Well, back yet again! This time with the District 9 Reaping Chapter :D These two are a funny pair who I have found difficult in creating so make sure to let me know your thoughts :) Unlike the previous chapter this is going to be set out over 2 shorter chapters… I want to introduce all tributes so that I put up a poll! :D

Oh and just a little question…would you like to return to District 2 once more before we get to the Capitol? Or should I save Sandy/ Claude's volunteering justifications for a bit later in the story?

Now credit goes to:

Amo-scribere for Fiona 'Finn' Harkin

AND

SilverPhoenixFire2000 for Aezir Marston

Aezir Marston, District 9.

I slice through the sheaves of wheat with my sickle, the debris falling to the ground; someone else is assigned the duty of harvesting the grain, my sole purpose in this field is to cut them down with my trusty sickle. This sickle is my life line, without it I could not work and if I could not work well I don't know what I'd do with my time seeing as in District 9 it's work or well merely exist; plus the wages from this help put food on the table and being 16 years old means I have to contribute to the household as much as my mother or father. See as soon as I learned to wield this sickle proficiently I took the risk of taking out tessarea: I know the result is that my name is added to the death bowel a number of extra times but it's worth it to make sure we get at least some food inside of us on a regular basis. I mean I have confidence that if the odds aren't in my favour I'd have a good shot in the games; admittedly not as good as the careers but I'm really persistent and I'll keep striving towards any goal I set myself: And the higher the cost, the more determined I become to achieve my goal and in relation to the Hunger Games; my life is the possible cost so I would be exceptionally determined to achieve my goal of surviving.

Now don't think that I am some idiot who thinks that because I am more prepared than most in my district that I would volunteer because that would never happen; if the odds are in my favour and I never have a brush in with the Hunger Games then I'll be a very happy man, it's just that I want to be prepared for any possibility and however much I may not want to admit it: There is a possibility that I'll be pulled into the Hunger Games but if I am at least I know I've taken some time to try and prepare myself. I may not be as physically primed as these career tributes but I've done enough to make sure that I stand a fighting chance: The callous' that line my hands show the long hours I've spent wielding sickles, scythes and machetes and my broad shoulder and muscled arms are a testament to my physical strength; and coming from a district who's primary trade is grain it is pretty much given that I'm adequate at identifying edible plants, although the knowledge could be improved upon. Now, I'm not saying that I'm perfect because I have more than enough weaknesses but what most people don't recognise is that everyone has weakness' and if I notice someone's weakness: I am more than prepared to exploit it especially if it helps me overcome an obstacle before me.

I continue to hack through the sheaves, my pace is a lot quicker than my colleagues; it's helpful since I get through my quotas quicker than everybody else which leaves me with slightly more spare time but at the same time it is a curse: It allows my imagination to wonder. The tall wheat sheaves before me begin to transform into people, their faces twisted in pain and blood seeping through the wounds I have inflicted: Is it truly this easy to kill another person? Just like hacking down a sheaf of wheat? I hope to never find the answer to that question but I'm pretty confident that if push came to shove and it was kill or be killed, I could kill without a second thought; everyone has their fatal flaws even the ancient Greek warriors like Achilles, well mine is that I'm selfish and in a life or death situation I will always put myself first and that is not always a good thing and on top of that I am a proud young man. I think I've earned my rite to be prideful, I have worked harder and longer than any other boys my age, I am stronger and faster; I'm more mature and most likely more intelligent: It may appear that I am narcissistic but I am not, I've worked to excel whereas many others just seem to float through life without purpose, never conditioning their bodies or their minds; that is why District 9 rarely makes an impression in the Hunger Games.

I hear a siren trill in the distance, I look back to see how far I've ventured into the field; I can see none of my fellow workers in the immediate vicinity. Wow, I've gone further than usual; it's good to know that my body operates on auto pilot even when I am brooding about things that may never happen. The siren is to signal the end of the working day, luckily today is a half day due to the reapings so I'll be able to recover from my strenuous labour; I was really hacking today and I wouldn't be surprised if I had blisters forming along my hands: soaking them in eucalyptus oils should take care of it and if not I'll have Daysha have a look. I trudge through the fields and take a moment to marvel at the sun rising amongst the wheat fields making each individual sheaf of wheat glow as if it were solid gold; the gentle tweet of birdsong, it's very beautiful but wholly ironic for today two children will be taken, most likely to never return. The world really does work in strange ways.

'Aezir' I hear a chorus of shouts, and a smile crosses my lips; wherever I am I can't seem to retain a sense of privacy for long with these three morons as my friends. Mikki, my 'main man' although I hear the new term is a 'wing man'; he is the one who encourages my competitive nature, I've lost count of how many times we've raced through the fields or thrown stones at makeshift targets. Luka is the crazy one, not literally he just seems to take risks when risks don't necessarily need to be taken although sometimes his daring nature does pay off; only the other week he managed to steal a bottle of liquor from right under a Peacekeeper's nose: I really don't have a clue as to how he did that and finally we have Darmin: the brains, or should I say rationality; he is great at keeping the peace because us lot can sure get rowdy but he manages to make sure we cause no trouble, well not much.

'Guys, have you been waiting for me? I'm ever so flattered.' I bat my eyelids which make all the boys break down in hysterical laughter, it wasn't that funny to be frank but whenever it's reaping day everything seems 10 times funnier as people are desperate to cling to any positive emotion they can muster, particularly us four seeing as we've all signed up for tessarea so the odds aren't in our favour and for any one of us this truly may not be a Happy Hunger Games. They all punch me in the arm but I just chuckle as we start our walk back into the town, listening as Mikki goes on about some random girl he was snogging last night; did I mention Mikki was the one that never shut up?

Fiona 'Finn' Harkin, District 9.

'Finn, why haven't you taken the bowls out yet?' My mother's voice is an impatient puff, she sounds exasperated but that really is too bad for her; Yolanda Harkin can get as irate as she likes but I still won't do it and no it's not because I don't want to do my chores, I just physically can't. To put it simply, I am disabled or handicapped I don't exactly know how I'd describe it but in laymen's terms my right leg is crippled; the nerves aren't fully formed so whenever I walk my leg is like deadweight forcing my gait to be severely lopsided, it takes practically forever for me to get anywhere with my crappy leg. See, if I tell my mom that it's because of my leg she'll just roll her eyes and lecture me on how it's all in my head and I'm holding myself back and that my leg has nothing to do with it. Bullshit, she doesn't know what it is like to see people eyeing you with pity, being unable to run, skip and do the simplest things: I love my mother very much but she just doesn't understand and she never will.

'I'm trying to do it mom, it's just my leg is getting in the way' I hear my mom continue to huff, I really wonder what has her knickers in such a twist, my younger sister Brianne walks in and tries to grab the bowl from my hand: Oh hell no. I've made it perfectly clear I hate pity whether or not it is coming from Brianne and in all honesty she's only 10, I am 5 years her senior: If anyone's looking after anyone it will be me caring for her, leg be damned. I know my leg holds me back but I don't want people to actually know; my exterior is rather cool, I am independent and confident and if I'm being brutally honest rather snappy but I'd rather be that way than let everyone onto how weak I am; how useless and how damn pathetic my leg has rendered me. I snatch the bowl back from Brianne's who just storms off muttering a number of obscenities, words she should never have heard at her age and if I were capable I'd chase her down and give her a stern talking to.

'Mom, Brianne is swearing' Okay, I may be a bit of a tell tale but hopefully it'll distract my mom from moaning on about how long it took me to bring my bowl in. I just hobble along, mind plagued with depressing thoughts as to how even the elderly move at a quicker pace than I; I'm 15 for crying out loud, I should be running through the fields laughing with friends but no instead I'm confined to hobbling around at a snail's pace and because of that I'm pretty bitter and resentful of the able bodied that I find it difficult to actually make friends. And when I did make a friend, the very same year she was sent to the Hunger Games and well I think it's safe to say that the next time I saw her she was in a box. See? There is someone or something out there that really has it in for me; I mean if there is a God I'll be sure to have words with him when I'm at the pearly gates of heaven. Why do I have to suffer so much when so many others are free to do as they like?

'Don't worry I heard her' Ha, I love Brianne but she's totally in for it! She's always swearing and getting into fights with other kids and everything that I can't do because of my leg; I can't even work in the fields which means I'm socially excluded from everything. It's so unfair, I suppose I am a little jealous of my sister but why shouldn't I be? She's got everything I want and what has she done to deserve it? I mean I'm better in school, I am the one who won the spelling bee for five consecutive years and I performed a speech to the District about harvest season and I arranged the previous years harvest festival seeing as I was unable to actually participate in the harvest,

'Finn, don't think you can avoid my question. What took you so long bringing in that bowl?' I am severely exasperated with my mother in this moment of time; do I need to wear a badge that declares me an invalid? It's blatantly obvious that my leg is the reason for what took so long, so why bother asking? It's so frustrating, what does she want me to say? 'I'm lazy' or 'I forgot': well I can't say that because I'm not lazy and with her pestering me I am pretty sure I didn't forget.

'Why do you think mom? Really? It's because of my leg…isn't it always?' I can't help but get a bit choked up, and I know I sound whiny but I can't help the fact I'm crippled; I'd rather be completely normal, in fact I dream that I am completely normal. My mother is wearing her famous stare of disapproval, any second now she'll take a deep breath to signal the beginning of a lecture, and there goes the breath. Great, and because of my dumb ass leg I can't run away. Dammit.

'Now Fiona Harkin, I don't want to sound inconsiderate but you cannot let that leg of yours cannot control your life, you can't moan about it all the time; you still have to live your life Finn. It's not the end of the world; you can't run properly but you're smarter than anyone else I know. Darling, your just different and have different skills.' My mom smiles at me as if we've shared some form of communal epiphany but that isn't the case whatsoever; I'm pissed off now, patronising me by talking about all these so called 'strengths' of mine. What a joke, she doesn't understand what it's like being crippled; you can't just put a positive spin on it. I huff in anger and turn to storm away.

'No mom, it does control my life. If I had two functional legs I'd be normal, I'd have friends and I wouldn't be damned to spend a life alone and extremely bitter. Whatever you may think, everything that goes wrong and every little thing I can't do is all because of my leg and I've really had enough of people saying it's not my leg; it is and it always will be' I hobble from the room as quickly as my crippled leg will take me, deliberately stomping to let my mom know exactly how pissed I am; it is my legs fault no matter what anyone says; now I'd better go and get ready for the reapings seeing how long it'll take me to climb the stairs to my bedroom. Knowing my shitty luck I wouldn't really be surprised to find myself stuck in the Hunger Games, another scenario where my leg will do nothing but hinder me.

Haha, so this is part one…just to give you a feeling but as of now you have met all of the tributes and I will be opening a poll soon to see what you think!

Now by now you know the drill…REVIEW! And go and vote in the poll!

Loves Yah xxx