Cain Mohen, 19
District Three Quell Male

Working in the factories day in and day out had the potential to be rather monotonous. Clock in, sit at your station, do the same simple task over and over, clock out. In a way, it was draining in its repetitiveness, stifling in its sameness. It took everything in Cain Mohen to not succumb to the redundancy of his work, to just doze off in a daydream and forget to pay attention to what he was doing. Truth be told, it would be very easy for him to not pay any attention to his work and still excel at it; having worked in factories for years now, he could probably do the work he did on the assembly line with his eyes closed. But as much as Cain wanted to just stop paying attention, to allow himself to revert to the same old motions without putting any actual effort in, he knew that he couldn't.

There was just too much at stake.

Cain placed the cell phone he was working with on the tray in front of him, then picked up the tray and gently slid it back on the conveyor belt, making sure to scan the barcode of the tray on the sensor in front of his work station. Handling these devices with care was imperative, as they were destined to be used by important people – or at least, that's what the factory's owners and managers repeated over and over to the workers. Sure, some of the cell phones went to government officials, both in the Capitol and the districts, but Cain knew that most of them probably just went to everyday Capitol citizens.

To be fair, the Capitol considered its own citizens to be more important than those citizens in the districts. So the factory managers really weren't lying.

After a moment, a new tray rode down the conveyor belt. As it approached Cain's station, he reached out and grabbed the tray, again making sure to scan the bar code as he put it down. Then, he used a pair of tweezers to carefully slide out the little tray that held the SIM card. It was empty for now, of course, as it was Cain's job to insert the SIM card and wire it in. As one of the newer workers, this process was still a bit slow for Cain, but he preferred to work slowly and steadily, to make sure that each phone was in tip top condition.

At least, that's what he hoped it looked like.

Once Cain slid the SIM card tray out, he used his tweezers to unwrap two wires that had been wrapped around the tray. Then, he picked up the SIM card that was resting in a small compartment on the larger tray that had come down the conveyor belt. He took a moment to analyze the SIM card to make sure that it was the right card for that model of phone, then brought it down to his lap to shine it before gingerly placing it in the small tray.

Once he was sure that the SIM card was secure in the tray, Cain began the delicate process of wiring it in. The process was not so hard – all he had to do was match the blue wire with the blue circle on the SIM card and the red wire with the red circle – but it was important to be as careful as possible so as not to break one of the delicate wires or bend one so badly that the wire was rendered useless. Once the SIM card was wired in, Cain slid the small tray back into its slot in the phone, then placed the phone back down onto his tray. He placed the cell phone he was working with on the tray in front of him, then picked up the tray and gently slid it back on the conveyor belt, making sure to scan the barcode on the tray as he did so. After a time, a new tray slid down the belt towards Cain, and the process began again.

Before Cain knew it, the factory bell rang, indicating the end of his shift. Cain finished the wiring job he was working on, making sure not to rush it just because his shift was over. Once he was done and the tray was safely riding down the conveyor belt, Cain got up from his station and put on his jacket, then joined the flow of factory workers making their way towards the exit.

It was only once Cain had passed through the doors of the factory into the crisp winter air that he finally let himself relax a little bit. There was a lot of pressure on him to do well at work, so it was always a bit of a relief when he was finally done for the day. But that didn't mean his day was anywhere near over; no, it was just getting started.

Cain moved with the wave of people as it crested onto the main road, trying his best to blend into the crowd. After walking for a few minutes, Cain took a couple quick glances to either side, then slipped from the group and darted into an alleyway. He waited for a moment to make sure the coast was clear, then slipped through a pair of cellar doors camouflaged by the darkness into the dark black asphalt. Down the narrow stairs he went until he came to a familiar grey door. Cain rapped three times with his knuckle, waited a beat, then slammed his hand onto the door another four times. After a moment, the door cracked open, just enough for Cain's thin frame to slip through.

"How was your shift?" asked Jasper, carefully closing the door behind Cain.

"It was good," Cain replied, taking off his jacket and throwing it over the back of the chair.

"How many did you get?"

"Around twenty. Same number as always."

"Solid."

"Kaylee back yet?"

"No. But we should get to work anyway."

"We should."

Cain took his seat at the small table, which sat under the single lightbulb that illuminated the small room. He reached into his pockets and pulled out the SIM cards that he'd pocketed while at work. Placing the cards into a small bag, Cain opened up one of the two beat-up computers, which was hooked up to a variety of cords and equipment that was sprawled all over the table. Once the computer was powered up and logged on, he carefully picked one of the SIM cards up and slid it into a slot in one of the boxes connected to the computer. Once he heard the card click into place, Cain began his leg of the operation: modifying SIM cards.

Cain had been involved with the rebels in Three for almost as long as he could remember, as his parents had met working towards the rebel cause. Once he knew what the rebels were fighting for, Cain knew he wanted to be involved, but was forced to stick to menial tasks until he aged out of the Reaping, so he couldn't be rigged into the Games if he was caught. So, the day after his last Reaping, Cain began to work as a factory plant for the rebels. His job was simple: swap out the SIM cards in the phones on which he worked with SIM cards that the rebels had tampered with to allow themselves to tap phone calls. Then, he brought the SIM cards he swapped out back to the rebel base and ran them through their systems to add a small chip to the SIM card that allowed the rebels to tap into phone calls. Sure, they only got the hijacked SIM cards into twenty or so phones a day, and sure, those phones weren't guaranteed to end up in the hands of government officials. But even if one in twenty or forty or sixty phones ended up in the hands of someone high enough up, it would allow the rebels to get information to go off of – and besides, even Capitolites could provide valuable information that the rebels could make use of.

"Got anything yet?" asked Cain.

"Nope," replied Jasper, who was sitting in front of the other computer, monitoring phone calls. "It seems as though some sort of important casting news for a movie came out today? I have no idea what the context is but the name Ashira Marlstone is flying around on every phone call I tap into."

"Useless."

"I know. I'm gonna try to tap into the phone that I think went to the mayor's kid over in Ten. We might get better luck there."

"I mean, anything is worth a shot."

But before Jasper could tune in, they heard the cellar doors slam shut, a pair of feet pound down the stairs, and a frantic three raps at the door. Jasper stood up and opened the door, allowing a frantic, panting Kaylee to enter the room. "What's wrong?"

"They're coming," she managed to choke out as the door slammed behind her. "I locked the doors, but we don't have much time."

Instantly, the already-palpable tension in the room became so thick that you could cut it with a knife. The three began to work quickly to hide the equipment, opening compartments in the floor and the walls and shoving computers and wires and boxes and bags haphazardly into them. Everything was going about as well as it could be until Cain tugged on one of the last cables.

And it just wouldn't move.

"Jasper!" Cain whispered. "It's stuck."

"How'd that happen?" Jasper whispered back.

"I don't know."

Jasper ducked down and began to investigate. "I think it's tied around the leg of the table."

"How bad?" Kayley asked.

"Pretty bad."

"Let me help."

"How long do you need?" interjected Cain.

"This could take a good few minutes."

Suddenly, they heard the sound of boots on the ground above. Cain looked at Kaylee and Jasper then at the door to the room, then back to Kaylee and Jasper, fear plastered clearly on their faces. In that moment, Cain knew what he had to do.

"Lemme stall you guys out."

"Cain, what are you doing? They know what we do. You're gonna be dead!"

"If you guys can get out, it's worth it to me. Do this quickly and exit through the secret passage. Don't look back. Keep fighting for the cause."

"Cain!" called Jasper. But before he could say anything more, Cain was already out the door and heading up the stairs. When he reached the top, Cain took a deep breath as he unlocked the cellar doors.

There was no turning back now. But there was no other option.

Taking one last look at the grey door behind him, Cain pushed the cellar doors open, immediately coming face to face with a flashlight and the barrel of a gun. "Hello, sir," Cain said politely. "Can I help you?"

"We caught wind of rebel activity happening around this area," explained the Peacekeeper. "You can either come clean now, or we can take you to prison and you can come clean later."

"Well, there's no point in searching further," Cain admitted, doing his best to seem as guilty as possible. "I'm the one you're looking for."

Even from behind the mask, Cain could see the Peacekeeper raise his eyebrow. "Really? It's just you?"

"It's just me."

The Peacekeeper scoffed. Turning to the guard to his right, he said, "Get into the basement and search it. I'm taking this one in for questioning. And then once the Quell twist is announced tomorrow we will decide what to do with you."

As the first Peacekeeper put him in handcuffs, Cain watched as the second busted through the cellar doors and disappeared into the darkness below. He could only hope that he'd bought his friends enough time.

Khada Oromonio, 18
District One Quell Male

The First Set of Four

The wood of the crossbow felt heavy in Khada Oromonio's hands as he peeked over the ledge, keeping a careful eye on his target. The weight of what he was about to do was not lost on him, but it was dwarfed by the overwhelming excitement for what he was about to do. This was what Khada had been training for since he was a child, after all; he was born and trained to do precisely what he was about to do.

Khada ducked down below the ledge again so that he could load his crossbow. He knew that he had to be quick, firing off two bolts in the span of less than a minute. And yes, these types of crossbows usually didn't exist in the Arena. But the crossbow Khada was holding also could not fire off two bolts without reloading before Khada had gotten his hands on it. He'd modified it himself a few weeks prior, when his trainer had sent him home with one to "get more practice," increasing the odds that he would be prepared for any eventuality in the Arena. (And besides, Khada was convinced that he'd be able to do the same modifications on his crossbow in the Games with whatever he could find to work with in the Arena. He was Khada Oromonio, after all.)

Glancing down at his watch, Khada realized that he could not wait much longer; he'd lose his window of opportunity if he did. He gave his crossbow one last once-over, making sure that every piece was secure and that both bolts were ready to go. Placing his finger on the trigger, Khada took a deep breath, then launched himself over the ledge, barely looking where he was shooting as he fired off the two bolts and then quickly ducked back down again. He waited for a couple of moments, then peeked over the ledge to see how successful he'd been.

To his delight, both arrows had met their targets.

With a smug smile on his face, Khada hopped over the window ledge and slid into the room, silently closing the window behind him. He placed the crossbow on the dresser, then approached the bed and pulled the bolts out of his victims' necks. Khada turned to leave the room but paused before he could open the door; something still didn't feel quite right. He turned back around and returned to the bed, studying the two bodies sprawled out on the white sheets which were slowly turning a deep red. Suddenly, he realized what had been bothering him. Khada carefully rearranged the still-warm bodies, positioning them so they were just out of reach of each other, arms outstretched.

There was something enthralling about making art out of his murders. Killing was an art to Khada; why shouldn't everyone else see it that way?

Finally satisfied with his work, Khada picked up the crossbow and took a moment to reload it before slipping out the bedroom door into the rest of their house.

He still had more practicing to do.

~.~.~

The Second Set of Four

"Mr. Oromonio. Do you know why we've asked you in here today?"

"No I do not, Head Peacekeeper Usan," Khada replied to the white suit in front of him, doing his best to feign innocence.

"Well, it has been brought to our attention that another set of four murders has occurred, in an area of the district near Fontcleric Manor. We have reason to believe that the two sets of murders are connected."

His first taste of blood had pacified Khada for a time, but after a time, he'd begun to feel uninspired. Training was a monotonous slog; one could only do the same exercises day in and day out for so long before their repetitive nature weighed down on his motivation. One night, he found himself wandering with his crossbow on the streets of One, drawn, for some reason, back towards the neighborhood where he'd first killed.

He hadn't intended to kill again, per se; he hadn't even put thought into the victims he'd picked. But something about being there had awoken a desire within him for the high he'd gotten from his first murders; before he could stop himself, he'd shot another four people in the neck.

"What makes you say that? Many people had it out for the Fontclerics. There's no way to know that the two sets of murders are connected."

Admittedly, when Khada had selected his first victims, he hadn't intended to kill the man who had been responsible for one of the largest embezzlement scams in One's history. No, he'd picked the Fontclerics as his first targets because there were four of them, and four was Khada's favorite number. In fact, the Fontcleric family was the only family of four who lived in Khada's target neighborhood, the farthest neighborhood from Khada's own, a deliberate decision to make his killings harder to track. But Khada would be lying if he said he wasn't grateful that there were many other people out for Fontcleric's blood. Sure, they probably wouldn't have gone so far as to kill his whole family, but at least the odds of the murders being tracked to Khada had significantly decreased.

Which was never a bad thing.

Peacekeeper Usan stepped closer to Khada. "The methods of death seemed suspiciously similar. In both cases, four bodies were found with wounds in their necks, arranged in what I can only describe as an artful way, almost as if the murderer wanted to make a spectacle of their death."

Khada gestured vaguely. "That area of One where the bodies were found is nowhere near where I live. What does this all have to do with me?"

"The wounds on the bodies could only have been caused by a crossbow. So we are interrogating every marksman in the district. And the Academy you attend happens to specialize in training marksmen."

"Well, you have nothing to be concerned with here," Khada replied, a characteristic smile on his face. "I can promise I had nothing to do with those murders."

Most people would be scared just by Head Peacekeeper Usan's presence; even behind his helmet, one could feel his eyes moving up and down, scanning those he interrogated like a laser beam. But the experience of being in the older man's presence was almost exhilarating for Khada.

There was no way he could reasonably track the murders back to Khada. He was going to get off scot-free.

"Fine," spat the Peacekeeper. "You're free to go for now. But I am keeping my eye on you."

"Thank you, sir," Khada said, picking up his bag as he stood up. "If there is any way I can help the investigation, I am happy to be of service."

~.~.~

The Third Set of Four

As soon as Khada left the Peacekeeper's office, he couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. If Usan had opened his bag, he would have found the crossbow and four fresh bolts, which would have heavily implicated Khada in the other sets of murders. Sure, in all likelihood it was probably a small oversight, as Usan had been interviewing marksman after markswoman all day, so by the time he reached the letter O in the alphabet, he was just not thinking straight. But Khada took it as a sign of his own intelligence, his ability to shift the blame off of himself and remain suspicion-free.

He'd already been planning his next set of murders, but Khada now felt more confident than ever that he'd be able to get away with them.

As he passed through the waiting room in Peacekeeper Headquarters, he couldn't help but feel the eyes of all of the other sharpshooters focused on him. He knew that for every person that came out of that office a free man, the odds that they would be falsely accused of murder increased. A part of Khada felt bad for them, but at the same time, he far preferred someone else getting arrested for his crimes instead of him. Not to mention that there was a certain thrill that came with evading capture, particularly when he was right under his potential captors' thumb.

Khada wanted nothing more than to feel that thrill again.

The boy pushed open the heavy metal front doors of Peacekeeper Headquarters, emerging into the crisp District Two air. He looked around at the buildings that surrounded the headquarters, zeroing in on his target: the dormitory for Peacekeeper Privates. He knew that younger Peacekeepers were more likely to be assigned to night shifts, and therefore would be asleep in their dorms during the day. And with all of the men who usually guarded buildings like the dormitory guarding Headquarters instead, it was the perfect setup for Khada.

Every marksman in the district had passed through the complex that day, with no supervision once they passed through those metal doors. There was no way to pin the murders on any one of them.

Making sure that the guard stationed at the front entrance wasn't watching, Khada looped around to the back of Peacekeeper Headquarters, doing his best to crouch down so he couldn't be seen through the windows, though he assumed, perhaps from a place of arrogance, that nobody in the waiting room of HQ was paying much attention to what was happening on the outside. No, everyone inside was either too anxious for their own safety or concentrating on making sure that nobody shot anybody else. Once he was behind the building, he double-checked his surroundings before making a beeline for the dormitory, pressing himself up against its red brick wall between two closed windows. He took a moment to take his crossbow out of his bag and load it before crouching down again and beginning to circle the building, looking for an open window. Finally, he found just what he was looking for: a room with its window cracked open slightly, with just enough space between the sill and the bottom of the window that a shooter of his skill could fit an arrow through there.

Fortunately, he'd been downplaying his skill in his Academy sessions for some time now.

Thwack!

~.~.~

The Fourth Set of Four

This was by far the most ambitious set of murders Khada had ever planned. Some might say that it was more ambitious to murder four Peacekeepers in the dormitory in which they slept, all in broad daylight, but that wasn't particularly challenging for Khada. In fact, he'd found that murder… uninspired, as he couldn't go into the dormitory to arrange the bodies after death, an element of his murder process that Khada hadn't realized he'd miss. It wasn't good enough to just shed blood; no, Khada had to shed blood right.

Khada had positioned himself just to the side of the entrance to the quarry, listening to the rhythmic thunks of pickaxe against stone as he waited for the end of the shift. This was the graveyard shift for the workers, and as today was rotation day, meaning that it was this crew's first night on graveyard, Khada was fairly sure that the workers would be downright exhausted when they left – hopefully tired enough that they wouldn't notice strange goings-on. He'd already selected his four targets, so it was just a matter of waiting for them to emerge so he could set his plans in motion.

The actual murders were only the first step.

As the moon ducked behind a cloud, the sound of a gong rang out, echoing off of the quarry's walls and mixing with the sounds of dropped pickaxes and shuffling feet to create a cacophony of sound in the air. Khada picked up his newly-modified four-bolt crossbow and silently shifted, lying down on his stomach and shifting his grip on the weapon so that, if one looked over, they'd barely be able to see him; hopefully, it would just look like a crossbow lying innocently on the rocks. He carefully placed his finger on the trigger and raised his head slightly, looking through the gaps in the crossbow as he searched for his targets.

After two agonizing minutes of waiting, the workers finally began to emerge, shuffling out of the quarry single-file. Khada watched them cross in front of him until it seemed as there were none left, but Khada knew better; he'd bribed one of the men on the quarry staff to hold four of the workers back and let them out last, a little bit after everyone else had left. Finally, the first of them emerged. Khada waited until all were in view, then took a deep breath and let his arrows fire.

One. The man in the back fell to the ground.

Two. The man in front of him collapsed.

Three. The woman in front of him wobbled for a moment before falling down as well.

Four…

A white-gloved hand snatched his fourth arrow out of the air. Khada flipped over onto his back to find himself surrounded, three white helmets glaring down at him. As the middle figure flipped his visor back, revealing the smug face and laser-like eyes of Head Peacekeeper Usan, a chill ran down Khada's spine. For the first time in his life, he truly felt scared.

"You didn't really think you could get away with this, did you, Mr. Oromonio?"

Well it only took just under a year but we're finally finished with the intros! And with what I think is my shortest gap between chapters for this fic too! Thank you so much for sticking with me through this!

So what did y'all think of this pair? Cain is a child of my own creation – he's tweaked pretty significantly from the original story – and Khada comes courtesy of Manny Siliezar! Thanks a bunch for him and I hope I did him justice!

I think this will not be the first time I've said this but after this chapter, my goal is to finish writing the rest of IDIDE2 first. So it might be a while until we get an update over here – I'm hoping for somewhere circa this time in May depending on schoolwork and stuff. For those of you on Verses, I'm going to be posting a POV breakdown for the Reapings and Train Rides (the next 4-6 chapters depending on how I break them down) and also where the rest of the POV kids' first POVs come in! There's a couple I haven't quite placed yet but both of them are mine so I'm not so worried. Anyway, check out my channel for that and as always feel free to PM me with questions.

Oh! This feels like a good point for a check-in. Please shoot me a PM or a DM on Discord with your kid's birthday! If it's on the form then this is an easy one for you but still, shoot me a DM to say hi! I like talking to friends :D

Anyway, I think that's all for now! I'll see y'all hopefully in about a month!

xoxo, xxxi