Mina Lokai

Whether I was at work or at home, thing always seemed to remain the same. Not that I minded it in the least, I was used to it, and I liked that pattern of repetition. It was predictable, it was smooth going, and if anything, nothing bad normally happened.

Packing a late dinner for my father and older brother, it was just like my work, but a lot lighter, and darker. Because instead of packing heavy bundles of wood, something that people always seemed impressed by because of my small, five foot four frame, I was packing a light meal inside a backpack. And instead of it being the day time, it was dark out.

It was cold, it was dark, but at least it wasn't raining.

Still, I didn't like going outside at night, it reminded me of what happened to my friend, Leandro, before he died.

We might not of been in what people would call a typical friendship, since things were one sided for my friend. He would make the decisions, and I would just follow along with him. I didn't mind though, it was fun being with him and we both cared for each other. It wasn't easy for me to make friends, so he was something special in my mind. I had many acquaintances, but could never really make friends. Still, I was fine with that.

But the darkness, traveling through that by my lonesome self, that was something that worried me. It reminded me of when Leandro started to get a hatred for the Capitol, started to talk against them and voiced his negative opinions on the Hunger Games. It wasn't anything new in the district, and the peacekeepers knew how to punish someone who openly voiced a negative opinion on both the Capitol and the Hunger Games.

It didn't stop him though, because then he started to speak about the rebels and how he supported them. It came to a stop when the peacekeepers stopped being so sympathetic to him. And say what you want about the peacekeepers, they were harsh and brutal when they needed to be, but otherwise, they were pretty okay people. When they whipped my friend at the chest rather then the back, that's when he stopped being openly rebellious.

But it didn't stop him from being rebellious.

He then decided that, because he didn't know any rebels, and that he could find any, he was going to have them notice him. He told me that night that he was going to destroy the equipment in a lumber factory, and slow the flow of resources to the Capitol. I told him that it wasn't a very good idea, but he wouldn't listen.

It seemed that he was so fixated on the idea, that he wouldn't listen to reason. I had a way with words, as the merchants would give me discounts and I was even sometime able to get people out of trouble with the peacekeepers, or at the very least, able to get them a less severe punishment. My looks helped with those as well. Hazel blue eyes with green flecks on the outer edges, dark, chestnut brown hair in a ponytail mid-back length, and tanned skin. And at fourteen, I didn't look very much like other fourteen year olds, or older women in general thanks to my face and body not being rough around the edges. But that night, my words failed, and my friend took off.

The next day, when I arrived at work with my co-workers, there in the middle of the work sight, was Leandro. Surrounded by peacekeepers, he was hardly recognizable. His face had changed, it was bloody, it was swollen all over, and thick bruises cascaded down his his entire body. I believe both his legs were broken as they were on angles that were normally impossible.

The peacekeeper in charge told us that he was guilty for conspiracy to sabotage a factory, aiding the rebels in their cause, and trying to disrupt the Capitol supply chain.

I looked my friend in the eyes, and he looked at me before his brains sprayed out of his skull. I screamed and ran away before his body could hit the ground. I spent the rest of the day crying and puking.

For some people, that would probably be the point where they suddenly hate the Capitol more than they already do, despise the Hunger Games some more, and ally with the rebels. Not me though. I was sad at the loss, but my opinions stayed the same.

I hated the games, but I knew why they were there. It made you appreciate life and being alive, because you weren't picked and sent to die.

I thought it was unfair that the Capitol had a better lifestyle than us and what they do to us, but I knew that there was nothing I could do about it, so I accepted the games and the Capitol as my life.

And the rebels? I dislike them. If they hadn't influenced my friend into his rebellious behavior, then he'd still be alive today. And how many people will follow the rebels, just like Leandro did? How many more people will die for the rebels?

The rebels wanted to fight the Capitol. Didn't they see how much it hurt the districts the last times that happened? How many deaths occurred?

Peace and love. Why can't the fighting just stop?

I sighed, knowing that there was nothing I could do about anything. Just live my life. Wake up, go to school, go to work, sleep, repeat. I was okay with that.

Zipping up the back, I placed the straps over my shoulders before opening the door, only to find a gun pointed directly at my chest. It was held by a figure in black, his reflective goggles showing my scared eyes going wide. I didn't make a sound as I heard a soft PHOW occur. I then felt tired. Really tired.

My vision got fuzzy before I fell backwards. I didn't hit the floor as the figure in caught me. He then placed me over his shoulders, it wasn't gentle, but I knew he was trying to be. That's when I faded off to the darkness.

Asher Dasos

By day, I was just someone that faded into the shadows of District Seven. A guy that didn't mind minding his own business and going about his day. A simple lumberjack by trade coming from a middle class family.

We had enough food to not be hungry all the time, but that was a fragile line, because we could fall into poverty at any moment, so that meant I had to work to keep me and my family from falling into that hole.

With my best friend Liya, someone that could keep me company, it wasn't so bad. It helped that she had the same sense of humor as me.

With a head of brown curly hair, eyes of melted chocolate, and a sharp nose, those features would of made me bend in. If not for my near six foot tall body not being muscular, even at seventeen years old, and slightly pointed ears that made me look a little like a mystical creature. My fair skin also didn't help, but somehow, I was still able to remain in the shadows. People didn't bother me too much, and I liked it that way.

It helped me hear things that I wasn't supposed to hear, or things that might seem minor to some, but were major to others. Information and secrets that I could sometimes come across paid well with the rebels, but that was only if I had something they wanted.

And speaking of that, I only went to the rebels when they wanted something, because while I respect their cause, they are overly dramatic about it at times. And overthrowing the Capitol. They do that, and then what?

The Hunger Games was something that I hated, but something that I learned to accept. Kids becoming killers or becoming killed, just another part of life that came once a year, like certain days.

And the Capitol, I didn't like them, but I didn't hate them either, though I do feel that they don't deserve to rule Panem.

So all in all, I was just someone that did whatever they could to just live life as well as they could. I only supported the rebels because they paid me some extra cash when I wasn't lumber jacking. And they paid me well because I could use electronics. Computers to be precise.

It wasn't a skill that people in District Seven were savvy in, but because my grandfather, who was originally from District Three, came to monitor a factory in this district, and he taught me everything he knew. Why? I guess because I wanted to know what he was doing and how I could do it.

I wasn't as good as someone from District Three might of been, but I was better than everyone else in District Seven, because nobody else here could do it.

And now, I was doing just that, trying to hack into some of the low level Capitol information sights scattered around District Seven. The rebels wanted to know about the next shipment scheduled or something so they could possible rob the train and give the supplies to the district rather than the Capitol. They were going to pay me big, some of the supplies they were robbing, so I said sure.

But it was harder than I thought.

"I don't think it's in the lower levels," I told them as my fingers typed the keyboard. "I might have to go into the medium security sectors and find a back door, but to do that I'll need time to crack the coding formats and-"

"Just," The man said raising his hands in the air. "Just do your work." He obviously didn't understand what I was talking about, so I just kept on working. After a moment of nothing but me typing, he asked me a question. "How high can you hack anyway?"

"I can hack low and medium level security," I answered. "High levels are highly unlikely, but possible. But don't think that I can hack into the peacekeepers base, I can't do that. And if you want me to hack into anything outside of the district, don't even think about it, I can only do what's inside the district."

"Pretty smart for a seventeen year old."

"Try, someone from District Seven." I laughed. He laughed as well.

"So how long will this take?" He asked.

"A couple hours at least," I told him. "Systems don't hack themselves."

"And you won't either." He said, his voice suddenly threatening. I found it funny, so I turned around and saw him pointing a gun right at my chest. What in the world?

I tried to show that I wasn't afraid, and gave out a little laugh that was laced with fear. Calm down, just calm down man.

"Hey man," I said in a joking manner. "Are you going to kill me because I'm doing my job?"

"Do you know who I am?" The man asked.

I didn't know the man, all I knew what that he said he worked for the rebels and brought me to a safe house. I didn't recognize him from anywhere in the district. If I said yes, he'd kill me, and if I said no, he'd probably kill me, so I decided to go with the option that would less likely get me killed.

"No." I squeaked. The man smiled. I didn't like that smile.

"That's good." And just like that, I started to feel tired.

A/N: Less than 2,000 words again? And I don't know how to feel about this chapter.

So between me writing this, I want to read an epic fanfic that's about 1.8 million words long. Wish me luck that my procrastination doesn't interfere too much.

District One is up next followed by District Two.

On a side note, who thinks that it'd be a good idea if I gather pictures of the tributes?