District 4 Reaping

Colt Marlin, District 4 Male, 17:

My spear jabs at the trainer with ease, hitting multiple spots that would be fatalistic if he wasn't wearing armor. The trainer attempts to block my blows with his shield, but the speed and accuracy of my weapon make it easy for the tip to slide through any open spots I find. He attempts to strike me with his own spear, but I twist my body away from the tip and lunge around him, this time striking his back. He spins around and raises his spear, but before he can attack, I send a powerful kick into the wrist of his spear-hand, causing him to drop the weapon.

"Time out," he gasps through heavy breaths. I smirk and set my spear back on the rack. I take this moment to get a long sip of water. The trainer removes his protective helmet (something I wasn't wearing because there was no way he'd be able to hit me anyway) and sets it down on the bench. He plops down, breathing heavily.

"Dude, you fought terribly today," I remark as I sit beside him. "How'd you even get the job as a trainer? Oh, right. Nepotism."

The trainer, Rusty, rolls his eyes and ignores me. His face is bright red with exertion and his hair is plastered to his sweaty forehead. Despite his obvious disinterest in the conversation, I plow forward.

"Who taught you how to fight? A six-year-old? You have the agility of a brick."

Rusty continues to ignore me. I know the only reason he's not responding is that he can't think of any clever comeback. We both know there's no insult he could give to my fighting ability because I'm frankly the best trainee the academy has ever seen. After my whole life at the academy, I've broken every single record they keep track of, with the exception of the women's division, which I'm not eligible for. But if I was, I could easily crush every single one of the pitiful women's records.

"If you continue to talk to me like that, I'm not going to practice with you anymore, Colt," Rusty sighs. Rather than frightening me, his threat only makes me smirk.

"You can't. Mom said you'd lose your job if you stopped training with me. You know I need the practice and no one else will train with me anymore," I remind him.

"I wonder why," he mutters under his breath.

"Because they know they can't beat me," I shrug. "People here have such big egos. They can't stand the hurt to their pride to repeatedly lose sparring matches against someone as talented as me."

Rusty raises his eyebrows. "Dude, if you weren't my brother, I would punch you so hard."

"Not true. The only reason you're not punching me is that Mom would be pissed. I'm her favorite and she would be on my side. You know that. You don't care that I'm your brother. I doubt you even really consider me your brother. But the whole point is moot because even if you did have permission to punch me, you physically wouldn't be able to. I'd dodge and beat you to a pulp."

"This is why I hate you."

"I know. I don't really care what you think about me, though. When I win the Hunger Games, a bunch of people will want to be my friends simply out of awe. So I don't really need an adoptive brother who can't even fight."

"Let's just start a new match," Rusty sighs.

I shrug. "If you want."

Rusty and I start a new match. He fights with more energy this time, but I'm still able to triumph over him with little struggle. If I was him, I'd be embarrassed. Rusty should be glad the gym is almost empty save for us. Most of the other trainees are at school right now. My mom decided to homeschool me when I was first adopted so that I'd have more time to train for the Hunger Games. As Head Trainer, she wanted to make sure I had as much training time as possible. Her goal was to make me the epitome of a Career - a goal that she succeeded in, if you ask me.

"Okay, I'm done," Rusty states, throwing down his spear.

"What? You can't handle my skill?"

"I can't train with you all day, Colt. School's almost out for the day; most of the trainees will be coming in soon and I need to work with them, too. Why don't you practice with archery or something?"

"Fine," I shrug. I place my spear back on the rack and walk over to the archery station. If you compare my archery skills to my hand-to-hand combat or archery skills, then you might think I'm not good at archery. The bow is definitely not my weapon of choice. But I'm still one of the best archers in District 4. I'm that good.

Most people wouldn't expect me to be as skilled as I am. With my good looks and blond hair and blue eyes, I look pretty much like any other District 4 trainee. I don't stand out that much in District 4, though I'm sure I'd turn a lot of heads in District 8 or something. I bet when I volunteer other tributes will write me off as just another ditzy District 4 male who'll get an 8 in training and die in the final 12 or something. They'll be sorely mistaken, because I'm going to win the Hunger Games.

I'll not only win the Hunger Games, but I'll be the best Career the Capitol has ever seen. They won't know what's coming.

Sia Marine, District 4 Female, 18:

When the school bell finally rings, I breathe a sigh of relief. I've been eager to train all day. I finally found out that I was the chosen volunteer a few days ago and I've been trying to cram in as much training as possible before the reapings. Unfortunately, I'm stuck in school for most of the day.

I shove all of my loose papers and pencils into my backpack, not even caring that it's disorganized. Usually I'd be much more of a stickler about papers getting lost and crushed in my bag, but I'm too frantic to care.

"Coming through!" I shout, shoving past all of the students who are trying to exit into the hall. They don't mind stepping aside for me, probably because I've cultivated a reputation as someone not to be messed with. My family's influence and my own confidence have made me a force to be reckoned with in District 4. I scan the hallways for my siblings, whom I have to take to the academy with me. It's a bit of a waste of time, if I'm being honest, but I'm glad they're at least taking an interest in the Hunger Games. The more games-obsessed Marines, the better.

My eyes fall upon the blond head of my brother Colin, who's talking with a group of his buddies. I increase my pace to reach him. When I do, I grab him by the arm and yank him away from his friends.

"Sia, what the hell?" Colin demands, swatting my hand off his elbow.

"We have to train," I dismissively say. "Do you know where your sister is?"

"Kelpie?" Colin stupidly says. I love the kid, but he's not the sharpest tool in the shed. His sea-green eyes are glazed over most of the time and he's always asking stupid questions.

"Of course Kelpie. Do we have another sister?"

Colin shakes his head. "Nah, I don't know where she is. Why would I?"

"Help me find her, then. If you find her, do the Marine whistle so I'll know that you have her," I order. At the mention of the Marine whistle, Colin's face immediately blanches.

"Uh… Do we really have to do the whistle?" Colin mutters, avoiding eye contact with me.

"Of course. What's wrong with the whistle?" I demand.

"Nothing, it's just… kind of embarrassing?"

"What do you mean the whistle is 'embarrassing'?" I shout, drawing the eyes of several passersby. Upon realizing that people are looking, Colin looks like he wants to hide in a locker. "The Marine whistle has been in our family for generations. Our great-great-grandmother invented it when she was in the Hunger Games! How is that embarrassing? That's fucking awesome, Colin."

"Okay, fine," Colin mutters with a red face. He takes off down the hallway to look for Kelpie, leaving me to search in the other direction.

I begin forcing my way through the crowd of students, searching for Kelpie's familiar blond hair and glasses. I call out her name a few times, to no avail. I do find a familiar face - a boy named Ben whom I recognize as one of Kelpie's friends. I grab his shoulder, causing him to jump. It's a good thing this kid isn't planning on going into the Hunger Games. He seems like a wimp.

"Oh, hi, Sia," he says when he turns around.

"Ben." I nod curtly and I'm about to continue when he cuts in.

"Wren," he squeaks.

"Huh?"

"My name is Wren. Y-you called me… Ben."

"Oh. Whatever. Have you seen Kelpie?"

"Kelpie?"

"Yes, Kelpie," I sigh, rolling my eyes. Why is everyone so slow today?

"Uh, I think she…"

Ben pauses and points a finger to someone behind me. I turn around and see Kelpie rushing over. When she sees Ben with me, she lets out a squeak.

"What are you doing to him?" she squeals.

"I was just asking him about your whereabouts."

"Ugh, don't bother him," Kelpie says, her face tomato-red. She pushes Ben away, whispering something about seeing him later.

"Is he your boyfriend?" I ask.

"What? Wren? I, uh… I-I… We, uh… Wren?" Kelpie continues with her panicked mumblings that make it clear that she is indeed dating Ben, but I've lost interest at this point. I stick my pinky fingers in my mouth and blow out a high-pitched whistle of five notes. Kelpie claps her hands over her ears at the noise and panickedly whips her head around at the startled students nearby.

"Stop that!" she gasps, knocking my fingers out of my mouth.

"Hey! You didn't let me finish it! How will he know that it was the Marine whistle without the last note?"

"I think he'll get the gist."

Sure enough, Colin comes darting down the corridor a moment later, visibly embarrassed.

"Ready to go?" I ask my two siblings, who frantically nod.

"Please get me out of here," Colin chokes out.

When we reach the training center, my siblings immediately depart from me. I see Kelpie head over to the knife-throwing station and Colin goes over to the weights. I walk over to the dagger station. I'm best with daggers and hand-to-hand combat, but I'm no slouch when it comes to other weapons. Being extensively trained in the art of weaponry, I have skills with most weapons, though none better than a dagger.

Passing by the archery station, I catch a glimpse of Colt Marlin shooting with his bow. Each shot hits the center or close to it. Each time he hits the bullseye, he lets out an obnoxious cheer and spits out arrogant insults to the other trainees practicing archery. I roll my eyes. I can't believe this is whom I have to go into the games with. He has no sense of honor or dignity, which is what the games are all about. He may think he's the greatest Career in history, but he's missing a crucial factor: respect. Nobody likes Colt. My grandfather, on the other hand…

My grandpa was the best Career the games have ever seen. He was insanely lethal with a trident and snagged a ten in training, but his true skill lay in his honor. Grandpa believed that the Hunger Games are a game of honor, a game where in order to truly win, you need to fight with dignity and integrity. That means no backstabbing allies, no torture (duh), no fleeing when a fight gets tough… And he upheld all of these values whilst winning.

I believe that if I follow his advice and make the Hunger Games one about honor and dignity, I will uphold my family's Victor legacy.

What did you think of District 4's tributes? Colt is from wiifan2002 and Sia is from Toasted-Bagel-With-Nutella.