Ayden's POV includes mentions of alcoholism and abuse. If this is triggering for you, skip the section of his intro that is BOLDED

Domitia Albernite, 18

District 2 Female

The tip of Domitia's pencil left a faint line as she traced it beneath the words of her short essay. She was doing her best not to look at the clock, instead choosing to proofread her paper on the history of the Peacekeeper's Academy. She'd finished well before the end of class, but watching the time tick by would definitely drive her crazy.

A few more minutes trickled by before Mr. Damon cleared his throat.

"Alright, please turn your papers in, and then you are free to go."

'Finally,' Domitia thought, grabbing her bag and hurrying to drop the essay on the desk. Mr. Damon barely had the chance to thank her before she was out the door. But she paused on the front steps to wait for her friends.

Odette appeared first, wisps of her blonde hair escaping her double boxer braids.

"Hey Dom," she said, bumping Domitia's shoulder with her own.

"Hey. Do you want to head to the Academy with me? I told Lennon I'd teach knife throwing to some of the new trainees."

Odette sucked in a breath between her teeth. "I wish I could, but I've got to babysit the gremlins. Sorry."

"It's fine," Domitia said, frowning a little. It sucked, but it was understandable. Odette had five younger siblings, and both of her parents were quarry workers who worked long hours.

"But hey, I'll be there tomorrow!" she said. "And I'm going to kick your ass."

"I'm looking forward to you eating your words," Domitia shot back with a smug grin as Odette walked off. Without looking back, she held up her middle finger, and Domitia laughed.

She and Odette had been sparring partners since Domitia first enrolled in the Academy, and friends for just as long. In fact, she'd consider Odette her best friend if it wasn't for–

"Hi!" a cheerful voice shouted, much too close to Domitia's ear. She flinched, turning to give it's owner a bit of a shove.

"Rafferty, chill! I'm right here."

Her freckled friend gave her a blinding grin and just linked his arm with hers.

"Aww, come on, don't be mad," he coaxed. "I'll walk with you to the training center, since Odette ditched you."

Rolling her eyes and grunting to cover up her laugh, Domitia nodded, and allowed Rafferty to drag her off.

Training clothes donned and hair tied up, Domitia strolled into one of the training gyms with her head held high. The chatter died down as the group of new students all turned to look at her.

"Hi everyone," she chirped, trying to give them a winning smile. "I'm Domitia, and I'll be your trainer for today. We're going to be working on knife throwing, so please listen to me closely. I don't want anyone getting stabbed. Now," she turned and gestured to the rack of knives against the wall. "Please grab a weapon."

'Most of them are doing well,' Domitia noted as she walked down the line, occasionally correcting posture or grip. But one student near the end was missing the target almost every time. Sighing, she made her way over to him.

"Your aim is terrible," she told him sternly. "And your stance is shit too. If you stand that stiffly, you won't have any flexibility. You need to be loose, but firm. Here." Taking the knife from his hand and gesturing for him to step back, Domitia settled into the familiar stance and took a deep breath. Blocking out all the noise surrounding her, she took aim and threw. The knife hit the target's bullseye with a soft thunk. Then, stepping back, she gestured for the boy to take another blade.

"Try again," she told him.

"Domitia!" someone called from the doorway. She turned towards the sound and was met by Tobias, another one of the trainers.

"Mr. Case wants to see you. I'll take over here."

"Wait—what? Why?" she asked, but he just pushed past her to help the kid with the terrible aim.

"I don't know. He didn't tell me. But don't keep him waiting!"

Frowning, Domitia ducked into the hallway. She wasn't too sweaty, since she had only been coaching, but she was wearing her gym clothes. Should she change before meeting with the man who ran the entire Academy?

She paced in the hallway for a moment before deciding it was better to be on time than dressed in more formal clothing. But her stomach still churned with worry as she made her way down the hall.

She'd met Mr. Case before, even been to his office. But she'd never gone alone, and she'd never been summoned before. Domitia hadn't done anything wrong; she was sure of that. So what did he want?

She stopped in front of his door and took a deep breath before knocking on the solid wood. Almost immediately, his deep voice called out.

"Come in."

Stepping inside, she was met with Mr. Case sitting at his desk. He was a tall, muscular man with rich brown skin and a bald head. Another boy she'd seen around the Academy before. However, she couldn't recall his name. He was standing near the door, arms folded behind his back. He was extremely bulky, but still rather handsome, with short-cropped black hair and baby blue eyes. He gave her a slight nod before averting his gaze.

Mr. Case stood as she came in, extending a large, meaty hand across the desk. Domitia shook it firmly before stepping back.

"I apologize for calling you away from your training, but I have an important matter to discuss with both of you. As you know, the Reapings are only two weeks away, and we have yet to name our volunteers."

Domitia felt as if her heart was trying to escape her ribcage. Was he really going to name her the female volunteer? Her sister's words passed through her head. "You're going to be the best they've ever seen."

"Usually we choose our representatives far before this," Mr. Case continued. "But there was tough competition this year. However, when our staff discussed our options, my sister highly recommended the both of you. So, you have been selected.

For a moment, all Domitia could do was stare. Mr. Case was the brother of Desdemona Case, the victor of the 6th Hunger Games. She was one of the oldest victors, and was very highly respected in District 2. And she had nominated Domitia as a volunteer!

"Thank you sir," she finally forced herself to say. "It's a huge honor. And please thank your sister as well." The boy beside her mirrored the sentiment in a soft voice.

Mr. Case smiled and gave them a nod. Then a more serious look crossed his face and he sat again.

"This is a very serious responsibility. You are representing the entirety of District 2. If you choose to accept this role, you must follow through."

"I will, sir," Domitia said immediately. Her successes were numerous, but this was the success. When she won the Hunger Games, no one could deny that she was the best.

Again, the massive boy echoed her words, and Mr. Case dismissed them with a smile and another handshake. Once they were in the hallway, he turned to her.

"I'm Quintus. I don't think we've met."

"Domitia," she told him, holding out a hand. He shook it firmly, nearly crushing her fingers, but she kept a smile fixed on her face. "It's nice to meet you."

Cheeks flushed, he nodded in response before muttering a hasty goodbye and retreating down the hall. Domitia watched him go, frowning. He seemed incredibly shy, which was odd for a career. And it was not the type of person Domitia usually got along with. But it didn't matter. They didn't need to be friends. In fact, they shouldn't be friends. Only one person could win, and it was going to be her.

Smiling like an idiot, Domitia gathered her things and stepped outside. A light drizzle had started, but she wasn't bothered. A few more trainees joined her as they waited for the bus, and she barely managed to suppress the urge to tell each and every one of them the news.

The rain had stopped by the time she arrived home, which Domitia was grateful for. Her parents were hosting a party tonight, and if she came home dripping water on the marble floor, her mother would throw a fit.

After carefully drying her feet, Domitia went to track down her mother. She found her in the dining room, looking over the table with a guest list in her hand.

"Hi," she said from the doorway.

She startled before looking up at her daughter.

"Domitia! You're late. You need to hurry up and change! Fortunata is coming over early so we can all catch up, and you don't want to miss your sister!"

"Sorry," Domitia said. "I didn't mean to be late, but I was held up. And I have some big news!"

Her mother made a humming noise as she went back to skimming the guest list, only half-listening to her daughter. Domitia sighed, but shared it anyway.

"I'm going to be volunteering!"

"That's nice," her mother said. "Well done. Now, please change!"

Domitia just nodded, ducking out of the room as her mother shouted for her father.

Upstairs, Domitia paused beside the portrait of Anya they kept in the hall. Ten years ago, when Anya was 12 and Domitia was 10, she had gone missing. The Peacekeepers searched extensively, but eventually gave up the search.

She didn't think about it often, but Domitia did miss her sister. They had been very close. Anya was the one to encourage Domitia to start training, and she had always been her little sister's biggest supporter. In a family of self-absorbed socialites, a sister like Anya was a rarity and a blessing.

Domitia gave the portrait a smile and touched two fingers to Anya's forehead.

"I did it," she told her sister. "You were right. I am the best."

Keegan Rallentando, 17

District 3 Male

A light rain fell outside, slowly darkening the endless landscape of pavement. Keegan listened to the uneven drum of it on his makeshift roof as he sat up and rolled his shoulders back, sighing. After an hour of careful work spent hunched over his small desk, he needed a chance to stretch.

However, he was pleased with how the arrangement had come out. A mix of pink and red carnations, with a few white gardenias and lush green stems added in, just to make the carnations pop.

Flowers were rare in District 3, which was the only reason Keegan was able to keep himself going. That, and everyone wanted a glimpse of the boy who made such beautiful bouquets. Some people believed the mysterious flower shop owner was a myth. Others thought it was just someone doing small, random acts of kindness. But Keegan didn't care what they believed, as long as he made money and stayed hidden.

'Well, that's not quite true,' he mused as cracked his knuckles and settled against a wall. He liked that he could add a little bit of joy to someone's day. He liked knowing that someone cared about his existence, even if they didn't know it was him they cared for.

Something hard crashed against the pavement outside, and Keegan lunged across his desk to turn off the small lantern he kept there. Then he flattened himself to the ground as a few sets of boots stomped by, crunching gravel beneath them.

Peacekeepers didn't come to this part of the district very often; there was no need to. Only a few people lived in the apartments here, which were just old factories that had been renovated into living quarters. But every part of the district had to be patrolled at some point.

Keegan caught a quick glimpse of a white glove and pressed forehead into the stone, trying to take deep breaths. He was sure the Peacekeepers could hear his heart pounding from where they stood.

Keegan's entire life had been built around avoiding the Peacekeepers; ever since he was first arrested at the age of 10. He still remembered the cold cell in the basement of the Peacekeeper's Hall, the shouting, the cruelty he suffered for two full years.

Squeezing his eyes shut and forcing the memories away, Keegan strained to listen as the Peacekeepers moved away, their footsteps growing quieter and quieter until he couldn't hear them anymore. He rolled onto his back, but stayed there for another five minutes before mustering the energy to sit up.

Shaking the experience off as best he could, he tied an old string around the freshly-made bouquet, shrugged on his slightly-too-small black coat, and crept out of his hideout through the flower garden.

Keegan grew every variety of flower he could get his hands on, learning what worked best for each kind through experimentation, careful study, and love. In the cold, lifeless gray of District 3, small bursts of color were always welcome.

Over the years, Keegan had developed a system with his customers. They left their orders in a specific place, where he would collect them and leave a note with a different drop point listed. There, he would hide the bouquet, but only once they'd hidden the payment.

Today, his destination wasn't far. He would choose locations all over the district so that he was harder to track, and one of his standing rules was that this location was non-negotiable.

Using back alleys and abandoned buildings, he made his way to the empty stretch of dead grass beside the head office building of PlumTech. The software company had been on its last legs until the CEO's daughter, Wiress, won the Hunger Games four years ago. Now, business was booming, or so he heard.

There was a large air conditioning unit behind the building where Keegan was able to hide the flowers. He carefully nestled them in amongst the pipes and then plucked an envelope from between the main unit and the building. He quickly checked to make sure he'd been paid the right amount before tucking the envelope into his coat pocket and slipping out from behind the building.

The rain had died down, but the sky was still foggy and gray. That rarely changed, which didn't exactly help with the flower business, but Keegan managed. However, he had to admit that the dim light was useful for sneaking around.

He took a different, slightly longer route home this time, just to be cautious. It was a path he didn't often follow, and despite promising himself he wouldn't look, wouldn't pass by, his feet ignored him, and he paused in front of his old house.

His parents still lived there. He could tell by the faded chartreuse curtains and the old black car that never started up the first time. His mom had loved those hideous curtains, and his dad always insisted they needed a new car, but his mom protested, saying they couldn't afford it. Looking back, she was probably right.

'I bet they could afford one now,' he thought ruefully. 'They don't have a kid around anymore.' When he was young and stupid, Keegan thought that his parents neglected him because they were busy, not because they had never wanted a kid. He'd gotten arrested pursuing a foolish plan to help them, and he hadn't seen them since.

It had been seven years, but Keegan still felt a pang in his chest as the memories surfaced. His eyes stung, and he shook his head violently.

"No. Stop it. Get it together and go home." he whispered to himself. And with one final glance, he ducked back into the alleyway.

He should have known something was off the moment he arrived back at his ramshackle hideout. He never left without turning off his lamp. And yet, a faint yellow glow was shining through the makeshift windows. But the emotional detour he'd taken had clouded his mind.

Stepping through the back entrance, Keegan just had the time to register someone's presence before a forceful blow to his face knocked him sideways. His flower arranging supplies fell around him as he groaned and tried to rise, but another painful strike to his ribs kept him down.

Head foggy and ears ringing, Keegan forced his eyes to focus on his attacker, and his blood ran cold. He had aged, but he would recognize Enoch Mann anywhere. The ex-Peacekeeper captain raised his batten for another blow, and Keegan rolled aside, adrenaline beginning to flood his body.

Enoch Mann was the Peacekeeper who arrested him. And the Peacekeeper who let him slip away the day of Keegan's first reaping. Mann's reputation was destroyed, and for nearly a year, he pursued Keegan relentlessly. But Keegan thought he'd given up by now; there had been no sign of him for years.

Mann slammed the batten down on Keegan's knee and he cried out, curling in on himself. The Peacekeeper used the moment to throw himself down on top of Keegan, pinning him down. He reigned punches down, and no matter how he squirmed, Keegan couldn't free himself.

He felt tears mixing with the blood on his face, and his heart was pounding so hard it hurt. He thrashed violently, and felt his foot collide with a solid object. But at the same moment, he spotted a trowel that had fallen.

Rocking violently, Keegan forced himself onto his side and seized the trowel before bringing it down on Mann's skull. He growled in pain, reeling back and knocking into one of the structure's main supports.

Panicked, Keegan scrambled backwards, moving as quickly as he could despite the blood-slick concrete and the throbbing pain in his head. Mann rose to his knees, ready to lunge for Keegan again, but the support behind him gave way.

All Keegan could do was shut his eyes. Concrete slammed down on his legs and he choked on a scream as a cloud of dust washed over him.

Searing pain shot up and down his legs as the dust settled. He could hear shouting, but it sounded muffled and far away. His head was resting in a bed of carnations. They were red, just like fingers when he reached out to touch them.

The ringing in his ears got louder, as did the shouting. Keegan plucked a few carnations and closed his fist around the stems. A face appeared above his, swimming in and out of focus. It was a woman. He could tell that much.

The darkness swimming at the edge of his vision was now flooding it, and as his head dropped to the side, Keegan saw a pale hand sticking out from underneath the rubble, desperately grasping for safety.

Zander Klein, 17

District 8 Male

"Alright, close your eyes."

Zander dutifully obeyed, closing his eyes and feeling his long lashes brush his cheek. He felt Cayla lean closer, gently tracing eyeliner along his lash line. Her hand cupped his jaw to keep him still.

"You have such pretty lashes," she said, pulling away. Zander opened his eyes and smiled at her. "It's not fair!" she continued with a pout.

"He's just naturally beautiful," Moses said. Zander twisted on his stool to look at his other friends, Moses and Tai, who were seated on the edge of his bed.

"Yeah, unlike this eyesore," Tai teased, giving Moses a nudge that nearly knocked him off the bed.

"Eyesore!" Moses gasped, faking offense. "You're the ugly one!" Zander giggled as Moses shoved Tai back, and an impromptu wrestling match broke out.

"Boys…" Cayla muttered, rolling her eyes. "Such idiots." As she spoke, Tai rolled off the bed, knocking his elbow against one of Zander's many mirrors. It fell to the floor with a crash and shattered. Everyone froze.

"Oh man… I'm so sorry, mate," Tai finally said, carefully picking himself up.

"It's alright," Zander said, giving him a sweet smile. "It's just a mirror. My parents can buy me a new one. Are you hurt at all?" Tai shook his head, cheeks flushed, before bending down and beginning to pick up the pieces. Moses quickly moved to help him.

"Well, I'm sorry to leave in the middle of the chaos," Cayla said, standing and grabbing her bag. "But I've got a date with Zoey. Love y'all." She pressed a quick kiss to Zander's forehead and waved at the other boys before departing.

Zander stared after her. Cayla had been his best friend since he first started school. He'd been friends with Zoey for almost as long. He thought he knew them better than anyone. Why didn't he know they were together?!

"Zoey… and Cayla?" he stammered, glancing over at Moses. The dark-haired boy smirked, then laughed at the expression on Zander's face.

"Dude, they've been pining for each other for years! How did you not notice?" he just shrugged, a little embarrassed.

"Well, now you know, airhead," he teased, but not unkindly. Zander bobbed his head in an awkward nod before catching the time on the clock in the reflection of a different mirror.

"I have to go," he gasped. "I've got work. Sorry! Bye bye!"

While he hadn't done terribly in school, by the time he was in third or fourth grade it had become apparent that Zander would not be known for his academic prowess. By seventh grade, he was over it, and by eighth, he had dropped out.

Being a waiter at Laney's wasn't his true place either, but he wasn't awful at it, and since the restaurant mostly served Peacekeepers and other government officials, it was an excellent place to be noticed.

Zander straightened his tie before carefully checking himself out in the reflective window. He looked fabulous, as always. He struck a few different poses before dusting himself off again and giving his handsome reflection a confident nod.

It was a Friday evening, so the place was fairly full. The owner, Laney, was the daughter of District 8's first victor, Kelsi Sanchez, who, coincidentally, was the victor of the 1st Hunger Games. Kelsi's fame and money had enabled Laney to pursue her dream, and Zander had always found that inspiring.

Two other staff members worked at the restaurant with him, and Zander adored them both. The first was a sweet, older lady named Carol who always pinched his cheek and called him "dear" and told him he looked quite handsome. And the second was Bastian, one of the most popular kids at school, and in District 8. He was the only other server working tonight, so Zander knew he had to be at his best.

He flowed gracefully from table to table, refilling drinks, taking orders, delivering food, and making polite conversation. Most of the customers were regulars, and they were all lovely. A cheery older Peacekeeper even complimented Zander on his makeup!

After the restaurant closed, Zander started cleaning up. His feet ached, but it wasn't too bad, and he'd made decent money in tips. As he began to wipe down a table, Bastian pulled him aside.

"Hey Zander, I've got a question for ya," he said casually, leaning against the chair in front of him to put his muscular forearms on display.
"Alright," Zander chirped, turning to Bastian. He smirked in return.

"So, I was thinking… you're really into modeling, and you've definitely got the looks to make it big-time. So–"

"You really think so?" Zander gushed, accidentally cutting his friend off. "That's so kind of you to say. It means a lot, coming from you."

Bastian's ears turned a little red as he nodded quickly.

"Um, yeah. You're welcome. So, uh, as I was saying - this is my last year in the reaping pool. So if I get chosen, I think you should volunteer."

Zander gaped at him. 'Volunteer?' he thought.

"I don't think I'm Hunger Games material," he admitted nervously. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Bastian said, giving Zander's hand a squeeze. "You won't have to worry about the Games. You'd impress the Capitolites, I'm sure of it. So they'd just send a duplicate into the arena and you can start your career!"

Still lightly clutching Bastian's hand, Zander stared into his gorgeous green eyes. This was really happening! The reapings were only a few weeks away; not much time to properly design his outfit, but he'd make it work. He'd do anything for this chance.

"Thank you Bastian," Zander said, flashing the older boy his most dazzling smile. Bastian grinned back, leaning in close.

"No, thank you," he whispered, and then they were kissing.

Later, as Zander made his way to the shuttle stop, he kept his fingers lightly pressed against his lips, relishing the kiss, and the opportunity it's giver had provided. He was really going to be a Capitol model! Even if Bastian wasn't reaped, Zander had decided to volunteer. He wasn't going to let anything stop him from finally reaching his place.

Ayden Beckett, 17

District 12 Male

Lukewarm water trickled down Ayden's back as he scrubbed ruthlessly at his hands with a fingernail brush. The skin was already chapped and raw, but no matter how hard he tried, traces of coal dust still lingered.

Sighing quietly in annoyance, he tossed the brush onto a shelf and squeezed his eyes shut, ducking his head back into the spray. For a few moments, he just stayed under the rapidly-cooling water, letting it wash the dirt and grime and frustration away from his body. But real life had to interrupt, like always.

Something shattered, and Ayden heard one of his little sisters scream. He shut his eyes tighter, trying to ignore the noise, but her cries became louder, and the shouts of his mother joined in.

Ayden turned off the shower and dried himself hastily, not bothering with his wet hair or with hanging up the threadbare towel. He slipped his old clothes on, wrinkling his nose at the smell of sweat and coal that clung to them, and then squared his shoulders before exiting the bathroom.

Mabel was yelling louder, and he could hear June crying. But he refused to turn his head, instead making a beeline straight for the door, grabbing his boots on the way out.

He walked barefoot down the gravel road until he was three houses away. Then he sat down, put on his shoes, and scrubbed a hand over his face. Ayden wasn't an unintelligent person, but even he didn't have the words to describe his hatred for his mother.

She mooched off of her husband and kids, using their money to fuel her alcohol addiction. His father never intervened. Hell, he was never home to intervene. Instead, he left his kids to deal with their mother's violent, drunken wrath.

As a child, Ayden was both afraid of her and for her. He'd wanted his mom back; the mom who tucked him in at night, who'd make toast with honey for breakfast. Now, he just despised her. But he knew there was no use in doing anything about it. This was just the life they lived. Mabel and June would have to learn that, just like he did.

Ayden ran his hands through his hair to dry it as he continued toward the Seam. Usually, he would go to his friend Flint, but Ayden didn't want to walk to the main square and then all the way back to the Seam. So he settled for Nigel instead.

The sun was almost gone when Ayden forcefully rapped his knuckles against Nigel's front door. There was a bit of shuffling, and then his friend's hooked nose and thin face peeked out at him.

"Oh, hi Ayden," he said casually, opening the door a bit more. "Want to come in?"

"No," Ayden said flatly. "I'm going for a walk. You comin' or not?"

"I'm going," Nigel replied. "I've got something to tell you anyways." He waggled his eyebrows, but turned to shout to his parents before he could see Ayden roll his eyes.

Two years ago, when Haymitch Abernathy returned home, the fence at the edge of the district was on at all times. Ayden never understood why. Even if someone tried to escape, what good would running into the woods do? The Peacekeepers seemed to agree, because the fence went back to its normal state of neglect after Haymitch returned from his victory tour.

Ayden and Flint were much larger in stature then Nigel was, so over the years, the boys had discovered the best way to slip under the fence. Skinny Nigel would slide through first and then pry up the loose fencing as much as possible so that Ayden and Flint could squirm through. It was a bit of a squeeze, but Ayden was used to it by now.

After navigating the fence, the two of them moved towards the woods and found a place to sit near the edge of the meadow. Nigel leaned against a log and Ayden laid on his back, watching the stars wink into existence.

As soon as they were settled, Nigel cracked his knuckles and sent a smug look in Ayden's direction.

"I hooked up with Moxie last night," he announced.

"Good for you," Ayden grunted. "She's the one with the great ass, right?"

"Hell yeah," Nigel replied, before diving into the details. Ayden tuned him out right away.

Instead, he looked into the woods and listened to the night creatures begin their rhythym. That felt more appropriate than "routine". Ayden had a routine. School, work, home, repeat. But the owls and crickets and wild dogs were free of that. Like he wanted to be.

'Like I'll never be,' Ayden reminded himself sternly. Wishing to be something else, somewhere else, was foolishness. That wasn't how things were in Panem. Dreaming of an escape was a hopeless childhood fantasy. And he had given those up a long time ago.

Hi everyone! Here are the second set of intros... four days later than planned. I've been having weird issues with my eyes, but I went to the doctor and have eyedrops now, so hopefully they'll help.

Thank you to MoonlightSalsa and VeneratedArt for the reviews! It means so much to me that people are reading and leaving comments! I'm glad I did your characters justice. Also, thank you to adoxographyy for Domitia, HumanWiki for Keegan, LadyCordeliaStuart for Zander, and Dreadfulsorrow for Ayden. Please let me know what you thought of their intros!

Also, I've decided to include a question or two at the end of each chapter, just to see who's reading. There's no sponsor system or anything, but if you don't review or interact at all, your tribute probably won't win. I thought that was worth saying.

So, here are questions:

1. Which tribute in this chapter did you like the best? (can't share, no bias allowed from me)

2. Out of the 8 tributes introduced, who did you like the most? (same here)

3. What District would you absolutely NOT want to live in? (10! I'm vegetarian and I just couldn't deal with livestock meant to be slaughtered)

Have a nice day, be kind to each other, and never stop reading!

- Fiona