"Evil Ways"

A/N: Late update, but hey, it's still Saturday lol. A bit of a shorter chapter, because these two are going to be getting a lot of the spotlight during the pre-games themselves.

~Oh there ain't no rest for the wicked

Money don't grow on trees

I got bills to pay, I got mouths to feed

There ain't nothing in this world for free~

Juniper Lourdes, 16
10 Months ago.

The lumber mills of the district were struggling, and the effects could be felt everywhere. Orphanages were overstuffed, children packed bed to bed within the few remaining, while people sat all along the town square, begging every passerby to give them some form of work. There were too many mouths to feed all of a sudden, though nobody knew why. Everyone had their own theories, but it didn't much matter in the end. Juniper didn't care much, anyways. It was Panem, after all, that was more than enough explanation for any hardship or pain.

Nowhere did this gloom seem to take hold stronger than at the bars within the outskirts of the town, where the lowliest of the merchant class laid their stake. Juniper had seen the comfortable world this once provided begin to melt around her. Her father worked himself relentlessly, pushing himself ever close to an early grave. No longer was the custom furniture they could so meticulously design enough. All hands were on deck in the lumber yards. Her mother had become even more blatant with her attempts to hand her off to a suitor, presenting her to anybody left in the district who still had a dime to spare.

But while her mother had her schemes, and her father had his work, Juniper could do nothing to help. She began to know what hunger meant, and longed for the days where that pain was unimaginable.

"What brings a girl like you to a place like this," the man said to the girl seated next to him.

Right, the bar. There's not much to describe. It looked in much the way that one imagines when they depict a bar in a depressed society. There was a dingy look to it, there were mostly men, wearing dark jackets and with hats covering their head as they leaned onto the table, their faces hidden beneath the shadow of dim light and the dirt and grime that painted their faces. A few groups played tense games of cards, though little money was exchanged, mostly just peanuts and meaningless chips. There was an air to the place that discouraged laughter or smiles, and it seemed as if every person in the room wore a grim disposition. One would imagine there to be cobwebs hanging from the ceiling and dust coating the floor, but it was surprisingly clean aside from the dirt and mud trekked in by the lumberjacks.

The bartender was a serious man, and took great care in spending every moment not pouring a drink working to keep the place spotless. That included throwing out those who might cause a scene, the man had no sense for squabbles being started within his establishment. But it was rare these days that he had to step in to stop that from happening. With the Peacekeepers cracking down stricter by the day, nobody wanted to give them a reason to pay a visit.

Juniper had enough time to take in all this information about the bar and the people within it, and enough left over to take a long gulp out of her glass of water, before she saw fit to answer.

She responded, and it didn't matter what she said. The man was too drunk to even make sense of it, sure, but even then she didn't need words to keep the man interested. Juniper had learned harshly over the recent years that often times, what she said meant little. The man could hardly even seem to open his eyes though, and probably only saw blurs when he did. Her voice was enough for now, smooth, enchanting, those were the words she had heard time and time again.

There was no surprise that it worked, the man even managed to smile. A silly, drunken smile, but still a smile. She had been sitting next to the man for an hour now, sober at first, she had put more effort into things then, slowly slipping to this point, where the rotting corpse of President Snow could woo him.

Juniper couldn't even say for certain why she was wasting her time stringing him along. She had never done anything like it before, had never even been inside of a bar before too recently. Maybe it was just out of pity, it might have been just a decently entertaining way to kill some time, or some exercise of her own power that she could hold so effortlessly. It could have been her practicing her charm, so that if her mother found the right man for her, maybe a mayor's son, she would be ready.

She didn't allow herself to entertain the thought that her intentions had been clear from the beginning, that she had known what she would do the moment she stepped into the sad, dim place. Times had gotten particularly hard, after all, and hunger nagged away at her heart just as much as her stomach.

Was evil still evil when the alternative was death?

That wasn't a question Juniper was ready to face, so instead she dodged around it. Death wouldn't be an option, and thus there was no alternative, no choice. With no decision there could be no ill intent. With no ill intent, no evil.

This justification didn't go through her mind when the man finally ceased to speak, his forehead resting against the bar. Juniper poked him, once and then a second and third time after a short delay, and there were no thoughts of vindication nor explanation. There was no rationalization. But there wasn't maliciousness either. In truth, Juniper wasn't sure what was going through her mind when she looked around the bar room, and slid her stool closer to the man's.

There was pain in her stomach, and that pain outweighed all else. It screamed, louder than thoughts or conscience. Hunger was enough of a reason, and to take it any deeper than a simple desire to let a pain cease would be to overcomplicate what was truly very simple.

Nobody in the bar noticed the woman as she slid copper coins out of the man's pocket, and placed it into her own. At one point, Juniper would think about that man. She would wonder if he were in actuality a wealthy merchant, with even more coins in his other pockets outside of her reach. She would tell herself he may have kept most of his money in his home, or he had a paycheck coming in the next day, or when those ideas shattered she at least decided he must have only had himself to take care of.

Hunger dominated life in Panem. It was a game more than just two dozen kids were forced to compete in. It wasn't Juniper's fault that it was a game she knew how to play.

She exited that bar, her pocket filled with coins, and she wasted no time in spending it. The money was enough for a couple of loaves of bread, and she devoured one of them on the spot, hiding the other two under her shirt as she made the walk home. She kept them hidden within her, slipping into her room before her parents could interrogate her on where she had been. She placed the bread in the back of a drawer, wrapped up in an old shirt she used to wear back when times were simpler and bellies were more easily filled.

Juniper felt no burst of adrenaline, no primal excitement over what had transpired. There was no rush, no desire to go out and do it again. There certainly wasn't any pleasure. But there was comfort, and safety, and warmth. Maybe that was enough.

Vesa Carlisle, 18
The Reaping

It still felt as if his back were bleeding. That day hung in his memories, casting a shadow over his life ever since it had happened. And here, this day, was where that shadow ended. He had never thought about that day more than this moment.

For nearly a year he had trained for this, working up endurance and building his knife skills. Survival was something that was already a part of his daily routine. Maybe he should have spent that time learning how to disguise himself, so that none of the Peacekeepers would notice who he was. Maybe he wouldn't need to, and they had already forgotten. He could always hope.

The line was excruciatingly long at the sign-in. Packing every kid in the entire district into the small town square was practically impossible in its own right, and it left no room for adults. From all around the giant, sprawling district, kids made their voyage by themselves, or with any siblings also going, brought there by the wagons that went to the far edges of the district, packing them into the carriages.

Vesa didn't have to go as far, so really he should have been in line long ago. But those wagons brought kids in early, sometimes even a full day, and he had no intention of camping out at the town square overnight. That was a sure way to dash any hopes of going by unnoticed. Instead he hung back, not quite at the very end of the line, but far enough in that the Peacekeepers surely wouldn't be paying any mind to the faces of the kids checking in.

Theoretically speaking, the reaping started an hour ago, but everyone knew it wouldn't begin by then, with a solid hour still left until everyone got filtered into their places. That gave Vesa more time than he was comfortable with to think. After all, it wasn't exactly like he had anybody to talk with, and there weren't any interesting sights or smells out of the ordinary. Just the same deprived, reeking mass of humanity that was pushed far too closely together. Vesa imagined for a moment what would happen if a fire broke out. That thought might have been entertaining to him if he weren't the one smack dab in the middle of everything.

Vesa eyed the boy in front of him, and spotted the pocket on the back of his pants. Maybe he had some coins in there, he looked like he was from far away, dust and dirt caked his hair from the long journey, and his shoulders sagged with fatigue, so he probably was given some money to hold him over.

Normally he would give it a shot, see if he could get away with slipping out whatever was in it. Even if it wasn't coins, there was probably some sort of token, maybe a valuable one, hidden in there. He was good enough to do it without being spotted, especially with everyone packed so tightly together. But today, he wouldn't risk it. Not when he was so close to escaping the reapings. No need to do anything that might draw attention to him now.

It was a while waiting in line, but eventually he made his way to the front, and it was his turn to get his blood scanned. He kept his face low, hoping the dirt and grime that covered him hid his features enough to make him unrecognizable. The Peacekeeper grabbed hold of his hand, and he felt panic rising in him for a moment, but it quickly subsided as he had his finger pricked, and was released.

Then came the next bit of panic. He stole a glance up at the masked person, if they even were that. Rumors had spread in Seven that the new batch of Peacekeepers were mutts designed by the Capitol, that they had run out of volunteers and had to begin creating monstrosities that wore those helmets for a reason. Vesa didn't believe the rumours, though. They were monsters alright, but they weren't mutts.

He held his breath as the Peacekeeper read his name in a voice that betrayed no sort of emotion, then, without any pause, stated his section, and told him to move along. Vesa was practically shoved out of his place by the next boy in line, but he didn't even bother being mad at him. He made his way to his spot, feeling a sense of calm come over him that he hadn't allowed himself to believe in for the past year.

"Hey, look, it's the volunteer kid, what's his name?" A gruff voice of a Peacekeeper called out from beside him, guarding off the section for the eighteen year olds.

"Vesa Carlisle! Ha, I had almost forgotten about the slimy rat," another Peacekeeper from the other side of him chimed in.

The first one laughed, harshly shoving him along towards his section. "Good luck in the Games ya little weasel."

Both of the men laughed, and the two exchanged a few more jokes between each other that Vesa tuned out. He was walking on auto-pilot as thoughts flooded his mind. He had begun to hope that they had all forgotten about that day, but apparently they hadn't.

It was about a year ago now, and times had never been rougher. With the famine in the district, Peacekeeper presence had been upped, and suddenly he found himself unable to enter the market center where he did most of his thievery. Years of living off of whatever he could pickpocket had caught up to him, and everybody in the town center knew his face well enough to keep him far away.

He was getting sicker by the day, and even if he was desperate enough to go to an orphanage, they were already past capacity. He could have gotten a job as a lumberjack, with age restrictions being lowered, but even the managers knew his reputation by that point, and none of them would hire him. Nobody wanted to see Vesa survive through the winter.

So he did what he had to, the only option that was left to him. He stole from the Peacekeepers. They had a food pantry, and it was surprisingly poorly guarded, maybe they figured nobody would be brazen enough to try and steal from it. It just had to hold him over a few months, after that he could sign up for tesserae, lie on the documents and pretend that his birth parents and adopted dad were all still alive in order to get extra. If they ever found out that he lied he'd be executed, but he'd starve to death without the extra grain, and they were unlikely to check anyways. All he needed was a few months, and the food pantry offered that.

The first few times he had been careful, only taking enough to hold him over a little while. But soon his confidence got the better of him, and by the end of the month he had been caught, not by a Peacekeeper, but by some random civilian who turned him in for a reward. They hadn't even noticed anything was missing, but still they wanted to send a message.

They dragged him out to the town center, tied him to a post, and whipped him until his back bled, and he was on the verge of passing out. He was still weak, and wouldn't survive many more lashes, and they knew that. It was an execution, not a punishment.

So he bargained, with all that he had to bargain with. He promised them that he would train for the next year, and volunteer for the next year's Hunger Games. He pleaded with the crowd, telling them "wouldn't they much rather have him, a slimy rat none of them wanted around, to go into the Games, rather than one of their children?"

To be honest, he hadn't expected it to work. It was a desperate plea, something he needed to try, just to not feel helpless. But he got a big laugh out of the Peacekeepers, and after another lash, and a few more fake ones done to get him to jump, they set him free, banishing him from the town in the process.

All this ran through Vesa's mind in an instant as he stood in the front section, squeezed in on all directions. His options ran through his mind too. If he didn't volunteer, what would happen? There were only a few who remembered, probably, and so he could just sneak out with the rest of the herd. They didn't know where he lived, he was off the grid, out in the forest living in the shack he had constructed.

But no, they would find him if they wanted to, and running would just make their punishment that much more gruesome. There was no way to escape. But maybe he didn't have to.

Maybe they didn't really want him to volunteer, or at the very least weren't going to hold him to it. They had been laughing, so maybe that's all it was to them, a joke. Just an inside joke between the few Peacekeepers who were there, about the kid who had begged to be let go by saying he'd volunteer. Surely it couldn't have been allowed by their commander to let him go, and so it wasn't as if they would track him down and charge him for not going through with it.

Above all that, though, Vesa prepared himself for the worst possibility, and the one that he found himself believing in. They wanted him to volunteer, and if he didn't, his punishment would be much worse than just a public whipping, or anything the Hunger Games could throw his way.

He was going to have to go through with what he had been spending the past year mentally and physically preparing for. One year of living in the woods, forging and sneaking into the borders of the town to steal whatever he could. An entire year cutting up trees with his knife, imagining scenarios in his head, practicing interview strategies, playing both sides as he sat in his small hut. Everything had been building up to this moment, and yet he still wasn't ready for it.

He wasn't ready to volunteer, no matter what the alternative was. He wouldn't let those bastard Peacekeepers dictate what he did. They wanted him to do this for some joke, but he wouldn't be the punchline. Vesa never went back on his word, when he said something he meant it, but maybe just this once, if it meant sticking it to the Peacekeepers, he would.

With all this flurry going on in his mind, he didn't notice the mayor's speech, the new escort's introduction, or anything else that went on outside of his mind. He didn't even notice the escort pick a slip from the ball, walk back to the podium, and read out in a loud, clear, ringing voice, "Vesa Carlisle!"

Well, he noticed that.

Juniper Lourdes, 16
1 Day ago.

Juniper almost felt like singing. The woods were quiet as always, save for the occasional rustle of bushes that she could write off as a rabbit or squirrel, things she didn't need to open her eyes and pay any mind to. Sound battled from within her, and she gave in to a soft humming. There was an odd calm there, the center of a raging storm that had endured for so long. She clung onto those moments where she was able to escape from it.

She thought about swimming in the nearby pond, but decided against it. The winter air hadn't quite given way to spring yet, and the water was still chilling to the touch. Besides, she would have to be home soon, or her mother would throw a fit at her disappearance. Normally she would just take whatever annoyance her mother would have, but with the reaping so close she decided not to make things more tense than they needed to be.

Harlowe sat down beside her. She held up a bunch of small white flowers, inhaling the smell. "Achillea millefolium, haven't seen any of these around the woods in a while."

"What's it good for?" Juniper asked, only halfway listening. Plants weren't exactly her biggest interest, but there wasn't much choice in Seven on what to learn about. Trees and how to cut wood was usually where education started and stopped, so Juniper would soak up whatever extra information she could find, not for the information itself, but just for the sake of learning something. It kept her sharp.

"The easier question would be what it isn't good for," Harlowe bemoaned dramatically. She suddenly jumped up and balanced herself onto the log, holding the plants towards Juniper. "Chew it for toothaches, infuse it for earaches, use the stalk to get rid of pain, or put it into a tea to help you go to sleep."

"Real useful until a lumberjack misses his mark and buries an axe in your side," Juniper teased dryly.

Harlowe grinned, a cheeky smile as she continued with her terribly acted theatrics. She took the stalk of the flower, pretending to stab herself in the stomach. "If you do catch an axe to the side, or even stab yourself with a tomahawk to the collarbone," she gasped out. Juniper glared at her, rubbing the scarred skin hidden beneath her hair. "You better hope you have some of this around. Relieve the pain, but definitely not the embarrassment, staunch the bleeding, and if it was on fire for some reason and burnt you, it can help with that too." Harlowe ripped a bite out of the flowers, munching on them with an open mouth. "Miracle plant."

"Amazing," Juniper said plainly, rolling her eyes. She couldn't help but smile a little bit though. The younger girl was stupidly bubbly and optimistic, to an extent that should have annoyed her, but somehow it didn't. It was almost endearing. Harlowe understood the way that Juniper looked at the world, and didn't think she was stupid for it, she just disagreed. Juniper tried to give Harlowe the same benefit, though that was easier said than done.

"It's gotta be a sign," Harlowe said excitedly, returning from her theatrics as she sat back down on the log beside Juniper. "People used to call this 'life medicine,' and it went away around the same time everything here suddenly got so bad. Now that it's back, that's gotta mean something."

"It means you didn't trample on the bushes before they could sprout for once this year," Juniper snorted, picking up one of the flowers and twirling it with her fingers.

"You can choose to believe that," Harlowe said, plucking the flower from Juniper's fingertips. "And I'll choose to believe in something better."

"Tu te trompes," Juniper murmured.

"What does that mean?"

"It means that you're an idiot." She smirked. "More or less."

Harlowe snorted. "How do you say, you have all the charm of a dead frog?"

Juniper shrugged. "Easy. Just say, Juniper, tu es incroyablement belle et charmante, contrairement à moi."

"Speaking of charm," Harlowe said, avoiding the trap and quickly changing the subject, as she munched on another of the flowers. "Your mom find you any eligible bachelors to marry you off to recently?"

"Not for lack of trying." Juniper sighed, pushing herself up. She took a few steps, pacing back and forth before leaning against the trunk of a tree. "I get it, it makes sense. We're still struggling, and marrying me off does more than just secure a future for me, it secures one for them to. More connections means more pieces ordered, which means enough food on the table, with only two mouths to feed instead of three."

"So perfectly logical, very realistic thinking," Harlowe said cheekily. "Well then, with that settled I'll go and get Jackson Obrum right now and tell him you accept his proposal."

Harlowe barely got three steps before Juniper called after her, "Oh, you don't have to be such a drama queen."

"Well how else am I going to be royalty?" Juniper stared through Harlowe dumbly. Harlowe sighed. "Seriously, what's up, I know you, if you wanted one of those guys you'd be hitched already and enjoying the high life. What gives?"

"Didn't realize this was a therapy session," Juniper said, rolling her eyes.

"It isn't, I'm just curious, I won't even offer advice." Harlowe paused, then quickly added, "Well, I might offer advice, but if I do it'll be terrible advice that you aren't going to follow anyways. Consider me a useless brick wall, a confidant."

Juniper laughed. "Why don't I just tell my problems to a real brick wall then?"

Harlowe shrugged. "I don't echo."

"Ha," she replied dryly.

"C'mon, I just wanna know. Tell you what, you fill me in, and I'll cook up some of this stuff into a tea for you, it knocks people right out. You can use it to drug those dudes you're always swindling."

Juniper swatted her on the arm. "I don't drug them."

"No, you let them drug themselves, much better. A strict following of deontological ethics."

Juniper stared through her.

"Seriously," Harlowe whined. "Nothing?"

She had her reasons. Truth was she didn't want to be married off, not out of any logic, or survivalist instinct that she had succumbed to, but rather that last bit of her that hadn't. She still held on to that idea of eventual freedom, to do what she wanted and not worry about consequences, to not live in a world where every action had to be centered around survival. It was a pipe dream, one that she scoffed at others for holding onto, but there was still that tiny bit of her that held onto it. That small bit of desire to live in a world where she could be somebody else, a world that would disappear from her view the moment she signed her life away to somebody else.

Juniper said none of this. All she did was shrug her shoulders. "Nothing."

A/N: And there we have Vesa Carlisle and Juniper Lourdes, thank you to the two wonderful submitters for this pair. I had a lot of fun writing this introduction, and am already getting ahead of myself planning out what shenanigans they're going to get into once in the Capitol.

Next chapter we journey to District Nine, and hopefully that one will be written before Saturday, so I don't spend the entire day quickly writing in order to get it done on time (whoops). See y'all then.

Trivia(1 point): The pre-Games will consist of goodbyes, train rides, chariots, training, interviews, post-interviews, pre-party, party, and "morning" and "night" chapters which are exactly what they sound like, going in between the training chapters. Each tribute will get 2 POVs (and some 3, but more on that later). No promises, but where would you like to see your tribute get their POVs?

Trivia(1 point): I forgot to ask this last chapter, so, what is the last chapter's title a reference to? Bonus point if you didn't need to google it lol.