Raphael Lunaris (District 7 Escort)
I'm glad they kept me in District Seven. I shouldn't be. I hate literally everything about this place — from its tall, sun-blocking trees to the rancid smell of nature that hangs thick in the air — there is nothing about this place that I like. And yet, despite it all, I'm genuinely thrilled to be here.
Why? Because District Seven is, for all of its flaws, still a district. More importantly, it's my district. I'm still a Hunger Games escort, one of only two to survive the purge President Ashwood undertook after his inauguration. That makes me special — it makes District Seven special. I may hate every — single — solitary — thing about it. But that doesn't matter to me nearly as much as being able to hate it in person does.
That may not make much sense to most people — it doesn't make sense to me either. Then again, it doesn't have to. It is what it is, and there's no way for me to change that. All I can do is enjoy every miserable second that I have to spend in this rustic hellhole of a district — and then dread having to come back for the other three-hundred and sixty-three and a half days out of the year that I'm not here.
I guess you could say that I have a bit of a strange, love-hate relationship with my district. I love to hate it, and I hate to love it.
"Someone looks excited," quips my partner, Arkadia, tossing her long, freshly dyed forest-green locks over her shoulder and showing off her rich, mud-brown dress and make-up. "Let me guess ... you found a secret stash of drugs hidden in the mayor's desk and took them all to help you cope with being here?" She jokes — a playful smile on her lips.
"What makes you think I'd have to be high to be excited?" I ask, the curiousness of my tone offset by the laugh in my eyes.
"The fact that you started bitching about District Seven the second we got on the train and didn't stop until just a few seconds ago," she says, rolling her eyes as she glides past me and slides into the chair I had been thinking about sitting in for the last few minutes.
"You make it sound like I've been bitching the whole time," I say, plopping down into the significantly less comfortable chair next to her. "I can think of at least ten times when I was doing something other than that today alone."
"Sleeping and eating don't count, Raphael."
I don't — I don't know how to respond to that. All I can do is sit here and look indignant, but that doesn't work because all I really want to do is laugh, and it's hard to look indignant when you're laughing. So, I don't even try. I just sit here and giggle quietly as Arkadia smirks triumphantly.
"So, did you hear about what happened in Five?" she asks, killing the mood.
"I did," I respond, my voice as even and neutral as if we were discussing something as simple as what to have for dinner and not something significantly more serious.
"And?" she asks, leaning forward excitedly.
"And what?"
"What are we going to do about it?" she asks, the first hints of a smile forming at the corners of her lips as she leans in close enough for me to smell her perfume.
"Nothing," I say, sliding out of my chair and straightening the wrinkles out of my hideous mud-brown blazer before starting for the main door of the Hall with my hands in my pockets.
"Why not," she asks, slipping out of her chair and chasing me down with a concerned and puzzled look on her face.
"Because it doesn't affect us," I say, my voice calm and casual as I slowly make my way into what my producer calls 'the shoot' in preparation for my formal introduction by the mayor.
"How can you say that?" she shouts, her voice thick with confusion, her face twisting in anger.
"Because it doesn't," I reply, shrugging my shoulders and continuing to stare straight ahead as I strain my ears to pick up bits and pieces of the mayor's speech. He's either just about done talking about his now retired past victors, or he just started. It's hard for me to be sure either way, but he's definitely talking about them. That much I know for sure.
"How does it not affect us?"
Is she still talking about that? Seriously? Did I not make it clear that I was done with this conversation with that last statement?
"Don't ignore me, Raphael. I don't like it."
"I'm not ignoring you," I lie, "I'm just not sure what else you want me to say.
"Trinity and I talked with the mayor and the commander about it, and we decided that nothing needed to be done.
"The four of us decided that we weren't going to let some stupid kid from District Five ruin the reaping for everyone in District Seven. It's as simple as that."
I can tell she's still not convinced, but she doesn't get the chance to say it. Because no sooner have I finished talking than the two of us are treated to the sweet sound of trumpets — a District Seven reaping exclusive provided by the students of a former victor who took up teaching music after winning his games — which signals the end of the mayor's speech and the beginning of our introductions.
"... It is my distinct pleasure to introduce our new Capitol team. Our new mentor — who has massive shoes to fill as she takes over from some of the greatest victors Panem has ever seen — is Arkadia Caliqu!"
"Good luck, Arkadia," I say, flashing her what I hope is a reassuring smile as she takes a couple of deep breaths before confidently walking out onto the stage. A perfectly timed gust of wind catching her forest-green hair and making it flutter like leaves on the wind.
"And her partner is a young man I'm sure you all remember quite fondly. He came to us last year as a fresh-faced boy — but he returns a seasoned veteran — one of only two in all of Panem. It is an honor and a privilege to introduce him to you. The one — the only — Raphael Lunaris!"
I can't even begin to describe how good it feels to be out here on stage. The wind in my hair, the love of the crowd washing over me in gentle, steady waves — It's almost enough to make me forget how much I hate the smell of trees. "Good afternoon, District Seven!" I scream, the first stirrings of a massive, shit-eating grin spreading across my face as I take my place behind my podium. "It's the thrill of a lifetime for me to be back here with all of you amazing people in the greatest district in Panem!"
I really did mean that, at least until they decided to remind me just how easy it is for me to hate this place and everyone in it. How? By being their normal, annoying selves, of course.
One minute, everyone is screaming and cheering at the top of their lungs — responding to my otherwise boring speech by rocking the square and everyone in it — loudly reminding the rest of Panem why District Seven is feared.
The next, no one is making a sound. They just stand there, silent as the grave, waiting for me to finish talking so that I can get to the part they actually care about, the selection of their Quarter Quell tributes.
Their ability to yo-yo between the loudest crowd in Panem and a funeral procession is infuriating. But I don't let it bother me. Instead, I focus on doing my job so I can get out of this charmingly rustic shithole of a district before the smell of nature overwhelms me.
Of course, that's easier said than done. This is a reaping after all, and a Quarter Quell reaping at that. There are certain things I'm required to do, certain pointless frivolities that have to be honored. And I'm the one that has to do that.
Fortunately, there's only one left. Unfortunately, it's the most idiotic and pointless of the bunch — the suspense-building stirring of the reaping ball. Which has never resulted in a district ending up with a better tribute than just plucking a slip off the top of the pile would have.
Not that I mind doing it. It is a tradition, and traditions are important. What I mind is that this year it involves me standing here in front of the hollowed-out stump they're using as the ball, choking back dry heave after dry heave as I swish my hand back and forth through the sea of forest-green slips of paper nestled safely inside.
But like with so many other things today, I find a way to power through it. Fulfilling my otherwise pointless obligation and then settling on the next slip of paper I touch — quickly snatching it up and making my way back to the podium where I carefully unfold it and read the name scribbled within.
"The name of our first tribute is … Asuka Tamura!"
So, I hate to admit this, even if it is just to myself, but I've never been good at waiting. It's not that I'm impatient — it's that I don't think I should have to wait for things that I want. It's torture, pure and simple, and no one should have to put up with that.
So, naturally, I'm forced to do just that. I have to stand here — under constant assault from the evil forces of nature — and wait patiently for Asuka to show himself. It is, by far, the second-worst thing to happen to me today — trailing only the god-awful smell of trees that I will never be able to get out of my clothes.
However, this time, the torture ends up being worth it — because my first look at the young man I just reaped leaves me floored.
He's tall, and not just for his age or district. The people of District Seven do tend to trend towards the shorter side of things, but Asuka is tall regardless. He's easily half-a-head taller than me, and I'm not a small man.
He also has rich, light-caramel-colored skin — beautiful, dark-brown eyes — and a head full of short, carefully styled, chocolate-brown hair. He also has cute ears, a strong chin, soft lips, and a regal nose — for those who care about stuff like that.
His only flaw, at least physically, is the fact that he's on the thin side. He's not a beanpole or anything like that — he does have some muscle, I can see it from here. But he doesn't look like most people from the Capitol would expect someone his age from District Seven to look.
That's not a problem in and of itself, and he has all of the other physical intangibles he needs to be a viable tribute, but it is something he'll have to address at some point.
Not now, because I have zero intention of bringing it up — just at some point.
"Welcome, Asuka, welcome," I say, slapping him playfully on the back and pulling him in for a massive hug. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
"Thank you, Raphael," he replies, his voice soft and neutral, his face a mostly emotionless mask of passive indifference. I say mostly because there is one part of him that's cracked, so to speak, and that's his eyes. His eyes are panicking, even though the rest of him is as calm as can be.
"So, we don't have a lot of time," I say, wrapping my arm around his shoulder and pulling him in for a playful half-hug. "So, I'll save the tough questions for later. But I'm curious, Asuka, is there anything about yourself you'd like to share? Anything you think the people of Seven should know about their new champion?"
He spends nearly a minute thinking about this, which is fine. I'd much rather he take his time and say something of value instead of just blurting out the first random thing that comes to mind. Again, I'm not great at waiting, but I'm willing to do it if the payoff is worth it.
"Not that I can think of Raphael." Swing and a miss kid, swing and a miss. "I'm afraid I'm not a very interesting person," he insists, running his hand nervously through his hair and offering an indifferent shrug as his eyes continue to bleed panic.
That is such a load of crap, but I'm not going to call him out on it. I have no interest in putting him on the spot, and if he wants to keep secrets, that's his choice. It's also not a bad one to make — and I'm not just saying that because — in my admittedly limited first-hand experience — the less I know about my tributes the easier it is for me to sell them to sponsors.
That is a part of it, and I'd be lying if I said it wasn't. It's just not the only part.
"Playing it close to the vest, I see. Smart," I say, wrapping my arm around his shoulder for a second time as he fights the urge to slip out of my grasp. "The people of the Capitol love a good enigma, and your fellow tributes won't know what to expect."
"That's the plan," he lies, clearly uncomfortable with the fact that we're still talking about this.
"And it's a good one," I say, moving my hand off his shoulder and running it down his arm, grabbing him gently by the wrist before thrusting his hand and mine into the air triumphantly while motioning to him with the other. "Asuka Tamura, everyone!" I scream, giving him a couple of seconds to enjoy the rather tepid round of applause that rises up from the crowd before motioning for him to take his assigned spot next to Arkadia.
"And now, for his partner."
The second time through the reaping process is always quicker than the first. I've already gone through all the pointless pomp and ceremony, so I don't have to waste precious time repeating it if I don't want to. And I don't.
Instead, I calmly make my way over to the still disgusting tree stump they're using as a ball, once again resisting the urge to vomit — carefully thrust my hand into the mass of papers, pushing all the way to the bottom of the ball before coming up a quarter of an inch or so and plucking a slip out of the sea of options — and return to the podium so I can read the name of the young man whose life I'm about to change.
"The name of our second tribute is … Bennett Ramirez!"
Ok, so I came into the second half of this expecting to wait. I had to be patient with Asuka, and my patience paid off in spades. So I'm ok with the idea of waiting for a little while for Bennett to show himself. Or at least I thought I was.
It only takes maybe thirty seconds for the novelty of waiting patiently for a good thing to wear off, leaving me the same impatient — yes, I'm willing to admit it, I'm impatient — mess that I was the first time through.
And, just like the first time, my reward for surviving the horrors of waiting is a tribute that I probably don't deserve.
Bennett is almost everything I could seriously ask for in a tribute. His only drawback is that he's short. Like, short, short. Like there's a decent chance we'll get a twelve-year-old tribute, who's taller than him, short. But everything else about him practically screams victor in the making.
He looks — and I hate being this crass and imprecise, but it's the only option I have — like a brick shithouse. He's short, compact, and brimming with muscle. I think some of his muscles have muscles of their own — he's going to be more than a handful for anyone stupid enough to cross him in the arena.
Of course, his physique isn't the only thing he has going for him — it's just the most noticeable. He's also got rich, olive skin — big, soft, brown eyes, these are easily his most striking feature after his muscles — and a head full of soft, wild, untamable, dark-brown hair.
And, just like Asuka, his nose, chin, ears, and lips are all relatively unblemished and proportional to his face. Again, I can't for the life of me understand why things like that matter to some people, but they do.
All in all, Bennett, just like Asuka, is as close to perfect as I have any right to expect. I just hope he has a brain to go with all that brawn.
I guess it's time to find out —
"Get on up here, Bennett," I shout, repeating my greeting from earlier by slapping him playfully on the back and then pulling him in for a hug. Or, rather, trying to. He's a little bigger than Asuka is, so it's a little harder for me to get my arms all the way around him so I can hug him properly.
This continues for nearly half a minute — it's almost comical, to be honest. And by the time I finally get my arms around Bennett in a way that allows me to hug him, everyone in the square — including Asuka and Arkadia — is giggling at my misfortune.
"Laugh it up, everyone," I joke, doing my best to stifle a small laugh of my own as the volume starts to rise now that I've given them permission to make fun of my comical inability to hug someone. "I know this is funny, but it's also a little tragic. After all, I have to go home and tell everyone I know that I failed hugging one-oh-one in school. I'll probably have to redo kindergarten now."
Oh, the crowd absolutely loves that. I'm never going to be able to live it down, but I honestly don't care. Why? Because my misfortune helped me breakthrough Bennett's shell. He's laughing, and his laugh is contagious. The more he laughs, the harder the crowd laughs. The harder the crowd laughs, the harder it is for me not to laugh.
It's a vicious, funny cycle, and we're all trapped in it. And I intend to take full advantage of it.
"Would you look at this Panem — I just found myself a mountain of a man with a contagious laugh. Eat your hearts out everyone else — District Seven just hit the jackpot for a second time in as many tries," I boast, slapping Bennett on the back a second time while motioning for Asuka to join us with my other hand.
"I don't know about the rest of you, but I feel like this reaping was a smashing success. We ended up with two pretty amazing tributes. Asuka Tamura," I scream, grabbing both of them gently by the wrists and thrusting their arms triumphantly into the air. "And his new partner, Bennett Ramirez!
"This is the year, District Seven. This — is — the — year!
"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!"
Asuka Tamura-17 (District 7 Male)
Ok, the first thing I need to do is find an ally. I could ask my district partner, we already sort of know each other, so it wouldn't be that big of a stretch to think that he would be open to an alliance. But what if he's not? Will I be able to find someone else?
Second, I need to train my ass off in the Capitol. But where do I even start? Should I go with combat first? Or survival? How much combat is too much? How much survival is too little?
And what about my ally? What are they going to want to do? What am I supposed to do if I can't find — "GAH!" I scream, ripping the small lamp off the table next to me and hurling it as hard as I can at the wall, shattering it into a million little pieces and scaring the crap out of myself in the process.
"I'm glad no one was here to see that," I whisper, calming down enough to realize that my outburst solved nothing, and now my parents will be on the hook for replacing a lamp that looked like it cost more than everyone in my family makes in a month combined.
Maybe no one will notice? "What the hell was that?!" shouts the guard outside my door, throwing it open and storming into the room with his baton drawn.
Shit! "I um — well — you see — I sort of ..."
"Lost your temper and smashed a lamp," he says, glaring at me disapprovingly as he collapses his baton and slides it back into its holster. "You know you're going to have to pay for that, right?"
"I assume so, yes," I respond, looking down at my feet awkwardly and refusing to meet his gaze.
"Good, I'd hate for the bill to come as a surprise," he says, turning on his heel and quickly exiting the room, stopping just long enough to look back over his shoulder and say, "By the way, you've got visitors."
"Who is —" I don't get a chance to finish my question — I'm too busy being tackled to the floor by two tiny blurs, who are arguing about who gets to hug me first.
"Get out of the way, Hiro. He's, my brother!"
"He's my brother too, Kenji. And I've known him longer."
"By two years! Besides, he likes me more."
"No, he doesn't! You take that back," screams my older little brother, Hiro, as he takes a wild swing that just barely misses Kenji's nose.
"You almost hit me!" screams Kenji, sliding off my chest and onto his knees and shoving Hiro onto his back.
"I'm just sorry I missed. Next time you won't be so ..."
"ENOUGH!" screams my older sister, Yuko, grabbing Kenji by the back of his neck and dragging him away from Hiro while my other sister, Tori, drops down to one knee and puts her hand in the middle of Hiro's chest, pinning him to the ground and preventing him from taking another swing at Kenji.
"You two promised you would behave if we brought you with us," snaps Tori, a look of pure exhaustion on her face. "If you can't keep your promise, you'll have to go wait in the hall with mom and dad."
We all know how this is going to end, my little brothers have never gotten along, and they're not going to start now. So, after nearly a minute of screaming on their parts, Yuko finally gets fed up and drags the two of them out of the room by their ears, leaving Tori and me alone as a peaceful silence falls over the room.
"Sorry about that," she says. "We honestly thought they understood how serious this was and would keep their promise to behave. We should have known better."
"It's not a big deal," I say, pulling her in for a hug that surprises both of us. "I'm just glad you came to say goodbye."
"Of course, we did, Asuka. You're our brother, and we love you."
"I know you do," I say, fighting back the urge to cry. "I just can't believe this happened. I knew it was a possibility, considering the Quell twist and how many times my name was in the ball. But I didn't expect it to happen."
"None of us did. But if there's anyone in our family who can make it out of the arena alive, it's you."
"That's easier said than done."
"Not for you," she says, a pleading look in her eyes. "You've probably come up with a plan already. You've had nearly an hour."
"Has it been that long?"
"It has," she says, a knowing smile on her face. "And you didn't deny that you have a plan."
"It's not really a plan," I say. "More like the rough outline of one."
"That's more than most will have at this point. Do you feel like talking it out? We have a couple of minutes before I have to switch places with Yuko."
"Sure," I say, motioning for her to take a seat as I do the same. "The first thing I have to do is ..."
"... and that's pretty much it. I know it's not much, but ..."
"It's better than nothing, Asuka."
"But?"
"Finding an ally is a key part of your plan, and you've never been great at making friends," she says, leaning forward a bit and dropping her voice down to a whisper. "How are you going to get around that?"
"I honestly don't know," I admit. "I thought about asking my district partner, but ..."
"That's actually not a bad idea," she says, shooting me an apologetic look for interrupting me before continuing with her thought. "You've spent enough time with him to know that you can ..."
"Hold on a second," I say, my voice rising just a little as I slide out of my chair. "I haven't spent any time with Bennett. He ..."
"He just happens to be working the desk at the bathhouse when you go there to unwind," she says, that smug, knowing smirk from earlier on her face.
"How did you?"
"I've followed you there more than once. You're not as sneaky as you think you are.
"But that's not important. What is important is that you can stand to be around him for more than five seconds. And if he can stand to be around you when you're brooding ..."
"I don't brood."
"Yes, you do. But again, that's not important. The two of you have a rapport, and that's something you can build on."
"If I can work up the nerve to talk to him. I haven't been able to do it yet even though …" Did I — did I say that out loud?
Bennett "Benny" Ramirez-18 (District 7 Male)
"Why did this have to happen to you? This was your last year. You were so close to being safe."
"I know, mom," I say, doing my best to comfort her while my dad tries to get my siblings to sit still long enough for him to help. "But I promise, I'm going to find a way to win. I'm not going to abandon you guys like that."
I said that because I hoped it would make her feel better, but all it did was make things worse. Now, instead of sobbing softly into my shoulder, my mom is crying hysterically, and there's nothing I can do to help.
Eventually, my dad has to pull himself away from my youngest brother, Kevin, and take her by the hand and lead her out into the hall so she can cry it out. Leaving me and Katie, my oldest little sister, in charge of our other siblings.
"Benny," says my youngest brother, Kevin, who is all of five years old and loves to ask questions. "Why is mommy crying? Is she ok?"
"She's fine," says Katie, who just turned sixteen and has a much better grasp on what's going on than the others who still aren't old enough to be reaped. "She's just sad because Benny has to go away for a while, and we're not sure when he'll be back."
"Why does he have to leave? Did he do something wrong?"
"Of course, not stupid," screams Ellie, pushing her twin Ollie out of the chair they had been sharing before sliding out herself and making her way over to to the window on the far side of the room, dragging a stool behind her so she has something to stand on so she can look out it. "He was reaped for the Hunger Games. And everyone who gets reaped has to go to the Capitol to compete."
"Well, why can't we go with him?"
"Because only the tributes get to go to the Capitol, silly," says Ollie, holding the tail of his shirt up to his nose to stop it from bleeding. "The rest of us just get to watch them on tv"
"Benny's going to be on tv?"
"I sure am," I say, ruffling his hair playfully as I make my way over to Ollie to see if I can help with his nosebleed. "And if you guys promise to mind mom and dad while I'm gone, I'll bring you back a present from the Capitol."
It's a harmless offer and one that I have every intention of making good on. But for some reason, it seems to piss Katie off. I can tell, she has that 'what the hell are you doing' look in her eyes that she only gets what I do or say something that makes her mad. But I can't figure out why she would be mad about me trying to help keep the others under control while I'm gone.
"How long will you be gone, Benny?" asks Kevin, smiling that crooked little smile that I love so much.
"I'm not sure buddy," I say. "But I'll try not to be too long."
"Will you be going with that boy from the bathhouse that you always stare at? He was up on stage with you too," he asks, his smile widening as Katie chokes back a laugh as she slides between Ollie and Ellie to keep them from fighting.
"Yeah, Benny, is Asuka going to the Capitol with you?" she asks, slapping Ollie's hand as he tries to reach across her lap to poke Ellie in the side.
"Yes, I will," I respond, glaring angrily at Katie as she giggles softly to herself.
"What are you guys going to do in the Cap — Capi — Capitol?"
"It's — hard to explain," I lie, looking over at Katie and silently begging her to change the topic so I don't slip up and accidentally answer one of his questions.
"Could you try? I'm pretty smart — I might understand."
"I'm sure you would," says Katie, coming to my rescue at the last possible second as usual. "And if you do your homework as soon as we get home, dad and I will explain it to you.
"After you help me chop wood for the bathhouse, that is."
"But that's Benny's job."
"And I won't be here to do it. So, I'm going to need you and Katie to help mom and dad out until I get home. Can you do that for me?" I ask.
He has to think about his answer, mainly because saying yes will leave him less time to play with the little wooden soldiers' dad carved for him last Christmas. But, eventually, his eyes light up, and he nods his head. "I think I could do that. Can I use the big ax?"
"No, you cannot," says our dad, standing in the doorway of the bathroom with a tear-soaked shirt and a still upset mom balling into his shoulder. "But we will let you run the counter as long as Katie's there to make change."
"So why not just have me run the counter then?"
"Because it'll do Kevin good to practice his math skills."
"As long as I'm the one handling the money," she says, rolling her eyes in annoyance.
I sort of space out after that. I'm sure Katie and dad are still arguing about who has to run the counter, and I'm pretty sure Kevin is still trying to get dad to let him use the big ax to help cut wood, but I'm not really paying attention to any of it. I'm too busy focusing on mom, doing my best to memorize every inch of her face so I can remember it while I'm in the Capitol.
But I just don't have enough time, and after a few seconds, a trio of peacekeepers barges into the room and drags my family out one at a time before returning to escort me to the train.
A/N: First off, I'd like to give a special thanks to goldie031 and Laney for submitting Bennett and Asuka. I know I say this a lot — seven times already with five more still to come — but I thoroughly enjoyed writing both of them, and I can't wait to show you more of what I have planned for them.
So, we're a little over halfway done with the reapings — and while I'm still incredibly excited about introducing the last 10 tributes to everyone, I've also started to sketch a rough outline of the rest of the story. I've got the arena done, the basic outline for the training chapters is sketched out, and I've started toying around with potential victors and rough placement ideas. Nothing is set in stone yet, and I've got about 5 or 6 different ways I could take things, but I'm incredibly excited, and I can't wait to show you all what I have planned.
I'm also curious what everyone thinks of our new tributes, Bennett and Asuka, and where they fit in the hierarchy? Other than that, I don't really have anything else, so please, drop a review and let me know what you think, and I'll see you all at the District Eight Reaping!