District 2 reapings! Two more fantastic characters to read about! I couldn't decide which character's POV to write in, so you have short POVs by them both. Our girl was submitted by XTurtleInstictX and our boy by Chaos in Her Wake.

District 2: Sierra-Grace Soro

I've been up all night. I suppose I should be tired, but I'm not in the slightest. The adrenaline that pumps through me with every swing of my sword, every time I draw my arm back to throw the knife, every time I hear the rii-ip! of the dummy's swing as my blade punctures it fills me with joy and exhilaration.

I can almost imagine I'm already in the Games. I can imagine every dummy as an opponent, a weakling from 8, a mountain from 12, a fellow Career.

I can imagine myself slaying them all. Their blood dyes my blade red, and drops spray off it as I bring it around for another slice. Again and again. I pretend to dodge a blow to my left, then counterparry and finish with a stab in the neck. Dead.

The weakling attempts to run away. I grab a throwing knife from the sheathes on my belt, and throw with deadly accuracy. It hits her on the back of her head. I can hear her cannon boom. Dead.

The boy from 12 tries to sneak up from behind me and finish me off with a spear. I break the spear in half with one clean slice of my sword. As he lunges with a knife, I duck nimbly to the side and whirl around to face his back. He's slow. Before he can turn around and continue his assault, I stab him in the back and he face-plants onto the grass. Dead.

But as I break out of my reverie, I scowl disappointedly as my foes disappear. My blade's red paint fades until they are back in their gleaming condition. The grass sinks into the ground, leaving the basement/training center of my house.

And then, I am alone in a room filled with tattered dummies. I am not a victor anymore, simply a Career.

I scowl and pick up my blades. As I begin on an already-destroyed dummy, I can see the gold glint of the Cornucopia on the horizon again. The grass springs up. The dummies morph into people, moving with their own blades to attack me.

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

I am stronger than them all. None of them can defeat me. I am a mass of whirling blades, ferocity, rage and joy and adrenaline. I am death. And I am so, so happy.

The sun gradually peeks out from behind the mountains of District 2. The light seeps through even though I am in the basement. The room lightens, and I can see it for what it is.

Reaping day.

My fantasies are beginning to come real. Today, in a few weeks, I will be in the arena. I will dominate. I will not lose. I will destroy my enemies and come home a victor.

I snarl at the sun and continue training. Duck, dodge, stab. Dead. Sidestep, parry, unbalance, slice. Dead. Again. Again. Again. I lose track of how many I kill, how much time has passed.

I want to keep training, but the afternoon sun and my mind say that it is time to get ready. Training can wait.

I quickly brush out my hair and fix my right-sided braid I wear my black hair in. I don't bother with frilly dresses like the other girls in my district do. They're impractical and look ridiculous. Instead, I wear my training outfit to the reapings: a black long-sleeved shirt with a black vest and black jeans. It's a lot of black, but it serves to make me look intimidating, and combined with my cold blue eyes and pale skin, I look like something out of a nightmare.

Taking a deep breath, I run up the stairs. They're both awake, my father and my younger sister. I can hear them moving around upstairs, my father's loud steps and Lily-Marie's soft steps. I briefly remember when our house was full, bustling with my mother, grandmother, and three other siblings. But I shove that out of my mind.

I don't like to gloat about my kills.

I can hear the creak of the stairs as Lily-Marie begins walking down the stairs. I don't want to deal with anyone at the moment. My waking dreams of the arena are still fresh in my mind, and I want to keep them.

I grab a granola bar and sprint towards the door. But just as I open it, I hear Lily-Marie's question.

"Where are you going?" her blue eyes, just like my own, glitter calculatingly as she looks me over.

"To the reapings."

"They don't start for another hour. You know that."

"Then I'm going out." I say, annoyed.

"Fine." says Lily-Marie, but I know that she knows that I just don't want to be around my family at the moment. I don't work as a team.

I slip out the door without a goodbye.

The air in District 2 always has a perpetual grittiness to it, with the rock dust from the mines blowing over the city. In the poorer areas of town, you can see little piles of sand from where it hasn't been cleaned. District 2, although much nicer than any of the lower Districts, isn't paradise in some places. Actually, it's not paradise anywhere, at least for me. The arena is my paradise.

I meander around the district without setting any real place for me to be heading to. I turn corners and walk down side streets without thinking. Soon, I reach the edge of the district. A few stunted trees grow around here, and I decide it's as good as a place to stop as any. Realizing that I still have my belt of knives on, I carve a target into the wood of one of the trees, then step back. I throw a knife, and watch it spin end over end until it hits solidly into the center of the target.

I smirk contentedly.

Idly, I toss a few more knives, but there's none of that breathless exhilaration of last night's training. Just boredom.

I toss knives, occasionally getting up to retrieve them from the wood when I run out, until the sun is high in the sky. 12 o'clock. Time for the reapings.

I gather my knives again. I know I can't take them with me to the Capitol, but I feel reassured with my knives strapped to my belt.

I walk back the way I came, remembering each step. But I walked a long way, and soon I'm sprinting to get to the reapings on time.

I don't bother to check in as I rush to the fifteen-year olds section. I've missed the Treaty of Treason and announcement of the previous victors. The escort this year a slightly-normal looking woman with…pink? eyes and black hair. Or is it blonde? I can't tell; it seems to be constantly changing. I missed her name, and don't necessarily care, either. I mentally name her Pinky.

Pinky totters over to the girl's reaping bowl on ridiculously high heels and calls out in a high-pitched voice, "Ladies first!"

She swishes a manicured hand through the bowl, and plucks out a name. I don't care who it is, I'm volunteering nonetheless.

"Sierra-Grace Soro!"

"I-" I cut myself off before I can finish my statement. That was my name. She called my name.

Crud. Now some idiot's going to volunteer for me.

I cast glares through the crowds as I pass them, making my way to the stage. I don't want anybody to volunteer for me.

A girl in the sixteen section begins to raise her hand. No no no no I'm going into the Games, not her!

"I volunteer!"she cries smoothly, and begins to make her way to the stage.

This. Can't. Happen.

Before I even know what I'm doing, there's a knife in my hand and I'm throwing it with the same deadly accuracy as I used earlier when I was throwing at the trees, but that same beautiful adrenaline races through me, like lightning coursing through my veins as it did in my waking dreams.

It catches her in the throat, and she vanishes into the crowd as she falls.

This time, the death is real.

I grin. It feels wonderful. "Any more volunteers?" I ask sweetly.

No one moves.

"Good."

Pinky seems shaken by my casual murder. "Well!" she pipes, trembling in her high-heels. "Here's to Sierra-Grace Soro!"

No one claps.

I glare and finger a knife.

The crowd bursts into applause.

There. Much better.

District 2: Mercury Balt

That girl must be insane. She just killed that volunteer. I clap along with everyone else. I'm ashamed to admit it, but she scares me. Something in her eyes, that glint of assuredness, like she's already got this in the bag, is terrifying.

And she's going to be my district partner. I decided to volunteer this year.

My family and I are from the poor section of District 2. I decided to volunteer to carry on the tradition of the Careers, but I'll admit it: the money is an incentive as well.

I clap along with everyone else for Sierra, but it's unwilling. Like the rest of them, I'm afraid that if I don't, her next knife will be coming towards me. I can imagine her killing us all: she'd knife a Peacekeeper and grab his gun. Then, after killing the rest of the Peacekeepers, she'd mow us down.

It's an unrealistic fantasy, but I don't put it past the ghostly-looking girl onstage.

After the applause dies down, the escort, Precious, walks over to the boy's reaping ball.

"Well, I hope our boy will be just as much as a competitor as our girl!" she cries in a forced cheery voice.

She quickly draws a slip, not wanting to prolong the reapings any longer.

"Granite Fenea!"

I raise my hand. "I volunteer!"

I start walking to the stage, half-expecting to see a knife coming towards me. But Sierra just smiles this sick smile, as if she's saying "He's nothing. I can take him down with one hand behind my back."

Well, I'll give her one heck of a fight.

"Let's have some more applause for the District 2 tributes!" Precious shrieks.

The crowd cheers and claps, but she doesn't make an effort to prolong it. Without telling us to shake hands, she rushes us offstage to the Justice Building, and then hurries off in the direction of the train station.

It's funny: she draws the names of who will die, she cheers as she watches The Hunger Games from a television screen, but the minute she sees a murder right in front of her eyes, she is terrified.

Typical Capitolian.

The first thing the Peacekeepers do as they reach us is take away Sierra-Grace's knives. She's obviously upset about this, but her feelings change to annoyance and outrage as they subject her to a pat-down.

Once they're satisfied that she has no hidden weapons, they allow her to continue to the visiting rooms. She stalks into the Justice Building in irritation.

I walk calmly in. I prepare myself not to cry, no matter what. The cameras can't see me with a red face and puffy eyes, especially with a district partner like Sierra.

I sit down on the couch and wait for my visitors.

My parents come first.

My dad encourages me, tells me that I'll be sure to win. But I can see the worry in his eyes, the fear.

"It's alright, Dad," I assure him. "I'll come back, don't you worry."

He sharply nods. "Of course. I never doubted you."

But he is. It weighs on my heart. He knows I might return from the Capitol, not alive, but in a wooden box.

He looks at the Peacekeeper, who is gesturing for him to leave. "Well. Goodbye, son. Good luck."

"Bye, Dad."

He glances back once over his shoulder as he leaves, and I give him an encouraging smile.

He smiles weakly back before leaving.

My mom comes in next. She's upset.

"Mercury, you hear me good and clear now, okay?"

I nod.

"You better come back, or I swear I will track down your ghost and personally kill you."

I force a laugh, not because it's a dark joke, but because it's a bad one.

"Okay, Mom."

She narrows her eyes. "Good. Because I'm not going to allow my son to die from idiot Capitolian game." she spits on the floor. "The rebellion never should have gone this way. It should have worked…"

Before she goes off on one of her rants and gets herself killed, I stop her. She was a die-hard rebel support her. She nearly died countless times in the election riots. "It's okay." I reassure her. "Everything is going to be fine. I'll win, and we'll all be filthy rich and live in Victor's Village."

"Is this what this is all about? You're going to waste your life for money? Sweetie, we don't need money. We're fine, financially and otherwise."

She's lying. She knows we're not steady financially, and I know that we're not steady otherwise. Tale, my little brother, joined a street gang in attempts to get money. I'm constantly worrying about him. I work an extra shift at the mines. We're constantly hungry. I bet we're no better off than the people in District 12.

"It's not just about money, Mom. It's…it's…" I struggle to find a way to explain.

Her face softens. "I believe in you." She slips something into my hand and leaves.

I look down. It's a scrap of cloth, but I'd recognize it anywhere. It's from my mom's oldest, most prized dress.

I grip it tightly for a second, then stuff it into my pocket.

My gang of friends pour in next. Kufre, Havoc, and Vash all surround me. Kufre peppers me with questions.

"Are you going to be all right? Do you think that you'll win? Well, you must think so if you volunteered….I don't want you to die! Please don't die, okay? And if you do die, don't die in a wimpy way. Die in an epic way, or at the very least a dramatic way. Okay? But it would be much better if you didn't die at all. Unless you want to die. Oh my gosh, have you gone suicidal! That would be horrible! So don't be. At the very least, if you are, stop being suicidal. Okay?" Kufre's afro is bobbing like crazy as she speaks.

When she takes a breath, I interrupt. "Kufre, calm down. I think I can win. If I die, I'll try to die in a dramatic and or epic way, but no promises. And I have not gone suicidal."

"Okay, good, but what if you're in denial? Or if you're lying….but you don't lie, I think. Do you lie? I bet you lie sometime. I think everyone lies sometime. In fact-"

This time, Havoc stops her. "Kufre. Stop speaking so quickly and so much."

She nods empathetically.

"Okay. Now the rest of us can speak, huh?" he grins.

"So, man," he says, sitting next to me and patting me on the back. "You are going to kick some butt for us, okay? And then, you're going to come back to us, alive and preferably in one piece. Got it?"

"I hope."

"No, not any measly I hopes. Let's get a "Yes sir!""

I roll my eyes. "Yes, sir." I say dryly.

"Good job! Now, good luck, and win the Hunger Games!"

I smile. "All right."

He stands up and stretches. "Then my work here is done. Bye, Mercury."

"Bye, Havoc."

Havoc strides out of the room.

Kufre gives me an attack hug. "Win, live but if you need to die, die in an epic way, and don't forget us."

I escape from her smothering hug. "I would never forget you."

She smiles. "Great. Good luck!" she leaves the room.

That leaves me and Vash, who hasn't said a word the entire time. Vash is quiet, content in silence. But you can tell that she's analyzing everything, taking everything in.

"I didn't think you would do it," she said quietly.

"Well, I guess I did."

"Why?"

"Well…I felt like I had to. I trained all this time, and I felt like if I didn't volunteer, it would be for nothing. And I thought that I might as well continue the tradition of the Careers, you know? And…well….we need the money."

"Is your life nothing? The Careers can stop, for all I care. The Careers don't need to have you in them. And I think that we all agree that you're worth more than any money."

"Vash…" I begin to feel uncomfortable.

Her eyes cloud up. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I love you."

I'm shocked. "Oh…"

She looks away. "I didn't think that you would like me back anyway. But I thought you should know."

"No, Vash, it's not like that…"

I don't know what to do. But all of the sudden, we're kissing.

It's over just as soon as it started. "Bye, Mercury. Win for me, okay?" she asks.

"Of course, Vash."

"I love you."

She walks out of the door.

It's hard for me to comprehend that it's likely that I'll never see any of them again.

Well, there you have it! The Wolf Huntress, I'm sorry if Mercury is a little OOC. I have a hard time writing his character, but I think I managed to pull it off to an extent.

How do you like the D2 tributes? Love 'em? Hate 'em? Review and tell me!

~Myrtle