Shazia Burnell, 17

District 9, She/Her

January 21st, 97 ADD

1:20 AM

Shazia staggered away from the alley, fingering the box cutter with a white-knuckled grip. She kept waiting for it to hit her- regret? guilt?- but there was nothing. Just Shazia Burnell and the cold winter night.

She took a deep breath in.

Exhaled.

No, this was much better.

She shoved the box cutter in her pocket, still not letting go of it, and started to make her way home. It might have been wise to tuck her head low and hide her face, but Shazia was having none of that today. She raised her chin and walked calmly down the street. She would not hide. She would not run. Shazia Burnell was a fighter, and she had not just proven herself to return to the state of fear she'd spent too many months trapped in.

(Now, the only shadow tailing Shazia was her own.)

(Shazia was finally free.)

It didn't take her long to make her way back to her usual route. Nine was better known for its rolling fields of grain than its small industrial centers, but the latter was where Shazia had always thrived. After all, Nine only kept a small portion of what it grew for itself- the rest of it needed to be transported, and someone had to keep all the machines running, and there was always someone who needed something fixed. Her grandmother Zahra's repair shop managed to dabble in a little of all of it.

(It was just the two of them, Shazia and Zahra, and her grandmother was all Shazia had ever known. She loved the life her grandmother had built for them. Zahra Burnell was the strongest woman Shazia knew, and she sought to emulate her as much as she possibly could.)

Shazia took the most direct route to her grandmother's shop. She hadn't taken this route in a long while- she'd felt safer on the side streets until now. This cut her walk down by a solid five minutes. As she drew closer, she pulled out her keys with her free hand- the other was still on the box cutter- and unlocked the door. She slipped inside quickly, shutting and relocking the door in the same breath.

Even in the dark, Shazia felt safer in the repair shop than anywhere else. The familiar scents of motor oil and metal wafted through the air, soothing her. She made her way past the racks of tools and the workbenches towards the back of the store, hanging a right at the back office and heading upstairs to the apartment she and her grandmother shared. She did her best to silence her footsteps, not wanting to wake her grandmother up. She unlocked another door and kicked off her shoes, then made a beeline for the bathroom.

Damn, she was a mess.

At least she'd pulled her braids back for work today- her hair was clean and secure. That was about it, though. She'd worn an old shirt that had already seen its fair share of oil and grease, and now a larger, darker stain clung to it. She brushed a finger along it- still damp enough to leave a fresh red streak across her fingertip. She reached for the hem and began to take the work shirt off, remaining calm as it peeled away from her torso. She pulled it over her head gingerly, making sure not to let it touch her face or her hair, and then reached for a wet washcloth to clean the red residue off herself. Her pants were slightly better off. She removed her box cutter from her pocket and placed it on the counter. With her pants, she repeated the process of removing her clothes and cleaning herself up before making a brief trip to her room for clean clothes.

Once that was done, she inspected the stains again. Then, she took the cuff of her pants and held it under the faucet until the water ran clear, which took a full minute. Shazia frowned. Her pants were black, and there were few enough stains that they seemed salvageable- but her shirt certainly wasn't, even if she could explain away the stain to her grandmother.

(She could not.)

She made another trip out of the bathroom, this time to retrieve an old plastic bag from underneath the kitchen sink, and stuffed her red-soaked shirt in it, securing it with a firm knot. The back staircase took her outside, where she threw it in the dumpster. Then, she returned to the bathroom to attempt to rinse the rest of the stains from her pants, watching the water shift from red, to pink, to clear, over and over again. Might as well attempt to clean it now- it wasn't worth wasting the money on a full load of laundry.

When she was satisfied, she hung up the pants in the shower to dry. She'd throw them in with the rest of her laundry in the morning, before her grandmother woke up. Shazia switched from cleaning her clothes then to cleaning her hands, scrubbing the dried brown flakes from her nail beds and the traces of red from between her fingers.

Then, as her last step, she picked up the box cutter again and ran it under the water, making sure every screw was shining clean before she toweled it dry. She'd give it a better polishing tomorrow. Water wasn't great for it, but she was doing the best with what she had.

Finally clean, Shazia started to yawn. She grabbed her box cutter again and retreated into her room, where she set the tool on her nightstand and climbed into bed.

(Her dreams that night were blurry. Broken pieces of a larger whole. A birthmark on a man's cheek. A second shadow trailing hers. His breath in her ear. Her money in his palm. Blood on the back of her neck.

The birthmark, a second time.

The shadow, a second time.

Her knee in his stomach.

Her box cutter slick in her grip.

Her blade in his throat.)

(It wouldn't be until she woke up the next morning that Shazia fully realized what she had done that night.)

(But it wouldn't be until the day she died that she regretted it.)

Mercury Vidovic, 18

District 2, He/Him

February 2nd, 97 ADD

4:16 PM

tw: mention of gun violence

Argon pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand, waving the other to cut Mercury off. "Okay, okay. I think I get it."

"Ya do?"

"Yes," the older man grunted. He pointed across the table to the box of papers in front of Mercury. "Your dad left Jupiter the box. Now it's yours. So you're tryin' to figure out what the shit in the box means- something 'bout what happened to your dad?"

"I dunno," Mercury replied. "I- I think it could help. And I think maybe you might know stuff, 'cause you were his best friend. I just wanna know what'cha remember. Please."

Argon sighed. "What the fuck?"

"Please," Mercury begged.

(Mercury Vidovic was no leader. He wasn't his father, Draconis, and he sure as hell wasn't Jupiter either. For fuck's sake, he wouldn't be in this situation if he were anything like them. If it weren't for him, the Dravens wouldn't be crumbling.)

(If it weren't for him, his brother wouldn't have died with a bullet in his heart.)

"Draconis…" Argon muttered. "It was… 88, yeah. I don't know what you remember, but everything went to shit in 88. All the Prazdny cult nonsense. They were all mixed up with the Peacekeepers, and all those kids were dyin'."

"Right."

"So there was this Peacekeeper. Some guy was fed up. They made a deal, and the Spades got all into fighting the cult people and the bad Peacekeepers. Or, not the Spades, the Dravens, now, since Jupiter took over…"

"I remember the fighting. We got put in the safe house."

Argon smirked. "'Course you do. We pounded 'em. Prazdny is long gone now. But anyway." His smirk faded. "The last time I saw 'im… He was upset. He never got pissed off like that. Said somethin' 'bout his Peacekeeper contact…? He said he'd take care of it. Got on his bike. Said as soon as he straightened this out, you and Jupiter could move back outta the safe house. And then he drove off, and the next time I saw him… he was dead."

"What happened?" Mercury asked.

(As if he hadn't been asking himself that same question for the last nine years.)

Argon shook his head, suddenly looking very, very tired. "Dunno. I heard there were talks with some other gang leader- territory stuff, or money- went south. 'Parently someone heard yelling and two gunshots. Your dad killed the other guy, and… yanno… he went down too."

Mercury furrowed his brow. "But-"

"I know. It doesn't make sense," Argon cut in.

"Why'd he revenge kill a gang leader if he said he was talkin' to a Peacekeeper?" Mercury asked. "And who the fuck was the PK? And it's not something Dad would even do-"

"I said I dunno," Argon interrupted.

"-and it doesn't make the box make sense either," Mercury continued. "I mean… Jupi renaming the Spades and moving us 'cross town… and all our old contacts down the toilet… those parts make sense, since everyone thought Dad did a grudge kill. Jupi makes sense. Dad doesn't… there's so much weird info in this box- like who's this Teurian guy he keeps mentioning?- but that bit's in Jupi's handwriting, so maybe he added the Teurian bit instead of Dad-"

Argon shifted in his seat. "Are you- are you holding' up okay?"

"What'cha mean?"

"With Jupiter. I really am sorry, yeah?" Argon said, his lips pressed together tight. "He was a good kid."

(Mercury froze as a bullet missed him, whizzing past his ear. Suddenly Jupiter was behind him, pushing him down, shoving him back inside. Jupiter yanked the door shut behind them, and they both stood there for a moment, staring at each other.

And then Jupiter's eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed, and blood was everywhere, and Mercury realized the bullet didn't miss at all-)

"Merc?"

"Oh. It's, uh… yeah." Mercury swallowed. "It's been a lot. I can't hold the gang together like he did, and it- it's all me now, because Dad's gone and Jupi's gone, and it… it fuckin' sucks." He smiled weakly. "Who woulda thought I'd be the last Vidovic standing, eh?"

Argon was silent for a long moment, watching him carefully. "You know I'm still here, right?"

"Well, yeah… but I had to track you down again, 'cause after Dad died you sorta… fucked off… so it was just me and Jupiter for a long time. And you're cool too, but… family's different, yeah?"

"Merc," Argon said quietly.

"What?"

"I'm also your father."

"What?"

Argon pinched the bridge of his nose again. "I thought everyone knew that," he sighed.

"No one fuckin' told me that!"

"Merc…"

"You used to run everything with Dad!" Mercury shouted. "The Spades, all of it, and you left it all- and you left me- and you knew the whole time?"

"I really thought you knew."

"You and my dad…" Mercury trailed.

"Don't make me explain the fuckin' logistics."

"He was AFAB, I know. I'm not stupid." Mercury stared at Argon, sizing him up.

(Now that he knew to look for it, he did see a resemblance.)

"So… you can come back," Mercury said slowly. "You've still gotta link to the Dravens… and I can't be in charge, I'll fuck it up… so you come back, and we can figure out what happened to Dad-"

"I can't go back," Argon mumbled. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"I can try to help you with the box, and tell you what I know about running gangs, but I just can't do it anymore."

"Really? You'd help?" Mercury asked.

Argon nodded.

(For the first time in months, Mercury was making progress. He'd found Argon- his father- and now he wasn't alone in solving this puzzle. He would figure out what happened to Draconis, and he would figure out how to lead.)

(And maybe, just maybe, somewhere along the way… he'd figure out how to be more like his brother.)

(Jupiter had loved him, had seen something in him. He'd saved Merc's life and sacrificed his own to do it. Mercury would make his brother proud of him if it was the last thing he ever did.

He had no other choice.)

Aveline Averone, 18

District One, She/Her

February 8th, 97 ADD

2:32 PM

"Congratulations," Glamora said. "You'll be representing District One in this year's Hunger Games!"

Aveline looked from Glamora to Aurelia, and then back at Aurelia again. "That's it?" she asked, dumbfounded. She'd been called to Aurelia Charm's office expecting… well, she didn't know what she'd been expecting, but it certainly wasn't this.

"I know things are done differently in Two," Aurelia said. "We don't use a tournament to select our tributes as they do. We hand-pick them from our cohort much earlier, and focus our efforts from there. It gives us more time to make sure our candidates are the best they can be."

"Is that… fair?" Aveline asked.

Aurelia shrugged. "We choose the trainee who, in our opinion, has the best chance. And that's you, Aveline."

"Oh." Aveline forced a smile. "Thank you."

(Her smile didn't reach her eyes. It hadn't for the last four months.)

"I don't care that you're not from One," Aurelia continued. "I don't care that Two mostly trained you. I don't want another Lucrece or Olympia or Serenity- I want a Victor. And frankly, you're the best chance we've had in years."

"It just…" Aveline trailed, struggling to express herself without offending the Head Trainer. "It feels… wrong, somehow. The other trainees definitely think so. I just walked in here and stole the spot that they've been after for years. I… I don't know if I can."

Glamora, who worked as one of the higher-level administrators- and who had taken Aveline in when she showed up on the Academy's doorstep several months ago- frowned, a crack in her usual warm facade. "Aveline…"

"I'm sorry."

Aurelia raised an eyebrow. "You do know who you're talking to, right?"

Aveline's cheeks burned. "I'm sorry- I don't mean to be disrespectful-"

"No, no, not that," Aurelia interrupted. She pointed at herself. "That's literally what I did, Aveline. I 'stole the spot.' Pissed everyone off. But then I went and won about it, and here we are."

Aveline stared at her, turning this over in her mind.

"Stop letting what they think affect you," Aurelia said. "The spot belongs to whoever's worthiest of it. And that's you. You will be the end of One's losing streak, Aveline. I'm sure of it."

(But Aveline wasn't worthy of it. Why couldn't Aurelia see that? Aveline didn't earn the spot, it had just been handed to her.)

(Besides, she'd already tried to prove her worth back in Two. She'd let everyone down.

And Bas was dead for it.)

Aurelia narrowed her eyes. "This confidence thing is something we're gonna work on," she said. "This is why we pick trainees ahead of time, yes? For more focused training."

Aveline hesitated. "Will I still train with Shimmery and Baby?"

Glamora nodded. "Of course. We'll also have you train with your district partner."

She perked up at this. "Who will that be?"

"You'll see," Aurelia said. "Don't worry. For once, I think we've got two capable trainees at the same time."

"Oh, good."

Aurelia nodded. "That's all I have for this meeting," she said. "We'll talk again soon- there'll be some changes to your schedule. But for now, you're dismissed."

"Thank you."

"Congratulations again, Aveline," Glamora said. "I will see you at home."

Aveline smiled again. "Thank you."

With that, she stood and headed back to the Academy floor, lost in thought.

(But not so lost in thought that she didn't notice Invincible Gaultier on their way to Aurelia Charm's office. Choosing them made sense, but given their reputation… well. She'd try to give them the benefit of the doubt.)

As soon as she arrived in the locker room, Shimmery and Baby swarmed her, both of them beaming.

"Mom said you and her and Aurelia had a meeting today," Shimmery said, dancing from foot to foot. "How'd it go?"

Baby was doing a little shoulder shimmy next to her. "Any news you'd like to share…?"

Aveline sighed, but their goofiness did lift her spirits. She played along. "Hmm… let me think for a second…"

Baby's shoulder shimmy intensified. "Avelineeeeeeeeeee…"

"Well, now that I think about it, I guess there is news."

"Spill!" Shimmery shouted.

"They… oh! They picked me to Volunteer-"

Both of them crashed into her at the same time, knocking the wind out of her, and Shimmery screeched with excitement. "Aveline! That's amazing!"

"Thanks," Aveline choked out. They held onto her for another solid minute, flailing her around like a teddy bear, before she managed to untangle herself from her friends.

(Aveline was fond of her friends in One. She really was. She didn't have many, given the way she'd "waltzed in" and become the obvious pick for the 97th Games. But Shimmery had always been kind to her from the moment Glamora took her in, and her boyfriend Babylon- Baby for short- had been equally welcoming.

But that didn't change the fact that for her entire life, Aveline had envisioned this moment in Two. With her friends- with Bas. And she felt guilty for being so ungrateful, especially because Bastet was dead because of her.)

(Aveline had thrown her tournament in the 96th. Aveline had participated in the protests, and then the unrest, after Qibli Vestron's victory- another Victor from the official training center, the one for the rich kids, the one that never gave anyone without enough money to attend a chance. Aveline had run herself ragged trying to redeem herself to Bas. Aveline was the one who had been stupid enough to mix up a smoke bomb with a real grenade.)

(And when she'd seen Bas dead on the ground, what had she done? She ran. She'd left her there. She'd lost the most important person in her life- her best friend- because of her own selfishness. But instead, she'd deserted them all.)

(So no, Aveline Averone was not worthy. She was no hero.)

(Instead, she'd made her choice. She had run. She had lived.

These were the consequences, and Aveline deserved to suffer them.)

"Let's go celebrate!" Baby squealed. "Come on- I heard about this bakery downtown. I bet they'll have those tiny cakes you like!"

"Tiny cake!" Shimmery cheered.

"I do like tiny cake," Aveline admitted.

So she let her friends drag her to her celebration, trying to focus on the friends she'd found instead of the ones she'd lost.

(Trying, and failing.)

thank you to thegarden for shazia, timesphobic for mercury, and ladyqueerfoot for aveline! i had lots of fun with them and they were a great set to kick off the second half of intros :) thank u also to moose for the assist with these first two povs!

after another asom update i'll be back here again with the next set of intros! see you next time with mendi, tomo, and invincible...

- rb