Reaping

[Vester Lombard]

Once again, everyone is ushered into your District's square. The District escort steps up to a microphone to cheerfully address the solemn crowd.

"Welcome to the 4th annual Hunger Games! This year is a Quarter Quell and some of the rules have been changed. This year all of the tributes have been purposefully selected by the Game Maker and there will be no volunteers allowed. In addition, twelve young peacekeepers are hiding among the Districts' children to pose as tributes in the Games. The tributes chosen for this year's Hunger Games are..."



Instructions:
Respond to this post telling the story of your tribute's reaping. This is your chance to establish parts of your character's backstory or discuss why your tribute believes they were chosen for the Hunger Games. Undercover Peacekeepers, you have been planted in the Districts to pose as villagers. You should never reveal that you are a Peacekeeper (except for maybe in private when you REALLY trust someone is an ally).

One to three paragraphs is recommended, but you may write as much or as little as you like. Make sure to read the Forum Rules before posting. After each event, all players will vote for the best post. At the end of the Training Days, the tributes with the most votes will be rewarded with bonus EXP.

Submission Deadline: Wednesday, December 2 11:00 PM CT

[Julian Kane]

"And now the male tribute from District 8 for this year's hunger games..."

Julian Kane. It was Julian's first year to put his name into the lottery for the games and he had been preparing himself for the past few weeks to hear his name just in case it was called. He didn't want to go in crying, he was too old for that now. Too old. He had taken beatings from his father for years. Seen his father beat his mother.

"Julian Kane."

Seen his father beat his mother to death. Ran away from home to live in the streets like a rat and lie there starving to death. Julian clenched his fist, the thought of it made him well up with anger.

"Julian Kane!"

Julian finally broke away from his thoughts. People were looking anxiously around them. His face was plastered on the TV screen and he froze. He tried to move his feet, but he was so scared...ashamed. He already messed it up...

"Let's give a round of applause for our shy, new tribute!"

The crowd solemnly clapped as two peacekeepers came from behind Julian and pushed him forward onto the stage. Julian stood on the stage staring at his feet and rubbing his arm in embarrassment.

[Wren Hartwood]

Wren woke up late on the morning of the reaping. Shit! He rushed through his shower and knocked over a lamp as he hopped into his dress pants. Shit! He finished getting dressed only to spill his tea on his shirt. SHIT! Wren picked out a plaid flannel instead, since he didn't really care what he looked like. It's not like they'll call my name. Although, he had heard rumors that this year's tributes were going to be hand-selected... But still, they'd never select him. He was constantly made fun of for being the smallest lumberjack in Seven. He made his way to the square just as everyone was lining up. The capitol people came out, did their thing, and announced the female tribute. Wren was too busy watching some nearby finches fight over a piece of scone to listen, until he heard his name. Shit.

The capitol worker's voice rang out a second time, "Wren Hartwood! You have been chosen to fight in the Quarter Quell!" Wren clenched his fists and walked up to the stage, but tripped over his bootlace and fell onto his knees. Shit. The crowd was roaring with laughter. Fix this. He rose and approached the stage.

"Wren, do you have anything to say? Perhaps speak of your greatness as to why you were chosen?"

He wasn't about to start failing before the Quell even started. Wren was smart. He knew the sponsors were always watching. Honestly, Wren wasn't quite sure why he was chosen, but decided he'd better just go along without questions. He hated the games, but he knew there was nothing he could do about this situation now.

"Um. I'm a lumberjack...and I'm okay!" The crowd loved it- mostly because it was a line from a song they often sang while chopping.

"Just 'okay,' eh? Oh, dear boy, I'll bet you're more useful than you let on!"

Wren hoped the sponsors caught his one-liner and threw on his cheekiest smirk. Whelp. Here we go.

[Sharlot Cuprick]

Sharlot knew why she was chosen, and the punishment was fitting.

She had been a part of the Games before, but not as a tribute. Years ago, Sharlot had stolen security codes to hack into the Game Makers' programs to take the Hunger Games into her own hands. She had only managed to release a single bear muttation to attack District 8's Rosalind Zuri before she was caught. Her father, being an influential man, was able to get her pardoned, but not before they cut out Sharlot's tongue. As part of the condition of her release back to her home District she was put to work encrypting Capitol security systems, which she took as a compliment rather than a punishment.

When her name was called Sharlot silently approached the stage, and said nothing when prompted by the District 3 escort, who made a distasteful joke about being as shyer than an Avox, unaware of Sharlot's inability to speak.

Sharlot wasn't afraid. If anything it was an escape. She was pleased to leave Mr. Cuprick behind, who talked enough for the two of them, and it saved her the trouble of filing for a divorce. And this was an opportunity for her to prove to her father that she was as good at the Hunger Games as he was. She was ready to play.

[Deleted]

Kenda Tomebay, the first Native American ever chosen as a tribute in the hunger games. An orphan at 12 Kenda is not someone to underestimate. She knows how to use the land to her advantage and is no stranger to overcoming impossible odds. Tho the first Native American in the games she is not here to represent her people, she is here for herself and herself only and will do whatever it takes to win.

[Wallace Barker]

Wallace stood among his classmates in silence as the Capitol anthem was blared, a deafening fanfare that he could feel in his chest. He kept his hands in his pockets, his left hand turning a piece of metal scrap from his job as a mechanic over and over in his fingers. He managed a quick glance over at his father and his 11 year old brother Daniel, his father had yet to take his eyes off of him. Wallace looked away and shifted uncomfortably.



"Welcome to the 4th annual Hunger Games! This year is a Quarter Quell and some of the rules have been changed. This year all of the tributes have been purposefully selected by the Game Maker and there will be no volunteers allowed. In addition, twelve young peacekeepers are hiding among the Districts' children to pose as tributes in the Games. The tributes chosen for this year's Hunger Games are...”



Wallace turned his gaze on Jackson, an orphan a few rows ahead of him.


Jackson had no one, his last remaining relative, an older sister had been chosen for the hunger games years ago. He lived on the street and barely scraped by on the goodwill of others and desperation. Wallace stared at Jackson, shaking weakly in the rows ahead of him, and turned his eyes downward.


“...rker”.





Wallace blinked.





“Wallace Barker!?”





Wallace shot a glance over at his father and brother. Daniel was crying, his father no longer looked at him.

One more dead son. Wallace grit his teeth angrily before he was ushered onto the stage.



It was short-lived anger however, Wallace understood, his father had to hold on to what he had left.



Standing on the stage Wallace hung his head.

He gripped the piece of metal until his fingers bled, staining his pocket red

[Minerva Umber]

She was born for this. She hated it, but she was born for this. When her name was called, she felt her stomach drop. Her parents stood next to her, smiling. They had 3 other girls, they didn't need her, and they both had high paying jobs provided by the Capital. Every Reaping for the last 5 years, they had dressed her in her finest clothes, slowly increasing in value as their ranks had risen, her mother as a scientist, her father working in security. Today she was dressed in a long silver dress with black gloves. She looked like a spectacle, almost as garish as something you'd see at the Capital.

This is what they wanted

"Minerva Umber, please make your way to the stage. Look at that, people, her family is beaming, look at that love!" Her oldest sister came to give her a kiss on the cheek, tears streaming down her face. When her lips brushed against Minerva's cheeks, she whispered under her breath,
"We all knew this was coming, brat... it's about time."

Minerva gritted her teeth and made it to the stage. If they thought that she was going to break, if they thought this was her role, she would show them. She wouldn't be grateful for their wealth, she wouldn't be fearful of their tactics, she wouldn't be scared for her life. She would show them all.

[Eloise Sugarglider]

Eloise stood in the crowd waiting for the reaping. Her parents hadn't made eye contact all day. She was the only child left in her family as a result of the Hunger Games. Both her brother and sister were lost last year, and a cousin the year before. All of the Sugargliders died in the initial mayhem of the games. There was some comfort in knowing the chances of a fourth child being called from the same family within two years was slim.

The murmurs in the crowd die down as the district 6 escort reaches her hand into the bowl, a bowl of doom, and pulls out this year's female tribute name. The screams of her mother across the crowd registers before her name ringing out over the speakers. She turns to see her mother and father collapsing to the ground. "Eloise Sugarglider" the escort repeats, this time with more authority in her voice. Before she can realize it, Eloise is running. Two peacekeepers fumble as she darts past them. A third grabs her by her hair and she gets dragged to the stage.

"Oh quite a rambunctious one! Well no need to keep the gentlemen waiting..."

She doesn't know why she thought she could escape the the peacekeepers. Where was she even running to? Maybe this is why the Sugargliders don't make it past the first few hours of the Hunger Games.

[Janet Martin]

Janet stood silently along the wall awaiting the moment when the name was called. It was almost becoming routine, trudging out for the games with some skin in the game and then sighing with relief as some other poor souls met their maker. The rain would help the fields this time of year, but it made the wait harsher than usual.

An announcer calmly approached the podium and unfurled a small document. Clearly irritated by the drizzle, she quickly announced, "District 10, your tributes for this year have been selected just like all of the other Districts. The rules have been..."

The rain splashed on Janet's nose and hit that irritating spot where it starts to blur your vision, wiping her eyes, Janet was greeted moments later to the unflinching gaze of nearly everyone around her.

"Janet Martin, will you please make your way to me?" Suddenly finding some external assistance, she made her way to the curt but polite announcer."Anything to say?"

Standing tall with the rain slicking her clothes, she made her best effort to be stoic and said, "For District 10, my home." and stepped back and resigned herself to the somber ideas of leaving for good.

[Gwendolyn Fisk]

Gwendolyn reached down and scratched behind Mojo’s ear. He looked up at her and wagged his tail. “Stay.” She commanded. He was a good dog. He would not move from there until she said so. She left him in the surrounding crowd to go sit at the edge of the group of twelve- to eighteen- year-olds. The girl she sat next to shrunk away. Gwen sighed. She wasn’t the most well-liked. Not that she wasn’t friendly, it was just her work often led people to be suspicious. They knew who she reported to.

Gwen glanced at the few representatives now. The two men eyed her back. They were there to make sure she wasn’t double dealing. Her boss had grown suspicious of her as of late. Gwen scowled at the men. They had no reason to be suspicious. She was just good at her job. She knew everyone and everything that went on in the town. He was the highest bidder and so her loyalties were to him. If there was one good thing she had it was loyalty. Gwen turned her attention to the stage.

Gwen had played it safe this year. She only put in the amount she needed to get by. She knew the statistics. She had watched as several others put in twice the amount she did. Her odds were good this year. That didn’t mean she wasn’t prepared for the worst. She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. The girl next to her looked at her nervously.

“What?” Gwen said, exasperated. “What do you honestly think I’m going to do? Please. Get some common sense and relax. Two people today are getting their death sentence. I hope for my sake it’s you so I don’t have to sit next to a twitcher any longer than I have to.”

The girl got an evil look on her face and seemed like she was about to say something until the District Escort finally took the stage.

"Welcome to the 4th annual Hunger Games! This year is a Quarter Quell and some of the rules have been changed. This year all of the tributes have been purposefully selected by the Game Maker and there will be no volunteers allowed. In addition, twelve young peacekeepers are hiding among the Districts' children to pose as tributes in the Games. The tributes chosen for this year's Hunger Games are..."

"So much for careful planning," Gwen mumbled under her breath.

The first name was drawn, “Gwendolyn Fisk.”

Gwen closed her eyes, steeling herself for the slow walk up to the stage. As she got up she saw the sneer on the girl’s face. The rest of the ceremony was muted as she went over the next steps in her head.

In the few hours Gwen had to settle her affairs no one visited except for her boss, Mojo at his side. Mojo went immediately to her side and pressed himself against her. His weight was comforting.

“You look tired.”

Gwen kneeled down to Mojo, “No, just calm.” She wrapped her arms around the mutt and buried her face in his fur, allowing a few tears to drop. The thing she would mourn is that he would not understand. “There’s this little girl, Hannah. She’s the tailor’s daughter. He likes to play with her. Could you give him to her? If they’ll take him?”

“If they won’t?” Gwen hesitated. Not many people with families to feed can also afford dogs. She was hoping their business did well enough.

“Give them my savings. You know where it is. Hopefully, that will be enough.” She pulled away from Mojo. He licked her face gently. “Go with Boss man, okay? Be a good boy.” She stood and nodded to her Boss. He nodded back as he opened the door to leave.

“Go,” she commanded of Mojo. He whimpered and slowly slunk out of the room.

“I’ll take care of him. You were a good one. The best I had seen in a long time. Don’t go being the first to die.”

As the door shut behind him, Gwen began preparing for the games.

[Thomas Windsnip]

Thomas arrived at the reaping minutes before it started. His little sister, Darla, had asked him to braid her hair for the big day. She wasn't even old enough to be reaped, but he had a soft spot for the seven-year-old. Besides, he knew his aunt and uncle didn't give a rat's ass about him or his sister. They were too enthralled by their own "perfect" children. More like perfectly plump... Thomas thought. Caught in his own thoughts he barely heard the announcer call "Thomas Windsnip" over the speakers.

"Thomas Who?!" he exclaimed. "Nah for real... Thomas is like a really popular name these days." His exclamation was met with silence. "Okay I guess Windsnip isn't super common... but you can never be too sure right? I mean this is the Hunger Games, I'd hate to make such an egregious error due to a mispronunciation...." Darla let out a little wail and the expectant looks of others revealed Thomas's new reality.

He gave his sister a little hug, she was the only person he would miss from this godforsaken life. He then turned to his aunt and uncle. They were too busy kissing their own children's non-reaped heads to even noticed him. He walked on stage and shouted "Peace out, district 9!"

[Gillian Fox]

Gillian awoke to the smell of gas can coffee brewing breezing lazily in from the room. She rubbed her eyes, and then like her Fox namesake stretched out on the hapless heap of blankets on the worn mattress in the hovel that she calls home. Her toes cracked as they extended and pointed south, and her hands hit the wall above her. She could feel the cold gritty stone flaking off and dusting her fingers like so much ash from yesterday's fire as she breathed in deeply as if to taste all the universe for the last time. "Hell, the last time could be sooner than I expect," Gillian thought to herself as her lungs filled up like balloons. A clang from the kitchen broke her breath and she sat up in bed and turned towards the door.

Allie drifted in from the kitchen dressed only in Gillian's fox pelt vest harboring two cups of steaming coffee in each hand. Allie plopped down next to Gillian, and handed her a cup of coffee. The warm cup reminded Allie of the warm blood on her hands from her family's death. It was a reaping morning just like this one three years ago. She came running into the house looking for her parents, but instead heard shouting from the alley behind the house. She ran back to see two peacekeepers with her family. One of them was holding her older brother by the shoulders as the other attempted to force a sack of food and supplies onto her parents. There was shouting, and tears, and struggling, and she couldn't take it. She ran towards them and started screaming to bring attention to the distress. Tears streamed down her face as she made those steps towards the scuffle, but before she could arrive the peacekeepers panicked, pulled their guns, and bang, bang, bang.... three shots. Three bodies. One life changed forever. Gillian's eyes closed as she brought the cup of coffee to her mouth and drank. It was burnt, Allie always burnt it, but Gillian didn't care. As the hot coffee burnt her tongue she let it roll down. She didn't fight it. Today was the day she has been working towards since that reaping three years ago. 

Gillian turned to Allie, kissed her forehead, and got dressed. 

"We can't be late," Gillian instructed Allie. 

Allie shook her head in agreement, and started to change. They walked hand in hand to the ceremony knowing this could be the last time they may see each other. Allie was under the impression that she was being called as tribute, but Gillian knew better. Gillian hadn't survived the past three years without the help of trading information between districts and the peacekeepers. Even though she had discovered that the rumors of the Capitol choosing the tributes this year was true, and Allie was the tribute of choice, Gillian had used her skills of persuasion along with a little intel about a possible civil uprising to make sure that she would take Allie's place. 

"There's no need to tell her," Gillian thought to herself as they approached the bandstand. She smiled at Allie, and leaned in and kissed her neck as she pulled a fox-head hairpin from her head, and placed it in a hidden pocket in the lining of her fox pelt vest. 

"Welcome to the Fourth annual Hunger Games. I'm sure we're all rearing to go, and aching to hear which lucky tributes will represent District 7. Shall we start with a little cinnamon spice, and everything nice?"

Allie grabbed Gillian's hand and clenched tightly as she waited for her name to be called.

"Gillian Fox!" 

Allie's heart jumped and then sank. She couldn't believe what she had heard. She turned to Gillian, and Gillian leaned in to whisper into Allie's ear, "I'm sorry." 

Then Gillian gave Allie a great big hug, and turned away smiling and giddy. She hugged and kissed everyone around her like she had just won a beauty pageant. She walked away from Allie as she stepped towards her destiny, and with the data concealed within the fox hairpin she hid away she would find a way to broadcast it to expose the carnal brutal nature of the Capitol to all the districts. 

"Welcome to the games, Gillian! That's quite a last name you have there, Miss Fox. Are you as sly as one."

"I guess you'll just have to watch and find out," she said with a devious smile and a wink. 

[Dante Clavus]

The rhythmic thud of his boots echoed down the brightly lit hallways of the District 5 dam complex. Dante stepped out into the chill night air, shouldered his firearm and checked his watch; 11:27. Three more minutes before his shift ended and he would check in for a nightly report.


The thought made him grimace. How many different ways could he explain how nothing happened during his shift? His supervisor was only two years older than him; but swung his seniority like a Peacekeeper's baton. Every night had to be a different report, written a different way than the ones before.


"Dante Clavus"


The practiced movements of countless drills set in and Dante turned, sliding his rifle from his shoulder to bear on the voice. The woman's voice. She stood right where Dante had been walking moments before; clothed in what looked to be an olive colored silk drape.


"Dante Clavus" she repeated, staring into his eyes.


The vision swirled as the woman, hallways and everything began to fade as he woke up.


"Dante Clavus!" Repeated the voice, more ugrently this time. 'Mandatory Broadcast' blared in shockingly red letters from his holoviewer. It had been Selena Marlyle, District 5's Capitol representative's voice. 'Why is she saying my name?' thought Dante, blearily as he rolled over to escape the noise.



Everything came together in stark clarity as Dante heard the rhythmic thud of boots approaching his front steps.

[Travis Luxor]

Travis woke up in a dazed, recovering from his heroine addiction. Feels a slap on his face. It was the peacekeepers.

"Travis you idiot you missed the Reaping"
"Because of that you are the chosen tribute"

Travis- "Fuck."

[Valeria DeMasque]

Valeria brushed some ash out of her vibrantly dyed hair. A couple of years ago she had started to dye her hair to break up the monotony of grey buildings and grey streets that clogged her homeland, a district that thrived off factories and labor. She took another drag from the cigarette held tightly between her fingers. The ash fluttered to the ground, "Just adding to the pile," she thought to herself as the ash from her cigarette merged with the ever present layer of the byproduct of "progress" billowing from the smoke stacks above her.

"Hurry up," the trains almost here, a peacekeeper called out to her. She had been able to finagle one last moment of solitude before being whisked away to the capitol to compete in some blood sport. Honestly, Val was surprised that had let her out of sight but then district 8 wasn't as fiercely "lawless" as some of the higher numbered districts. At least that's what the capitol led them to believe...

Besides...where would she run? She might have known these alleys like the back of her hand but you don't run when you're chosen. That can only end badly.

She had been chosen and that's all there was to it.

No sense fighting it now...although sometimes the more "rambunctious" tributes DID get extra media attention.

"Perhaps I better keep that in mind..." she mused.

The reaping hadn't been all that eventful. Some little kid had been chosen to play alongside her.

Val had been hoping to at least get a worthy ally out of the reaping but instead she got some sort of...she glanced at the small timid child, "gutter rat judging by the level of dirt on him" she thought to herself. Heck, she had hardly even noticed he was there at first. Val shrugged for the sole benefit of her internal monologue as she made her way to the train station that would whisk her away to her probable death. She gave the small child what she hoped was an encouraging wink, "then again sometimes invisibility can be a benefit"

[Lucan d'Murte]

"... Lucan d'Murte!"

The Silence was deafening, ragged and filthy bodies scanned the small crowd around them. As the sun beat down and the moments passed it became clear that no one person was stepping forward.

"Lucan? You are being called. Come forward so we can take a good look at you!"

Slowly a small circle forms in the far side. A lanky and filthy boy is left standing in the center, ferverently looking around at the growing wall of muddy faces isolating him from the sweet anonymity of the crowd.

"Ah, there you are, you silly lad! Well then, come on up! Don't you want to be recognized for this greatest honour?"

Lucan Ambles his way up to the wooden podium, being careful to avoid the scrutinizing eyes of his neighbors and friends. He doesn't move reluctantly, more carefully. As if any footstep closer to the colourfully clothed figures at the head of the crowd could be his last. As he gets closer, his gait seems more sure. And yet his eyes are still furtively glancing at those more fortunate as he passes. When he reaches the podium, it becomes obvious that one of his hands is twitching rather violently.

"You called for me Ma-a-'am-m?" He works out through a painful stutter. His piercing gaze shooting straight past her and focusing on some distant horizon.

"Yes, Everyone! Please welcome your First of two tributes: Lucan d'Murte!"

The field remains silent, except for the faint hiss of the wind.

[Nelson Clark]

"Nelson Clark"
Not that this was a surprise; in fact he'd been expecting it. After all, isn't this what he was born to do? That and slice the heads off of fish. That was another gift. But he wasn't sure this would necessarily help him here. The peacemakers began staring at him waiting for him to---what? oh right. move. move towards the...yes, podium. They were waiting for him. He saw his parents, his father with his fish shirt and dress pants and arms crossed staring him down. this was an honor, an honor for him and his District and his family.
So why did it feel so weird to finally be doing this? To finally be walking onto the podium and be introduced AS the Tribute, when he's been preparing for this anyway? Whatever, it must be nerves. He knew he shouldn't have chugged that fish oil this morning.

Nelson walked up the stairs before acknowledging the girl from his District with a slight smile. It was too somber, too serious. This wasn't at all what Nelson was used to. More loud, panicked environment. Here it was still and quiet, despite the large number of people staring at him. Too weird.
"DISTRICT 4 RULES!" he finally screeched out, holding his two hands out like pitchforks and sticking his tongue out.

Because if he's gonna do this, he might as well have some fun, right?

[Sydney Gardiner]

"It’s cold today", Syd thought as she walked with the other girls her age to the Reaping. The road was dusty leading up to the stage and frankly, it was putting her off a little as dust settled on her shoe. What if she’s attacked by a coughing spell in the middle of announcing who was sentenced to die? That’d be, you know, a little bit of an awkward moment. It could relieve some of the awkward tension of the day but oh God, at what cost? No, she’d rather not explain that to anyone sent to discipline her, thanks. Especially her parents, that would not be a conversation she would enjoy having.

There’s a long list of things Sydney would rather be doing than discussing any serious topics with her parents. An abridged version includes facing a firing squad, running two miles in the rain at night, sitting through four root canals…

Well, even if it does happen…at least she’d be ready, you know? District 4 makes sure you are, much like the military. Find one’s weaknesses and eradicate them through nothing but discipline. Discipline and an awful lot of cardio. She can at least say that she can throw a weapon or climb a tree, to put it bluntly. Some of the other kids in the other districts would be sitting ducks when that clock winded down on the first day. And while that moment made her feel a little bad, the feeling was eradicated when the escort put her name in the group of papers littering within the clear ball.

“Sydney Gardiner.”

Shit.

[Holly Edison]

So, the Game Maker is calling the shots this time. Next year is my last shot, there's no way I'm getting picked now that they've tossed volunteers. I haven't trained enough, not like them.

Holly looked to her right the others from her class standing eagerly nearby. The Careers faces resolute, stony. She considered them for a moment, mentally reviewing their strong bodies with ready posture and eyes fixed straight ahead to the stage where the rules of this years game were being delivered. She turned away, casting her gaze to the crowd's left where much of the villagers gathered together. Her mother stared at her, eyes glistening and holding her father's hand. She could not read his expression, but then they always had trouble understanding each other. Holly's eyes settled on her Grandfather and she felt her face relax at the man who may as well have raised her, almost allowing a smile to peek through as he nodded at her in understanding - she knew it wasn't approval, before turning back to the stage. She did the same, lost in her thoughts again.

You started too late. Too old. You're weak. You were a decade late and now-

Cheers erupted to her left. A male had been chosen. A boy really, no matter his size or skill he was just a child like everyone else up for grabs in this carnival of gore, not that it mattered any. She hardly noticed him consumed in her own thoughts. Stop it! You want this. You have to play the game. You need this for everyone at home.

"...and what a fine contender he will be! But that's not all, is it folks? We're hardly finished..."

Her thoughts turned to her parents. The fear and the anger they wore so plainly on their face was obvious to her even at age nine, her parents were not proud. They were scared. Terrified by the little girl who stood up at dinner and demanded to be placed in the Career program.

"...joining this handsome young man, we'll need an equally lovely young girl now won't we? And we've certainly chosen well this time!"

She had seen the other students leaving one by one to train full time as Careers since before she could speak. She'd seen their parents say their farewells with beaming smiles and witnessed the tears of pride and joy when speaking of them once they had gone. She shouldn't have expected anything better but even before she knew the word, she knew what sort they were: Dissidents. The word flashed in her head in bright angry letters. No wonder they never had much, having been forced to hunt outside the village for meat through the winter and make do with what they had.

Someone has to turn this family around. Someone has to make it better. I've got one shot. Next year, I'll be ready, I have to be. For them.

Noise erupted all around her, she was being pushed from all sides. She looked around wildly searching to see who had been chosen.

"Oh, you frazzled little thing, it's so exciting isn't it, Holly? You're her! The girl who will be representing Dictrict 2! Come on up here, darling! Ladies and gentlemen - HOLLY EDISON! Isn't she precious? Like a deer frozen in surprise - let's hope this isn't how she acts in the Games! Ha, ha, ha!

It hit her. She barely had time to register her name being called before she took a turn surprising herself - after all these years, the training, defying her family in an effort to help them even if they wouldn't help themselves... It was time. Why then, was her first thought...


Fuck.

[Reese Oberron]

If it hadn't been for the peacemakers being out in full force looking for her the night before she might have been awake at an appropriate hour, instead she was sprinting to the ceremony and would be barely able to make it there in time.

Reese ducked into the crowd hoping nobody would take notice and found her three sisters, the youngest of which was now eligible as well.

She couldn't stop thinking about the night before. If someone hadn't tipped off the peacemakers there would have been absolutely no reason that they should have been looking for her, Reese had covered her tracks.

The announcer called a name, a boy she barely even knew... There was something wrong and a long pause went by where everyone was silent but she could see one of the peacekeepers speaking to the announcer on the podium before leaving abruptly. The announcer cleared her throat. "Eh ehm... he seems to have cold feet." then laughed nervously and looked around before speaking again. "All is well surely! Now for our next tribute!"

The whole field was quiet and a crow cawed in the distance. Reese wrapped her arm around her sister Marzi as they both sidled back and forth. Looking over she realized that a boy standing next to Marzi was starring at her intently. She recognized him from somewhere.

The announcer paused again briefly... then turned and walked to the collection of names and pulled one from the bowl and then seemed to have lost her balance briefly. The announcer looked around frantically towards her feet. Again a second peacekeeper walked over, this time bending over and reaching for something then after standing up it turned to the announcer and handed her something.

"I can't see. What's going on? Why haven't they chosen a tribute yet?" Marzi whispered to her.

"Something's wrong, I don't know what's go...

"THE FEMALE TRIBUTE FOR THIS YEAR'S HUNGER GAMES IS REESE OBERRON."

She was in shock. The world around her was frozen, and then just as abruptly she felt something wet on her right cheek. Someone had spit on her, and the boy standing next to Marzi was gone, nobody seemed to notice and she raised her hand to her face before kissing Marzi on the forehead.

As Reese walked through the crowd she stood tall and didn't look anyone in the eye. As she approached the podium the announcer boomed, "Reese Oberron everyone! Here today unlike her male counterpart; wherever he might be. Do you have anything to say my dear while the world listens?"

"Fuck the games, and fuck this district." She muttered to herself, but the announcer must have also heard.

"I see...Well everyone our tribute has nothing to say. Come my dear, there is much preparation to be done." The microphone cut as a peacekeeper approached and escorted them out the back of the stage.

[Deo Prisco]

“They say the Ozmonts paid off a lot of the families,” whispered Aris as the cadets filed into the training center, and entered a door that had been off limits till today. Inside was dark and cramped, 24 circular platforms glowed faintly on the floor.

“How much?” responded Deo. The District 2 cadets were discouraged from making friends at the training center, but the Aris and Deo frequently partnered up for exercises.

“Enough,” reasoned Aris, “not everyone here is thrilled about competing. Plus, Balus Ozmonts’ death would make a lot of guys happy.” Truthfully, Balus bullied many at the academy, though he saved a special kind of torment for Deo.

Brusquely their head teacher, Colonel Nikola, hobbled into the room. “Everyone lineup!” he snorted, stopping to rest on his cane. “As you know today is your final assessment,” he paused scanning the boys over his pock marked nose. “You will fight in a Cornucopia simulation. Last one standing will get the honor and privilege to represent District 2 in The Hunger Games. You’ve been trained well by the staff and I, but this will be a true test of your valor. This is no ordinary drill, you will be entering a simulation room designed to mimic the confusion and havoc of the games. Each cadet has been assigned an entry shaft”, he pointed to the glowing spaces on the floor. “Get to your positions, we begin in 60 seconds.” Usually a boisterous and drawn out talker Colonel Nikola uncharacteristically existed the room.

As Deo took his place the shaft exploded upwards, bright light blinded him for a second. The cadets were now in an arena, suspended on a circular platform 20 feet above the ground. “Cadets begin!” crackled an amplified Colonel Nikola, his voice echoing over loud speakers.

Trainees began running to the center of the platform where a dozen shock batons lay. Deo hesitated though, making it impossible to grab a weapon without first wrestling it out of someone’s hands. A blood curdling scream rang out as a shock baton hammered into a trainee’s chest. Panic set in as Deo rounded the perimeter in an attempt to get distance between himself and the carnage. Already it was clear that the Ozmonts had paid off the most lethal cadets. They ignored Balus who gingerly picked up a shock baton and beat a fallen cadet already writhing in pain.

Suddenly the platform began to separate from itself. Unaware cadets fell from the cornucopia to the floor below. Deo felt the platform beneath him begin to drop. Hastily he jumped forward to an inner section. The falling platform took his momentum though, and his face slammed into the side of his destination. He struggled to hang on to the edge, and was about to give up when a hand grabbed his wrist. It was Aris, an electrical burn covered his right eye.

“Grab my arm,” Aris groaned, pulling a stunned Deo onto the platform. “Watch out for Balus, he’s a fucking monster.” said Aris through clenched teeth. Deo’s vision refocused on Aris’ broken leg, an anger welled up in him.

The stage was now spinning the remaining outer pieces clockwise and the inner ones counter clockwise. He spotted Balus as their platforms approached each other. Deo jumped the divide grabbing before Balus spotted him, grabbing for the shock baton in his arm. The boys wrestled,
Balus being the much larger one quickly got on top of Deo.

“Hey old chum,” cackled Balus, “this brings back fond memories.” Deo slammed his head into Balus’ nose, the baton went flying. He rolled on top of Balus and started punching. Balus block the blows to his head, but Deo broke through, screaming as each hit landed. Eventually Balus’ went limp, bringing Deo out of his frenzy.

The boy looked around at the other tributes curiously they had stopped fighting to watch him. Then simulation ended and the arena floor reassembled and lowered to the ground. Colonel Nikola burst into the room with excitement. “Marvelous job cadet!” he said winded by the short walk, “We always wanted to select you, but we had to make sure.”