District One, reapings pt 2

A/N: Hello, and Megalor is back again. Just a notice, this is the last update before school for me starts. Since school starts, I'll probably be able to update less quick.. sadly, I know...

Thanks a billion to all those who review :) You spur my inspiration.

Just a reminder, but the tribute list is on my profile for those who haven't seen it yet.

And without further procrastination, I give you the second part of District One. The tributes and equally amazing authors are: Emile Crow (wjjmwmsn5) and Darkus Shimmers (Depths0fth3s3a).

Emile Crow, age 18, District One

"God dammit, I know what I'm going to wear for the reapings. Leave me alone, mother," I call down, to the nagging voice of my mother.

"But, it's a family dress, it's been worn for years, you know," she calls back, with her side of this argument.

"NO. I already told you, I'm wearing this, and you can't do anything about it," I yell back. These pointless arguments, where I'm always right, break out often here at the wonderful Crow household.

It's just that... well.. I'm not one to back down. If there's a fight, I'll have to join it, make a bigger deal of it. It's fun for me, at least. Try people's emotions. Besides, I was marked at birth to disagree with my parents. The only thing we can agree on is the fact that I can have as much time as I want to train. Except on reaping day.

I watch out the window as I see other kids either leaving or heading to one of the nearest training centers, getting in some time before the Games. Why couldn't I join them? I know for a fact my friends are already there, so why not me?

'Because it's a family occasion, reaping day is,' Is the argument that our parents have all the time. Family, they talk about, when they've been raising me for the sole purpose of the Games. That is my sole purpose. The Hunger Games is what I'm built for.

"Geez, Em, couldja keep it down, I'm trying to sleep," the voice comes from my left. Oh yes, Emmett. My brother. What torture I must go through to share a room with him.

"There's a half hour till the ceremony, Emmett," I tell him in a sweet voice. but he's already fast asleep. He has his eyes open, too, which is even creepier. And at night, he snores. Like a chainsaw.

Why couldn't I just have my older sister's room? Emmett is a total slob. And my sister isn't even AT the house most of the time, usually she's off at her boyfriend's house, where she usually stays there for nights.

But my parents have an arguement for everything. 'You never know when she'll come home, Emile.' Or, 'It's honorary that everyone has a room to sleep in.' Except me, because this house doesn't have enough money in it or space to keep three children.

There's always complaints here, it's a shaky family. Ever since our grandparents died, who were the second parents to us kids, we started getting... belligerent about stuff, usually pointless arguments like before.

Then my sister found a cute boy, and basically ran away from this family. Sure, she still visits us, but mostly she lives at her boyfriend's house, whose house is a lot bigger than ours. And his family is a lot richer, too.

I can imagine my sister pulling something like that over her boyfriend's eyes. Loving him just for his money. And being able to get away from our parents, and me.

"What are you doing Emmett? It's 9:15 and you're still not dressed?!" I hear an exclamation from the doorway to our shared room. Mom. At least, for once, she's not yelling at me for something.

I gladly take this as the opportunity to leave. As much as I'd like to watch mother scold Emmett on responsibility, it's probably good that I get going. Psh, Emmett thinks he owns responsibility, because as he says, 'I'm technically older than you are'. Oh well, if I was born minutes earlier, then I'd be rubbing it in his face too.

But I need Emmett too, because he's my only true friend. Well, he's my brother, how closer can you get? He's the only one I can rely on to NOT broadcast my secrets to the world. Because I need someone to tell them to. I can't stay locked up forever, completely mysterious to everyone else. Especially if I end up getting a boyfriend.

That is, if I can win the Hunger Games. Both me and Emmett were raised for it, after all, and we've taken turns volunteering each year, to see if one of us would get in. This way, we don't end up together in the Games, because then only one can win... Emmett failed last year and was plowed by some huge, even more muscular than he is type of guy, so it's my turn. And I'm confident that I'll win this.

Hopefully I don't have to fight any of my friends on the way there. Carry will probably volunteer, because she's just like that. And I don't want to fight Carry in the Games. Our friends made a pact not to volunteer this year if one of us did. So there won't be any fighting or guilt.

This was the year they would have more than one female tribute from One. I don't think anyone is unhappy about that, especially not the teenagers training, like me. But if everyone comes from a Career District, won't the fighting be brutal?

I'm cool with that, to. Brutality is my second nature. Pain, I have to administer pain to all the other tributes in the Games. That's how you win.

"Time to go!" My father calls from downstairs. "You don't want to be late!"

I spin around and jog to the front door, my white dress swirling around me. Yes, yes, yes! Reaping. What I've been training for is about to be put to the test.

Emmett is the last person to be ready, of course, the lazy slacker, and I leave without him, parents with me. Someone has to walk by themselves, for being too lazy on reaping day. Pity. He'll probably be late.

"You are going to volunteer, right Em? I mean, we don't want that training center membership to go to waste, right?" Dad says with a chuckle and a smile.

"Yea, I'm volunteering. I have a better chance this year. And I'll come home to you, don't worry," I say calmly and collected.

"Well, good luck to you, okay?" Dad says, as I notice that after twenty minutes of walking we're at the check-in gate, ready to have my fingerprint taken.

"Love you," Mom says quietly as I walk up to get my fingerprint down. In blood.

Did Mom just say, 'Love you?' What? I know she hates me, but is there a bone in her body that actually cares for me? Seriously? I ponder over this as I take my place in the front of the female tribute crowd. I got here with at least five minutes to kill.

And then a familiar face appears near mine. "Carry!" I exclaim, giving her a hug.

"Where were you?" Carry asks me, flinging her hair to the side.

"My parents," I say with exaggeration on the word, "Wouldn't let me come, because of the reaping being, quote, 'family time.'"

"aw, I was at training this morning. Sorry to hear that," Carry says quietly. She's always had a quiet tone of voice, always, and has been more of a background person than someone with millions of friends.

"Okay. Ready for the reaping?" I tell her, in an excited voice. I can hear the mayor ranting up on stage and know that it's almost tim for the reaping.

"Yes," is all Carry replies with, and then sinks back into the crowd a bit.

"What're you doing?" I ask, but I lost her face in the other eighteen year olds. Dang it. I thought I'd have someone else to share the boring-ness of the reaping prelude.

After what seems like an hour, the reaping actually begins. A bearded man comes up on stage and introduces himself, and explains how the reapings will be staggered out, boy, then girl, then boy... and so on.

Then, the first female name gets called. "Al-

"I volunteer!" The chorus echoes and the fighting begins. I take a quick assess of the people fighting seeing if anyone is a friend of mine or Carry's. Carry isn't out there, but Shay is. She's fighting some blonde girl, who is winning until the blonde starts pulling hair out.

Shay's a friend of Carry's, they're not close but still friends at least. So I watch, instead of running up there myself.

Eventually the blonde beats out Shay and runs up onstage. Her name, as I see it, is Barbie... I don't think I know her, but Shay is always saying mean things about her when she talks to Carry.

The next male tribute simply runs up onstage without any fighting at all. "Excalibur McTreaty, that's my name," he says with some exasperation. I look around, and half of the girls in the crowd are looking at him, in a big collective sigh. Ugh. He's not that hot at all, really.

"Our next female tribute is... Marianne Din-"

"I volunteer!" I yell out. I'm going for it now, definetly. No questions. I look to the face of Carry, and she nods. I start my run for the stage, when someone comes up from behind and pulls on m legs, forcing me to the ground.

"eh-" I turn to fcae my opponent, a stranger to me, some girl that's smaller than me. "Oh, no way you're beating me," I say as I reach up and jab her in the forearm, causing the girl to release my leg and rub her forearm. I take it as the oppurtunity to run for the stage.

Then my next opponent swing a wild punch aimed for my jaw. I duck it, and kick to my left, hitting something, something yelling in pain.

I know that yell. It's Carry. She's trying to volunteer as well. Well, sorry Carry, I can't let you. I can't let anyone in my family down, because this is my last year eligible.

Carry's face is in front of mine, now, as she hits me across the cheeck with a punch. Ah, this is it. I bring my fist and hit her right on the nose. Then, with my two hands and Carry reeling from my punch, I bring both my hands down on her ears, making a smacking sound that could be heard from miles away.

"Sorry, Carry," I try to sound sympathetic as I walk away from her. But no one's getting in the way of Emile Crow.

Darkus Shimmers, age 15, District One

I see them everywhere. Everywhere I go, they haunt me. Creatures with faces, flesh colored like my own, but twisted so none of the features. Crooked chins. Bug-eyes.

What did someone once call them? Muttations. Yes. I am haunted by mutts. Everywhere. Muttations of humans, and I'm the only one that can stop them.

They utter mean things to me, saying that I'm 'insane and delirious.' They put me in this place, the 'juvenile delinquent center.' To be haunted everyday by the mean Witch Chin, the guy that comes by and forces us to do things.

Why did I deserve this pain and torture? Why me? I haven't done anything wrong, I've been trying to kill these mutts whenever I get the chance to. I've succeeded, to, which makes me wonder why I'm in juvenile delinquent center. Why can't anyone else see I'm a hero, trying desperately to rid the world of it's mutts. I just need to find a way to kill them all. All of them.

I can use anything as a weapon. Forks, spoons, anything. If I'm put in a room with another one of the mutts, ones that are my size and the same height and age as me, Witch Chin usually finds them dead, or at least knocked out.

Witch Chin is the worst of them. He just won't go down. He wears some heavy armor, that reflects whatever I try to do to him. And he laughs, and his chin, completely bent out of shape, just scares me.

Killing is correct. That's why I must do it. No one sees me as a hero, but I still try and keep up a smile, always, there's a smile on my face. Nothing in the world could rid me of my smile, a wide smirk that's on my face whenever, when I'm killing or just walking.

Today, in the morning, Witch Chin came in and told me and the mutts that we'd have to go somewhere, for a chance to compete in the Hunger Games. I've seen the Hunger Games before, where they pull it up on television for us to watch. There's lots of killing, and many other non-human muttations.

That sounds perfect for me. I can do both, mutts and killing. And if it's a TV show, then I can show the world that I AM a hero to them, and they shouldn't be so cruel to me. The things that run the juvenile detention center are cruel and unyielding, and they don't give us enough food to sustain ourselves. I'm always hungry. The white walls of my prison container don't help, they just make me long for food more.

Now Witch Chin is making a huge group, gesturing for everyone to get in line to go to the square. I guess that's where you get to enter the Hunger Games. He's explaining stuff about rules, about how not to harm the other people. "And if you really want to go to the Hunger Games, just say I volunteer when they call out the names. Now let's move!" I see other mutts come out that have the same armor as Witch Chin, and they start leading me and the other juveniles out of the facility. Wait, I'm going out of the facility! Yes! I can escape from here now that I'm out on the street, and all I have to do is stab the mutt-guard next to me with my weapon, and then I'm free!

I lunge at the guard, with a rock I've spent weeks getting sharp and attack him. There's a scuffle, as I push the mutt-guard to the ground and try to break through his armor with the rock. I see other mutt-guards try and come at me, but there's no use, I've got this guy down. I repeatedly bash the rock into the mutts skull, as hard as I can, because it's helmet has fallen off it's head.

"Die, already!" I yell, but there's two more guards that reach down and pick me up, standing me back up, and holding may arms. They press hard on my hands, forcing me to drop the rock I was holding.

I look upon the mutts I just attacked, and see blood running from cuts on it's flesh skull. It's not moving. I think I might just have killed it.

Great, this is great, another one! But I realize I have no weapon and now am being held tight and basically dragged along the city street.

I hear screams as the other mutts on the street look upon the dead one. One of their kind, dead. And they see me, the hero, they should all respect me.

I hear one of the guards tell the other, "Don't worry, he's just knocked out," and the other guard walks over to the dead mutt and picks him up. He's not dead? I thought I killed him, he deserves to be dead.

Now they've lead us all to a strange, otherworldly place, full of the mutts. I see now, Witch Chin had to torture us by bringing us here. To fight all the mutts, kill them all. All. ALL. I'm immobilized now by the guards, but I can escape, then I can get to them all.

I struggle, but it's not enough. I can't break loose of the guard's hold on me. There's a guy up on a stage, giving some speech, while there are crowds of boy-mutts and girl-mutts. Then another guy comes onstage, with two glass bowls. That guy has a really long beard, with lots of braids and jewels in it.

The guards sit me down in my own personal chair. I've got a front row view of the stage. "Now you listen to me, punk, you don't get out of this chair unless you're volunteering for the Hunger Games. And please do that, it would at least get you out of my sight," Witch Chin leans down and speaks to me in a sharp, angry whisper. "If you get out and hurt anyone, then you'll be killed within a second."

I see some of the crowd staring at me, and even laughing at me a little. the guy onstage is pulling something out of the glass reaping bowl, a name, the name "Al-"

Then a ton of girls stick their hands up to yell, "I VOLUNTEER!" And then the fighting starts. I want to join in, but the guy told me not to get out of the chair...

The girl-mutts keep fighting till a blond one wins out and comes on stage, saying her name is Barbie Westeros. Then some guys fight, and Excalibur gets picked. More fighting, always more fighting. I'm supposed to volunteer soon.

I'll get a chance to kill those mutts. And then I'd be respected.

The bearded guy on stage says, "And for our next male tribute, we have... Valentino-"

"I VOLUNTEER!" I roar out, and start walking up to the stage, grinning all the while at the crowd. I see some other boys about to volunteer instead of me. But I look at them, hate in my eyes, stare them down. No one offers to volunteer after that.

I walk up on stage and come up to the bearded man. "And what's your name?" Beard Man says, a little shakily.

"I'm... Darkus..." I resist the urge to lunge at the bearded man.

"Any last name?"

"...Shimmers..."

I'll kill them all. All the mutts I'm competing against.

Okay... I especially have fun writing Darkus in the future. Anyone else like him? Anyone like Emile?

As I said before, school starts, and I'll update less frequent.

'Till next time,

Megalor9