This chapter contains detailed torture! Please proceed with caution! Cussing is also in there Nolan's part will be very long compared to the others so far but don't expect that every time ;). Thanks for submitting these tributes! Only both from 11 &12, the boys from 3,5,8 and the girls from 6,7 and 10 are missing! I planned the first non-introduction chapter to be out in the second week after Halloween, so we will be in the arena before Christmas!

P.s.: I love the reviews I got so far! The person with the most reviews till the arena will get the chance to send one of their favs a special sponsor gift! So, continue reviewing!

Nolan Rhodes, 18, District 2 male, three months before the reaping

Work it, make it, do it
Makes us harder, better, faster, stronger

N-now th-that that don't kill me
Can only make me stronger
I need you to hurry up now
'Cause I can't wait much longer
I know I got to be right now

~~Stronger by Kanye West

Today was his day. In less than his hour, Nolan would apply for the volunteer position with six other boys. Although he had his excitement and nervousness under control, his hands sweated continuously, which would make it difficult to hold a sword later. Breathing heavily, he wiped it off his dark running pants. The morning cold was pleasant and Nolan had made a short round through the district to warm up for the later event. He pulled his necklace from the neckline, the cold metal of which slammed awkwardly against his chest as soon as he ran off.

He would later see his parents and siblings in the academy. Nolan didn't really know if he wanted to smash a dummy in front of Ana and Mason, but Nolan had to remember that the twins would eventually go to the arena and have to be hardened. As the eldest child the honor was given to being the first in the family to go to the arena, and then to offer glorious support to the other two children of the family as a mentor. The district was already fully focused on the upcoming games, that two young people had died last year were forgotten. District 2 never looked back, but only into the future, where they saw more interesting games and brought back beloved winners. There was no hatred for the Capitol or the games; on the contrary, it was seen as a great honor and an award to be able to train for the games. With a total of 8 winners in the past 53 years, District 2 led the top team of winners. The youngest winner from the district had won just two years ago by brutally smashing the skull of the boy from 11. Nolan knew he had to be just as emotionless and goal-oriented in the arena, otherwise he wouldn't even survive the bloodbath at the beginning. He wasn't worried about pain or fear, he hadn't gone to the academy for nothing.

A mistake was punished there before it was even recognized. In a darkened room of the building stood a pole of iron with handcuffs, next to it lay a whip, whose straps were not made of leather, but of fine metal strips. The floor was blood red after years of training and no longer looked like concrete. In other parts of Panem you would call it torture, here it was just a reminder that one always practiced successfully and error-free. Fortunately, Nolan had never been in the position to be punished himself, but he had watched the Head Trainer use the whip several times. The pain in Indiana's eyes would never be forgotten.

"Remember, it's just a reminder of how to use a bow properly," the coach said hard, pulling the girl into the basement with him. Panicked, she looked at Nolan, who knew he couldn't do anything for her without being the next one. With her hazel-brown eyes, she begged him to come along mutely to provide her with mental support. The coach didn't notice the glance. He pointed to Nolan and then to the silver whips on the opposite side of the practice hall. "Get the ones with the heaviest straps, then come down. You will learn an important lesson for the arena today."

The two disappeared into the basement, Indiana tried not to defend themselves anymore. If she resisted, it would only mean five more strokes. Silently, Nolan went to the wall and pulled out the thickest whip he found. Carefully he drove over the straps, the color of which did not look like soaked in blood. Someone had cleaned the whips after their use. Probably tonight it would be Nolan sitting in the dark hall, wiping the straps with disinfectant. "Let's get it behind us," the boy whispered, rushing down to the basement.

The coach had already tied Indiana to the stake, handcuffing when they touched the stake. Nolan wordlessly handed the coach the whip and put himself in the far corner to avoid looking Indiana in the eye. The trainer stepped behind the defenseless girl and tore her top. Two shreds hung in front of her chest. The whole situation was shameful, but Nolan knew it was for a purpose. "I want you to look her in the eyes," the coach proclaimed with a harsh tone, not revealing whether he was sorry at all that he used force to teach children how to kill. Nolan sat on a bench just before Indiana and looked at the coach. The girl's braided braid had dissolved, loose strands hung in her pretty face. She clasped her fingers into the stake to better endure the pain, but Nolan knew it didn't help. Their first scream echoed in his ears after years when he saw a mistake being made. The following ones became quieter until they finally became a quiet sob. Thick, hot tears ran down Indiana's cheeks, her lips shaking. Nolan looked at her with big eyes. He would never feel pain like her. Not because he had no emotions, but because his body did not allow it. His body and brain did not respond to pain. When he was beaten, he felt only a quick movement of one hand over his cheek. Physical pain was fascinating for him, as he would never feel it himself. His parents had enlightened the academy's coaches and a new punishment option had been found for him.

Now he was just watching as innocent children who had made a mistake were punished. After ten lashes, the blood dripped from the whip. Indiana bit her lips together. The girl whispered weakly, but Nolan couldn't understand it. "If you have something to say, then speak understandably!" the coach told her. "I will never shoot an arrow like this again. I will never miss the goal again," the girl whimpered powerlessly. "I hope so for you. Here you are not sent to make mistakes, here you are trained to win!"

The coach left the room. Nolan jumped up and opened the handcuffs. Weakened, Indiana's trembling hands slipped out. She lay on the ground in front of him, breathing heavily, and squeezing her forehead against the ground. Nolan pulled a small bottle of disinfectant from his pocket and an unused cloth towel. "I have to disinfect the wounds, otherwise they will become inflamed. It will burn, but you must not scream, otherwise he will come back," the boy whispered, soaking the cloth with the burning agent. Indiana clawed its fingers into his left thigh. She was too weak to speak, but she didn't want to risk inflammation with a most likely subsequent infection. With one hand, he held Indiana's head against his shoulder, and the other drove over the bleeding wounds. Every time the open flesh came into contact with the disinfectant, she shrugged and pressed against his body.

After that day, Nolan had never heard of Indiana again. Some thought she had been taken out of the academy because her performances were not up to standard, but Nolan knew that was not true. Indiana couldn't bear the pain, so she left. He hoped she was doing well, but it only spurred Nolan to produce an excellent performance. In the three years between the incident and today he had worked hard, harder than anyone else in the academy. In the evening, he had fought with the younger coaches when the other students were already in their beds.

Today we would see whether the effort was worthwhile. Nolan ran the few meters to the glass building of the academy. Somehow it didn't fit into the landscape of the mountainous region where District 2 was located, but the building was unique and a sign of the Capitol's appreciation. When Nolan entered the building, the heat hit his face. Two younger children ran towards him. "Where have you been for so long? The screening starts in ten minutes!" Mason yelled in his ear. In the hall's front room, it was very noisy. The families of the candidates had come, as well as friends and the victors, who would ultimately decide who went to the Capitol. "Have missed me in time. Are you sitting in the gallery?" asked Nolan breathlessly. He was sure his face was red like a tomato, but with the speed and intensity in which he had run, it was no wonder. His parents cheerfully waved to him from a standing table, where they chatted with the parents of a competitor. "Okay, when it's my turn, you're keeping your fingers crossed, yeah?" Nolan showed it to the two friendly once swirled Ana's hair and then disappeared into the locker room. It smelled strongly of deodorant, but that was better than sweat running over his temples in streams. He quickly changed. The training uniform of the academy with the lion on the coat of arms was closely attached to his skin. It was loud at the door. Apparently, the decision for the girls had just been made. "Are you as nervous as I am?" one of his comrades-in-arms asked, but Nolan denied. The boy next to him wouldn't be a competitor for him. He was too thin to even lift a car tire, and he didn't control the weapons as well as Nolan. A trainer appeared in the doorway and asked the seven boys to come to the training hall. Nolan breathed a deep breath. Determined, he descended every step of the stairs into the hall when Tatjana Markov, who had won more than a decade ago, approached him with a pretty girl whose curly mane was larger than her head. The girl, to his knowledge, was an archer in his vintage. Apparently she would go to the arena. Tears of joy ran down her cheeks. Nolan rolled his eyes. He wouldn't cry when his name was proclaimed. It wasn't like he's been training for it all his life. The hall was rebuilt; there was now only after a big field on which to fight, a shooting range and some dummies for the long-distance fight. The light was dimmed so that you couldn't look up to the grandstand. The audience whispered and bet on various boys, with Nolan hearing his name especially often.

"I am Brutus Glen, this year's mentor for our male tribute. As you know, only one of you will go into the arena and hopefully come back victorious. To find this male tribute, you will now demonstrate your combat skills at three stations. The boy with the highest percentage will then be allowed to register voluntarily. Take your weapons and prepare, in five minutes we will start archery," said a man in his thirties who has more muscles on his body than hair on his head.

His games had been marked by brutality, that Nolan's mum had told him. It is alleged that Brutus had ripped out the innards of his final opponent with a mutation. It was disgusting, but Nolan respected the man. He had won only because he could handle the weapons 100 percent, not with an intelligent strategy. The other boys chose their bows and waited to receive announcements from Cassandra Golding, the district's oldest female winner.

"Set up!" her dominant voice thundered towards the boys. Nolan felt like a soldier who had to stand up in a battle. Cassandra had put her hair up to a strict bun that accentuated the fine features of her face. At first glance, she seemed like a strict teacher who you wouldn't let be in charge of your children. It's hard to believe that she had been married for several years and had a daughter. The woman scrutinized each candidate until her gaze stuck to Nolan. "You first," she demanded.

Nolan positioned himself at the line to the shooting range and put the arrow on. He felt the prying eyes of the spectators in his back. If he did not meet now, he would be a disgrace. Nolan focused on the red dot in the middle of the goal and shot the arrow. The two seconds until the arrow hit his goal were the worst he had ever experienced. In the middle of the red dot, the arrow was stuck to the middle in the wooden target. Applause thundered through the hall and Nolan had to suppress a relieved breath. Now he was not allowed to show any weakness. Archery had worked, now came the javelin throwing. This time he hit under Brutus eagle eyes directly into the heart of the dummy. Through the familiar metal of the weapons in his hand, the unpleasant feeling of nervousness faded. Like the other candidates, Nolan felt increasingly lost strength, but he himself seemed to increase from station to station. The event lasted less than half an hour when his name was announced for the volunteer announcement. It heard his siblings burst into cheers and hugged each other in a storm. His parents praised him like a god.

Nolan liked the feeling of triumph.

Amber Henthrow, 15, District 9 female, five months before the reaping

White shirt now red, my bloody nose
Sleepin', you're on your tippy toes
Creepin' around like no one knows
Think you're so criminal
Bruises on both my knees for you
Don't say thank you or please
I do what I want when I'm wanting to
My soul? So cynical

~~Bad Guy by Billie Eilish

"I don't give a f*ck about what you want!", the girl shouted and slapped the older boy across the face. The boy whimpered while trying to hold on to the loaf of bread. This idiot really didn't know when to give up. Even though Amber was impulsive she still knew when she lost a battle. "Give the bread to me or the next time I won't be that friendly anymore!" she said angrily. Carefully, she drove with the fingertip of her thumb over the blade of the knife, which was soaked with the boy's blood. The boy looked back and forth between her face and the knife until he decided to live. "Here you have your body bread, you canal rat!" he hissed. With a bittersweet smile, Amber lifted the bread off the floor. Although it started to rain, the boy stopped. "What else do you want? Disappear from my alley!" said Amber, pulling the hood in her face. She felt the boy's questioning gaze on her body.

"You're that Henthrow girl, am I wrong?", he asked with his annoying voice that made Amber's desire to punch him again bigger than before. "Why would that matter, hm?" she questioned, putting the knife back in her belt. "The peacekeepers are searching for you... Again. Give me the bread and I promise you: I won't go to the peacekeepers. Sounds like a deal?!"

Just after finishing the sentence, the boy's body started to shake heavily. Blood dropped from his nose to his chin, falling into the muddy ground. Amber looked in his eyes to see fear. The boy must have been a true idiot for not noticing how she cut him with the poisoned blade. Blood covered his whole face as he fell to the ground. The boy stopped shaking and Amber glanced at him with frowned eyebrows. If she gave him the bread, he would have gone to the peacekeepers immediately. Killing him was her only chance not to be discovered. Fighting for an old loaf bread wasn't uncommon for the homeless in District 9, so nobody would suspect her to be his murderer. The rain poured heavily on the metal roofs and people on the streets were looking for a place to hide. Soon, the blood would be washed away by the rain. Amber hid the bread underneath her woolly jacket. The girl ran back to the main street and walked to the industrial part of the District.

You mustn't have killed him! He was just a hungry boy who didn't want to starve!

If I didn't, he'd have gone to the peacekeepers and they would have killed me! I don't want to die like mum and dad!

Amber was shaking from the freezing cold rain as she entered the abandon fabric where she slept for years now. Being alone was good, especially after killing him, since the other homeless people of the District would have asked how she got the bread etc. They were too annoying for her after an exhausting day. The girl stripped out of the jacket and hung it up to dry while she cleaned the knife. Even if somebody finds the boy, nobody will find her and the weapon.

Officially, she was now a murderer. All the way through, Amber heard the word being shouted in her ear again and again, so that she would not forget it. She covered her ears and screamed.

Nobody could hear her and her anger and frustration needed to be released once for a while. Amber's life was, let's say not very nice, and she knew it. Not having a family or a home she could go to, having to fear to be caught by the peacekeepers who would slaughter her like a lamp. Amber was nothing more than a criminal and rebel to the people in the District, but honestly, she was just broken.

How could she be living a normal life when she knew everybody searched for her? Her family couldn't help her, not after being killed by the stupid Capitol. Everytime Amber closed her eyes, she saw the thousand little pieces of ash, falling to the ground like snow, and the burning fabric her mother just died in. For the public, for the non-believers and licker of Snow's boots, it was an accident. But Amber knew it wasn't. She knew about the life her parents lived; how dangerous it was to rebel against the Capitol. She knew when they went out to grab some bread, it meant they were meeting with their fellow believers. With the age of nine, she didn't really understand why they rebelled against the Capitol and how they did it, but Amber understood that it would maybe cost her life.

Years later, when her father was still alive, training her in the backyard of their hidden home, she started to notice that they were right. They were right about the oppression by the Capitol, how they used their work abilities, but gave nothing back than two corpses of innocent children they killed in their beloved Hunger Games. Since then Amber knew that she had to fight. With poison or daggers didn't matter, she just wanted justice for the people would believe in peace and freedom. Killing the boy earlier the day made her kind of sentimental, but she knew it was right. Amber had to keep the society safe, her own life came after this. Call her crazy, but she knew that changes were deeply needed. People starved in their houses when they produce grain for the Capitol, innocent children were dying in cruel Games. Amber didn't want to live in such a place.

The reapings in the district were triggered, that was for sure. Amber knew it was her name that would be read out loud on the stage. Scyon Dolan who was probably the most beloved of Snow's boot lickers finally found a way to catch and eliminate her for the Capitol's sake. When Amber will walk up to the stage, she knew that she had to tell the believers and foolish the truth. The Capitol may find it offensive, but if she were in their Games, Amber knew she would never come out of the arena alive. The girl stood up and opened the jacket's pocket. She pulled a wet piece of paper and a stolen pen out and started to write her legacy.

There is no justice unless we make it.

Finished a very long (and hopefully good) chapter with two really interesting characters! My questions:

1. We got to know every career now! Which one of them (Wayne, Lucretia, Nolan, Diana or Shasta) is your favorite so far?

2. How do you think Amber's past will inflict the story of the Games? Will she make justice?

3. Who is your favorite and last favorite character so far?

4. Who do you think has the highest chances of survival by now?

Love, Athena