District Two! Yay! Finally I get to change Districts and write a couple new things down.
Anyhow, this begins the goodbyes part, so most of these District Two chapters will focus on the family members, so you know who will be hurt if any of these District Two tributes die.
There is a Career pack started up, I think by Depths0fth3s3a, creator of Darkus. Contact them, if you think your tribute would form the 'Ultimate' Career pack of all time. What an epic title.
But otherwise, keep reading and reviewing, and I'll keep updating, and let's just get started on the chapter! Today's tributes are relatively nice; they are Mesa Stone (KPMellark) and Blade Agawara (Megalor9)
~Megalor9
Mesa Stone, age 17, District Two
What? What happened? My mind is still in a blur as I step off of the city square stage. What exactly happened? I didn't volunteer, I know I wouldn't dream of going into the Hunger Games. So how do I find myself up on the stage, then?
I notice another girl snickering, one of the ones who volunteered. She's laughing at me. So I must've done something stupid. The memory comes back almost immediately. I did do something stupid. I tried to resist the Peacekeepers.
I got reaped. But I didn't want to go off to my death quite yet. So when the Peacekeepers came to me to force me to the stage, I wouldn't go. I struggled for about five minutes before they grabbed hold of me.
But that's not as bad as that other guy, who was reaped last, and then fell off the stage. My head turns to still see his sprawled form being carried by the Peacekeepers, towards the Justice Building, like the rest of us. Time to say goodbye, I guess.
I'll write letters, letters to my family and friends, send them home before I go in the arena. I might even make it out. I could outsmart everyone else, because I do have the intelligence that Two lacks.
I'm pushed, more like it, into the Justice Building and into a private waiting room, or something like it. The room is plastered with paintings, some paintings of people fighting. Really old paintings, because the whole room reeks of dust. I have to brush dust off of a rickety wooden chair so I can sit down in it.
How are these Games going to play out? I of course didn't want to enter them, because with all the Career tributes this year, there will be tons of gore and death. And now I'm in my nightmare. Even worse than a nightmare, actually.
I wait for my family to come in, there's nothing else to do except look around the old storage room. I'll probably meet all of my family, and Ryan, and maybe Sage, too. I'd probably see Sage anyways in the Games.
Sage has been my friend for almost ever. She's smart, beautiful, and extremely deadly. She's only a year older than I am, but won the Hunger Games at age 15, three years ago. And Sage has famous lineage; her grandmother, the first Sage, was the victor of the 100th Hunger Games, where only female tributes competed. I'm going to bet that she's one of the mentors for District Two, which will at least give me one familiar face to see in the Capitol.
Ryan is just... I don't know what to feel with him. I've been friends with him all my life... Ugh, I just don't know if I should ask him out. I don't even know why I'm thinking about love life when I'm off to die in a week.
My first visitors are my family, of course. Just my adorable little brother, and my mother, who brushes clay dust off of her clothes. Our house is a run-down area near some clay mines, and the dust gets everywhere; there's no way to stop it. My mom keep the only fancy clothes we have, like the dress I'm wearing now, in plastic bags.
"Oh-" My mom starts before she just breaks down and cries. I let my tears loose too, I've been holding them in for too long. I'm about to fight to the death. The mention of it breaks my mother to pieces.
"Y-You'll win, right?" She stutters through sobs, but then just starts again.
I move my head in a slow nod, and hug my mom, patting her on the back. Something tugs on my dress, I turn to look at my five year old brother.
"Where you going?" he asks in an innocent voice.
"Somewhere, Jakey, somewhere life is difficult," I try to explain in the softest voice I can. "But I'll come home, somehow I'll come back home to you."
I had to give him hope. He's only a five year old. But my words have truth, I will come back home nevertheless. Maybe not alive, though.
"Okay," he says as he toddles off around the room to look for things to play with.
My mother immediately snaps into seriousness. "You will try, right? You'll try and outsmart them or come up with some way to win?"
"Of course. I don't give up." But somehow I don't feel convinced of that yet.
"Because my daughter won't give up. You're the daughter of a Peacekeeper, you'll be strong. So take this," My mother holds up a golden armband, with words engraved on it. "This was once mine. You'll need a whole lot more."
I look at the words and see Strength written on the band, in fancy cursive lettering. "Than-" I start to say, but instead show my thanks with a hug.
I don't break the hug until a Peacekeeper comes in to intervene.
"That was your last visitor," the Peacekeeper says, as he leaves the room with my mom in hand, and picking up my little brother Jakey.
I'll write letter to them. They will have something to remember me by. I walk out of the Justice Building and head to the train, not pausing at all to look at the cameras. Why not start writing now?
Blade Agawara, age 18, District Two
I get smacked in the back of the head. By what? I shake my head, open my eyes, and look at my surroundings. I'm in an office... at the Justice Building, because normal offices don't have fine velvet chairs. My head hurts like hell, a blistering migraine.
My attacker turns out to be my best bud. Really, his name is Buddy, or that's what we call him, anyways.
"What's up with that? Are you insane or something?" I snap at him, turning towards him.
"Well, you've been unconscious for a good damn while, might as well wake up now. You're saying goodbye to your friends and family. Which means you're only saying goodbye to me," Buddy explains back.
"What the hell happened?" I say, trying to find a memory of what happened that led up to me passing out. I can remember this morning perfectly clear, when I woke up, what I ate for breakfast, but all the memories stop two hours before the reaping...
Today's reaping day?! And did I just get reaped?
"I think you had a little too much liquor, man, because you passed out as soon as you got your named called for the Hunger Games."
"What? I got reaped?" The surprise is evident, I didn't expect this.
"Yeah, and everyone was too busy laughing at you to volunteer. I managed to wake you up and walk you to the stage, but then you fell off of it, and landed on your head."
I picture the moment. Yep, sounds about right. Gears click and turn off in my head. "Who gave me those drinks?"
"Me," Buddy says, looking down.
"Why, man?"
"I thought we were having fun, you know, it's both of our last years to be reaped at all. I thought we could use the alcohol as a transition into adulthood."
Buddy does have some truth, because at age nineteen you're allowed to drink alcohol, and I turn nineteen in a week... but now I'm in the Hunger Games. Could things get worse? I could like, die on my birthday. That would be ironic.
"But man, that stuff tasted good!" Buddy says. "Do you really not remember anything from today?"
"Nope. I don't think I exactly want to remember the whole population of District Two laughing at me," I shoot back.
"But it was funny, you gotta admit," Buddy says with his best intention to cheer me up. "Hey, here's the bottle opener." He tosses something through the air, and I catch it with one hand. It's just a simple token, really, a cork with a screw on it.
"I think I'll use a bottle opener for my token, yeah, that sounds legit enough," I say, puzzling why he gave me a bottle opener.
"Well, I didn't really have anything valuable for you to use, so I gave you that. Hope it's... good enough."
"It's the only thing I'll have from home except my body, but that's not exactly in good shape." I pull on my shirt, revealing the stomach flab I've been trying to get rid of for the last year.
I've trained since forever, but since last year, when I couldn't volunteer, I kind of lost interest in the whole idea of fighting to the death. But those years of training have added up, I'm now really strong, and can hold a fight with anyone and win it.
"Eh, you're better than most people. You could beat half of their asses, probably."
"True that," I say back.
A Peacekeeper comes in and interuppts Buddy's laughing as he again re-tells the events of the last hour. I can't help but think how we really didn't say anything sentimental in our conversation, like, 'Good Luck', or 'Win for me'. Why didn't he say anything like that?
Buddy's always been the joker of the District. He's pulled so many pranks, and often it was me that took the punishment for him. The lucky bastard. He's a good liar, and tricks tons of people. And I've always been the sidekick, the right-hand man, the shotgun.
Now I can beat anyone up, really. I would've volunteered except for my lack of interest of fighting to the death. Why do that when you have a chance at living and making a fortune, too? The whole idea of money is what attracted me, I've always been poor, or not had enough of life. My parents put me up to adoption. My adoptive parents were too abusive on me.
I rub a deep scar on the back of my neck.
So I've been living on my own now, working full-time shifts at a restaurant, trying to make enough to live. Buddy's had the same situation. I can't imagine where he found the money to get a fake identity and buy some white liquor.
It's off to the Hunger Games now, I guess. I could win it easily, I'm the buffer part of District Two, and have enough skills with a sword to kill someone. It would be easy. Why not just board the train now? I've got time to kill, and I've heard from past victors that you can order food and drink on the train. I'm famished. Maybe they can get some fancy Capitol medicine for this headache.
I walk out of the Justice Building and onto the train. There's no going back, but at least I'll get to keep a bottle opener with me. Could come in handy, maybe I could stab someone's eye out with it during the Games.
The inside of the dining car is very... red and velvety all over the place, like the Justice Building rooms. There are placemats already set out at a long table, one for each tribute, mentor, and the one escort. Poor escort, having to control eight bloodthirsty kids.
I spot an Avox coming in the room, and make a wave to him. "Hey, could you get me some... um... chicken, or something? I'm starving." The Avox nods, and turns to leave to what I can only guess is the kitchen.
But before he leaves, I make one last request.
"And could you bring me some of that fancy white liquor? Thanks."
What? I've got to take everything I see, now that I've got a chance of dying. And who couldn't resist the fun?
I admit this is a shorter chapter than most, but I was really running myself ragged trying to get my iPad, which I use for all my writings, to work correctly. And I'll be extremely busy this coming week, so my hopes for a quick update are diminishing.
But how do you like these two characters? How many people knew I had a tribute? Review your thoughts, and thanks again for all of the reviews!
'Till next update,
~Megalor9
