Hoi! Here is the reapings for District 9. I've decided that there won't be an order for the reapings, mumbo jumbo will be fine. Thanks to District11-Olive and Sally the Lioness for these amazing tributes as well as Buffyrocks401 for Castor Sugar. What an awesome name :D
If you want to find out more about Felicity Miller's games as well as all the Hunger Games prior to Campaign (76th onward) make sure you check out my other fic 'A Brief History of the Golden Period'
Oh! And if you guys want to submit to an epic SYOT, make sure you go check out John Wilde's 'Lawless'! He's only just started but his twist is amazing and so is the whole premise of the story. Make sure you check it out :D
Warning: References to Drug use and Self harm
Fern Cherry – District 9 Female
Age: 13
"You can count on me to do my best… and more."
The girl on the screen jumps through the trees, silently making her way to the cornucopia. Her dark skin and curly black hair are barely visible against the night sky and the treetops. Anything can be an advantage in the Hunger Games… You just have to let it be.
When the sun rises on the eighth day, the tributes make their moves. The first is the red-haired girl from 5, she'd been hiding in the cornucopia all night. She skips out and snatches her bag, before running off. She's intelligent. It's stuff like that that can take you far in the games. Every idea is worth contemplating, with the right moves, anyone can win.
The pair from 2 come out next, the brutish boy and his petite sidekick. Rue hides in the trees looking down on them all. The rest of the career pack follow them, weapons raised, this year the career pack were no fools, they knew how to work. They snatched up the rest of the packs; 1, 2 and 11. Rue's District partner ran out, axe raised, he pelted it at them and it stuck in 2's neck. Clove fell down, dead.
Marvel was next, he took an axe to the gut, just before he was able to throw his spear. Two cannons boomed around the arena. He threw another, barely missing the victor's throat. The girl shot an arrow that pierced the monstrous boy's heart. He fell, dead.
I fast forward the rest of the game, I've seen it multiple times before. Rue's probably one of my favourite tributes, the way she played the game was flawless. Her only downfall was that she wasn't prepared for the finale, she was weaponless and the brute from 2 took her down easily. Rue Aster placed second in the 74th Hunger Games, had she been more prepared, she would've won… Preparation is key.
I skip through a few, the 75th was terrible, all the tributes were retarded, there was no skill at all, 76th was also lame, Emanuel was a spineless fool, his victory was just chance. 77th was okay, Delly Cartwright had some degree of skill… Here we are, the 78th: Victor, Felicity Miller of District 9. Now, she had skill.
I smile as I watch her, jotting down notes. She mainly used her skill with a scythe to get her through the game… And her brother, but I won't go into that, it wasn't her fault he killed himself. My papa comes in hauling a massive sack of grain.
"Fern!" he says, "Why aren't you helping Aly!"
"Sorry pa, I was just studying up," I reply politely.
"On the Hunger Games?" He questions, "Why aren't you doing arithmetic?"
"Hehe, I got a little distracted, I'll go help Aly now."
"Damn straight you will, there's a whole truckload to sort," He says in a jokey tone, well he tries to, it comes across a little gruff.
Don't get me wrong, he's an awesome dad he's just… slightly too into sorting grain, he considers it a work of art. Me? I consider it tedious and boring, we have our differences.
I stride out to the shed, Aly's in there already, sweeping. She doesn't do any of the actual work, I didn't start till' I was reaping age and after I went through serious grain-sorting training, Dad made us do classes on that. They were the worst.
Tomorrow is reaping day, this year I'm going to keep a really close eye on every single tribute. Who knows who'll win…? No one, that's the point. I'll even pay attention to the tributes that die in the bloodbath, they might have imaginative tactics that they just never get around to using.
"Slacker," Aly mutters under breath.
"I love you too," I reply. And it's true, sometimes she can be a pain but most of the time she's not that bad. We make quite the sisters apparently.
I sit down at the desk and pull over a sack of grain. It's 12:00, I'll work until 6:00 and then I can go hang with Persephone.
'Let's get this over with,' I think as I sort, staring up at the grey sky… Grey? The horizon is covered with thick smoke, "Fire," I whisper to myself.
"What?" Asks Aly.
"Fire! Run!" I call.
Elion Virchow – District 9 Male
Age: 18
"Just me, myself, and I; that's who it's always been."
I stare up at the ceiling dreamily, my mind still waking up. The sun's almost at its highest already, directly above me, shining through the rafters and the missing tiles. When it rains, I'm soaked, when it's hot, I'm steaming. God, it's annoying.
I roll over, facing towards the others, I've had enough of the sun shining in my eyes. Ander is sitting in the corner, a bong held to his face, puffing away. He looks at me and smiles. His eyes are glazed over, he's high as a kite.
"Sup dude, what took you so long," He asks, his head bobbing about, "You want a puff?"
He takes a big drag from it and exhales all around the room. Dante coughs, "Put that away Ander, you're gonna light the house on fire!"
I pull off my sheets and stand up. My wavy brown hair falls in tangles over my face, I sweep them to the side and slip into my clothes. Tomorrow's the reaping, I've gotta find Vaughn.
Ander's sitting in the corner giggling happily to himself. "Oi," I say, "Where's Vaughn?"
Ander smiles, "You try-hard, what are you gonna do? Sort some grain with him? How 'bout you hang loose mate, you're so tight strung, no wonder you don't get any chicks." When he realises he's the only one laughing (Which takes a good minute or two) he adds, "He went to do some work, he's probably out at the grain sheds."
I slip into my boots, one of the only things I own and head off towards the sheds. There's a massive complex in the western part of the District centre called 'the sheds', basically just row upon row of sheds, sheds for storage, sheds for rotten grain, sheds for transporting, sheds for sorting. There are only a few hundred people that work there full time but anyone can show up in their free hours and work. It's one of the only ways people like me can make a profit. That's where Vaughn will be, he's a workaholic, he has to be the only one of my friends that actually has a plan for the rest of his life.
I walk through the filthy streets of 9, full of mule shit and grain, represents the people quite well really…
An old lady sits in the corner of a shelter, she's well dressed for this part of town, and she's even got a fancy cane. She glares at me as I walk by. The bitch, who does she think she is?
When the streets get wider and there are more people I stick to the sidewalk. There are hardly any people here, most are stuck behind mountains of donkey shit or the donkeys themselves down on the road.
I get to the sheds quicker than normal. I spot Vaughn down near one of the tesserae sheds, packing a huge sack labelled 12. I strut over to him and swing my arm over his shoulder. "Sup Vaughn?" I ask him.
He turns around sharply, in 9 if someone touches you, you slap them, it's practically etiquette. His hand wavers when he sees it's me. "Oh, Elion. Glad you came, I've been waiting for one of you to pull your fingers out of your ass. There's a mountain of sacks to sort for 12, go grab one, all those impoverished bastards are taking out tesserae this year," He says with a cackle.
I smile, "Sorry mate, no ones pulling their fingers out just yet, I need to borrow some money." My tone practically reeks with confidence.
"Piss off! If you want dosh then do your fair share, I told you, there's a bunch of sacks with your name on them," He says, his tone slightly aggravated.
"Look, Vaughn, You would hate if anyone found out-" I start but he cuts me off.
"Fuck you, Elion!" Obviously, he didn't want anyone to know that…
"Everyone wants to, not everyone can," I say, smirking.
He pulls out a tenner and hands it to me. "Don't waste it."
I flash him my smile and stride out of the sheds.
It isn't long before I wind up on Sorghum Street, leaves cover the cobblestones, you can hardly see the piles of donkey excrement. This is one of the richer streets in town, where all the merchants and wealthy grain farmers live. It's depressing, though, all the houses are uniform, red brick and two stories… Boring.
I rush up the steps to the last house on the street. Nadia works here from 9:00 to 5:00, sweeping. She's the cleaner lady. Apart from her, the house is empty, no one else will find out about the money. I flatten it out and slide it under the door. Looking around, I rush off.
I probably shouldn't be helping her get by. She never helped me… I don't know why I give her money, I guess it's a kind of tradition. Twice a year, on Christmas day and the reapings. Which is tomorrow, if you haven't realised.
I used to live with Nadia, in a small house by the sheds. She never paid attention to me, I was just an object in her way. An expense. I'm sure she was glad when I left, she stopped having to pay for me. The one thing she must miss about me would have to be the tesserae…
I don't care, I'm happier now than I was at home. Ander, Vaughn, Dante, Warren, Tanner and Miller, they're my family, I don't need anyone else.
I haven't seen Nadia's face in 3 years, I doubt I'll ever see it again.
I stand on the hill, overlooking the District. In the west is the sheds, the south are the fields, the lakes beyond them. Further north than me is the victors village, the home of Priscilla and Felicity and Zachariah. Out east is where I live, where…
There's smoke billowing from the slums. And in the centre of it all…
"Fire…"
Felicity Miller – Victor of the 78th Hunger Games
Age: 43
I hover over the basin, knife raised in the air.
One cut, that's all it takes, my simple and terrible life over in one simple movement. Now is my final opportunity… I won't take another… I've failed 15 times before, it's now or never.
I stand naked in front of the mirror. My thighs are covered in cuts and slashes that ooze blood, I'm pushing myself towards death, the place I belong… I killed my brother after all.
Everyone else is outside. There's a fire down in the slums, everyone is out, no one can save me once the deed is done.
There's still the cameras staring down at me from above, studying my every move, but it'll be too late when they come to find me. I'll already be gone.
I stare at myself. I can see my brother in everything. Every little part of me, my nose, my eyes, my mouth… There all his, we were so alike, though he was smarter… And acted before me.
When I saw his body hit the molten rock I lost it, my mind went dead. It was a whole year later when I finally recovered. That's when I started. I failed the first time and then I was put on the watch list. Suicide attempts are common in victors and the Capitol wouldn't want their victors dropping like flies. Most believe we are happy folk, bathing in the riches of victory.
I don't deserve life, I took my brother's. He deserved to survive, he was smart and capable, he would have made a hell of a victor.
His smarts were my downfalling. He realised too soon that only one of us could make it out alive.
I often wonder if I hadn't volunteered, would he still be alive today. He probably would have killed the Redfold siblings easily enough. Maybe I should have stayed in the safety of home.
The doctors always tell suicidal people to think of those that will miss you. How they would suffer from your selfishness. My brother didn't think of that when he threw himself from the basalt island. He didn't care for my suffering.
If I were to slit my wrist here and now, no one would miss me. My parents are long dead, killed by Snow as revenge for my attempted suicide in the arena. He wanted to make sure the Capitolites kept the view that we enjoyed life. When I broke down he told people they were tears of joy. Joy from my victory. At least he is dead now. I can take solace in that.
I'm a failure. 24 years of mentoring and not a single success. I am a danger to the tributes. I was an impressive victor, I had killed my fair share and I was a 'badass' with my scythe, the tributes always choose to be mentored by me. Zachariah won by hiding. That lucky duck only killed one tribute in his game. It's not a blessing to be mentored by me, it's a curse.
I bring the knife higher, poising it above my head, one tiny movement and the pain and suffering are over. I'm free.
Free. Freedom. Safety.
I bring the knife down, slashing my wrist horizontally, ending it all.
Fern Cherry – District 9 Female
Age: 13
"You can count on me to do my best… and more."
"Now, for an arithmetic lesson," says my papa, smiling as we load our livelihood into the truck. "Fire + District 9 = Total Destruction"
"Is that what's going to happen to the District?" Asks Aly.
The sun set an hour ago and the District is full of people screaming and crying, houses burning and people dying. The fire is claiming hundreds of lives.
"It'll be fine, don't worry darling," says papa soothingly. "The Capitol Helicopters will be here soon, they'll put it out." Once the truck is full we jump in and head off. We have the advantage of living out near the sheds, on the opposite side of the District than the fire. It won't spread here, people are mainly worried about it reaching the fields to the south. Now that would be a disaster. Grain shortages all over Panem.
At least that's what papa is trying to tell us, if that was the case, why are we loading all our grain into the truck? I think something bigger is going on.
We drive for the whole night, heading further east. There are outer townships in District 9, places far away and safe from the fire. We drive down the road that circumnavigates the Great Lakes.
District 9 was built around 5 massive lakes, in a spot where it was simple and quick to irrigate farmlands. They all have names, given to them long ago, before the dark days. The District's centre is just to the north of the northernmost lake, Lake Superior. Rye, which is where we are heading is just to the east of Lake Michigan, the southernmost lake.
I once tried to swim in one of the lakes. It's a long story but it ended with me drowning. I won't explain it all, you don't really care. I wanted to learn to swim, many arenas use massive lakes or ponds or oceans as part of their arena. Persephone (My best friend… Well) and I walked down to the lake. Persephone went in first, claiming she was braver. Big mistake. She started drowning so I dived in to save her, somehow I managed to drag her to shore, it was a difficult task. Then she ran away, leaving me to drown. Sure, she came back with adults that could help but by then I had already passed out. All I know is that if I'm reaped for the Hunger Games, I'm staying away from water.
We get to Rye at dawn on reaping day. We've been here before, to sell some grain that we had so lovingly sorted but it was never this busy. Seriously, there are people everywhere. Sleeping on the road even. It's the biggest town apart from the District centre, farming rye is obviously successful. Funnily enough, there are other townships, Wheat, Barley, Sorghum, Durum, Spelt, the settlers must have been bursting with imagination, the names are flawless!
Dad hands me a dress, simple really, plain brown but flowing. I consider making a joke about Mule shit but I'm sure dad wouldn't be impressed. "Thanks," I say, slipping it on behind a trash can in the alley that we commandeered.
"Oh!" says dad, jokily palming himself on the head, "I forgot to hand out these sheets!"
He rifles through the glovebox of the car and pulls out some paper. "Aly, you need to touch up on your District history and Fern… Arithmetic, I think," He says beaming brightly.
Aly giggles cheerfully but I just roll my eyes. It's just like him to come up with a lame joke like that.
My dad has home-schooled us since we were school age. He's very capable and a lot cheaper than the schools around the District.
We walk in silence down to the centre of the town. Aly dances around a bit, Rye is full of cats, I guess the residence like feline animals. I for one don't, I've seen what tiger mutts can do in the arena…
I get checked in by one of the peacekeepers, who stamps my bloody finger onto a page. Lovely…
Castor Sugar mounts the stage, looking sickening in all his blue attire, like seriously, has he ever heard of fashion. I'm not one to talk in my mule shit dress, but too much blue is a little… Just erk.
He mumbles something about cats before continuing on with the ceremony.
Castor Sugar – District 9 Escort
Age: 30
Oh my lord! Please tell me that is not a cat!
It stands with its butt in the air, mouth open and its hideous fangs showing. This terrifying sound is emanating from its mouth. Oh please! I'm too young to die.
I pounce around and hide behind Phox, my overweight bodyguard. "Eat him!" I wail, "He's tastier!"
He looks at me, the disdain showing in his eyes. "Sir, it's just a cat."
"JUST A CAT!" I holler. "Since when are those words EVER spoken in the same sentence? Have you lost your mind! It's going to eat us!"
"Get lost," he says kicking the cat in the belly. It whimpers and scurries off,
Serves it right, this District is dangerous. That's the third cat that's attempted to claim my life! And that's just today! Last Tuesday…
We walk onwards. We're in the small township of Rye, they've moved the reapings here for this year, there's a fire roaring through the centre of District 9. It's only an impromptu occasion, the tributes shall be reaped from the entire population (of age) of the District but only the people in the town will actually be present.
It's relaxing, all the stress of last few reapings are turning my hair grey! I won't have to pose sexily for the cameras, I can just announce the names from this tedious District and get back to the Capitol. Agnessa Sorelle invited me to a party! Can you believe that? Agnessa Sorelle!
Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against District 9, It's a huge step up from 12, where I started off my escorting career but it's still not my cup of tea. It's very dirty and full of… Feline demons!
There is a little mock stage in the centre of the minute town square. There are only about 300 citizens that showed up, it was only mandatory for citizens of the town or people staying nearby.
As I step up onto the stage, I watch the people's faces change as they adore my costume. I don't blame them, it truly is wonderful. A stunning blue suit that perfectly complements my azure ringlets and cerulean skin. AND Designed by Cinna Honeyman himself! Only the greatest fashion guru in all of Panem. After his success with the District 12 Tributes for the 74th Hunger Games, he was moved up to 1. And from there, it only gets better. Now he works for the President and such, Augustus Snow of course! No one else is getting that presidency. Successful leadership runs in the family.
There's only one victor on the stage, Priscilla Durum, the stunning hottie of District 9. She smiles and shakes my hand as I mount the stage. She apologises for the absences of the other victors, who were held back by the fire.
I rush through the formalities, I know Proteus is watching carefully, secretly deciding who'll be next year's escorts but he has to fall for my stunning bod, who couldn't?
"Ladies first!" I announce with a flick of my hair, my perfect voice resounding around this tiny square.
I stick my hand into the bowl and snatch up a name. I'm no fool, I know what the games do to people, I've mentored for 8 years and managed to bring home one victor. I know how things work. I used to be under the illusion of the games, believing they were glorious and it was an honour to be in them. But now I am disillusioned, I see clearly, the people reaped suffer, they lose everything, for the enjoyment of the Capitol.
I kept the job to help these tributes, guide them to safety if I can. Okay, that's a lie, I also like the way it boosts my status. Like I said, AGNESSA SORELLE invited me to a party! YAY.
"Fern Cherry," I chirp. What a creative name, I think with distaste. People in the Districts have no idea how to name their children. With a beautiful last name like Cherry, you should go for something sweeter… OH! What about Castor? Castor Cherry, now that truly is perfect… Except Fern's a girl, I'll have to work on that.
A tiny girl with slightly darker skin standing in the 13-year-old section starts growling. What does she think she is? An animal? Then she starts stomping her feet, this girl has serious anger management problems.
It takes a good 10 minutes for her to come up to the stage. The peacekeepers threaten her and there's a lengthy discussion involving lots of colourful words and one of the peacekeepers getting kicked between the legs… Ouch. Eventually, one of them slings her over their shoulder like a sack of flour and carries her up.
She says some stuff into the microphone, there is definitely a few profanities, I'm not really paying attention. I'm considering whether this will gain her sponsors or lose them, I guess it depends whether this year's sponsors like them some spicy rebellion.
After she calms down I march over to the male bowl. "Elion Virchow!" I say.
A petite lady wails but no one steps forward. "Elion Virchow, does anyone know an Elion Virchow aged 18?" I ask.
Still no one.
Priscilla walks up to me, smiling dumbly. "Castor, he's probably at the fire. They needed everyone's help they could get," She says sweetly.
"Oh… Of course," I say "Send for him right away, please."
I watch as a handful of peacekeepers jump into the tray of a Ute and drive off.
"District 9! Your tributes! Fern Cherry and Elion Virchow," I holler, wishing the rest of the district well.
I swing my arm over the tiny girl's shoulder and escort her offstage. "Now," I say "Do you have anyone you'd like to say goodbye to?"
"Yes please, my Papa and sister if that's okay," she says flashing me a dazzling smile.
Well, the last thing I expected from this tribute was for her to prim and proper.
Elion Virchow – District 9 Male
Age: 18
"Just me, myself, and I; that's who it's always been."
I run down the ashy streets, it's been 12 hours since the fire started and we haven't made any progress. I wouldn't be helping out, being nice and helpful just isn't my thing, but I was forced. 'And so it was decreed, every man over the age of 18 must help… blah, blah, blah'
Someone hands me a bucket of water and directs me towards the south. Most of the efforts are going towards making sure the grain fields don't catch on fire, which would ultimately end with the end of District 9, well at least as a grain District.
I haven't seen any of my 'roommates' but I'm sure their fine. There's one thing that keeps coming into my mind, though. Just a throw away sentence that Dante said 'Put that away Ander, you're gonna light the house on fire!' Now if this was a bong fire… Just wow.
There's talk about an arsonist, someone depressed or suicidal, wanting to go out with a bang. What an asshole, at least 300 lives have been claimed ALREADY by this fire. I walk slowly down the alleyway, honestly, I wouldn't care if the whole District burnt down. It's never felt like home. The only time I've felt at home is with Ander and Vaughn and others wanderers like use, and that's hardly a representation of our District. "Mule shit and grain," I mutter… "Mule shit and grain."
"Oi!" Calls a voice, "Get to work you slacker!"
I turn around, there's a man at the end of the alleyway, a peacekeeper, wielding a poker. The electrified sticks that they use to bring people into line. I've seen them in action.
I flash my smile at him, "Fuck off!"
He screws his face up in disgust and flicks the switch on his poker. its like no one has ever been disrespectful to him. Welcome to the real world.
I could probably take him down if I wanted too, but that would bring all sorts of trouble and I'm not exactly in the mood for a fight.
I flip him the bird and rush down the alleyway, I throw my bucket to the side and the water sloshes out, dampening a pile of excrement, lovely.
He doesn't catch up, he probably doesn't care, I'm just one hooligan, there's thousands of others out there.
I sit down on a park bench, the fire roars in front of me and there are people rushing around with buckets of water. A few have hoses out spraying water onto the flames, failing badly to cease the destruction. The building directly in front of me is undetectable, it's been almost completely consumed by the fire. If it weren't for the fact I knew where I was, I wouldn't care about this building. But I do know where I am and I do know what the building is and I do care about it… And I want it to burn!
It's school…
I haven't been here since I was 10, when I was more or less expelled. It was probably for the better, I was what they refer to in the upper parts of our District as a 'trouble child'. Down here in the slums, I'm just a regular asshole.
At school I was always in fights. It was never my fault, honestly, it never was, people were just drawn to me. I don't blame them, I am quite sexy. Whenever I fought, it was always in defence. People that knew about my family or my childhood, they were threats. Since I'm a bigger kid, I was always blamed and I'm sure some of you can relate to this. I caused more damage than others.
I'd never admit this out loud, but I do everything for a reason. I'm not illogical or rash. My moves are planned and smart. Even then I knew what I was doing. Nadia was dismissive and I needed attention.
The things people do for attention… and mine were never good.
I look up from my memories, shit. I'm surrounded.
Peering around, there's about a dozen peacekeepers, armed to the teeth! I hope this isn't about the guy in the alley, this is what I call… Overkill. "Guys! What's up?" I say cheerfully, "No need for the weapons, we're all friends here!"
"Asshole," one of them says, before jabbing his poker into my gut.
BZZT! ZAP! POW! BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzz... ... ...
My eyes are fixated on the cracking wallpaper in front of me when the door creaks open. A visitor? Now, colour me surprised! This was the last thing I expected. Well, I guess they might have notified Ander or Vaughn.
I swivel around, the citizens of Rye are most pleasing, I got a swivel chair, a nice bed, heck, I even got free food! The only downside is that I'm going into the Hunger Games, but hey! Them's the breaks.
It's a lady…
…
…
"Nadia?" I whisper cautiously.
She runs at me and flings herself into my lap. I should be yelling at her, screaming bloody murder but something, something is holding me back. "What…" I whisper.
"They broadcasted it, just your old school photo, in place of the reapings, which obviously couldn't happen," She's rushing her speech, it comes out clumsily, like someone with a speech impediment.
"You have to come home for me, I'm sorry I was such a bad mum, I just wasn't ready!" Somethings telling me to trust her, another part… well it still wants to scream bloody murder.
No, this is wrong. She doesn't deserve me, she's a useless, waste-of-space bitch. Ha! I'll trip her up. "My father," I say softly, very unlike the normal me, "Who was he?"
"Oh… your father… well. I don't think this is the time, when you come back and we become a family, then, and only then will we discuss it," she says. It's been what, 3 minutes and she's already bossing me around. I'm a grown man for crying out loud.
"Nadia…" I whisper.
"Oh, Elion! Please call me mum!"
I untangle myself from her grasp and stand up.
"No… I don't think I'm ready for that."
She doesn't deserve this. She doesn't deserve me. She's got one thing right, I sure as hell am coming home but the chance that I'll be living with her is smaller than a snowball's chance in hell.
Wow, I'm not sure if I can express how much I love Elion. I know it's a little unfair to the other tributes but I think he's the best so far. I like Fern as well but Elion is just so… awesome, in an unconventional way.
What do you reckon? Who do you prefer? Fern or Elion?
This chapter would have been up yesterday but I had to rewrite Elion's second POV... It just wasn't working.
I was legitimately going to title this chapter 'Mule Shit and Grain' but I wasn't sure… I think 'Fire! Run!' is more acceptable but if you think I should change it, make sure you let me know :D
Remember! Go check out my story 'A Brief History of the Golden Period' if you haven't already. AND John Wilde's 'Lawless', which will definitely get your creative juices slippery. Now that, sounds disturbing.
Until Next Time :D
