"Hero"

A/N: An update finally, ayyyy. Kinda hit a bit of writer's block when trying to write this chapter, but I finally managed to work past it and get this chapter done. It's a bit shorter, partially because of the aforementioned writer's block, but mostly just because of the way I wanted to introduce Ethan's character. I still think it turned out really well though, so I hope y'all enjoy our 6th intro!

~I've got some issues that nobody can see

And all of these emotions are pouring out of me~

Ethan Faber, 17

Blood drips from my nose and onto the tile floor. The room is empty, and in the corner of my eye I can see my reflection, the purple bruise around my eye and the redness of my face and the blood trickling down, across my lip and falling to the ground. And the room is quiet. It's so quiet.

There's a stack of napkins on my desk, and I could rush for them and start cleaning up the mess that's been made. I could run into the bathroom and scrub away at my skin until all that's left is a dim bruise that could have come from anything. I'm a Career. Injuries happen. Nobody would second guess it.

But my feet don't want to move. I'm planted on the floor, like weights are across my ankles and Velcro on the bottom of my feet. My arms are trembling, and that shaking sensation is spreading across the nerves of my body so that my shoulders are starting to quake too. I don't even feel like crying. I feel too hollow for that.

I've gotten beaten up more times than I can count. Rafael has made sure of that, and I can take whatever he can dish. I'm better than he is, and that's why he's always trying to prove that he's the one who's stronger. It doesn't matter, and it never will. I don't care what that jackass does to me. For the longest time I've been able to tell myself that he's just jealous, or maybe just a jerk, and the things he says about me, they aren't true. But when everybody seems to be saying those same things, it gets harder to deny it.

Maybe I just am worthless. Why do I even bother? There's not a single person out there that gives a shit about me, and Rafael is probably right, there never will be. I'm just a failure, and that's all I ever will be. Why do I even bother fighting then?

Something takes over me. I find myself moving again, those invisible shackles untethered from my ankle as I shuffle toward my desk and dig out a pen and paper. My hand shakes as I bring the pen down to the paper, and scrawl out a few barely legible words.

It doesn't feel like there's any point in fighting anymore.

The academy is my escape. I'm twelve years old, and still looking for anything I can to run away into. The orphanage is terrible. None of the people there care about me, or about each other. It isn't a family. At least at the academy there's distractions. When I'm training, I don't have time to sit and think about all the things I'm missing.

I just got done with sparring, and sweat drips down from my head, drenching my hair and making my clothes stick to my skin. The bleachers at the side of the gym are almost entirely empty. Everyone else left right away, either to get lunch or to hang out with friends. Hugo offered to grab food with me, but I'm not really hungry.

A few of the older kids are still in the center of the gym sparring, and I sit and half-watch them, my eyes bouncing between their fights and the fights happening on the page of my comic book. The thing is dusty and ripped and I've read it already about a hundred times, but I never get tired of flipping through the pages. I can picture myself behind that mask, and the dream is so familiar I don't even have to close my eyes anymore to imagine it. I'm not Ethan Faber, just another unwanted orphan boy. I'm limitless. A hero that everybody loves.

"Ethan!" One of the trainers calls out to me, and I snap my head up, fumbling with the comic book as I stuff it into my bag and climb to my feet.

"Yes, sir?" I ask. The man is one of the head trainers of my age group, and is stepping away from the supplies he was packing away to walk over to me, a curious look painted across his face.

"What are you still doing here? Training is done for the day," he says, crossing his arms as he stands on the gym floor below me.

"I know," I answer automatically. "I just thought I'd stay and watch for a little bit."

"Well, don't stay too long. Aren't your parents gonna wonder where you are?"

"No, sir," I say, trying to bite away the bitterness that threatens to trickle into my voice. "I'm an orphan. They won't miss me if I'm late."

"Really?" He looks like he's deep in thought for a moment, then nods his head. "A lot of trainees here are orphans. This place can provide family to people who don't have one. You ever thought about becoming a boarding student?"

"No, sir, I haven't," I reply. "I couldn't afford it."

"What, you think all the other orphans that are boarding here are paying for it with their side hustle? What do you think scholarships are for?"

"I don't-" I begin, not sure myself where I'm going. I'm glad when he interrupts me.

"You've got talent, Faber. Good work ethic, a quick, moldable mind. You'd do well here. File an application with the head office and I'll make sure money won't be an issue for you."

I swallow my nerves, trying to keep cool as I slowly nod my head. "Yes, sir. I'll do that right away."

"You have a bright future ahead of you, kid, a lot of potential. If you set your mind to it you might even end up a victor. Don't waste it."

He walks away with that, and I scramble for my bag, slinging it over my shoulder and wasting no time as I rush out the gym and head for the office. His words are still echoing in my head, filling me with giddy and a rush of adrenaline unlike anything I've ever felt before.

My mind is already alive with new dreams by the time I reach the front office. Me, at the heart of the academy, a new family all surrounding me as they declare me the chosen volunteer. Everybody cheering me on, me at the center of all that attention. Becoming a victor. Just like the heroes in my comic books.

That'll be me.

No matter how hard I try, nothing ever seems to be enough. I've just been too afraid for too long.

I hate Rafael. I've been at the academy for two years now, and it's nothing like it was supposed to be. At least at the beginning I had Hugo as a friend, but ever since Rafael moved into our room it's like he's become someone else. Whatever we are now, it definitely isn't friends. Definitely not family.

It seems like everything I do is never enough. I work so hard, and constantly work to prove myself, but nobody seems to notice or care. Rafael is always there to remind me of how much of a failure I am, and lately Hugo's joined in.

But I still have training. I'm getting better. Bit by bit, every day I'm progressing one step closer to where I need to be. Someday soon I'll be a victor, and when I am there won't be any doubt about who I am. I'll be a hero, and all the people who doubt me now will be proved wrong. And I won't have to look for a family anymore, because I'll have a new one in all the other victors.

"Alright, new pairs! You have your assignments, let's see you all in action!" The head trainer steps back from the training mats, and I inwardly sigh as I stand across from my opponent.

Rafael holds tightly to the training sword in his grip, laughing as he nudges Hugo and points to me. "Look who I get to beat up on! I know there's no fair fight for me in this group, but come on, what's pipsqueak gonna do? Throw his nerdy little comic books at me?"

I avert my gaze to my grip on the training sword in my hand, readjusting until it looks exactly the way they teach us. I plant my feet in the ground, spacing them out and readying myself.

A whistle blows, and Rafael rushes at me. I step to the side, deflecting his wild swing as he stumbles past me and swatting him in the back as a parting gift. Rafael grumbles. "Too scared to face me like a man? Keep running then."

I don't say anything, going through my routine again as I set myself. I don't have anything to say to him, and why should I? I don't need to bother with people like him.

He charges again, and this time I'm forced to backpedal as he slashes out and I deflect. The trainers are focused on another one of the fights, and Rafael takes hold of the dull training sword with his hand, yanking it forward and me with it. The sword falls out of my grip as I collide with him, and I barely notice his fist as it makes contact with my cheek.

I stagger back, and Rafael throws his hands up in the air as he laughs. A trainer steps towards us and I force myself to stand back up straight, a hand still covering my cheek as I look down at the ground.

"What's going on here?" The trainer demands.

"Nothing," Rafael says nonchalantly. "Just a little accident."

"Is that true, Faber?" The trainer asks, forcing me to look him in the eye as he grabs hold of my chin.

"Yes, sir. It is," I reply plainly.

The trainer pauses, looking between the two of us for a long moment. "Be more careful. Again."

The whistle blows, and I pick my sword back up off the ground, and ready myself to go again.

I can't let people in anymore, because I just know that they're going to hurt me.

My arms are aching. I turn sixteen in a week, and they're already preparing our class for what that means. There'll be cuts, and those that continue on to the next round of training will start having much more rigorous training. It means live steel sparring, mental preparation, and more personalized help from the trainers, all to hand pick the best option at victor.

It also means that I'll be back to sparring with Rafael and Hugo and the rest of that age group. I've been focused on becoming a victor ever since I can remember. But lately I'm not sure if I'm good enough. What if I don't make the cut? And even if I do, what if I don't get chosen as the victor? What would be left for me?

There'd be no family waiting for me. And there'd be no way for me to find one. I'd be alone for the rest of my entire life. I wouldn't be a hero, either. I'd just be a failure, exactly like everyone's told me I'm going to be.

The dorm room is empty, and I don't bother turning on the light as I walk in, immediately collapsing into my chair and letting myself slump into the seat. The workouts have me worn down, but I'm used to being tired. This is something else.

I'm not sure how long I'm sitting in the chair before the door opens. Rafael and Hugo are both laughing as they step in, and I ignore them, pretending to focus on the blank notebook set out on my desk.

"The fuck's wrong with you? Sitting in the dark alone." Rafael scoffs, tossing his bag onto his bed.

"Fucking weirdo," Hugo mimics him.

"No wonder you're gonna be a dropout failure soon. No chance this pipsqueak makes it past the first round of cuts," Rafael steps over towards me, and I keep my head down and my mouth clamped shut. "What, not even gonna defend yourself?" He asks, shoving me out of my chair.

He laughs as I fall onto the floor, and Hugo joins in. I climb up to my feet, turning to face the pair as I lean against my bed, not letting anything show.

"So fucking weak," Hugo mutters.

"I don't get why the academy bothers keeping around a spineless bitch like you." Rafael shakes his head.

I don't bother saying anything to him. It wouldn't matter. He's wrong, I know that. I know that. So there's no point talking to someone that doesn't like me. It won't do me any good. It doesn't matter, he's wrong about me. And I'll prove it. I'll prove it. Right?

"Fuck's sake," Rafael mutters, shoving me against the bedframe. "Such a bitch."

I turn away from him, and my eyes lock with Hugo's for a second. When we both became boarding students we asked to be put together as roommates. In the first few days of the academy, he was the one person who made me think that dream of finding a family here might not be impossible.

Hugo seems to hesitate for a moment, but then it's gone and just replaced with disgust as he steps toward me. "The fuck are you looking at?" He asks, and I see the fist the whole way as it smashes against my nose.

Nobody will even probably care, so I don't know why I'm writing this, or who I'm writing it for. Everyone's always expected me to be a failure, so I doubt this will surprise anyone.

A drop of blood falls onto the paper, staining the corner red. The pen drops from my shaking hands, rattling against the table as it rolls off to the floor. My eyes fall across those final few words, and something builds up in my gut, coursing through my veins and filling me with rage.

Nobody expects me to do anything. I could die right now and all that would do would be prove them right. Rafael and Hugo and all the rest of them would just laugh and say that they knew that was who I always was.

But I won't let them win. I'm going to prove them wrong, and make them have to eat all the words they've thrown my way. I'll get chosen as the volunteer. I'll go into the arena and win. I'll be a hero and find a family and they'll have to admit they were wrong. And even if they don't, it won't matter because I'll have everything that I've always wanted.

Because I'm making the cuts tomorrow. I'll keep on getting better, day by day, bit by bit, until I'm finally ready. I don't have any distractions, any second motivations. There's one thing I want, and nothing's gonna stop me from getting it. Definitely not Rafael and Hugo.

I take the note and crumple it up, and consider throwing it in the trash, but pause, holding it in my hand. It lingers there for a moment, and finally I throw it into my bottom drawer, burying it deep inside and making sure that the lock is secure.

Once I'm certain that it's well hidden I step aside and bring a napkin to my nose, wiping away the blood that's begun to smear my cheeks and lips. I head into the bathroom and run the sink, wiping away the evidence of the hit from the person I used to call my only friend.

I shake away the thought as I scrub away blood. The past doesn't matter, and neither does the present. There's nothing good to look back to, nothing to be happy about right now. But that's fine. My best days are still ahead of me. After all, doesn't every hero have a tragic backstory?

Everything I've gone through, all the pain and rejection and the way that I never seem to fit in, it doesn't matter. Cause when I earn my spot as a volunteer, and I'm standing up on that stage, the entire district cheering my name?

That's when my life will begin.

A/N: And there we have the first of our D2 pair, Ethan Faber! Thank you to Celtic for sending him in! He had a super detailed form that I wasn't able to fully put into this single intro, but he'll be back super soon, and I'm excited for y'all to see that second side of him that you didn't get to see yet here! We're getting super close to finishing up intros, and now that LoU is finished and Elevate is waiting for submissions for the rest of the month, I'm hoping to power through as much of this story as I can in January before school starts back up! At the very least that hopefully means that we can wrap up intros by the end of the month, and we'll see if we can get even faster than that. Don't expect Last of Us-esque update speed though lmao.

Anyways, see you all next time (hopefully next week!) as we visit the second half of District Two: Everly Amata!

Trivia(1 point): With a bit of a cast switchup, I'm also looking into changing around the POV placements/order for the pre-games. I have a few things planned out, but most of it is just guesswork and/or random. So if there's any particularly POVs (aside from party, since all 8 are getting a pov there) you'd like to see your character get, let me know!