Hey Hey, Back with the second part of 'A Curious Obsession', which means that at the end of the chapter we're saying goodbye to these two tributes until we get to the Capitol. Oh and next chapter we're back off to District 1 for some Nicoli Spinoza ;)

Greer Ballentine, District 3.

I breeze down the stairs and enter the kitchen, Mom is currently at the stove trying to ensure the breakfast is ready for 10am precisely; my obsessive compulsion for everything to be perfect isn't a trait I inherited from my scatter brained father, my mother is the obsessive one in their relationship. My mother isn't one to strive for perfection like myself; she just needs for everything to be a part of an elaborate routine, to her poor time management may as well be a cardinal sin.

I feel though that something has truly thrown a spanner into the works for it is 9.54am and it doesn't look as though breakfast will be ready in 5 minutes, to some people this would be nothing of concern but for Ivy Ballentine it is as though everything is falling down around her and I can see it. She is fluttering around the kitchen like a crazed bird, throwing the cupboards wide in search of something while grumbling to herself; her auburn hair is scraped back into a messy bun although strands are falling into her face.

My long fingers are itching to pull these strands back into the bun but I stop myself, if my mothers carefully crafted routine is disturbed even minutely well let me say there is usually hell to pay and I most surely don't want to be the person who'll have to face my mothers wrath. Instead I wander over to the kitchen table and sit down on a rickety wooden chair, I have to straighten my fork seeing as it appeared crooked on the place mat; if I couldn't fix mothers hair I'll have to compensate by ensuring that every piece of cutlery is in its correct place. I am in the middle of re arranging the marigolds in their vase when I hear a throaty chuckle, the baritone belonging to the man who has been my role model since I discovered the beautiful thing that is science.

My father, or 'Daddy' as I affectionately call me, is the opposite of my mother; he is incredibly short for a man being only 5'4'' and dwarfed by his wife and children but to me he has always appeared bigger to me; it may be the laugh lines etched permanently onto his face or the lopsided smile, maybe even his warm brown eyes but I doubt it is any of these things. The reason my dad appears to me like this is because of his vast intelligence and love of knowledge; a quality he passed onto me as much as my mother passed on her irrational obsessive nature. His goggles are perched on his head, as lopsided as his smile and the sleeve oh his lab coat appears to be singed; I just shake my head at his dishevelled appearance.

'Daddy, I'm very disappointed in you.' I shake my head yet again and fold my arms, green eyes meeting brown; I cannot fathom why he'd go to the lab without me, if it were anyone else I'd be either crying or stomping my feet in a fit of anger but it is my father so I just let it slide.

'Well, princess I'm going to have to get used to working alone if your going to be assisting Beetee won't I? I mean you are the prodigal child but not even you could be in two places at once can you? Or have you managed to clone yourself now?' I laugh at my father, he seems to always be asking questions but for once I realise he is simply humouring me, I can see it in the twinkle of his eyes yet I still decide to jest with him.

'Well, you see cloning is possible although it would have to be done through nurturing stem cells, imposing a genetic strand from whomever your wishing to clone; and as for my internship, I'll still help you out wherever possible Daddy, I'd never leave you to do all the work. In fact, after the reaping today I'm popping into the Gross', blown their electrics again; I'm seriously considering altering their main circuit board so that the electrons that pass through are not charger enough to create a fire…'

I keep rambling and I see that my father has gone from laughing into the scientist he is, gone are the laughter lines from merely moments ago; now replaced with eyes that are alight with rapt attention, me and father spend literally hours sitting here at the kitchen table indulging in the intellectual debates which are literally like a drug to me. But before we get too engrossed in our conversation my father is silenced by a stern look from my mother, I turn to her and she is holding the plates with out breakfast; she places them before me and father before taking her own seat next to father.

'Now you two, we don't talk about science at the table do we? You two lock yourselves up in that lab all day; so for one second can we talk about anything else. Like normal families, I don't appreciate feeling mentally handicapped in my own home; all these theories and equations literally go over my head.' The conversation dies from there and I play with the scrambled eggs on my plate, usually Mom wouldn't come down so hard on us; it's just that it's the reapings and anything regarding the Hunger Games is a sore spot for my mother.

When she was 14 her elder brother became the tribute for district 3 and well, he didn't survive and so every year on this day my mother mourns the loss of her brother, the uncle that I never met and dreads the possibility that one of her children could be forced into the games. I wish I could comfort her, seeing as both Nash and I have never signed up for tesserae and the population of the district is so immense, the possibility of one of the six slips of paper bearing my name being chosen is statistically so low it may as well be impossible; I don't want to say this though so I think of something to say and try to brighten the atmosphere that seems palpable within the room; someone is missing too and so I decide to use that as a conversation starter.

'So, where is my beloved brother Nash?' I am being deliberately sarcastic, I sincerely love my brother but we just don't seem to see eye-to-eye; he is as intelligent as me but decides to waste said intelligence, favouring the 'party' lifestyle he seems to lead nowadays. Such wasted potential. My mother frowns though before answering, her tone appears to be sorrowful but tinged with bitterness.

'Nash is busy today, I think he went out last night with that Marsden girl; so we won't be seeing him until this evening unfortunately.' I lay down my knife and fork and stare down at my plate; at times I am obsessive and can appear aloof simply because I'm distracted when my mind is moving at a million miles per minute but the one thing ingrained even deeper than my thirst for knowledge is my loyalty: to my family and anyone else in my good graces. I don't know why Nash acts the way he does, and I've learnt not to expect too much from him. But I've always expected that his sense of loyalty was as strong as my own, it appears I was mistaken.

'Well it's his bad Mom, this food is awesome. I can tinker around with chemicals from here until kingdom come, but I'll never be half as good a cook as you' My compliment was completely warranted, my mothers cooking is the best I've ever tasted; the smile that lights up her face was just an unexpected perk.

For the duration of the time before I have to leave for the reapings I help my mother with the housework, or more accurately I follow her around making things perfect; I am placing plates into their cupboard, according to their size and colour when I hear the chime of the doorbell, I glance up at the clock to see that it is 11.30.

'Greer, it's your friends; just on time as always' I walk to the front door to be greeted by my two best friends. Eben Roscoe, the clown of the group who is always trying to coerce me into doing something outrageous and Kia Prescott; the pretty girl who seems to shock people with the fact she is extremely clever, I've heard people say you get looks or brains: in her case she got both.

'Mom, I'd better get going. I wouldn't want to be late now would I?' Mother smiles at my joke and just pulls me into a hug before returning to the kitchen and the pile of other chores that await her.

'So then Greer, how you thinking of celebrating after the reaping? Two more years and we're free.' Eben's enthusiasm is so refreshing, he is always trying to think of things we can celebrate; unfortunately his plans usually fall through seeing as they are simply ludicrous.

'Well, I don't know Mister Roscoe, probably coming home and having a nice meal; what were you thinking' He runs a hand through his ebony hair and widens his clear blue eyes, I don't particularly like that look; it's a look that screams 'do not do it Greer'.

'Oh, well I was thinking that maybe we could get a few bottles of liquor in and celebrate in style' Well he never fails to disappoint me does he? What a lame idea, first of all it is illegal and secondly, what would he get up to if he were intoxicated, he is wild enough when he is sober. Kia just slaps him upside his head, rolling her vivid green eyes as she does so; she shakes her golden locks before nodding towards the road.

We're almost at the town square now, the venue for the reaping ceremony when I spot a familiar face in an alley, a face I really need to talk to so I tell Eben and Kia to go on without me, when they ask why I answer.

'Well, it appears that I need to have a word with my beloved brother.' Kia nods her head in acknowledgement before she grabs Eben's arm and drags him into the crowd, poor boy looks so confused. Without a moment's hesitation I'm storming over to my brother, heels clicking very loudly as I do so.

'You idiotic, insensitive, foolish blithering moron' I am ranting because this boy seriously needs to sort out his priorities; If something were to happen to him it wouldn't be his little drinking buddies who would help him, it would be me, Mom and Dad: his family, a fact my moronic brother seems to have forgotten.

'Whoa sis, what's up with you?' Oh save me from what I'm about to do; my brother may look a lot like me, with his reddish hair and green eyes but we're as different as chalk and cheese; I really cannot be bothered with trying to explain anything to him.

'It doesn't matter Nash, you wouldn't listen anyway. I just think you need to re evaluate your priorities, that's all.' I feel defeated as I slump away from my brother, towards the Justice Building; he just frustrates me so much, and now I'm starting to think that maybe he truly is a lost cause.

Ellen Wence, District 3.

I fidget nervously as I wait for the reapings to begin, my little boy's name is in that God forsaken bowl over 20 times but I pray that for once the odds are in our families favour. I cling to my husbands hand, he squeezes it in reassurance; we may not have ever had much money but I love my husband and little boy so much that at times it physically hurts. The district escort, Milena Arrowsmith climbs onto the stage: maroon skin and purple hair, the woman is a sight to behold but I feel my heart begin to race as she stands before the microphone, addressing us all in her extremely high pitched and overly girlish voice:

'Welcome, Welcome to the reapings for the 62nd Annual Hunger Games, aren't you all just buzzing in anticipation? Oh no, that's just the buzz of electricity…Silly me' I laugh, not at the woman's pathetic stab at humour, I'm laughing at the ridiculous notion that we'd be anticipating the day two children are taken to their almost certain death; Personally, I dread reaping day even though many years have passed since I was eligible but there is always the chance that the Games could ruin my life, they could take away my little boy, my little Leo. Milena is now back at the microphone with a white slip of paper in her hand for us all to see.

'Oh, now for the good part, our district 3 female tribute this year is Greer Ballentine' I head a series of anguished cries from somewhere to my left, a girl steps out hesitantly from the 17 year old section; she looks completely shell shocked, eyes wide and mouth agape but in no time she is standing on the stage and tugging on the hem of her black skirt. The cries of grief and pain continue, I cannot help but sympathise with this young girls family; I could never imagine the pain that they feel, knowing that she will more than likely die.

I scan the crowd until I find my little boy; Leo is wearing the brown suit I'd purchased from the local pawn shop, it was ill fitting but it was the best we could afford. He is safe, he'll be home tonight: the quiet, respectful boy who is one of the only things I live for; but this vision of safety is cruelly shattered when I hear Milena coo out the name of the male tribute.

'Leonardo Wence'

'NO!' My scream echoes throughout the crowd, I am struggling forward. I now know the pain the other people had felt: the inevitability that my baby will die. He is tiny, and too fragile for such a barbaric event. Leo seems to ignore my cries and walks onto stage, ever the respectful young boy who obeys all the rules. I am struggling against Michael's arms, my husband is pinning me to his chest as I struggle to break free; yearning to grab my son and run.

'Not my baby, anyone but my baby. Please, I'd do anything…' My please are ignored and I slump into Michael's arms in defeat, tears streaming down my face. I turn to see Michael crying too; in that moment we are united in out grief, our son will compete in the Hunger Games and he will die. What kind of world is it when a mother cannot care for her children? A sick and twisted world; a world that needs to change.

Nash Ballentine, District 3.

It feels surreal; this cannot be happening. My little sister cannot be going into the Games, she'll be killed: she doesn't deserve this but there is nothing I can do. Since hearing her name I've been lost in a trance of sorts, waiting for my chance to say goodbye: the last chance to see my sister alive. I cannot comprehend how this happened, she was a prodigy meant to go on and do great things and now that chance has been snatched from her and she has been snatched from us all.

I am not as intelligent as my father or Greer; I have a brain but I just don't use it but I know that mathematically there was little to no chance of her getting picked but it happened. I also know that this will have severe effects on all of us: my mother lost her brother and now she faces the risk of losing her daughter too; I was about to volunteer to help Greer but I know I'd just hinder her in the arena and honestly I do not think mother could cope losing both of her children to these sick games.

I'm led into the Justice Building, and told to wait outside a room. Moments later the door opens and my parents come through it, they look devastated, tears are falling down both of their faces and mother is collapsed in father's arms. I wish I could comfort them, but what would I say? I've done nothing lately to show my family that I love them, I've all but disowned them and for what? To sleep with girls who's names I cannot remember and to get drunk? I am a pathetic excuse of a brother and a son; they probably wish it was me going into the games, and I don't resent that thought. Greer could do so much and what will I do? Most likely: Nothing. They pass me, father nodding in acknowledgement unable to summon words as he drowns in grief. Then it's my turn to say goodbye. I rush in and engulf my sister in my arms, trying to express everything: I'm sorry I've been so useless as of late, I love you and I'll never forget you.

'Greer, I'm so sorry that this is happening, you don't deserve any of this. You've always been the better one, it should be me here.' I try to continue but she pushes me off and her eyes are narrowed.

'Don't be such a fool. I'd never wish you to be in this position; I love you, you're my brother.' I start to cry, that is just so Greer: unyieldingly loyal to anyone she loves.

'G, I really think you can do this. While you're gone I'll help dad, I'll comfort mom. When you get back everything will be how you love it: perfect' She smiles at my words and straightens my tie; obviously when faced with imminent death Greer still finds time to make sure everything is in it's rightful place.

'Nash, thank you. I hope you re connect with Mom and Dad; you have so much potential, don't waste it because they're going to need you now more than ever because frankly I don't think I'm going to make it.' Her face falls and I feel hopeless.

'Well, I know you can do this Greer. And I know that you will, this isn't going to be the last time you'll see me.' My voice resonates with conviction, but my declaration seems to have stumped Greer seeing as she looks utterly bewildered.

'Any pray tell how you know this?' Greer is hanging on my every word now; this is my time to tell her something, anything that could give her the hope or motivation to escape that arena with her life.

'Because Greer, you'll be the tribute that shows the whole of Panem that when it comes down to it: Brains beat brawn, you are the prodigal child after all. How could you not win?' She hugs me again and for once I feel as though I've done something right, I've been the big brother I used to be: the big brother that Greer needs.

Leonardo Wence, District 3.

I cannot believe this is happening, I'm being forced onto a train by a squadron of Peacekeepers as though I'm about to try and run. I wouldn't no matter how much I'd like to, it's futile they'd catch me and I'd never break the rules so obviously. Within the month my flame will be extinguished, I refuse to accept this as fact though; I'm only 15, my fire is yet to burn as bright as I know it can. The only achievement I've had to date is when I burnt that wooden building, but that isn't enough. I grab what would be my token in these games: a charred piece of wood I had salvaged from the building, a reminder of everything I need to go home for; a memento of the fantasies I am yet to make a reality, the things I am yet to achieve. The fantasies that can only come to life once 23 others are dead and I leave the arena as a Victor.

The odds of me winning are practically none existent, but I refuse to lie down and accept my 'fate'; I may look like the typical District 3 bloodbath victim, but this isn't true. I will survive this, I have to and on that thought I can literally feel pieces being fit together inside my head: I will act like the bloodbath victim, become overlooked until I burn as brightly, the greatest flame the Hunger Games has ever known. Let the games begin and let it burn. I am alone in the train compartment now; I see a lamp on the marble counter top: a small flame is contained in a glass orb illuminating the whole carriage, this sight angers me for some reason; flames are not to be trapped, they are to be free to burn. It seems irrational, but I see a small portion of myself in this small flame: trapped by the Capitol, used and then discarded; never able to fulfil my full potential.

My inner monologue is brought to an end when a number of people enter the compartment: Milena Arrowsmith, the annoying escort who called my name out of everyone's, she doesn't linger though she leaves as quickly as she entered; the remaining three people however remain and take a seat at the table: Wiress and Beetee, both former Hunger Games Victor's who will be mentors and Greer Ballentine; my district partner and one of the 23 people who must die if I'm to survive. It seems so unfair, like me I'm sure Greer has a family, has potential; it seems more real now I've met another tribute: could I kill this girl in cold blood? Could I snatch her future? The answer is most likely no, that is the job of the Capitol; I walk over and take a seat at the table.

'Well, my name is Beetee Coggs and I'm already acquainted with Miss Ballentine; so tell me a bit about yourself' It takes me a minute to realise it is me that he's addressing; I was taken aback by his tone, it was like when a teacher asks a student to introduce themselves to their peers when they start at a new school.

'I'm Leonardo Wence, sir. I'm 15 years old' I maintain my public persona; the poor boy who is the epitome of good manners and respectful. I'd love to tell him that the Hunger Games are an evil thing, killing innocent children for sport but I remain calm; Beetee is smiling at me affectionately, almost paternally.

'Glad to meet you, there's no need to call me sir though. Now, this is Wiress in case you didn't know and we'll be mentoring you throughout the games.' Wiress focuses on me and smiles but then she looks into the distance and appears to be tuning out.

'Now before we begin I need to ask you both a question: Would you prefer to be trained separately or as a single unit?' The question stumps me, I honestly don't know; I turn to my district partner to see her staring back at me, her pale green eyes seem to be assessing me; I know that look, it's the look I wear when I stare into the heart of a fire and in that moment we agree without speaking, I nod at her and she turns to Beetee.

'Beetee I think we'll be working as a team; we can't do this alone and who'd want to ally with us. You know as well as us that our district's tributes are written off as bloodbaths and I think us two could prove the whole of Panem wrong' I nod my head, she is voicing my thoughts as if they were her own. Maybe we have more in common than I thought; there's a passionate edge to her voice and her strawberry blonde hair is shimmering like a gentle flame. I know that Greer Ballentine has a fire inside of her just like I and between us both who knows what inferno we could create? In that arena we'll be allies and if someone takes us down, they had better be prepared for they will burn with us.

Ta-Da, Say goodbye to District 3 readers; Oh I love them so much :D and they're allies. I'm keeping most of the tributes strategies under wraps until training etc. Let me know what you think though.. and I know this chapter appears to be Greer heavy but the first part was more Leo and either way they'll still get their time in the spotlight soon enough :D Oh, and a big round of applause to AvenRose and Europa22 for these amazing tributes.

Now, review! Tell me what you think, anything you'd like to see. Anything you have to say, I want to hear it! :D