District Nine
Escort: Heather Pirch
Mentor #1: TBD
Mentor #2: TBD
Pilate Avery (18), District Nine
Before the little incident about a hundred years ago, our two gangs used to get along. The Reds and the Blues worked together to stop the ever-persistent Greens from gaining control of our land. We succeeded, too. The Greens were abolished once and for all, and we lived in harmony for about a year and a half. Then the leader of the Reds decided to volunteer for the Hunger Games to bring her gang above all others in the district, including us. The leader of the Blues couldn't have that. He volunteered as well.
The rest is history.
Long story short, the Blue leader killed the Red leader on day two in a fierce battle to the death. He eventually died as well, after making it to around the final five. Our two gangs have been feuding ever since, and it's showed no signs of stopping.
It started out as a full-scale war. It didn't matter if you were nine or ninety. Everyone was forced to choose a side. Eventually, the Peacekeepers had to break us apart, but we all know the Blue gang won. We've always been stronger. Now, almost a hundred years later, we're still stronger than our opponents in battle. All but the Reds and Blues have been destroyed, and I've risen to lead our gang against all odds. I now lead about three hundred loyal soldiers with about a hundred more retired gang members or newbies under my wing. But it wasn't easy.
Being an orphan, I was able to devote all my time and energy into becoming the leader. Nothing could stand in my way, even the seven-foot tall boy that tried to kill me in my sleep. He ended up dead, five knives through his heart before he knew what hit him. Seven people have tried to take me off my throne since that attempted murder. Let's just say seven bodies have ended up pinned to the Justice Building with my initials carved in their skulls.
We don't kill unless absolutely necessary. We're not savages like in the movies. Instead, the Reds and Blues exchange prisoners and capture higher officials from our respective opposing gang. It's basically a raging war of stealth and trickery, which is the only reason the Reds have evaded us for so long. We'd beat them in days if it was a physical fight.
Someday we'll capture Matt Sickle, leader of the Reds. We've had him in our grasp countless times, but his loyal sidekick has always managed to wiggle through our defenses and free him before he could be executed. Janai is one of the only people I wouldn't mind killing. She's smart and would be a deadly leader if Matt ever dies.
Today our war is put on pause. Usually, the Peacekeepers try not to interfere with our quarrels, but on Reaping Day they have to enforce the district laws or risk being Avoxed. All of Panem will be watching us today, and the Nine Peacekeepers expect us to act like perfect citizens. We're all happy to comply if it means we can keep fighting the very next day.
"Get out of my way, pipsqueak!" I snarl at a little eleven-year-old boy. I'm not a jerk or anything; he's just wearing a red bandana around his arm. A Red trainee. I despise them more than normal Red gang members since they're not training to be a Blue instead.
"I don't have to do what you say!" he cries bravely, obviously unaware of my status. He's naive and overconfident, which are two skills you shouldn't have around me.
"Watch what you say, Boy," I snarl, flicking out a knife, "You have no idea who you're messing with." I flash my blue bandana which is embroidered with a gold star.
Now he knows who I am. With a squeal of shock and terror, he screams, "Avery!" and runs away. What an idiot.
Matt Sickle (17), District Nine
Standing alone with Janai is one of my favorite pastimes. She begins to update me on our scouts' most recent patrols, and I listen with interest. It's always concerning to hear news on Blue's advancement, but as leader of the Reds, it's my job to stay up to date and prepared to deal with any issue that comes our way. I wouldn't put it past Avery to attack us on Reaping day, even though she knows the rules.
"Matt!" wails one of the new recruits. I believe his name is Tim.
"What is it, rookie?" I ask, annoyance slipping into my voice unintentionally. I don't usually speak rudely to my soldiers, but I hate getting interrupted when I'm talking business with my second in command. Especially since it's probably just a squabble between newbies.
"Avery!" the boy whispers, eyes widened in wonder, "I actually saw Avery! She was standing right in front of me! She pulled out a knife and threatened me and stuff…. I have to tell David! He's never gonna believe it!"
Rolling our eyes, Janai and I watch as the boy scurries away to find his friends and brag. It's not a rare occurrence for Avery to threaten our troops. In fact, she does it pretty regularly. It's just amusing since I was like that myself only a few years ago. I joined the gang training program when I was ten after my father insisted I begin training right away. He was a loyal soldier for years until his bad back forced him to quit. He actually almost got elected leader. My mother couldn't care less as long as nobody gets killed. She wasn't exactly delighted to discover I was the leader of a gang, but Father's excitement won her over.
Red leaders are chosen in a much….. more humane way than the Blues. We elect our leaders democratically, like civilized beings. I've heard Blues rise to leadership through assassinations and killings, which absolutely disgusts me. I respect Avery as a person, but her crimes will forever create a rift between our gangs.
Heather Pirch is a fairly regular escort. She's got dark skin and wears refined, "old fashioned" dresses and gloves. Her accent isn't like most Capitolites. She clicks her way on stage and curtsies to the crowd like a true lady. Janai snorts.
"Helloooooo!" cries, Heather. After a lengthy introduction I'm surprised she even memorized, she proceeds to pull the girl slip. "Pilate Avery!"
Before shock even registers on my face, Avery is stomping on stage towards Heather. Anyone from District Nine would know never to call Avery by her first name. I know her more personally than most, so I have insider knowledge that Avery is actually her middle name. Her last name was dropped when she became an orphan. But her first name "Pilate" is her weak spot, and even I wouldn't dare to call her it. Peacekeepers are forced to restrain her on stage while Heather squeals in an unladylike fashion and pulls the male slip.
"Matt Sickle!" she sobs, throwing the slip on the ground and hurrying into the Justice Building. Avery forgets about Heather and starts trying to claw her way towards me, causing Janai to step in front of me defensively. But I push my deputy away with a grin and make my way on stage, slightly amused. What are the odds that we'd get Reaped together?
This is going to be an interesting Games.
I had a little extra time tonight, so I went ahead and typed this out as well in case I get delayed again for some reason. So consider yourselves lucky! And be proud of me! Remember, we still need mentors. Look at the previous chapter note for mentor slots that are still open. :D
These two are super complex, so you'll see a lot more of them in future chapters. Trust me, I've only scratched the surface in order to portray their history and a snip of their personality. But they're actually deep and well-thought out characters that were hard to show in such short POV's.
(Copy and pasting again) Avery has long brown hair that she always wears in double braids with a blue hairband around them and light gray eyes. She also always has a blue bandana around her head, kind of like a headband. Her skin is very pale, and she's quite short and skinny. Matt has spiky, dirty blonde hair and hazel eyes. He's tall and a bit underweight, though with a good amount of muscle. He has pretty high cheekbones and a smallish nose, and has two or three freckles on each of his tannish cheeks (his whole body is tannish too). You would be hard-pressed to find Matt without a bright red bandana tied around its forehead regardless of what he's wearing, which is normally a t-shirt and jeans.