The 1st POV is the same as the first time Cleo was introduced so if you remember what it was like or don't want to read it again, you can skip over to the 2nd Intro!

TW: Mentions of prostitution in the 2nd Intro.

Cleo Everley, 17

District 7 Female

Two weeks before the Reaping

"Pass me that can, Matthias."

She said in a hushed tone, holding her hand out expectantly in the dim lighting to her friend. With no hesitation, he handed over the angry red spray paint can, holding up the torch that was providing the little light they had at this hour of the night. The light bounced off the grey brick wall they were at, one that Cleo knew many people passed by on their way to a popular market within this side of the district.

She wanted to make a statement, and so did Matthias, about what exactly she thought of the Capitol and the Peacekeepers that forced them to live by and comply to their rules. It was bullshit, they should be able to do what they wanted, explore the other Districts in Panem, not have to worry about whether you or people you knew would be Reaped for the Hunger Games. It was backwards and horrid, and Cleo wasn't going to back down from this fight, she wasn't going to just carry on with the same simple existence, stuck in the same simple District her whole life. She was almost finished with the graffiti, the large – almost neon orange – words saying 'We will exist on our own fucking terms, Capitol pigs'. The red paint was necessary as she was underlining the final words, wanting to make sure everyone knew who exactly this was aimed at.

"Do you think this will work? Trying to scare them like this?" Matthias asked quietly, genuinely curious rather than doubtful.

"I know it will. When people see this, it'll help them see the truth about everything, that people like us aren't going to back down." She replied, smirking to herself at the thought of causing discomfort among the Peacekeepers and the Capitolites.

It would be unlikely anyone in the Capitol would actually see this graffiti but knowing it would make life harder for the Peacekeepers and possibly help rally other people in the District against the tyrannical rule of the Capitol was enough for Cleo. She had faith in the world around her once when she was younger. She had faith that her mother would suddenly decide to stop abusing illegal substances and screaming at them for not stealing money, she had faith that her father would return home one day so that her family could be 'whole' again, she even had faith that even if either of those didn't happen, that the Peacekeepers would help her and her younger brother.

That faith was snuffed out like a light when she was eleven, when she reached out to some Peacekeepers as a last resort, desperate to find an escape from her current life with her brother. Instead of taking them seriously, helping them with the clear problem at hand, they laughed in her face and brushed her off, as if she were a piece of dirt on their pristine white uniforms and leaving her with no aid. That was the day she lost her faith in authority and what it stood for, along with the realization that if she wanted change in the world, she would have to take matters into her own hands rather than depending on faith to do it for her.

Cleo was deeply focused on the task at hand, speaking quietly with her best friend every now and then, wanting this message to be clear. However, because the pair were so engrossed with the graffiti, both she and Matthias failed to hear the quiet footsteps approaching them until a bright light was shone on the two of them and their work, a much brighter light than their dim torch.

"Hands in the air, thank you very much. Drop the paint can and turn around."

Cleo froze for a couple moments, silently cursing in her head, before doing what she was told and slowly turned around to face three Peacekeepers, two of which that were masked, wearing their white helmets with a visor so dark that you could see your own reflection staring back at you. They really should have been listening out for Peacekeepers so they could avoid this whole situation, but they both had gotten a little too caught up in the heat of the moment and failed to focus on their surroundings. The unmasked Peacekeeper, a tan woman with tightly cut, short blonde hair and deep brown eyes, furrowed her brow at the two with a look of deathly seriousness written across her face and spoke in a commanding voice.

"Would you care to explain what exactly you two are doing?"

Cleo glanced over to Matthias, who in turn, looked to her with an expression that said a thousand words. They had to get out of here before they had a good proper look at them, they needed to get away, get home and try to blend in with the rest of the citizens in the District in the morning. So, she uttered the one word that would convey her plan with ease.

"Run!"

The pair each dashed quickly in opposite directions, clearly thinking along the same line, and ran as fast as they possibly could, though the Peacekeepers followed quickly behind. The unmasked Peacekeeper had decided to tail her, leaving the two masked ones to follow Matthias. Her best idea in how to lose the Peacekeeper was by running through the woods, where the shadows would act as her savior. So, she began making her way towards where the closest wooded area would be, which thankfully wasn't too far away from her foster parents' house. After what felt like hours of running, she began to see the forest coming into view, her lungs burning as she huffed and puffed. Once she reached the woods, this would be all over, they would give up on searching for her and Matthias and go back to their shifts. The only thing that stopped this perfect plan from falling into place was the sudden yank from the back of Cleo's jacket collar, throwing her completely off-balance and to the hard, cold ground. She had gotten so caught up with the fact that she was close to reaching the woods, that she didn't look behind her in time to dodge the grasp of this female Peacekeeper, which as a result, got her caught. She scrambled to try and get up before it was too late but before she was up on her hands and knees, she felt two hands roughly moving her onto her stomach, kneel on her lower back and pin her arms behind her, followed by a guttural laugh.

"Now, now, why don't we get you and your buddy back where you can be supervised?"

Fuck. She thought to herself, refusing to say anything in return. My foster parents are going to kill me. She could only hope that they hadn't caught Matthias, that he had hopefully managed to elude them. But in the end, the trouble she was going to get in was worth it. She may have been caught, but now everyone would know exactly what she thought, knowing it would take longer than just tonight to remove the paint from the wall, that was the most satisfying feeling of all.

Maximillian Verechel, 18

District 12 Male

The day before the Reaping

A Verechel must be strong, must be decisive, must be calm. There is no room for error. We hold the respect of the entire District, of the Capitol, we pave the way for what a citizen of Panem should look like. We must be flawless. Do you understand, Maximillian?

The words echoed in his mind, not a day passing by without the reminder of them flowing through his head. His father had repeated time and time again to him as he grew up, ensuring that his youngest son would be everything that his eldest had not been. Trauma and heartbreak had broken the poor man, broken him beyond what their father saw as repairable. Their father had cast him out for finding comfort in his best friend at the time, his male best friend. Augustine, their father, refused to see the sensible side of the matter, deeming him a disgrace to the Verechel lineage and disowning him.

Maximillian had never fully understood why his father had cast Kerry out, finding the matter of who a person loved unrelated to the topic of being noble and leading the way. Maybe it was because his father was old-fashioned, maybe it was because with this unattainable goal of perfection. As he would come to find out, Maximillian's father was not the man who he led others to believe. A man who was so obsessed with perfection yet was the furthest away from the meaning of the word. It made him sick thinking about how his father could use him and his business as a front, forcing his own son to turn a blind eye to the true nature of why they ran and kept up the business of the Verechel coalmines.

He shook his head a little bit and blinked a couple times, forcing the thoughts of his father out of his head and focusing on his reflection in the mirror and the attire he wore. Looking back at him stood a tall man, a little lanky if anything, and his face pale and freckled. He had short, chestnut brown hair that he usually kept neatly brushed aside to keep up the professional look. His eyes were wide and hazel, one of his favorite features if he had to admit. He wasn't aware of it, but they were constantly observing, analyzing, searching, and processing his surroundings and the people with him to gain whatever information he could. Maybe it was the years of learning to act and appear perfect, but he had an almost royal manner about him, especially in his eyes. This meant that Maximillian stood out a little amongst the workers of the coalmines, almost all of District Twelve, always looking and presenting as pristine, flawless. He would admit, it wasn't an easy task with most places and people in the district being covered in at least one thin layer of coal dust, but he managed.

He wore a three-piece suit, a deep navy with a striped navy and grey tie neatly and carefully tied around his neck, finishing the look with a steel grey shirt underneath. He buttoned up the jacket of his suit and then checked the time on his watch. Half seven in the morning, right on schedule and having timed getting up and getting ready perfectly. Knowing that, he grabbed his satchel that held all the documents and files he needed and slung it around his shoulder, leaving the grand house that was his home and making his way towards the coalmines.

As he arrived, some early workers entered the mines, greeting Maximillian with small waves or mutterings of hellos. Beside the entrance to the mines was a small building, and in it sat his office, where he worked through paperwork and would occasionally check on the workers. He entered the little building and stood outside the door to his office leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, was his brother Kerry, his hair dyed a mighty scarlet, standing out against the classic pale skin of a Verechel. His brother worked in the mines too, under a false name so their father wouldn't see his name and cast Maximillian out with him for offering him the place to work. His hair was dyed to keep their father from recognizing him instantly while walking into the mines. Not that his father was here often during the day, it was usually at night when other workers were here for his 'business'.

Maximillian sighed and gestured for his older brother to follow him into his office and placed his satchel down on his desk once they were in the room, turning to face Kerry with a raised eyebrow.

"What is it? I know Father doesn't come here usually during the day, but do you really want to risk being caught?"

"I know what he's doing Max." Kerry said with a deep frown on his face.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood, but he remained calm.

"What are you talking about?"

"I hear certain workers talking about it, I've investigated everything it could be and I know what he's up to. I know he's using the mines as a front to a prostitution ring."

"That's impossible, he would never do anything like that." He said flatly, the panic and crushing weight of the fear of the largest source of authority in his life crumbling and losing that appearance of perfection. He couldn't let that happen, even if it meant covering for a man who was the furthest from any sort of perfection.

There was a brief moment of silence between the two brothers before Kerry narrowed his eyes at him and shook his head.

"You knew. You've known this whole time!"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do, and yet you're still covering for that prick! Why aren't you doing anything about it?!"

Kerry was fuming, it was plain to see that. He would never understand the perfection and appearance a Verechel must keep up though, the pressure that was put upon Maximillian's shoulders to not mess up. He loved his brother deeply, he was family after all, but… he couldn't possibly understand all the pressure that was on him.

After another moment of tense silence, Kerry let out a short but harsh laugh, rolling his eyes at his younger brother.

"Fine. If you won't do anything about it, I will. He is not getting away with this, it's wrong and you know it is. At least I have the guts to stand up to him." He spat out, his voice dripping with distain and disappointment. With his final words lingering in the air, he left the office, slamming the door behind him and leaving Maximillian to silently panic and fear what his brother was going to do.

He spent the rest of the day going through paperwork about and for the mines, while Kerry's final words to him lingered in his mind. He couldn't control what his brother would do, if he was going to gather evidence it would certainly take a while… if he didn't have it already. It was a stressful day for Maximillian, to say the least. However, he kept it hidden beneath the façade of a calm and collected businessman, something that came more than naturally to him at this point in his life.

Once the workday had come to a close, the workers left the mines and he wrapped up his business with both the workers and his paperwork, leaving him free for the evening. It was about half nine, not too late to visit an acquaintance, someone he considered to be his only friend, even if they weren't as close as conventional friends were.

With the satchel slung over his shoulder, Maximillian began making his way towards the square of Twelve, where tomorrow the reaping would commence. But that was a worry for the next day, not this evening. As he walked through the District, silently hoping the coal dust from the mines hadn't settled into his suit, the sky grew darker and the oranges and golds began to shift into a shade of an almost black blue. He held his head high and walked with purpose and determination, yet another thing that had been taught to him by his father. Within fifteen minutes, he had arrived at the house of the newly appointed mayor of District Twelve, Delsie Iachobo. Considering his families status within the district and Delsie's status, they usually spoke to one another on a regular basis, maybe not for massive extended periods of time, but enough to know a bit about each other.

After knocking on the door and being welcomed by Delsie, albeit a little on the quiet side, the pair instinctively made their way to the back porch of the large homestead, where they lit up two cigarettes and sat down, in silence. He knew it was such a bad habit to have and that a Verechel shouldn't smoke, but nobody besides Delsie knew he did smoke, and he knew she wouldn't tell anyone, she was a decent person. Besides, it gave him a little bit of reprieve from his worries, calming him down as he inhaled and tasted the tobacco on his tongue. After sitting quietly for another five minutes, taking drags from their cigarettes and blowing the smoke out, Maximillian broke the deafening silence.

"Is everything okay? I know I wouldn't be the first person you would confide in but I'm here to listen if you have something on your mind Delsie."

Another moment of silence before Delsie let out a deep sigh.

"I don't have good news, Maximillian. There's no easy or delicate way to put this so I'm going to tell you outright. The Peacekeepers were notified of a body being discovered in the Verechel mines earlier this evening by your second-in-command, Aemon Fordare. A body with a knife plunged in it."

Maximillian blinked, in total shock at the news. Aemon was a friend, or what he considered as close to a friend as they could be despite their age difference. Why had he not alerted him when he found out? Or had he tried and Maximillian missed those attempts to find him? Who had ruthlessly murdered a worker in their mines? Confusion and concern were etched across his face, but Deslie wasn't finished just yet.

"A knife with your fingerprints on it." She said, her cold blue eyes inspecting him, looking to see his reaction to the news.

His head was reeling from all this news, so to hear that… to hear he was being accused of murdering someone, a worker in their mines no less… it sent his world upside down.

"Surely this is some elaborate joke, right? I was in my office all day working, I only checked the mines once, I-I… Delsie, surely you can do something about this, you know me! I would never kill someone, there must be some way to prove that I'm innocent, that I'm being framed!"

Delsie shook her head, her blue eyes meeting Maximillian's hazel ones. She was a strong and calculating woman, who made judgments based off facts, he knew that. But this couldn't be happening, she couldn't possibly believe this, who would do this to him?

Then it struck him.

His father.

He clearly couldn't have kept his secret well enough, couldn't be perfect enough, for him to frame his own son… to do this to his own family…

"I'm afraid the evidence is clear and points directly towards you. I'm sorry, I'm sure this is incredibly hard news to hear, whether you believe it to be true or not." She said, her voice neutral and flat.

He held his head in his hands, overwhelmed and completely out of his depth. How could his father do this? He must have had one of his cronies listening to his conversation earlier, it was the only thing that Maximillian could think of.

"I'm afraid you will be put on trial and prosecuted in the coming days; you will likely be arrested after the reaping tomorrow. Unless you volunteer for the Hunger Games. That is the only solution I can offer to you I'm afraid."

His only way of getting out of spending his life in prison, volunteering for a deathmatch he would likely lose… he couldn't. Even if he did win, who is to say they wouldn't arrest him and charge him with the murder of this worker when he got back from the Capitol? He knew that Victors got away with many things, could be freed and pardoned of almost anything… No! He wasn't going to throw his life away for a one in twenty-four chance that he might win! At least if he was alive, he could fight his case, get lawyers, plead his case and appeal if need be. He would do what he had to, but he would do it alive.

He would prove that corrupt, low-life bastard father of his wasn't as perfect as he seemed. And he would prove that he was behind this.

But that didn't stop that crushing pressure from building up in his chest. He had never fought against or even thought about opposing the authorities in his life.

But he had to try. No matter how terrifying the thought was.

He had to.

A/N: Here we go, another intro that isn't months after the last one! :D

I hope yall enjoyed these next two intros of our tributes, Cleo's POV was same as the first time she was introed because I was happy with how it came out the first time around, so I didn't feel the need to change it this time!

Cleo is my own, and thank you to the wonderful Paradigm of Writing for Maximillian! He was an absolute blast to write, I hope you don't mind that I tweaked a few small details :)

I'm already beginning to work on the next intros so expect that soon enough, I'm really getting back into the flow of these again, so it'll be fun to get into my plans for the whole gang!

See you in the next chapter yall!