Only two more introductory chapters to go, then it gets real.
Brooke Fisher District 7: 13F
Day Before the Reaping
The water enveloped her head as she disappeared beneath the surface. Under the glassy rippling liquid, she felt at home. Brooke could feel relax and calm.
She shifted the sack in her grip and kicked towards the rocky bottom of the lake. A school of small fish swam past her head, flapping their tails back and forth to push themselves forward. It was a simple life to be a fish, yet there was a beauty in that simplicity. Fish didn't worry about relationships or confusing feelings. They just swam around beneath the surface of the water, unnoticed by the world around them.
Brooke flipped to rest her feet on the rocks. They were covered in just the small muscles she was looking for.
Her hand clamped around one of the shells and tugged against it. The muscle broke free from the rock with a crunching sound. Brooke shoved it into the bag then moved to the next muscle, ripping it free as well.
She continued on in this way for a good three minutes or so, feeling completely comfortable in the water, not the slightest bit concerned about the lack of air around her. Eventually, she figured she had to come up, as she wasn't really a fish and couldn't breathe underwater sadly.
Brooke broke the surface, inhaling the sweet air gratefully.
"How'd it go?" A voice called from above her.
Brooke looked up to see a familiar flat-bottomed boat floating on the water. Three people looked down on her. There was a grown man with an easy smile and two smiling kids around her age, a boy and a girl. The man was Brooke's father, Mordecai Fisher III, named for his father and grandfather before him. The boy was Mordecai IV, or Junior as he was better known, her twelve-year-old brother. The girl was Raina, her fourteen-year-old sister.
"I found plenty of muscles," Brooked returned as she swam toward the side of the boat.
"Not as many as me I bet," Junior said.
Brooke found her little brother amusing. He always wanted to one up everyone. Junior definitely inherited his father's competitive spirit, as did she, but she was not nearly as passionate. Brooke found herself too laid back to really get invested in the outcome of competitions.
She clambered up the small ladder to the deck of the mid-sized boat.
"Let's see how many you got," Junior snatched the bag from her hand playfully.
Brooke laughed and joined her father and sister in watching Junior open the bag. He dumped muscles all over the deck and began counting them quickly.
The Fishers were a prominent family in District 7 thanks to their unique business as fishermen. Her great-grandfather, Mordecai Fisher, came from District 4 as a successful fisherman to evaluate District 7 for investment potential. He found the district to be full of lakes and rivers perfect for fishing, but before he began the process of employing others in the area and opening new branches of his business, the Capitol enacted a strict no movement policy requiring citizens of the districts to remain in whichever district they currently inhabited. Thus, Mordecai I was trapped in District 7.
Her great-grandfather was undeterred however and began the process of creating his business anew. He quickly grew to be successful and very wealthy, even wealthier than he had been in District 4. Mordecai I taught his children the family business and they passed on their knowledge to their children.
"Thirty-three!" Junior exclaimed.
Brooke just smiled as her younger brother looked back at her with incredulity. She shrugged calmly while her father and sister laughed. Junior only collected twenty-four muscles on his trip to the bottom of the lake.
"I hope you're ready for me to smash your record," Raina smirked confidently.
"Good luck," Brooke returned her sister's smirk.
"I don't need luck," Raina said. "I've got skill."
"Whatever," Brooke rolled her eyes.
Raina dove off the edge of the boat splashing into the water, sack for collecting muscles in hand. They all eyed the water, trying to catch a glimpse of Raina when the sun hit the water at just the right angle. It was difficult to tell what she was doing, when, and how. The over excitable Junior hopped up and down restlessly while Mordecai smiled down at the water contentedly.
Brooke watched the water lap gently against the sides of the boat for around two minutes before Raina resurfaced.
She gasped for breath and paddled toward the boat tiredly.
"That wasn't very long," Junior commented.
Raina panted as she climbed onto the deck and dropped her bag of muscles. She sat back against the railing in exhaustion.
"Having trouble there?" Brooke quipped as she sat next to her sister.
"I'm fine," Raina replied through heavy breaths.
"She got twenty-nine!" Junior called out. "Brooke won!"
Brooke rolled her eyes at her brother's antics. Raina hung her head in frustration.
"That's all great guys," Mordecai said with a smile. "I'm glad you had fun, but we do have to get to work today."
The Fisher siblings groaned nearly simultaneously. Junior chucked a muscle down on the deck. It landed with a crack.
"Raina and Brooke get your rods," Mordecai ordered. "Junior, you're going to help me and the other guys with nets today."
Suddenly, Junior jumped up in excitement. He loved working with the other men because it made him feel like an adult. Brooke chuckled while she and Raina walked to the storage house on board.
Calling it a house was a little grandiose. It was more of a shed filled with fishing gear. Brooke took her own fishing rod from the wall.
"Just so you know, I did pick up more muscles relative to the amount of time I spent underwater," Raina said with a smile.
"Cool," Brooke replied noncommittally. "But I still won."
Brooke grinned cheekily at her sister. Raina shook her head but couldn't manage to wipe the smile from her face.
Cassie Dawson District 2: 17F
Day Before The Reaping
"I won't explain it too many more times," Cassie said softly. "We can't exactly talk about that here."
"Why not?" Ana asked too loudly for Cassie's comfort.
"Because we'd be punished," Cassie hissed. "Look, I'm glad you're a fighter and you see all the same problems in the world that I do, but there's no fighting that can be done right now."
"Then what can we do?" Ana questioned.
"Hold on to your beliefs like they're your life," Cassie answered. "Don't let those statists tell you who to be or how to think. Learn what's real and what's not for yourself. Then, fight back when the time is right."
"B-" Ana started.
"No more," Cassie interrupted. "For your own safety."
She nodded to Ana slightly, trying to convey to her the seriousness of the topic the young girl spoke of. After a moment's hesitation, Ana returned Cassie's nod.
"Good," Cassie said. "Now tell me about that boy why don't you?"
"What?" Ana shrieked.
Cassie was certainly glad that shriek hadn't come out during their more controversial conversation. That would not have reflected well on her as the chosen volunteer. The career academy severely regulated the speech of its attendees, and if Cassie were caught speaking out against Capitol leadership, she could be expelled from the academy outright, and that was if she was lucky.
There was always the chance that punishment could be lax, as Cassie was easily the most talented female trainee this year. Since she was seventeen, the academy could simply suspend her opportunity to volunteer until next year. In Cassie's mind though, it was better to avoid taking that chance if at all possible.
"You know, the blonde kid with those weird light blue eyes. I can't remember his name," Cassie said, trying to get a reaction from Ana.
"Joey's eyes are aquamarine," Ana replied. "Not light blue, and they're not weird."
Cassie gave Ana a knowing look. The young brunette blushed fiercely at Cassie's glance. The older girl laughed brightly, enjoying Ana's embarrassment.
"He's cute…" Ana said meekly.
Cassie hummed, still unable to keep the smile off her face.
She had a weak spot when it came to younger kids. Ana was only eleven, and she was like the little sister Cassie never had. Cassie had an adopted brother, but he was sixteen and was generally capable of taking care of himself.
With Ana, things were different. The girl was eleven, yet she seemed younger. She was so naïve and so innocent. She really believed in the good of all humanity and that problems were easy to solve. Ana's heart was in the right place, but for every ounce of good will, she had another ounce of poor insight. She was young though, and Cassie didn't hold that against her friend.
Together, they made their way to the cafeteria. They passed by a few practicing trainees, many of whom Cassie recognized. The one who caught her eye as they exited the building was Jason Green, the chosen male volunteer, or the apple of the trainers' eyes.
Jason was a quiet person, not generally one to speak up. He was the tall, dark, and brooding type, always glancing around rooms in the most paranoid way. She never saw Jason take a seat that didn't have its back to a wall.
The trainers loved him because he was something of a dueling prodigy. With a sword in hand, Cassie doubted there was anyone alive who could best Jason. That was assuming that the fight was only to be fought with swords of course. He wielded a wicked blade with a curved hilt designed to disorient and confuse opponents.
All Jason's paranoia outside combat that made him an unapproachable oddity made him a master of understanding his surroundings in a fight. No one could trick Jason or do something he didn't expect. That irked Cassie because she knew she would enter the arena with Jason, and that if she were to win, she would likely have to kill him. Only, she didn't know how, not yet.
"…then he said that Racheal was pretty," Ana was saying. "He didn't say anything about me. I'm not sure he feels the same."
Only now did Cassie realize that they were actually inside the cafeteria, and that she hadn't been paying attention to a word Ana was saying. She felt bad, but she did have her own important tasks to consider, namely, how to kill Jason.
"What should I do Cassie?" Ana questioned.
She looked up at Cassie with big brown eyes. That gaze just made Cassie want to melt.
"I don't know," Cassie answered honestly. "I'm not exactly good at relationship stuff."
"Yeah," Ana agreed laughing heartily. "Like that time you tried flirting with Chang."
Cassie groaned loudly, "Don't remind me."
Ana laughed harder as they took trays of food. Ana took whatever she liked, while Cassie was given a pre prepared meal which, according to the trainers, would boost her performance in the Games. It was just a plain grilled chicken salad with no dressing and a bowl of white rice.
"Tell you what," Ana said as they sat down to eat at their usual table. "When you come back from the Games, I'll have you a date set up."
Cassie nearly spat her water all over the table.
"There's no need for that Ana," Cassie said.
"Oh I think there is," Ana replied.
"Come on," Cassie reasoned. "What guy would want to be with me?"
"What guy wouldn't?" Ana asked. "You'll be a victor of the Hunger Games. That's got to be a turn on."
"Ana!" Cassie hissed.
The girl was getting more and more mischievous by the day.
"I'm just saying you're awesome," Ana said through a mouthful of food. "You deserve someone who's just as awesome. You should be happy."
Cassie huffed and shook her head. She loved Ana like she was a sister, but she was just too girly sometimes. Cassie just didn't get the great interest in dating. She had bigger things in mind, like the state of the world and the Hunger Games. There wasn't any time for dating.
"Fine," Cassie said. "But you have to promise me that you'll talk to Joey before you try to set me up, okay?"
"It's a deal," Ana stuck out her hand with a wide grin.
Cassie shook Ana's hand.
Tyto Winter District 7: 18M
Night Before the Reaping
Tyto was a simple man. He didn't like to overcomplicate things in his life. There were some things he liked and some that he didn't. He didn't want too many things other than to live a good life and do right by those around him, helping who he could along the way.
He along with a few of his friends from work flooded into the closest bar. They were just the sort of crowd that bartenders hoped to attract. They were perfectly happy to drink until they passed out on the table, yet they weren't particularly rowdy. They were loud sure, but not impolite.
Tyto sat at the edge of the table, preferring it to the much louder center. He ordered a beer, which came in a large tankard, then started drinking.
It didn't take long before his group got crazy. When people started drinking together stupidity multiplied exponentially and so did the proclivity to attempt tasks that seemed ridiculous or impossible.
Tyto was quite good at holding his liquor, but some of his friends were not. They descended into chaos, singing and dancing madly. Their loud voices bellowed in Tyto's ears. None of them were even close to the correct pitch, but they quite obviously didn't care.
It was a while before Tyto felt the effects of the alcohol beginning to work on him. First, it was a light fuzziness in his head, then the sensation spread to the rest of his body before he felt a wonderful warmth. That warmth made him feel better about himself somehow. Tyto considered himself funnier than usual, and he was far more confident.
"Let's get some more!" James, one of Tyto's friends, called to the bartender. "Another round!"
They all cheered together. Tyto himself joined in, content to have fun with the others.
Tyto, like his father, was one of many lumberjacks in District 7. He began work at a young age, first going with his father and learning from him. Then, at age sixteen, he became a full-time worker in the forest. He was a director of the pruning team. They were the men who removed the large potentially dangerous limbs from the tree before others went in with machinery to chop the tree down.
He was quite comfortable in the heights of the trees. Suspended by a harness with his axe in hand, Tyto felt at home. There wasn't anything Tyto was better at than swinging an axe around. He'd figured out how to use that tool correctly.
The bartender arrived back at their table with yet more drinks. Thanks to the raucous shouts from his friends, Tyto necked two shots of whiskey. They cheered him on with whoops and hollers.
Tyto felt the gentle buzz and light fog over his eyes grow a little thicker and more powerful. It wasn't anything he couldn't handle.
His parents probably wouldn't be too happy when he came home drunk, but Tyto didn't particularly care. He was a grown man, mature enough to handle himself, and he only lived with his parents until he could find a home of his own. The elder Winters understood that too and respected his individuality.
About an hour passed before they were all drunk enough that they started playing ridiculous games. Tyto was on board, cracking jokes and making as much a fool of himself as anyone else. He might have been the boss of most of the men here, but they saw him as one of them, a friend to have a good time with. Tyto was grateful their relationship wasn't one where each side felt excluded by the other.
They set up a few glasses in triangles at either end of the table to play beer pong. Once split in two teams, they decided that each time the ball made it into a glass that the entire team should down a whole beer. Potentially, if he wasn't just as drunk as everyone else, Tyto might have thought that the rules were a bit excessive, but he didn't have the mental wherewithal to realize the kind of punishment they were going to inflict on themselves.
Tyto's team quickly fell apart. He was the only man still in possession of any of his mental faculties, and thus the only man with a shot at making shots. To be fair, he did land shots in five of the ten cups, but the opposition was far too strong, and his team lost.
Now, with twelve or thirteen beers and two shots of whiskey in his system, Tyto felt dizzy. He could barely stand up without falling right back into his chair.
At the urging of the bartender, Tyto's group finally cleared out of the bar, leaving quite a mess behind.
Tyto slumped up against the wall of the building, doubting that he'd be able to reach home. He promptly collapsed to the dirt, simply unable to hold himself on his feet any longer. In just the next few minutes, Tyto passed out on the ground with no energy or mental strength to keep himself going.
Jason Green District 2: 18M
Night Before the Reaping
Zane's sword deflected off the parry with a clang. Jason responded quickly, jabbing rapidly three times in succession each at a different target. Zane backed away blocking the stabs with speed and precision.
Jason swayed to avoid a looping slash towards his neck, then quickly twisted his blade to block a follow up cut aimed at his knee. He retaliated, flicking his blade out towards Zane's exposed wrist. The strike landed flush, smacking against the thick leather fencing armor.
Zane grunted in frustration as he broke away from the engagement. Jason's face remained completely neutral and calculating. He wasn't about to lose his fighting Zen.
Zen was one of the key tenants of combat Jason had grown intimately familiar with during his time at the academy. One couldn't fight with emotion and passion. That impeded the natural ability to observe one's surroundings. Using a state of detached observation and calm it was possible to notice an opponent's movements long before they were ever made.
His fingers tightened around the curved handle of his blade as he calmly exhaled, preparing for the next exchange of blows.
Zane attacked as Jason let out his breath. He stabbed out with a thrust towards Jason's face. Jason twisted to avoid the attack, but Zane saw his movement and flicked his sword after Jason.
The swords clashed as Jason snapped his blade up to block the incoming strike with the confidence of a man who knew exactly what was happening in the world.
Jason shuffled backwards parrying and deflecting Zane's attacks calmly. The blows rained down on him quickly. A lesser combatant would have been quickly overwhelmed. Zane was a master swordsman in his own right, but Jason kept his Zen, his sword acting as an umbrella protecting him from the rain of strikes.
Zane stumbled as his lead foot hit the patch of slickness on the mats. Jason quickly took advantage, glad that his plan worked, but not allowing the success to affect his state of mind. His sword cracked down on Zane's back shoulder as he attempted to regain his balance.
Zane was an excellent sparring partner, but now even he was becoming less and less challenging for Jason to defeat despite constantly changing his techniques to try to stay one step ahead of Jason. The thirty-five-year-old had offered to personally provide Jason with personal training free of charge upon seeing his talent with a blade eleven years ago.
Since then, Zane had become something of a second father to Jason. He was certainly the father of Jason's fighting style, as he adopted more technique from Zane than any other of the teachers.
Zane was an oddity in the career academy. Oftentimes, the trainers encouraged trainees to embrace brutality in combat, and power-based styles of combat were commonplace teachings. Zane meanwhile taught a highly technical finesse-based method of dueling. Furthermore, he was a very selective teacher. He wouldn't bestow his knowledge on just anyone, only on those he thought could learn it correctly.
Dueling wasn't simply a combat style, it was an art form, one that took many years to learn properly. Zane himself hadn't mastered it until he was in his twenties. He explained to Jason that he only taught the art of finesse to a select few because it took an incredibly long time and an incredible amount of dedication to become competent. Most tributes only had ten years or so before their time was up, and in many cases ten years was too short a time to learn to master the blade as Zane had.
There was something to be said for becoming extremely good at one thing. It ensured that nobody, unless they had a serious physical advantage, would be able to defeat Jason if he had a sword in his hand. Without a sword, he could manage well enough, but he was not nearly as dangerous.
Zane shrugged his armor up on his shoulders, recentering it while Jason took up his stance again waiting for Zane's readiness.
Jason attacked like a whirlwind, striking out at all angles and mixing up his timings to throw Zane off balance.
Zane backed up frantically, managing to defend himself by the skin of his teeth. He struck out with a clumsy counterattack. Jason parried the blow and thrust his blade directly into Zane's leather padded chest. The tip of the practice weapon bent slightly as it rammed into the solid armor.
"Well I guess you won," Zane spoke with some awe in his voice. "I can't even keep up with you anymore."
"You could still beat everyone else in the academy, trainers and students," Jason returned.
"Yes," Zane said. "And how good does that make you if you defeat me this easily?"
"I still have much to learn," Jason replied humbly, then bowed to his teacher with respect.
They removed their helmets and sat back on a bench wiping sweat from their brows. Jason took a swig from his water bottle and sighed heavily eyes darting back and forth.
The man who performed his yearly psych evaluation said he suffered from paranoia. Jason didn't think of his paranoia in nearly the same way as the psychologist did. He was of the mind that his paranoia helped keep him alive. Jason didn't trust easily, nor did he want to. His expectations of humanity weren't very high. If he assumed that everyone was out to get him, then he was far less likely to be betrayed or killed.
The few friends he did have, Jason was certain he could trust. His family too was largely trustworthy, apart from his brother Frank who hated Jason.
"Jason," Zane spoke strangely gently.
Jason turned his head in surprise. He never heard Zane use a voice like that, ever.
"I want you to know how truly proud I am of you," Zane continued. "You are my greatest student, and I have no doubt that will reflect in the arena."
"Thank you," Jason said honestly. "It's sort of strange to think that the Games are so close now. Nothing like a fight to the death to make you come to terms with your own mortality."
Zane chuckled and shook his head.
"Promise me you won't overthink the Games," Zane joked lightly. "I wouldn't want someone to split your head open while you were contemplating the nature of the universe or human consciousness or some other ridiculous idea."
Jason smiled back at his teacher.
"I'll try my best," He said.
"Now you should get home and go to bed," Zane admonished. "You're going to need your rest over the next couple weeks."
Tyto Winter District 7: 18M
Reaping Day
Gradually, Tyto became aware of the light around him and the ground beneath him. His mouth was bone dry thanks to the mixture of too much liquor and a night of sleeping on the dusty ground.
Tyto groaned and rolled over to sit up. He hissed as the sunlight hit his eyes, raising a hand to provide some degree of relief from the piercing light. Last night's festivities had taken a toll on him. Tyto's head pounded painfully. He didn't really want to sit up.
As things around him came into focus, Tyto's brain similarly focused in on reality. That's when he realized the mistake he'd potentially made. Today was Reaping Day, and he was probably late.
"Great job idiot," Tyto berated himself. "Should've known better than to get that drunk."
He tried unsuccessfully to push himself up from the dirt, but only received a face full of dust for his efforts. On the second attempt, Tyto managed to stand shakily. With his head down and a hand always resting against the wall of a building, he made his way towards the town center.
Tyto couldn't help but think how lucky he was that it didn't rain last night. He already looked bad enough with his hair tousled and full of dust and in his dirty flannel and work boots. Things would've been much worse had it rained.
The town square came into view and thankfully there was no one on stage yet. He hadn't arrived late.
Tyto stumbled his way through the cue in front of the peacekeeper taking blood samples and then into the eighteen-year-old boy's section. Tyto set himself apart from the others, not wanting to be surrounded by the clamor that spiked his brain like an ice pick through the ears.
He kept his eyes down, away from the harmful light of the sun. Hangovers sucked, and for what must've been the hundredth time that morning, Tyto found himself regretting his decision to have that much fun last night. Normally, he was better controlled than that.
With a light clunking the District 7 escort ascended onto the stage. He was an unusual man to be an escort and was quite unlike most Capitolians. For one, his name was simple, not something ridiculous. Hank Houston was at heart, from what Tyto could tell, a decent man.
He was broad shouldered wearing cowboy boots, a plaid shirt, and a wide brimmed hat to top it off. His upper lip was covered by a thick mustache, and he even spoke with a country boy's accent. Though, Tyto couldn't tell if the accent was real, or if Hank was putting on an act because he liked the aesthetic.
There were five victors on stage, the most recognizable of which was of course Ivan Barnett, maybe the most famous victor in the history of the Games. He was a tall man, and with his shaved head and heterochromatic eyes he stuck out in any group.
Hank walked casually to the center of the stage with a thumb stuck in his belt.
"Well good morning," Hank greeted politely tipping his hat to the crowd. "It's a nice day I suppose, all things considered."
Hank tried to convey his apologies to the crowd without openly expressing his opinions. Tyto had no doubt his position would be taken from him if he spoke out against the reapings.
"Feels good to get out of the Capitol though," Hank continued. "It gets a little stuffy in there sometimes."
They descended into an awkward silence then, Hank appearing disheartened and the crowd certainly not courageous enough to reply to him.
"Let's hear from President Viktor," Hank said somewhat resignedly.
The speech passed without incident. There were no dissenting voices or hints of rebellious action. Reaping Day was a depressing time. People didn't have the heart to fight back, even in their own minds.
"Alright then," Hank said. "I suppose it's time to draw the tributes. Ladies first."
The cowboy still seemed saddened by the circumstances, but he continued on anyway, drawing a slip of paper from the bowl.
"Brooke Fisher," Hank announced.
Tyto peeked over the heads of the people in front of him. From the thirteen-year-old girls' section a short and skinny girl with curly hair emerged. Her head was low, and Tyto thought she was crying. He didn't blame her. She was so young and had such a future out in front of her.
Brooke took her place on the stage. Hank placed a comforting hand on her shoulder but said nothing. Tyto saw Ivan frown slightly at the sight of the girl being forced up on stage. It was a horrible thing.
Hank drew a second slip of paper.
"Tyto Winter," He read.
Tyto blinked a few times in surprise. The odds that he was reaped were miniscule, yet it happened anyway. Tyto took a deep breath and exhaled, then made his way up on stage as calmly as he could while also trying to ignore his hangover.
Hank laid a hand on Tyto's shoulder as well, and with his back to the cameras, he mouthed the words, 'I'm sorry'. Tyto nodded in quiet appreciation of the escort's support.
Tyto turned to Brooke who had to look up to view his face. He shook hands with her politely, sending her an encouraging nod. Brooke sniffed and wiped her eyes.
Hank turned back to the crowd, tipped his hat, then promptly walked off the stage.
A middle-aged man, one of the victors, rushed up to guide Tyto and Brooke off the stage, as their guide had left. Tyto shook his head in sadness. This was not how he saw this day taking place.
Cassie Dawson District 2: 17F
Reaping Day
"Cassandra Brittany Dawson! Get down here now! We have to go!" Ranger Dawson called.
Cassie cringed at the use of her full name. Her father was a good man but could be impatient.
"Sorry! I'm coming!" Cassie shouted back.
She shook her head at her own closet. Choosing what to wear to an occasion like this was just too difficult. There were too many impressions to be made. Cassie sprinted into her brother's room with her shoes in hand wearing just her undergarments. She snatched up a white button up and a pair of slacks from his closet. Thankfully Hinson was on the shorter side and his clothes actually fit Cassie somewhat.
Cassie dressed at light speed, jamming the tail of the shirt into the pants and securing them with a belt. Hinson's waist was bigger than hers. Lastly, she pulled on her shoes, black heels that zipped up along her ankle.
Barging from Hinson's room, Cassie nearly tripped going down the stairs, but thanks to her trained reflexes she did manage to catch herself.
"Are you ready?" Her father asked softly. "You don't have to do this you know."
"Actually I do," Cassie returned with a strong nod.
Ranger smiled and nodded in return. There was a mutual respect between father and daughter as they were so alike in so many ways. Cassie was a chip off the old block as her mother liked to say.
They rushed to the center of town. Avery, Cassie's mother, hugged her tightly before releasing her to go pursue her life's ambition.
Cassie stood alongside the other seventeen-year-old girls, receiving words of congratulations and encouragement from most of them. Cassie smiled back and thanked each of them in turn. If only they knew why she was doing this, then they might feel differently.
She remained resolutely rooted to the earth as the victors of District 2 took the stage. Some of them, she despised, but some she adored. The gray-bearded Cato Arsinius was one of those, and he was one of the mentors this year along with one of the victors she didn't care for so much, Alina Yanova. She was only twenty-four and had a thirst for blood rivaled by few who ever entered the games.
Then came someone Cassie liked even less, Lily Hermes the District 2 escort. She loathed that young woman more than almost anyone else alive. She was a lying rumor spreading bitch.
"Hello wonderful citizens," Lily greeted cheerfully. "I do hope you've had a good year. Mine was most excellent, but you know what would make it better?"
Lily paused dramatically looking at faces in the crowd like they were four-year-olds.
"A District 2 victor!" Lily answered her own question cheerfully. "It's been six years since that's happened. The tributes recently have been quite poor I must say."
Cassie bristled. That was factually false. Micah Combs, a friend of hers, finished fourth place in last year's Games. Lily just brushed him off like he meant nothing to her simply because he didn't win. She hated Capitolians.
She noticed Alina Yanova nodding along with Lily while Cato remained stoically silent. Cassie supposed that was on brand for the back-to-back victor. Cato was known for his stoicism.
"Anyway, I figure we should get started," Lily said with a disarming smile. "Let's see who your male tribute will be this year."
Lily deliberately skipped over the presentation of the Presidential speech. That was a risky move for an escort to make, but Cassie figured Lily would rather be bathed in boiling oil than speak any kind words of President Viktor.
She didn't move on stage, gesturing to the crowd. Cassie hadn't seen this before.
"Go on," Lily said. "I know we're going to have a volunteer, no sense in wasting time by drawing names."
There was a silence for a few moments while everyone in the crowd tried to wrap their heads around the new arrangement of events this year.
At least no one had to be reaped. Cassie hated the reapings for so many reasons, the first of which was that those unwilling to enter the Games were simply forced in. The Capitol had no respect for voluntary relationships. Its government was a system of force, crammed down on its citizens in the most brutal way possible, and meanwhile the citizens had no hope of defending themselves when they were malnourished, poverty stricken, and unarmed.
"I volunteer!" A familiar voice finally called.
It was Jason Green, the sword master. His face was eerily calm twisted into a confident smirk, though his eyes darted back and forth just as they always did. He hadn't even bothered to dress for the occasion, wearing just jeans and a plain black t-shirt.
Lily eyed him like a butcher would appraise a cow for the quality of its meat.
"You look like a strong one, and so confident," Lily said. "What's your name?"
"Jason Green," He replied calmly.
"What do you think of your chances?" Lily asked.
"I'll let you decide," Jason answered. "I don't make predictions. I think I'll do well though."
A knowing smile crossed his face indicating to the camera and the crowd that he thought he would do much better than well.
"How about the girls?" Lily questioned. "Who do we have?"
"I volunteer!" Cassie spoke up immediately.
She strode towards the stage, passing through the crowd with her head held high and her mind set on success. She tried to remove all hints of her feelings toward Lily or the Capitol, mostly unsuccessfully. Her eye twitched slightly as she stood alongside the vicious escort.
"And who are you?" Lily questioned.
"Cassie Dawson," She returned keeping her tone as neutral as possible.
Lily's eyes flicked back and forth between them, then she spoke again.
"Now that I think about it, why are both so poorly dressed?" Lily asked aghast. "It's Reaping Day, and you're chosen representatives of the district. Where's your respect?"
Cassie scoffed and turned her back on Lily, walking off the stage in disgust. These people were simply the scum of the earth and nothing more.
Lily gasped, then called after Cassie.
"How rude! I didn't dismiss you!"
Cassie flicked the escort the bird over her shoulder, not even turning to face the pompous bitch. Lily wasn't worth her time.
Brooke Fisher District 7: 13F
Goodbye Lounge
"This can't be happening!" Her mother cried painfully.
Brooke couldn't help but feel bad for her. Inside and outside, Brooke felt totally broken and hopeless. She continued to ask, 'why me?' She had no answer. There was no answer.
Her mother wrapped her up in a bone crushing hug. Tears drizzled slowly onto Brooke's shoulder leaving wet splotches on her clothes. The sadness emanating from her mother seeped its way inside Brooke herself, clawing at her heart.
"Please don't go Brooke," Her mother sobbed.
Brooke cried along with her mother, unable to hold her tears back any longer.
"Come here Wanda," Brooke's grandmother laid a gentle hand on her daughter in law. "It'll be okay."
Wanda let go reluctantly and clung to Brooke's grandmother instead. That left the rest of Brooke's family free to speak with her, only they hung back like they were afraid. Even Mordecai seemed scared.
It was Junior who approached her first. He was actually quite intact emotionally, his unquenchable optimism serving him well evidently.
"Fight hard Brooke," Junior said as he hugged her. "You can do this."
Brooke sniffled and hugged her little brother tighter, grateful for his presence and comfort.
"We need you to come home okay?" Junior held her shoulders. "Who else would beat me at diving games?"
Brooke tried to laugh at Junior's joke but couldn't. She found it impossible. The joke was funny, but the circumstances were just too much for her to comprehend. Her entire mind and attention was set on the inevitability that she would be fighting for her life in just a week or so.
"Yeah," Raina joined them, standing next to Brooke awkwardly. "Things wouldn't be the same without you."
Raina wasn't much of a hugger, leaving Brooke to initiate the embrace. She broke off from Junior and wrapped her arms tightly around her sister.
Brooke still didn't have the ability to speak. Her throat choked up and squeezed even tighter, expressing the emotional pain she felt in physical terms.
"Don't give up," Raina whispered. "The other tributes won't know what hit them."
Raina smiled sadly, wiping tears from her own eyes, then stepped away to allow Mordecai through.
Her father's face was contorted painfully, and his eyes blinked rapidly trying to remain strong. Brooke wished she could be as strong as her father, but she just wasn't. Now as even Mordecai ducked his head to wipe his eyes, Brooke wondered if strength was just as hard for her father to achieve as it was for her.
"I love you so much," Mordecai whispered.
He embraced her strongly. Brooke leaned into her father's comforting arms, soaking his shirt in her tears. Mordecai didn't care though. He ran a hand through her hair gently and kissed her on top of the head.
"I love you too," Brooke managed to croak out.
She could feel her father's sigh beneath her and another kiss on the top of her head.
Somehow, knowing that her father too struggled to be strong was inspiring. That meant that he wasn't a superhero, and that Brooke could be strong too. She could be wiser and stronger.
Maybe if she could do that, she could win. Brooke had talents that most tributes didn't have. She could use the waters of the arena to her advantage. Everyone had to drink. Brooke wondered if she could simply lie waiting in the water, then drag her enemies down to watery graves.
Why was she thinking like that? Brooke wasn't an evil person. She didn't want to hurt anyone.
Yet, Brooke knew, deep inside herself, that if she wasn't able to hurt anyone, then she would be the victim of those who were able. She breathed in deeply trying to calm herself. There was hope. She could be strong and, if things turned out right, there was a chance Brooke could come home.
It wouldn't be easy. Brooke would have to fight with everything she had because the other tributes surely would as well.
Brooke broke free of her father's embrace and looked up at him with eyes still shining full of tears. Mordecai stared back at her, his expression indicating that he understood she had hope.
"I know you can do it," He said softly. "Be tough girl."
Brooke nodded.
She was hit from the side by Junior again, who again hugged her. Brooke smiled and returned his embrace with more optimism than she had before. Maybe she could come back to her family.
Jason Green District 2: 18M
Goodbye Lounge
Jason sat calmly in the armchair while the others sat on the couch. He propped a foot up on his knee and exhaled contentedly. It was quite exhilarating to finally be on the way to achieving his dreams.
In the past day he'd spent more time considering the upcoming events. Previously, he'd considered it odd and even a little terrifying that he could die in the next couple weeks. Now, Jason felt calmer and wiser. His position was better informed because he'd learned that there were simply some things you couldn't control.
One of those things was when and how he would die. Jason entered the Games knowing that it was more likely that he would be killed than that he would live. Yet, he couldn't control the actions of the other tributes. One of them could set up some trap that Jason would never see coming, or he could be jumped by a mutt.
He wouldn't ever feel truly safe in the arena. His paranoia would make sure of that, but he could do his best to make the Games into more than just a fight for his life. Humans learned best when they were put through the crucible and came out on the other side. Embracing the suffering and learning to use it as a tool to actualize himself was really the only path before him.
Jason ignored his father's moving lips. He was likely trying to tell Jason something important, but Jason was too invested in his thoughts to attend to his father's speech.
He rubbed at his chin thoughtfully, considering why it was that the crucible produced such meaning.
"Jason," His father's voice cut through his thoughts.
Jason's eyes flicked to his father's. The elder Green looked back to Jason with a sardonic expression on his face.
"I'm talking to you," He said.
"Sorry," Jason replied. "I was just thinking."
His father hummed knowingly as his eyes flicked to the door again and again. He was probably wondering whether Frank was going to show up.
"He's not going to come dad," Jason said.
His father turned his head quickly to face Jason again.
"He should be here," He said.
"That's his choice if he doesn't want to be," Jason replied. "He's always hated me because of what happened. I don't really care."
"You don't deserve that hatred Jason," His father said. "What happened wasn't your fault."
"I know," Jason said. "But Frank thinks it was."
"But it wasn't," Megan jumped in.
Megan was his older brother Frank's wife. She had a much better opinion of Jason than Frank did, but that was to be expected since Frank viewed Jason as little more than a cockroach that deserved to be trampled.
"Frank had better come to his senses," Megan said with a shake of her head.
As her head turned away from Jason, his ever-watchful eyes spotted a red mark on her neck.
Jason stood up from his chair and leaned right into Megan's personal space, staring at the bruise.
"What happened?" Jason asked lowly.
Megan jumped as Jason appeared at her side so suddenly. She then tried to hide the mark from sight.
"Nothing," Mega whispered. "It's nothing."
Jason knelt down in front of Megan.
"Did Frank do that to you?" Jason asked.
Megan gulped and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. Jason knew without her answer that Frank had indeed made that mark on Megan.
"That boy…" Jason's father shook his head angrily.
"Megan," Jason said softly. "You need to get out of his life okay? File for divorce as soon as you can. If he's hurting you, then you need to leave him."
"I can't," Megan whispered.
"You can," Jason said, gripping her hands encouragingly.
"No," Megan shook her head. "I'm pregnant."
Jason blinked in shock, leaning backwards. He was going to be an uncle.
Why was that his first thought? Megan was going to have a baby, and that baby would be endangered simply by living in the same home as Frank.
"Then you need to get out even more," Jason said, leaning in again. "Megan, you can't put your child through the kind of pain Frank would bring. Please, for your child and for yourself, get him out of your life."
"I can help you," Jason's father nodded along with his son's points. "I can give you a place to stay until you get back on your feet."
"But it's his child too," Megan said. "He deserves to see the baby."
"He lost that privilege the instant he started mistreating you," Jason returned icily.
Jason felt the anger rising inside him. Now there was something even more concerning to occupy his mind during the Games. He'd be worrying about Megan and her baby while he was gone.
Though, the thought that he was going to be an uncle made him smile. He had to come back to meet his niece, whatever happened.
"Megan," Jason said. "When I come back, I hope you're staying with dad and not Frank. Then, I want to meet your daughter."
"Daughter?" Megan said in confusion. "How can you be sure it's a girl?"
"I just know," Jason smirked lightly.
There you go. Today we saw Brooke Fisher by Very New To This, Tyto Winter by Nitro Zeus, Cassie Dawson by Paradigm of Writing, and Jason Green by wiifan2002.
So just a head's up, the next chapter won't be posted for two or three weeks. I'm going to be quite busy for the rest of June and the beginning of July, so don't panic if the next chapter isn't up as quickly as usual.
Anyway, who was your favorite character? Which tribute will make it the furthest? Who out of these kids will be the first to go?
Thanks for reading guys.