Ghram Aintree, 13, District 9

There is a certain feeling experienced right before a fight that is comparable to any drug. The heart beat picks up as adrenaline filters through the veins. The entire world focuses acutely on that one moment as every nerve ending stirs, just begging to feel alive. The experience is a byproduct of the natural ways of life. Most young men experience it at some point in their childhood. Really, Ghram Aintree's passionate pursuit for the euphoric feeling of a victorious battle wasn't overtly unusual; although, his victims would probably beg to differ.

"This should be easy. A quick in, then quick out. If he fights back, it'll probably be pretty weak. Make sure you don't break him too badly though. Maybe just give him a black eye or something," Milo said. The older boy roughly massaged Ghram's shoulders, helping him to loosen up before the big fight.

"You sure? I could really make him pay you know. We usually don't let dirt like him off so easy," Ghram asked. His eyes were pinned on a young boy about three hundred yards away. The kid looked like he was kicking a rock or something as he made his way along the dirt path that cut through one of District Nine's many rolling fields of wheat. Ghram and his friends were crouched down in the middle of the grain plants, effectively hidden.

"It's reaping day. If he's too hurt to show and the peacekeepers find out it was because of us, we'll be in deep," Milo shook his head.

"I don't see anybody else on the road," Husk called over. Ghram glanced over at their look out. Husk was sitting on Teff's shoulders with his hands cupped around his wire rimmed glasses as if they were binoculars. His sandy blonde head poked out from above the grain. Teff underneath him didn't look all that happy to be acting as the human step-ladder, but somebody had to do it. If Ghram wasn't the assailant, they might have picked him to be look out because he was the youngest of their eight boy gang and therefore the lightest. As things were, Husk would have to do. He was a better look out than Ghram anyways. Teff would just have to deal with having a fifteen year old boy who was half way through puberty on his back instead.

"Alright kid. Go show him Hell," Milo smiled.

"G'luck," Emmer called out with a mischievous grin as Ghram started forwards. Byen, Feek, and Silo echoed the good wishes with various degrees of excitement.

Ghram strode forwards eagerly towards the poor scrawny boy on the road ahead. He navigated through the field easily, taking the shortest route to the road. Just before stepping out into the open, he paused to crack his knuckles. He was ready.

"'Sup Peterson," he said, stepping into the street. The boy jumped at the sound of Ghram's voice, spinning around panicked. Ghram grinned, cracking his knuckles again. "I hear you've been having some fun in Kilo Park."

"G-Ghram," the boy squeaked. A look of blatant fear was displayed prominently on his face, and frankly, Ghram wasn't surprised by it. He had lost many fights before, but always to older, more experienced opponents. Dandy Peterson was neither older nor skilled. In fact, he was decidedly inept at all things physical. It was probably a stretch to even call this a fight.

"Ready to pay the consequences?" Ghram smirked.

"I didn't know," the boy blurted out. "My mom was sick and she really needed that medicine. I had to cut through the Park, so she'd get it faster. Please. I didn't know that it was Milo's territory. I didn't know."

"That sucks," Ghram rolled his eyes. "I guess you can call this a learning experience then. I'm sure you won't make the mistake next time."

With that, he launched himself forwards, connecting his fist with Peterson's jaw. The younger boy stumbled backwards, falling onto the ground with a yelp. Ghram jumped onto his chest, startling him in such a way that he wouldn't be able to move. He socked the kid two more times before delivering the real winner. Twisting his torso, he put his entire body into the attack, slamming the poor kid's nose with an experienced blow. A sickening cracking noise echoed through the air as the bone crunched underneath Ghram's hand.

Knowing that he had probably done too much damage, Ghram stopped and got off Peterson, surveying his now damaged face. The pitiful kid was still conscious at least, but that was probably the best he could say about him. A steady stream of crimson blood poured out of the Peterson's now broken nose, staining the dirty white shirt he was wearing. The red liquid mixed with the salty waterfall of tears that poured from the boy's eyes. With Ghram's weight removed from him, he had curled up into a fetal ball as sobs took control of him.

Ghram frowned. He definitely over did things a little. Hopefully the kid would be able to calm himself down in time for the reaping. Well, at least he wouldn't be bothering Milo anymore.

"Mess with us again, and you'll have worse than a broken nose," Ghram added, just for good measure.

As his work with Peterson was done, Ghram straightened himself out and thrusted his hands into his pockets. He began whistling a cheery tune as he disappeared once again into the field of grain, ready rejoin his friends.

Zea Bachmeier, 18, District 9

It was a nice gesture, she supposed. If she didn't want to, Maisie wouldn't have to go to the reaping. Her twentieth birthday was just the other week after all. Accompanying Zea was a choice, one that as rather generous of her. Perhaps this was the olive branch that Zea had been waiting for. Well, she hadn't really been waiting for it. That would imply that she had been expecting it, which she hadn't been. Once Maisie moved out, Zea didn't really think they'd speak. They'd be civil at family functions, of course, but outside of that she didn't put much stock into her relationship with her sister.

Just because it was decent of Maisie didn't mean that the walk was going to be fun though.

The two sisters walked side by side on the dirt road, saying nothing. Both of their faces were laced with tension and awkwardness. The longing for conversation was there- on Maisie's end at least Zea wasn't entirely sure she wanted to have any sort of chat that day- but there was nothing stimulating to talk about. The two girls had never gotten along. Tense was really the only word that had ever described their interactions, except on the few occasions when things were much more than tense. Then maybe hostile would be a better description.

"It's nice that today's your last reaping day," Maisie tried.

"Not really," Zea shrugged.

More silence. Zea was telling the truth though. There was nothing nice about the reaping. Even if it was her last year in the pot, somebody was going to be sentenced to death later that day. There really wasn't anything to be happy about, as far as the Hunger Games were concerned.

"At least mom won't have to worry for a little while," Maisie said.

"Yeah, I guess that's good," Zea responded.

She looked up at the sky, watching as storm clouds formed above. The rainy season would be coming soon. Hopefully the monsooning started after the reaping had finished. With a deep sigh, she absently wondered who would get picked. No matter who it was, they didn't stand a chance. District Nine never did well. That was probably why they only had three victors, two of whom were ancient. The closest they'd come to victory since Gwyneth Weicker had won twelve years ago was when some kid made it to the final five in the Sixty Fourth Games. Even then though the boy had been doomed. He had been the youngest tribute that year, and twelve year olds never won.

Zea thought about the Games a lot this time of the year. It wasn't that she liked them or that she found them remotely interesting. They were just a relevant topic, and as she did a lot of thinking, it was something relatively fresh to dissect with her brain.

"Are you listening?" Maisie said. Her voice was slightly raised, and there was an annoyed edge to it. A tiny wave of guilt tugged at Zea's conscious. Her sister was trying so hard. She probably should be making a better effort herself too. Maisie should know though that Zea didn't like talking that much. This failed conversation probably wasn't that much of a shock to her.

"I'm sorry. Um, I was distracted," Zea apologized quickly.

"I asked how Aluma and Leah were doing," Maisie repeated.

"Oh, they're fine," Zea smiled. "Aluma's very excited about graduation, you know. She has her future all planned out. And I think she's really looking forward to the big party her dad's throwing her. It's supposed to be a surprise, but you know her. She picks up on everything."

Zea's friends were probably the one topic her sister actually approved of. It was weird really. Usually one of the biggest sibling complaints was that so and so's sister's friends were annoying, but it wasn't like that with Maisie. According to her, Zea was the annoying one, not her friends. It only took one conversation with Aluma to understand that though. The girl was one of the most likable people on the planet.

Maisie nodded as some of the awkwardness drained from the air. "You should tell her that I said hi. I might not see either Aluma or Leah anymore once I move out you know," she said.

"I will, but you're not moving out for another couple of weeks," Zea said. "And anyways, you're going to have to come over and help mom with that new baby a lot. You can't leave me alone as her only helper. I'm worried I'll kill it."

Maisie smirked. "She hasn't even had it yet."

"That's why I'm nervous," Zea said, shooting her sister an anxious look.

"Oh, babies aren't that bad. Anyway, it's going to be your little brother or sister. You'll love it, I'm sure of it. Trust me," Maisie said. Zea stared at her sister for a minute, carefully analyzing the words. Her cheeks blushed a gentle pink color as she heard the underlying meaning of them loud and clear.

"Um, thanks, I guess," she said in a hushed and awkward tone.

"No problem little sis," the other girl snorted. "Any time."

Ghram Aintree, 13, District Nine

Ghram studied his hand carefully as he waited impatiently for the check in line to move a little faster. Punching Peterson earlier had done a number on his knuckles. They were currently turning a pretty tough looking purple color. It made him feel proud of himself. The best part was that Milo had complimented him on the battle bruises when he had gotten back. Then once the attention had been directed towards them, all of the guys were giving him hefty pats on the back. He'd done good, and he knew it.

"How'd you do that," a high-pitched voice asked. Ghram jumped a little as he turned to see who was addressing him. He groaned, his face turning an annoyed red color, when he saw the little blonde girl staring at his hand with big curious eyes.

"None of your business Ryze. Go away," he snapped at her.

Ryze crossed her arms, her upper lip protruding in a pout as her eyes bored into him. "I just wanted to know. It looks like it hurt. Did you get in another fight. Daddy doesn't like it when you fight," she rambled.

Ghram's ears went white. "I swear if you tell Zadok or my mom anything about this, I'll="

"I won't tell," the girl cut in immediately. "Will you tell me how you got it now?"

Thankfully, the check in line had shortened significantly now, and it was time for him to enter the courtyard. "Maybe later. Go find your dad and Rye now okay," he shooed her off. Ryze didn't look all that pleased with him, but she couldn't argue. She was only ten after all, not quite yet at reaping age. Ghram was happy to see her go.

Honestly, Ghram didn't really mind it when his mother remarried. His father had ditched them, and it wasn't right for her to be alone forever. He hadn't planned on acquiring two snotty annoying step sisters in the process. Vicia was okay. She didn't really like him that much, so she left him alone. It was a good system. He stayed out of her way, and she stayed out of his. Stupid Ryze wouldn't stop following him though. It was to the point that she had started to bother some of the guys because she thought everything he touched was cool, including his friends. It wouldn't be long until little Rye, his two year old half brother, started following in her footsteps too. If only his mom could have found a guy that didn't have any kids. Then his family wouldn't be all that bad.

"Ready to find out who this year's tributes are?" Larina Tallat, the escort called, snapping Ghram out of his brooding.

Ghram looked around, feeling the tension in the crowd rise. Who would die this year? That was the question that was on everyone's mind. Because lord knows, District Nine never ever won.

"Ladies first this time," she called out as she reached into the bowl. "Zea Bachmeier!"

Ghram stood on his tippy toes, looking for the doomed girl. To his surprise, there was no screaming or yelling or crying. Actually, when his eyes found the confident blonde girl, he was pretty impressed. Her face was set like a chiseled stone, a mask of solemn confidence. She was in the oldest section of eighteen year olds, so she had age on her side. And then she just kind of looked tough. Maybe it was her expression, or maybe it was that she looked sort of ish athletic, with her blonde hair tied back in a high pony tail.

He tilted his head to the side curiously. Hmmm, maybe she did have a chance after all.

Zea Bachmeier, 18, District 9

Zea had never felt more panicked in her life. She had never thought she'd get picked. It wasn't something that ever seemed likely to her. There were just so many names in that bowl, and she never took out any tesserae. This couldn't be happening to her. It was a miracle that her body could move at all. Her heart rate was pounding at the speed of light, and her ears were still ringing with the sound of her name. Zea Bachmeier. The sound echoed a million times in her head, until at some point they held no meaning at all.

She had spent most of her life internalizing her feelings. Not because she ever needed to, but just because it was something that came naturally to her. For once, she was thankful for the ability because despite the paralyzing fear and hysteria that was running through her core, she looked absolutely calm on the outside. She knew she did. Trying unsuccessfully to calm herself down, she focused on that. She had to stay confident. It would help her later on, if she wanted to win this that is, and she had to win. She wasn't ready to die yet.

"Ghram Aintree!"

She hadn't even realized that Larina Tallat had moved onto the next bowl. With some semblance of attentiveness, she saw a young brutish boy with a black buzz cut and a pudgy nose stumble forwards. His mouth was hanging open in shock as a look of disbelief passed over him. Within seconds the shock had turned into terror, and though he made no noises, she knew he was silently screaming.

It was the look in his eyes that triggered it. Out of nowhere, she bolted to the side, heading to nowhere. A look of sheer determination passed over her face as she jumped off the stage. The peacekeepers weren't ready for her when she started running. Usually people ran immediately after their name was called, not once they got to the stage. That was when the complacency started. Unfortunately, though they weren't mentally prepared, their numbers were unfathomable now that every single officer in the huge District was concentrated in the one town. It was only seconds before somebody caught her.

Once she felt them grabbing her, she gave up. As quickly as the need to escape had come, it left. She knew she was defeated. Still, she made them drag her back. She wouldn't let them think for a minute that she wanted this. Now that her composure had fallen once, she knew it was imperitive to at least maintain her confidence. As she repositioned herself back beside Larina Tallat- who was pursing her lips at the failed escapee- she let her mind focus on the one statement.

Stay calm, she told herself. There was no point in breaking down any further. The deed had been done.

Everything was already over.

A/N Hey look at me with the quick update. I worked really hard to pump this out because I want these reapings over with ASAP. (That being said if there is some mistakes in here of if the quality isn't the greatest, you'll have to excuse me on that one). But yeah. I like District Nine. I've gotten some good tributes for it. Hopefully I pegged both Zea and Ghram right though. I'm running low on ideas for how to introduce these characters. (I can't write about everyone getting dressed you know), so this chapter was fighting me a bit. Right. As I said in the last chapter, expect a wait for D10, 'cause I'll be sans computer in a few days, and therefore there won't be any updates. Any who

Until next time