A/N: Another district, another Reaping. Today we're visiting District 5, where we'll meet Wyatt Wattzon and Electra Sparks! Get ready, because these electrifying tributes from the Power District are sure to shock you!
Trigger warning once again for drug/alcohol use, gingerphobia, sexual references, swearing, abuse, torture, death, and pretty much everything else in the book.
Wyatt Wattzon, 14
District 5 Male
I stare out the window of my assigned room in the Community Center, wishing I had been born into a different life. Unfortunately, I've got no such luck. When I was born fourteen years ago, my parents were soooo disgusted by the redness of my hair that they decided to disown me. They left me in a basket on the steps of the Center, laughing and high-fiving as they ran away before someone saw them. They take shitty care of us here at the Community Center, but it's better than having nowhere to stay at all. That's what happens once you turn sixteen - they throw you out on the streets, no questions asked.
"Hey, Wyatt," says my friend Nicola, directing my attention away from the window. "You nervous about today?"
"Yeah a bit. But we're going into it together at least. We've got the same chances, you and me." Nicola and I are both fourteen. Plenty of kids in District 5 don't have to take Tesserae, but we do. The Center gives us the bare minimum in terms of sustenance, preferring to keep the good stuff for themselves. Plus, if kids get Reaped from the Center, that's one or two less people they have to care for.
"True. Fingers crossed that neither of us-" Nicola pauses, noticing me doubled over in pain. "What's the matter? You okay?"
"I-I'll be fine. Some stupid druggie in District 6 said something about orphans. It hurts right in my feelings," I reply, failing to hold back the tears.
"QUIT YER' CRYING!" shouts Cruella Zapparinsky, the Headmistress of the Community Center. "It's time for all you little fuckers to get ready for the Reaping! Ya know, before this POV gets 2 long."
Tears still streaming down my pasty ginger face, I push past the 52 other kids I share my room with and enter the bathroom. Some of the other kids bang on the door, calling me names like gingerboy and Firefighter Fred. A few of the others, including Nicola, try to calm the situation or comfort me through the door. I hate my pasty skin, freckles the size of marbles, and fire-engine-red hair. I've tried shaving it off before, but it's always right back where it was within the hour. My hair is a curse, a curse that will not relent until it claims my life.
I continue to cry as I watch myself in the mirror, getting dressed for the Reaping today. I put on some black dress pants and a T-shirt with a cat and some lightning bolts on it cuz District 5. I dry my icy blue eyes with some toilet paper and study my thin, 5'4.75", 91.8 lb. frame in the mirror. I decide I look presentable enough, even though my face is reddened and splotchy from all the crying. I try to bury the insults from the other kids as I open the bathroom door to leave. It's dumb that they make fun of me for my hair, since Foxface had red hair so obviously like half of everyone in District 5 does, but they say I'm sooooo much worse because I'm more ginger than they are.
"Done crying, cherryhead?"
"Need some more tissues, Strawberry Shortcake?"
"Gonna pick your nose again, Fregley?"
"C'mon guys, leave freckle-dick alone."
I try my best to prevent it, but I feel the tears coming once again and I cannot stop them. The first tear rolls down my cheek and I open my mouth to wail, when Cruella slaps me so hard I can see stars. Cruella's like 6'5" and a former WWE wrestler, so she's rlly strong. I go flying across the room, directly into a young girl's legs. We both topple to the ground, and the girl pushes off my face and calls me a cranberry cuntcake. The others start to laugh while I rub my hand on my stinging cheek.
"Look!" yells one girl of about twelve, "His cheek is even redder than his stupid hair!"
I hide my face in my hands as the others begin to shout, "Appleface, appleface! Look at ugly appleface!"
"Jeez guys, stop it. Not even all apples are red," reasons Nicola.
I'm about to start crying again when I see Cruella raise her massive hand. I cover my mouth and close my eyes, hoping to avoid the next strike. Cruella may be able to stop me from crying externally, but she can't keep me from crying on the inside. Not wanting to face Cruella's angry hands again, I cry internally all the way to the Reaping.
Electra Sparks, 17
District 5 Female
I stroll merrily through the streets of my neighborhood, enjoying the fresh air and the feeling of the warm sun on my skin. It's the perfect kind of day to look for test subjects.
Residents of District 5 live in one of numerous subdivisions (idk how many tho) and commute to work. The district does a good job of keeping itself clean, which is nice, because nobody wants to be filthy like District 6. Or 12. Or 11. Or 8. Or 3. Or sometimes 9.
A smile creeps onto my face as I spot my neighbor, Sunson, out in his front yard. Sunson is a few years younger than me, and also kinda stupid so I think he'll be an easy test subject. I put my hand in my pocket as I approach him, fiddling with the devices that I have on my person. I greet Sunson in a friendly tone while I decide which device I'm going to test. I pick a winner and pull it out. It's light, purple, and looks exactly like a novelty kazoo.
"Hey Sunson," I say, flipping a tiny switch on the device, "wanna play the kazoo?"
Sunson gives me a strange look, and then shrugs. "Haha, sure, why not?"
Dumbass Sunson places his lips on the kazoo, and immediately 5555 volts are coursing through his body. There's a brilliant flash of light, and Sunson is reduced to a black spot on the grass in an instant. I jump up and down and pump my fists in excitement, thrilled that my kazoo device is a success. I pick it up off the ground and place it in my other pocket before anything can happen to it. Just then, Sunson's mother, Mandy, runs out of the house and into the yard, hysterical.
"Sunson!" she yells. She sees the blackened patch of grass, and me standing alone. "SUNSON!1! WHERE'S MY SUNSON? WHAT DID YOU DO YOU CRAZY GIRL?"
I ignore Mandy, tripping her before she can reach me. "Oops."
Mandy hits the ground hard, cutting her knee on a sharp rock. I can't quite hold back a grin because this is just what I need to segue into my next test. I take what looks like an innocent roll of bandages out of my pocket, and start wrapping it around Mandy's bloody knee. Mandy objects to this, screaming for me to get off of her, demanding to know what I've done with her son. I ignore her, and as soon as the bandage is all wrapped up, I step back from Mandy as quick as I can. There's another brilliant flash of light, and Mandy is a but a black spot on the ground. I'm two for two in the success department.
As I'm re-rolling my bandage and stuffing it into the success pocket of my shorts, my neighbors' front door opens a second time. Sunson's father and Mandy's husband, Randy, flies out the door and sprints to the two blackened patches of grass. He looks back and forth between all that's left of his stupid wife and dumbass son, then over to me.
"You," says Randy, "You killed them!"
Randy runs at me and tackles me to the ground, knocking the air out of my lungs. I reach into my test pocket, and pull out my next trick: an electric toothbrush. I need only to switch it on and whack Randy with it a couple times before the moron grabs on to it. Randy's always been dumb - he works at the same plant as my parents, I've known him for years. This device is far less lethal than the previous two. Don't get me wrong - it electrocutes the balls off Randy - but he's still alive by the time he drops the thing.
"How do ya like dem' apples, Randy?" I ask. Randy twitches twice in response.
I place the toothbrush back into Randy's hand, and the fun begins anew. His body twists and contorts in all sorts of directions and funny poses as he gets the shit electrocuted out of him for a second time haha. After about thirty seconds of this, the toothbrush is back on the ground, and I decide it's time for my last test. I take out something that looks like a beautiful, expensive watch right out of District 1, and fasten it around a rather twitchy Randy's wrist. I step back as far as I can, and after ten seconds, there's such a bright flash that it almost renders me blind; and I had my eyes closed! When I open them, there's a crater where Randy used to be, about ten feet wide and four feet deep. The entire crater is somehow more blackened than the resting places of Sunson and Mandy.
I'm such a wildcard underdog dark horse lol.
Wyatt Wattzon, 14
District 5 Male
Once I've had my finger pricked (OWWWIE!i!i!), I head right for the fourteen-year-old section. I ignore some of the other fourteens whispering about me and my hair while I search for Nicola. I embrace him when I find him, resting my head for a moment on his white shirt. When I pull back, there's a huge bright red stain on Nicola's shirt. But I'm sure that my hair isn't any less red.
"Wyatt, if I was Reaped, would you volunteer for me?" asks Nicola.
The thought scares me shitless, but there's only one possible response. "Of course I would."
Nicola smiles. "Thanks. Promise I'd do the same for you."
Everybody watches as Batteria Energizer, the Mayor of District 5, takes center stage and welcomes everyone to the Reaping. She gives us background on all the scary things that happened a long time ago, leading to the deaths of most people on Earth, as well as the creation of Panem. Mayor Energizer explains the Rebellion that lead to the Dark Days, its results, and the rules of the Fatality Fiesta. It's qwte similar to the speech given in every other district for every other Reaping ever. The Mayor reads the list of District 5's five past Fiesta Victors, four of which are still alive: Soren Galloway, a name the author def didn't get from those podium things. Porter Tripp, who had her neck nearly broken in the finale. Edison Thompson, a drunk who takes a big swig from a bottle when his name is read. And Zeta ThetaRhoPhiKappaBetaGamma, whose parents didn't realize that the trend of naming people from 3, 5, 6, and 13 after Greek letters is basically over.
Then it's time to introduce the escort. Vladimir Vampirus has been 5's escort since the year before I was born. He's a creepy bastard! Nicola and I tremble at the mere sight of him. Vladimir looks like his name implies. He's tall and thin, with skin even pastier than mine, greasy dark hair, fangs begging to be covered in blood, and wears clothes that belong at a turn-of-the-century funeral.
"Grrrreetings, District 5!" says Vladimir in a perfect Transylvanian accent. "Velcome to the 74th Annual Fatality Fiesta! As always, I'm trrruly delighted to be here with you all. Let's start by selecting a male trrrribute."
"Please not me," whines a boy in the twelve-year-old section.
Anger flashes onto Vladimir's face. All within a minute, he turns into a bat, flies to the boy, sucks his blood out of his neck, and returns to the stage as a bat before turning back into a... biped with a full belly. I fear for my and Nicola's safety as Vladimir's gangly hand rips a slip from the boys' Reaping Ball.
"Vyatt Vattzon!"
No no no no no no NO! It can't be me! The other fourteens all step back from me. Piss courses down my leg as the Peacekeepers approach me, but I'm smart enough to get moving before they reach me. I start to cry on my way to the stage as the pee keeps coming and coming. WTF, I haven't even had that much to drink today! I hear shouts of "Rinald MacDinald!" and "Waterworks!" from the audience as Vladimir asks for volunteers. Nicola doesn't stay true to his promise. And just like that, I'm slated for the Fiesta.
Vladimir hands me some store brand tissues before clopping over to the girls' Reaping Ball. I wipe the tears pouring down my face, and silently hope that Vladimir picks the twelve year old that pointed out my reddened cheek earlier. Vladimir selects a slip and reads aloud, "Muna Moon!"
A small smile creeps its way onto my face as that exact girl starts to make her way to the stage. The crowd murmurs unhappily as they do whenever a young tribute is chosen, the same as they did once they all laid eyes on me. That little bitch Muna's foot is about to touch the first step of the stage, when there's a shout from the audience.
"I volunteer as tribute!"
I begin weeping again as Muna is replaced by a tanned, dark-haired girl from the seventeen-year-old section with darting yellow eyes. The girl introduces herself as Electra Sparks. When prompted by Vladimir, she reveals that she has no relation to Muna.
"Vhy did you volunteer then, young lady?" asks Vladimir, intrigued.
"To win," is all Electra says.
"Vonderful, Vonderful! Distrrrrrrict 5, your trributes forrr the 74th Annual Fatality Fiesta: Vyatt Vattzon and Electra Sparks!" The district claps politely for us as I continue to sob. Vladimir licks a spot of blood off of one of his fangs.
Electra and I are instructed to shake hands. We do, but my new District Partner spends the whole time staring at the puddle of urine surrounding my shoes. Judging by the look on Electra's face, I can tell she knows as well as I do that I'm as good as dead.
Electra Sparks, 17
District 5 Female
I can't believe nobody's confiscated my devices yet. I'm turning my cute little purple kazoo over in my hands when it hits me. Of course! I take the device disguised as a fancy watch out of my pocket and fasten it to my left wrist. This will be my tribute token (and my key to victory).
The wooden door opens, and my family runs inside. My Dad, my Papa, my little sister Zapette, and my little brother Newton embrace me and all talk at the same time. It's a panicked chorus of shock and anxiety that makes me want to rip my hair from my head and run around in circles. But I don't. Instead, I ignore it for a minute, until I've had enough. I push back, looking to the four of them one by one.
"What did you do that for, Electra?" asks Papa worriedly.
"I volunteered because I can win. Like I said onstage," I reply.
"We don't doubt that you can," says Dad. "It's just that there will be twenty-five others. Tributes who have trained their whole lives for this. Tributes who know a hundred ways to kill you with a water bottle."
"Who says I'm not trained for this? You don't have to be a Career to be ready for the arena," I counter. "Five people from District 5 have won before, and none of them were Careers!"
"True," says little Newton, with his overlarge glasses and IQ of 215 at age nine. "We simply want you to win."
"And we know you will!" shouts eleven-year-old Zapette, bringing me into another hug.
I enjoy the time I have left with my family, but let's not taco bout it since this is only Reaping number three. When it's time for them to go, I give Dad, Papa, Zapette, and Newton each a big hug and refrain from electrocuting them even though I want to. It sucks to be left alone once the door closes, but I know I'll see them all again in a matter of weeks.
As I rest on the soft purple couch that's a color similar to my kazoo, my mind wonders to the events of the weeks to come. Who will my Mentors be? What will the arena be like? And most important, what about the competition? I know as well as everyone else that pathetic, scarlet-haired Wyatt is as good as dead. But what of the Careers? The 7s, 10s... hell, for all I know even shitty fucking 6 will have a contender this year. I shake my head. It doesn't matter who the competition is. Nobody can survive Beauty, my trusty homicidal watch.
My next visitor is completely unexpected. He's the ugliest, most vile snake I've ever seen, and I've grown up watching President Snow on TV. The light-skinned, white-haired man with a voice like being fisted by broken glass stands mere feet away from me.
"Hello, Electra. As I'm sure you - and everybody else - know, I'm Pikey Menncey." Pikey pauses his spiel to clap for himself. "I've been told that you're great with electricity. And in that, I see the mostest potential. I myself love electricity. I use it myself to dispose of good-for-nothing fa-"
"Do you like to play the kazoo, Pikey?" I interrupt.
"I've never heard of thayt," says Pikey, his Southern accent making me want to die. "Lemme give it a go."
Pikey puts his lips to the kazoo, and just like Sunson, there's a brilliant flash of light. Pikey disintegrates into nothing more than a black scorch mark on the floor that can be cleaned up with a vacuum. I would've used Beauty on him, but I didn't for two reasons:
One: He wasn't worthy.
Two: A gaping crater would be noticed by the Justice Building staff instantly, and would have prompted investigation. But nobody ever checks the cameras in the goodbye rooms unless there's a problem. A bit of black dust will be vacuumed up and never seen again.
A/N: Of course I updated this on 4/20. This chapter was done days ago but I saved it for today. :)
Give it up for Wyatt and Electra, our District 5 tributes! These two are a fun pair, and I'm sure they'll go on to do exciting things in this year's Fiesta. What are your thoughts on these two? Would you rather have Wyatt's hair, or have to fight Electra in the arena?
Bready or not, here they crumb: We're off to District 9 next! Hope to see you there.