Hello, FanFictioneers! I am Lord Zagreus, and I will be your host for today! Today, we will be meeting Denny and Cheyenne, the tributes from the Livestock District for the 6th Quarter Quell! Before we do that, though, I have to address a few things.
Reviews:
dreams and desperation: Thanks you for your review. You are the most faithful thus far, having reviewed every chapter from the beginning. The reason it said you had already reviewed chapter 11 was because you did, I just deleted the first chapter a little while back.
ElvenRangerRysel: You got the references, congratulations! Of course, the title change was coincidental, but you got Stan Lee and Glimmer! Congrats, 13 points! Thanks for your review!
I do not own the Hunger Games, or anything else I happen to reference.
I will change the title of this story to Into the Darkness: The 6th Quarter Quell after the Reapings. I hope you are reading my author's notes, otherwise it will be a little harder to find this story later on.
Reviews are welcome and appreciated! I jump for joy every time my phone vibrates. Unless I'm driving. In which case, you probably wouldn't hear from me. Like ever. 'Cuz I'd crash. And burn.
TranscendentElvenRanger's Forest of Death: the 54th Hunger Games has begun! I've lost Phoenix and little Cotton to the bloodbath, but Atalanta is still in the running! She already lost her brother to the Quell, people! Let's bring her home!
Thanks to Mystical Pine Forest and faceless eater aka slendergirl for Cheyenne and Denny.
Cheyenne Bruno, Age 13, District 10 Female Tribute
A slight breeze was blowing across the fields of District Ten. Most days, the fields would be filled with cattle, and other various livestock, as is our industry. However, for the most part, the whole District was eerily quiet on that particular day.
Of course, people are seldom outside their homes taking care of animals on Reaping day.
Those who didn't have to go to the dreaded event were taking shelter where they could, and those who had eligible children were, for the most part, consoling them as they wept in their beds. Not me, though.
Not that I wasn't scared. Everybody's scared on Reaping day, whether they're eligible for the Games or not. I was outside that morning simply because I didn't want to be indoors. Outside, with the wind in my long, dark brown hair, I was free. Being a little tall for my age, I put my longer legs to good use on a daily basis, taking little runs around my family's lot. My skin was very tan, after constantly being assaulted by rays from the sun my whole life.
Having corralled the cows earlier, I was lying in the grass behind my family's little house, next to Lassie. Lassie was a three-year-old black lab, whom I have always adored. She helps with the chores, and we give her lots of love in return.
I was nearly asleep when I heard a voice calling my name. Smiling, I sat up and rubbed the drowsiness from my eyes. I was definitely going to need a nap later. I stood, and fell flat on my butt when a sudden dizziness overcame me. Giggling a little, I tried again, still light-headed, but I fought through it. By the time I made it to the back porch, I was fine.
I brushed some stray strands of hair out of my eyes and behind my ears. I mounted the steps to the porch, and looked into my mother's face. Her smile seemed to glow, and I grinned wider.
"It will be time to leave soon." She spoke barely above a whisper. Her smile faltered slightly, but it was back instantly and I wondered if I had imagined it. "You'd best go get ready, Cheyenne. You know you can't be tardy." She kissed my forehead, and ushered me inside.
Turning swiftly, I ran through the open back door and to the front room, where the staircase stood. Its white paint was scratched and rubbed from the many years me and my sister, Charlotte, had chased each other around the house.
I was just turning the corner to the room Charlotte and I shared when I ran into her. An involuntary shriek escaped her lips and she glared at me. I stuck my tongue at her and she scowled as she made her way to the stairs. Our relationship had been off since the Quell reading. Since she was sixteen, she wasn't part of the Reapings, making me a little jealous.
The room Char and I shared wasn't all that nice. There were two cots, one on either side of the room, each green with a single pillow and jean quilt. Using wire and sheets, we had created private quarters, with something resembling a hallway leading from the door to the closet. Overall, the room was very clean.
I pulled back the white sheet that made my wall, and lifted my Reaping outfit from the cot. Placing it on the small dresser, I quickly undressed. As I threw on the dress, I examined it for any tears that had previously escaped my notice.
The yellow sun dress was faded from the few summer days I had actually worn it. It had thin straps to hold it on my body, and ran down to my knees. A few spots were white from where Charlotte had accidently bleached it years ago. I opted to wear a light brown leather jacket over the dress, with some leather boots to match.
I took the little hand mirror from the dresser and held it up to my face. My brown eyes were boring as ever, my freckles proving just how young I was. I placed the mirror back on the dresser, and stepped back. The dress was a little big on my lean, fairly athletic body, but I supposed it would have to do.
As I descended the stairs, I heard my mother calling from the living room, "Charles, are you ready yet? We can't be late, you know!" At 37, Mama hadn't been late for a single Reaping she had had to attend. Papa, however…
"Just a moment, Vivian! I've only just found my dress pants!" Aged at forty, Papa had missed his fair share of Reapings, due to having too many chores to do growing up. He got the family's land, though.
I made it to the front door as Papa arrived, his shirt collar sticking up partially and only halfway tucked into his trousers. Mama laughed as he finished preparing, and we headed out.
Denny Rico, Age 14, District 10 Male Tribute
I rolled the grass ball across the deck, and watched as the furry creature before me scurried after it, picking it up in its jaws. He tried to drop it off at my feet, which were bare, but his two front teeth were stuck between strands of straw. I gave a little tug, and it came free. I gave it another little toss, and the rat scurried after it.
Yes, you heard right. The rat, whom I called Tenner, was saved when I took a liking to him a couple years ago, and I have kept him since. You see, my mother and I own a "rat farm," where we breed rats and sell them to Capitol Labs. There, they do they're crazy experiments on them, or abandon them in the Arena.
I saw Tenner in one of the heavy crates as I was loading it onto the train, taking note of his strange gold hair and pristine white teeth. I hurriedly shoved him in my knapsack and smuggled him home. My mother ended up scolding me, but eventually caved.
My life in Ten was okay. I was well fed, my only work was in the rat pits, I was well clothed and had a fairly nice home to live in. I basically wanted for nothing.
I never knew my father. I was an "accident," though my mother would never say it out loud. She doesn't talk about him, but I could tell she really liked him. I have no siblings, and so it's just her and I. And Tenner.
Tenner dropped the fraying ball at my feet, his teeth having torn through the frail yellow strands. I looked at him and sighed. That was the third ball he had destroyed in as many days.
I slowly stood, snatching Tenner off the porch. Hugging him to my body so he wouldn't panic, I opened the screen door and walked inside the house. My home isn't that impressive. Being a single story, like most in Ten, there wasn't much room for furniture or decoration, not that we could afford it.
The floor was made of bare wood, the walls imitating. A few wood-and-cowhide chairs formed a little sitting area, where my mother would often host Capitol scientists when they came to negotiate prices for our rats. A white sheet was set up so we could watch mandatory viewing, like the Quell reading and the Games.
My mother, Sammy, was sitting in her favorite chair, made by her father. The wood was an ashy black, as if carved from coal. The back and cushion were made from coarse brown hair from a bison. She rocked back and forth, knitting while absentmindedly watching the Reapings of District Nine.
She looked up when I walked in, and spoke, "It's almost time to go, sweetie. You'd best go get ready. I'll be waiting here for you." I smiled and turned, careful not to drop Tenner as I strode into my small room.
Carefully placing Tenner on the floor, I looked around. On the wall opposite the door, a small window looked out into District Ten's Urban Ranches, a collection of small farms dotting the countryside outside the main city, where executives, peacekeepers, and other (mainly Capitolian) high life lived. Any Tens who lived there had money to keep themselves fairly well fed, and their skin is, for the most part, pale. In Ten, these people are mostly known as simply "City Folk." The poor, deeply tanned farmers are known as "Ranchers."
On my bed was half my Reaping outfit, a blue collared shirt. I had been wearing my blue jeans all day, as my mother had told me to wear my Reaping clothes. The shirt was uncomfortable, though. On a table next to my straw bed was a bowl of water. Cupping my hands in the water, I washed my face, trying to scrub the dirt that seems to collect everywhere.
The door opened as I finished washing my wild, curly black hair. I turned, but found that some water had leaked into my bright green eyes. Wiping it away, I glared at Zeek Alabaster.
"You couldn't knock? I could have been naked for all you knew, you little-" I raised my hands, like I was strangling the life out of someone. Zeek just looked up at my 6'1" frame, a smirk on his face. Working on a pig farm, Zeek's muscular system surpassed my own long ago, even if I'm taller and the same age.
His smile was infectious. "You ready to go or not?" He asked.
I gave a small chuckle. "Just let me get my shirt on and we'll go." I turned, grabbing the shirt and pulling it over my head. I heard fabric ripping and something thudded to the floor. I finished pulling on the shirt and looked down.
"Guess I'm going shirtless." I shrugged.
Cheyenne Bruno, Age 13, District 10 Female Tribute
"I'm so nervous." Rachelle Stalli said for the hundredth time.
"I think we all are." I said for the hundredth time. "Can you just shut up?"
"C'mon guys, stop it! We're almost there!" Unlike Rachelle and me, Faye Maron, my best friend, was 12 and experiencing her first-ever Reaping. She was used to our little fights, and for the past month Rachelle had been mad at me because I had only three slips in the bowl and she had eight.
To my right, a voice stated, "Next." Faye looked at me nervously as she gave her arm to the female peacekeeper signing in the children. She pricked Faye's finger and an automated voice announced, "Faye Alicia Maron, Age 12, fourteen tesserae. Proceed."
Rachelle and I signed in, and walked to the thirteen-year-old female pen. I really didn't like how much I felt like the cattle I helped raise.
The new escort strode onto the stage with as much dignity as he could muster. His thin glasses were on the end of his large nose, and he looked down at us with contempt. He introduced himself as "Sir Rhenough," and spoke very formally. He pulled out a card and read in a very practiced voice.
"And now, we honor the Victors of District Ten, who have fought valiantly in eight different Arenas, and yet all clambered their way to the crown." He paused for effect. Nobody cared. "Your first ever Victor, climbing over the bodies of seven other tributes at the age of fifteen, Austin Bean of the 13th Hunger Games. She won the 34th Games at the age of 18, and placed 15th in the Quell of Victors, Reita Hare! He won not only the 56th Hunger Games, but he won the hearts of all in Panem. He placed 12th in the Quell, Lucas Chaser!
"After the Quell, Bulla Reese won the 81st Games without a mentor, astounding all at the age of 13! Currently 73, he won the 93rd Hunger Games, Leather Hardy!" A man with a shock of white hair stood up on stage, and sat back down. "At 14, Brodi McCoy won the 102nd Hunger Games. Even though he isn't here, he still bested the Arena!" Brodi hung himself with his belt after losing his daughter to the Quell and son to the 126th games. "And finally, Ten's most recent Victor, the Victor of the 118th Hunger Games, Tabitha Shearer!" Tabitha didn't stand, as her lower back was paralyzed during her Games.
"Thank you, District Ten for your tributes, and your Victors. Most districts write you off early, but this year, I'm sure you'll prevail! Now, a video from the Capitol!"
The screens around the square came to life, talking about the Games and the justice and peace that was born in their existence. It had the part about the girl from Twelve dying in the Quell. It talked about Reita and Lucas valiantly fighting in the Quell, where Reita drowned in a tidal wave and Lucas was ripped apart by a creature only known as "The Beast."
My heart started racing as the national anthem rang out.
Denny Rico, Age 14, District 10 Male Tribute
As the screen faded to black, Rhenough stepped up to the mic. "And now, the moment you've all been waiting for! I shall Reap my first tributes for District Ten!" He held his head high as he marched to the bowls on the girls' side of the stage. Dramatically, he threw a hand into each bowl, coming up with a single sheet of paper from each.
When he announced the female's name, his voice dropped lower. Everything the guy did was with bravado.
"Cheyenne Bruno! Please come on up, sweetie, and claim the honor that is yours!" He looked out over the females expectantly, a hunger in his eyes. Shouting broke out from the 13-year-old section, and I noted a girl with brown hair and skin as dark as my own shoving her way to the outer edge of the pens. Once at the valet ropes, she jumped it and ran for her life.
Peacekeepers broke away to pursue her. She was fast, very fast, but the peacekeepers would catch her eventually, I knew. Undeterred, Rhenough continued his little theatre.
"Well then. While we wait for sweet Cheyenne, let's Reap the male tribute from Ten, shall we?" He copied his purposeful gait to the bowls on the boys' side, and I held my breath. Please don't be me. I pleaded, please don't be me.
"And the male tribute for District Ten is… Dmitri Reynolds!" The whole square, including myself, gasped in shock. Everyone knew Dmitri. He was a little kid who had his legs amputated after getting trampled by a stampede of some horse/crocodile hybrid when he was five or six. As if his life couldn't get any worse, he was Reaped at the age of 12 to compete in the Hunger Games.
Another boy was pushing Dmitri up to the stage in his wheelchair, made from various materials the district had put together. Both boys were crying profusely.
"Now then." Rhenough declared with disgust, "Do we have any volunteers?" The boys looked at each other. Ten hardly ever got volunteers. Nobody was brave enough to test their luck in the Arena.
I'll likely never know what overcame me. A sense of unfairness, maybe. Pity. Maybe I had a death wish. But I raised my hand and opened my mouth and good golly I volunteered.
As I made my way up to the stage, Dmitri was wheeled down the steps very carefully. He cried out his thanks and kissed my hands. I was only a couple years older than him, but to him I was a saint. His savior. I inclined my head and stood next to Rhenough, a small sense of pride swelling inside me.
One that died completely once I saw the look of horror on Mother's face. Sweat swam freely down my bare torso, whether from the sun or fear it didn't matter.
"And what's your name, lad?" Our escort asked, looking up at me.
"Denny Rico." I tried to avoid the stares of everyone I ever knew. I wanted to say more, but Rhenough stopped me.
"District Ten, your tributes! Cheyenne Bruno and Denny Rico!" As he ushered me into the Justice Building, he muttered, "They better catch that foolish girl. Foolish girl."
Cheyenne Bruno, Age 13, District 10 Female Tribute
I was screaming as the peacekeepers threw me into the room set aside in the Justice Building for my goodbyes. I had successfully evaded them for no less than a half hour, and I had just thought I had gotten away when I was suddenly surrounded by at least a dozen of the men in white.
When my parents walked in, I curled up in the corner, allowing the sobs to shake my body. "I don't want to die." I murmured, "I don't want to die." I cried harder, unwilling to meet the eyes of the people who raised me.
I froze when two large hands lifted me up and into an embrace. I was still in the fetal position, and it was slightly uncomfortable. A smaller framed sandwiched me with another hug, and I couldn't help but raise my head.
"Papa?" I croaked. I tried, unsuccessfully, to wipe the tears from my eyes. I unfolded my arms from my body, and threw them around him. "I don't want to die, Papa." I whispered, "Please don't let me die."
He smiled at me kindly and spoke even kinder, "You have to go, sweetheart. There's nothing you, or anyone can do about that." He chuckled softly, "but hey, you tried!"
I couldn't help but release a little laugh to. "I don't even know who else was Reaped. How long was I gone, Mama?" I asked as I turned to her.
"Chey, we waited for you to return for a good forty minutes. You can use that, you know."
"Use what?"
She smiled. "Speed is the one thing that can save anyone in the Arena. You can get supplies, and avoid other tributes. All you have to do is outlast them. That's how most Twelves win." She held her gaze to my own. "You can win this, Cheyenne. Many decades ago, a little girl named Bulla Reese won the Hunger Games. She avoided all other contact, and one without killing an opponent. We believe in you, Cheyenne Bruno."
I opened my mouth to speak when a "Time's up!" echoed across the room. Papa put me down, and they walked out, trying to not show me their fear. The closing door felt like a tomb.
Denny Rico, Age 14, District 10 Male Tribute
I knew I couldn't face anyone for my goodbyes, so I asked the peacekeeper stationed outside my door to keep out all visitors. I told him I would only accept Tenner, but he looked at me like I was crazy. So, I just shrugged it off and sat in the nice chair that I would never admit I liked more than my mother's.
Being a tribute in the Hunger Games hadn't sunk in quite yet. After all, it wasn't my name called. Who'd have thought the course of your life could change with just a few words? There's a slight chance I could win, everybody had some chance. Except for Dmitri. He had no chance.
I thought about the other Districts. One probably had two volunteers, per usual. The boy probably threw spears, and the girl used a bow. With 18 Victories, they'd likely be a major threat. Two probably had a couple of brutes, both of them able to use a large variety of weapons. They'd get a lot of Sponsors, what with a looming third Victory and all. Three'd likely have a couple of brainiacs, capable of unspeakable carnage with the right tools.
Four is usually the wild card of the Career Pack. Being behind the Sevens Victory-wise, they'll probably lose their position in the near future. To protect that, they'd probably be especially difficult. Five, Six, and Eight usually have next to no skills for the Arena, unlike Seven, Nine, Ten, and Eleven. Twelve is going to be especially weak, and Thirteen has been cheated against since the Fourth Quell.
Ten's seven Victors usually won by luck. When Austin won the Thirteenth Games, the Careers hadn't been formed yet. Reita had a strength of will unmatched by anyone. Lucas seduced the Two boy to get into the Career alliance. Bulla outlasted everybody in her desert Arena. Leather won after the Careers all went down at the Cornucopia. Brodi threw together a giant alliance. And Tabitha, well, her skills with a whip gave no tribute a chance.
As screams filled the Justice Building, I realized I was doomed.
Tabitha Shearer, Age 47, District 10 Female Mentor
118th Hunger Games Victor
I patted the spiked leather whip at my waist, assuring myself it was there. I was on the train, still in my wheelchair, waiting for the newest batch of sacrificial lambs to board the last luxury they'll likely encounter for the rest of their lives. I sighed knowing they'd probably die.
Over the course of the Games, Ten had given up 298 children to the Games. Seven had come back alive, and two had been sent back to the Arena. Overall, Ten had lost 291 children and two adults. A large number, if you ever asked me.
When I saw Cheyenne run the way she did, I thought to myself, I just might have my first Victor. For the first time in 32 years, since my own Games where I killed six children, I knew I had a chance.
As a result, I wheeled myself over to Rhenough and volunteered to mentor. He was surprised, but didn't object. As she boarded the train and came into my view, I was pleased to see her eyes clear and her emotions under control. It was then I truly believed she could really do it.
Look out, little tributes. Tabitha Shearer has a contender.
Austin Bean, Age 152 (15), District 10 Male Mentor
13th Hunger Games Victor
I awoke with a pounding headache. Moaning, I reached to my right for a glass of water, but found none. I opened my eyes, and moaned even louder, and it wasn't just from the lights.
I was back in Capitol Hibernation Labs, where they brought back old, dead Victors to mentor tributes in the Games. The idea became a reality after the 89th, and I've been brought back often since. I looked around the room, which was completely empty.
The sliding glass doors in front of me opened, and in walked a Capitol nurse with reptilian grey skin, and long, sharp claws. She was wearing the usual white uniform and little hat. Holding a clipboard, she looked like a small child who couldn't decide what to dress up as.
"Oh, Mr. Bean, you're awake!" She exclaimed. "That's great. If you'll just come with me, I'll take you to your flat."
"What's the hurry?" I asked, clutching my head, "And where's everybody else?"
She yanked me to my feet with surprising strength, and hissed, "Your tributes are almost here, Victor. The others have already left. Now get moving!"
I obeyed, but the pounding in my head refused to cease.
And just like that, Ten is out of my way!
Here are the submitters who are Sponsors thus far. If I have your name down wrong, please let me know:
ElvenRangerRysel: 87
dreams and desperation: 86
Mystical Pine Forest: 68
faceless eater aka slendergirl: 59
jayman1919: 59
We're All Okay: 56
Rina-The-Fangirl: 56
Wolfie McCoy: 56
Here are the submitters, who have points, but haven't confirmed whether they want to Sponsor or not:
The Rsce: 62
Jotunheim Storm: 59
CreativeAJL: 53
InfiniteDespair: 53
HufflePuffleJay: 53
MushtcheNinja29: 53
grimbutnotalways: 53
Here are the submitters who have not reviewed (If I don't know you're reading, I may kill your tribute(s). Just saying) (and I like your tributes, so don't let them down now!):
superepicstarkette1211
If you are on none of these lists, you are probably a non-submitter, and I have not included your name because I haven't seen a review in a while. If you'd like to be on any of these lists, let me know. Remember everyone, your donations can save lives!
Alliances!:
Careers: Marcus (1), Malaya (1), Mason (2), Cassia (2), and Esmeralda (4).
Loners who will likely get alliances eventually:
Cordin (3)
Infiniti (3)
Jasper (4)
Darius (5)
Devon (5)
Aran (6)
Jetta (6)
Logan (7)
Kenzi (7)
Henry (8)
Tulle (8)
Thanatos (9)
Harvest (9)
Denny (10)
Cheyenne (10)
Questions!:
Who would you like to see on the trains?
In the Games, would you ally with your district partner?
What do you think the odds of your tribute(s) winning are?
Until we meet Eleven,
Lord Zagreus
