourite animal?" I ask, and then I pull a bag of balloons out of my pocket and an air pump. Usually I make balloons for small shows but if they let me stand here and make a couple hundred, I will.

[ ✰ ]

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>Josiah: “A peacock! A peacock! Make a peacock!” It is clear that as the hours have built up, so have the bottles of champagne that have filled Josiah’s glasses. “This is a class act people, Risky you have no taste. Expand your horizons! Come on!”

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[gamemaker kelsier]

✰  JACKAL KENNEDY .

This was a bad idea, I know it the moment I step on stage. I don't know what I was thinking, just seemed like a good opportunity for escape. Even if I won this, I'd still end up back in Two and any money I make, Dylan'll just take a cut.

I guess in my dreams, that doesn't happen. In my dreams, they like my act so much that they keep me in the Capitol. It'd be better to be someone's little pet here than back in Two.

Maybe.

"Um, hey," I say, leaning too close to the mic. It creates a weird squealing sound that echoes through the theatre. "Shit, sorry. I'm Jackal."

Balloon animals litter the floor in front of the stage. There's a water stain on the carpet and I know that they've already seen a long line of acts. My poetry won't even stand out.

"This one's called, 'Star Boy'."

And I speak it anyway.

[ ✰ ]

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[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

✰ BEATRICE MORRISEN.

Trish signed up for a reality dating show a few months ago, Love Island or something like that. She even did a few photoshoots for it yet has heard nothing since. Yes, there is the whole big ass shadow of Annie to live but have they really rejected the younger sister of a victor for some lower District crud? Trish patiently waits for their correspondence. It is why she signed up for the talent show. Something else to help her climb out into the view of the world.

Though, what exactly is she talented in? Other than the typical career punches and jabs with spears? She liked the photos they took of her for the other show, but she can’t just stand and pose. Or can she?

”Some of you are gamemakers, right?” She says, dragging along a fake spear and sword across the floor. ”You will have seen tributes fighting for their lives in the private training demonstrations. Well this is something a little different.”

There are few others around her, trainers she has picked from the District Four career academy. All dressed in sparkly, shiny outfits. It really is her only talent, or is just a skill that has been sculpted into her by her father? There is nothing natural about knowing how to kill well. ”This is a show, not a fight.”

They have been rehearsing since Trish signed up, a fighting stunt routine. Something seen in the Capitol television shows. They better not fuck up now.

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[ ✰ ]

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[lucius branwen / 10 — fox]

✰  ARCHIE CAPEK.

You make one bad bet and now you're on Panem TV with your goldfish.

I read the trainer contract like a million times and somehow there's not a clause in there about public appearances. I even asked the head trainers on a smoke break while they played mahjong in the equipment room, hoping for a Hail Mary pass on this whole thing.

But between the clacks of tiles and coins clattering on the table, all they did was tell me to "Do whatever the fuck you want kid! See you on TV."

It's been a long time since I thrown a knife for showbiz.

"Hi. My name is Archie." I should've taken infinitely more drugs. "This is my fish."

I put Archie Jr. The Sixth on a high stool on the opposite end of the stage where the target's at. Then I get out a set of butterfly knives, juggle them around and whatever, I don't know, do some party tricks – power aerials, firestarters – before I throw 'em at Archie Jr., landing them in a circle like beams of a metal sun.

I dipped a set of knives in kerosene for this, now flick on a match and the ends are lit. Throwing 'em by the blade, they spin one by one onto the target and the fire licks at the glass of Archie Jr.'s bowl.

The last one nips the bowl, cracks it, and water spills from the stool –

Oh shit, we're down a fish. Grabbing my emergency glass of water, I run across the stage to resuscitate my bud, scooping up his flopping body into the cup.

He blows some bubbles.

Bruh. Nerves of steel, babyy.

I don't know what else I'm supposed to do.

So I do a handstand – "Ta-da."

[ ✰ ]

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[Deleted]

✰  PETER WEBSTER-VĂDUVA .

I had someone ask me if my talent was being shirtless and muscular. That's when I asked a production assistant if they had something I could wear until I got on stage and they found me a bathrobe. Maybe they were joking, but it still made me feel... weird. I tried not to let it bug me too much. After all, I believe in Optimism!

The judges were getting harder and harder to please as the event went on with multiple rejections in a row at some points. Whenever someone got rejected I tried to give them a smile at the very least, if not a word of encouragement. Sometimes the things that seem like a big deal at the time don't really matter in the grand scheme of things. And this was one of those.

Yeah this seemed important now, but it wasn't the end of the world. I just had to remind myself of that too. I was here to have fun, do some cool gymnastics. I'm hoping that if I win I can use the money to help people. It can help fund schools, hospitals, and help people in the lower districts that have trouble meeting basic necessities. That's why I didn't care what that person said.

If I get extra points for being shirtless, it all goes to a good cause. Before it was my turn to go the curtain closed so I could set up matts and balance beams. When the curtain reopened it was my queue. I cartwheeled onto stage. Time to use some charisma, yeah? I gave the judges a small wave and a big smile, "Hey, I'm Peter Webster-Văduva and I'm flipping with excitement to be here!" And queue the back flip.

Then the music I had picked out started and it was time to begin the gymnastics routine.

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