Shadow crouched on the top of the wall at the back of the stage, his black cloak fluttering in the night wind, waiting for his name to be called. He knew he couldn't stand another night in that itchy, restrictive tweed jacket, so instead he skipped the designers altogether and went with the approach that he knew would be the easiest and feel the most natural. He ran over his plan in his head one more time, just to make sure he hadn't missed any details. He was ready. Shadow waited for his name to be called. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Next up, please welcome to the stage, Shadow from District 7!" The interviewers voice rang out from the speakers, unnaturally loud. All eyes turned to the huge doors as they opened to reveal... Nothing. Shadow smiled from the top of the wall as the crowd exchanged glances. /Alright. ventriloquism time./ He took a deep breath. "I'm right here." Shadow threw his voice to make it sound like he was on the other side of the stage. The sea of heads swiveled to look at the other side of the platform. "Or maybe I'm here." Back at the entrance. "Behind you." Right behind the interviewer. "You never know..." All around. Heads were looking everywhere, not knowing where the voice would come from next. //Now, while they're distracted.// /Yes, I know./ "Or maybe..." He dropped down from his perch, cloak billowing from the rush of air, heading straight for the chair where the tribute was meant to sit in. He landed in the chair perfectly, set it spinning, and plastered his practiced smirk on his face. As it stopped, Shadow spoke again, this time using his normal voice. "...I've been here all along." He heard the gasps of the crowd, and knew he'd made an impression. Now to live up to the hype. Shadow turned to the interviewer and fixed her with an intense stare. "So, you're gonna be asking me questions, right?" The interviewer laughed. "Very well done Shadow! My name is Mishra, and yes I will be asking you some questions." Shadow leaned back in the chair. "Alright, shoot." "First of all, how are you finding the capitol?" /Oh boy. This one's a doozy./ He laughed. "Oh, it's alright. Especially considering where I lived before." "And where did you live before this?" Mishra asked. "On the streets." Shadow stated bluntly. "Where every day - every HOUR - is a struggle to simply survive. Where you have nothing to rely on except your wits and your claws. Where the threat of starvation or dehydration are omnipresent dangers, where you have to be ready to beg, steal, trade, or even sometimes /k!ll/ to survive. Here, you get everything handed to you on a silver platter, so compared to that, well, this isn't so bad. Next question?" The crowd was speechless, along with the interviewer. /Good./ "Well? What's the next question?" To her credit, Mishra recovered from her shock quickly. "Would you mind telling us about the cats you've met around the training center?" "Well, so far I've met another street urchin like me, a psychopath/sociopath, one of her friends, a caffeine addict, and an incredibly hyper cat. And I'm sure that's only the start." "Alright. Is there anything you'd like to say to your family back in District 7?" "I don't have a family. Next." "...Ok, how have you prepared for the arena?" "I've trained. Every day, stopping only to eat, drink, and sometimes sleep. It's the best way to prepare." "Thank you, one last question though: What do you believe your strengths to be?" "I don't want to say anything before the arena in case people come up with a way to counter my strategies, but I will say one thing: You'll see a lot of my handiwork, but not a lot of me." "Thank you for your time Shadow, and I wish you a good evening!" Shadow plucked a small tablet from his hidden belt. "You too." he said as he tossed it up and caught it over and over. Then he suddenly threw it on the ground, and smoke filled the stage. In the confusion that followed, he snuck away quietly, escaping all notice. /And /that's/ how you make an impression./
