Disclaimer: I still do not own the Hunger Games. Also, I think I forgot to thank the submitters for District 8 (sorry). So in my previous chapter, thanks to Finnick17 for Vienna, Elim9 for Gideon, where-the-stars-fall-softly for Ryleigh, and FlyingSpaghettiLover for Ichabod. Sorry for my belated thanks. This chapter thank you to jadediamond22 for Miley, Cup of Tea Green for Rome, Curcio Hime for Helaine and The Millenium Falcon for Raphael. Your patience is much appreciated. I am hoping to be to the Games by the end of October at the latest.

Times of trouble District 9

Haspereek Cloven – District Nine Mentor

"Couldn't sleep last night?" Haspereek asked. She and Rolath had barely spoken this whole past week, but she knew the voting, the reaping, the whole affair of the games was weighing on him just as much, if not more than it was on her. There were bags under his eyes and it looked as though he hadn't slept in days. He just shrugged.

"We'll live," he replied. They were both onstage, looking as best they could. The sun was shining and they couldn't have asked for a better day, a better troubled, bittersweet day. Haspereek managed a smile.

There were a couple of early birds trickling in, though Haspereek couldn't imagine why anyone would want to get here early. It wasn't as though they could curry favor, especially not this year.

She considered asking Rolath who he voted for, but she knew he wouldn't want to say and she didn't want to answer if he asked her back and turnabout would certainly be fair play.

She was planning on just standing there watching and waiting, like a grim reaper ready for the slaughter. The escort, Marilyn, had other plans, though.

"Haspereek," she hissed from backstage. Rolath looked up at the sound, but didn't follow when Haspereek followed toward Marilyn's gesture.

"What is it?" she asked. The escort's face looked worried. "Has something gone wrong with the voting? We can help explain it. It's understandable, after all, being the first year we've done this."

"It's not that," Marilyn silenced her. "There's something else. The other districts aren't taking it too well, it seems and we need to see if we can keep the calm in nine."

"What do you mean? Taking what too well, the voting?"

"Again, Haspereek, not that." Marilyn paused. Rolath, seemingly having gotten bored standing on the stage all by himself, had wandered over to him. She seemed as though she wanted him to leave, but either this was too urgent or she didn't have the heart to shun him.

"There's another addition to the games, another twist. There will be more tributes, this year." Haspereek let that sink in for a moment, watching Rolath's face.

"Why?" she whispered, as though there was something more unjust about the sheer quantity of children being sent like lambs to the slaughter.

"Haspereek, after last year you're asking why? After a tribute commits suicide?"

"That was in district one. Take it out on them, not us."

"The decision has been made," Marilyn said, her eyes betraying fear. "It seems district eight at least got a little out of hand. While they can't announce anything before, since they want it to be a surprise, they wanted you to make the speech welcoming everyone, warm people up a little."

"They want you to take the fall," Rolath said.

"No, no, your district loves you. You were their first victor and are an excellent peacemaker. Haspereek, please, if anyone can keep the people calm it's you." Haspereek sighed. The sound of the crowd's feet was growing in volume. She knew more and more frightened children, two of which she chose by name, were coming to stare at whoever would be fighting in that arena, whoever would be just like her.

"I'll do it," Haspereek agreed. "To keep the peace, I'll do it. But promise me, nothing unnecessary happens. No bloodshed. Everything is peaceful."

Marilyn nodded, even though Haspereek wasn't sure how much she could believe her. Even she knew the Capitol couldn't be trusted.

Rolath Dornel District 8 Mentor

She looked so composed as she took the microphone. Their district wasn't foolish. Anyone in the crowd would know that something was out of the ordinary as Haspereek stood on the stage. It wouldn't be the tone of voice or the look on her face that betrayed that, though, only the breech in ceremony. Hopefully everyone would pass it off as a tribute to twenty-five years of the Games. Even if they didn't, even if they got suspicious their suspcions would be confirmed shortly.

"Twenty five years have given us much to be grateful for. We have had many brave triibutes represent our district, many who have excelled and all who have brought us great honor. Rolath and I are both so grateful for the support we have received from our district and from the Capitol. We couldn't be prouder or more humbled to be standing before you this day in celebration. Yes, my brothers and sisters. And this year, the twenty-fifth year of these glorious games, we have been given a new opportunity, an opportunity for choice. So without further ado, I will hand the microphone back to our dear escort, Marilyn Sconce."

"Thank you for the lovely introduction, my dearest Haspereek," Marilyn gushed as she stepped forward. Haspereek was trying to hide the relief on her face as she rejoined Rolath. He put his arm briefly around her in a one-armed embrace. They were friends, surely he could do that without the district analyzing his every move and assuming that something was wrong. He forced a smile as Marilyn announced the first name.

"For the ladies, our tribute who has been voted in is Miley Adela."

There was no movement in the crowd, as though the girl hadn't heard. Slowly the seventeen-year-old section began to force a gorgeous girl forward. She was barely moving. No, in fact she wasn't moving. The only thing that was in motion was her dark hair being whipped around her face. She stared straight ahead, not at him or Haspereek or even Marilyn, but straight at where the Mayor's chair was. Rolath looked back at the Mayor and saw an odd look on his face. A grin. What was this? Rolath had tried to stay out of the politics of who was getting voted in as much as he could, but there seemed to be something deeper going on here.

The girl's breathing was ragged now, as though she were racked with terror. Well, it wasn't surprising, given what she was going to, but she had to come forward. Without another look back, Rolath stepped off of the stage and strode, faster than the Peacekeepers to the girl.

"I'm sorry," he said, taking her hand and ushering her, certainly more gently than the Peacekeepers intended to towards the stage.

Marilyn cleared her throat, clearly disapproving of this act of charity. Rolath didn't care. There was enough cruelty in the Games, in what they were planning, in all of Panem, really, to fill the world with evil for a lifetime. If he could provide a little caring compassion to someone who so desperately needed it, then he would take the reproaches from her, the glares from the crowd and whatever was in store. He had never felt quite so certain of anything in his life as he felt in that moment, being stared at by the crowd as he held the girl's trembling hand.

He wouldn't say it was all right. He couldn't say anything to calm her, couldn't bring himself to lie, but he did stand there, enduring the glares and glances.

"For the boys, Rome Maren."

"What?" A confused voice from the sixteen-year-old boy's section arose and a boy looked around, as though he was expecting to see a duplicate, a twin or someone playing a prank on him. "How did . . ." he cut himself off. "Oh shoot, you all . .. . you thought I was serious." He smirked, trying to play the whole thing off. He took a step towards the stage. "Well, okay, I guess I am." He managed a smile as he took the stage, almost tripping over the girl.

"Sorry," he muttered, extending a hand to her, whether this was for her comfort or to steady himself Rolath wasn't sure. He took a deep breath as Marilyn continued, just as he knew she would. He wasn't fooled.

"In addition to these two brave draftees, two of your own, more tributes standing here will be selected by a reaping to join them. There will be no volunteers, so please come of your own free will and be brave. Remember, this is an honor." There were no screams, no jeers, not yet at least. Maybe Haspereek's words had helped after all. Rolath breathed, only hoping that the remainder of the day would go as well.

"For the ladies, Helaine Curso."

There was a pause. Of course there was. There needed to be time for the tributes to catch up. There had never been two reapings at once.

The Peacekeepers didn't want time, though. They wanted everything neat and tidy. Just as the Peacekeepers began stomping in her direction a girl emerged from the fifteen-year-old section. She took one step forward with her eyes closed and then opened them, placing one foot firmly in front of the other.

"Alright, alright. Calm down, woman. Helaine is here," she strutted out, confidence in her stride. She looked down at everyone she passed with distain in her eyes, including the girl standing beside Rolath. She stood tall on the stage, daring anyone to challenge her bravery.

"For the boys, Raphael Morando," Marilyn announced.

The sixteen-year-old section split this time and a skinny, tan boy emerged from the crowd, slowly. Step by step he managed to come forward, but clearly with great effort. He made no show of hiding that he was shaking like a leaf. He had a kind face, Rolath could tell. There were some murmurs in the crowd and he had a moment of fear himself, that if the tributes showed any indication that they themselves thought this whole affair to be unfair then it could be the end of the Peace. There might be a riot in nine. There hadn't been a riot since before he could remember, scarcely since the rebellion. They were peaceful, not like the hotheads that the Capitol feared so much.

But there would be no rioting. Raphael extended his hand, first to Helaine, the girl who had been reaped with him in the second round and then to Rome, who still seemed confused to be there. He almost got his shaking arm ripped from his socket as the other boy didn't seem to know his own strength or enthusiasm. Last, but not least, he shook hands with the first girl, Miley. It seemed to him that Marilyn breathed a sigh of relief. No, this would be peaceful. It might not be pleasant, but it would surely be peaceful.

Raphael Morando – District Nine Second Round Male Tribute:

He could barely force himself to look into her eyes. Raphael hadn't cried when he had been reaped, but this was going to be the hardest part. When he was reaped he had been in shock. Now feeling was returning and reality was setting in, the reality that he would be leaving all of this, his home, his work, his family and might never return.

The little eyes looking up at him from just below his knee did it all. His niece, Maria, at age two was far too young to understand. Raphael almost wished his brother hadn't brought her, but when he thought about it, it was for the best. It would give him something to hold onto and it wasn't as though anything violent was going to happen here, in this small room, the small bit of humanity that he would be left with on his way to the Capitol.

No, it was after he left that everything he would want to shield his niece from would come, the killing, the fighting, the battle for survival, apparently against 47 other tributes, other children his age.

"She won't remember me if I don't make it out of this," Raphael realized all of a sudden. It was the last thought that he wanted to be in his mind right now. He wished he could will out everything negative and soak in only the positive energy of this moment, the vibes that his brother, his pregnant sister-in-law and his parents were all directing at him, the belief that he would come home, that somehow, miraculously, despite his nature and all odds against him, that he would be the one in forty-eight who was able to survive, to become a monster and return.

He couldn't do it, though. Not with a face as innocent as hers staring at him. He couldn't think of killing, of what he would have to do in order to get out.

"Raffy, we love you. We're not going to let her watch the Games, if that's what you're worried about. You do what you have to do." His mother encouraged. His brother, Anthony, nodded his agreement.

"Uncle Raffy, up," Maria demanded and Raphael, of course, obliged. He hugged her tightly as his sister-in-law held out something to his hand.

"It's your district token, if you'll have it," she explained. Raphael looked down at the soft object in his hand. It was a small sock that Maria had just outgrown, hand knit by his mother.

"Of course I will," was all Raphael could manage as tears welled in his eyes. He brushed them away as Maria looked away.

Miley Adela First Round Female Tribute

Miley was startled by the knock on the door. Was that the Mayor? Judas? Had they come to beat her or rape her one last time? She still had nightmares of everything they had done and this was just the icing on the cake.

Before Miley could respond the door barged open. To her relief it was neither of the above, but Simon, the kind butcher that had taken her in.

"You don't want to be seen with me," she said, refusing to leave her corner. The male victor Rolath she thought his name was, had left her there, walking her in because she had been shaking too much to be able to support herself.

"They can't do anything to me," Simon protested. "Are you okay?"

"No," Miley said simply. She hadn't really been okay in years, but Simon knew that. He knew about the nightmares; he knew she woke in the middle of the night screaming when she was jolted from memories of Judas or of her mother's death. And now, now this. How could someone like her even have a chance in the Games? What a sick joke her district had played on her!

"I'm so sorry," Simon said. The look on his face told her just how hollow he knew his words sounded, how powerless he was. "If I could stop this I would."

"No one can stop him, can stop them." Miley knew it was true. Those in power stayed in power and the powerless couldn't do anything about it, not even when they were given the opportunity.

"Don't give up." Simon encouraged, taking her hands. "Remember, I taught you everything I know. You can be a butcher. You have what it takes to survive." She looked at him in disbelief, but she didn't see that reflected in his eyes. There was only faith, somehow blind faith. This was something she hadn't seen, ever, not even in her mother's eyes. Her mother had only ever done what she needed to do to survive, never anything exceptional or that required faith.

"You really think I can do this?" she whispered. Simon nodded.

"I wish I had something I could give you," Simon replied. She knew he didn't. Even the life of a butcher wasn't a rich or privileged one. As he heard the guard open the door he kissed her gently on the forehead.

"Be brave," he whispered, and stood, leaving before he was ordered to, and leaving Miley to wonder if she was everything he seemed to believe her to be.

Rome Maren – District 9 Second Round Tribute

"How did this even happen!" Rome's mother, Stephanie, shrieked. Rome was certain all three of the other tributes could hear her. The entire district might be able to, maybe all the way out to the Capitol. "For goodness sakes, Rome, I work for the Mayor. He could pull strings, just the way he did to get that girl in here. How did this happen?"

She tapped her foot.

"So, you know, this could be a good thing. Honestly, mother, if you had any confidence in me at all, right now you would be pampering me and building up my ego to tell me how exactly I could take on each and every single one of those tributes, especially the ones from one and two and how you'll be seeing me in just a few short weeks. Can I hear a little bit of that, please, rather than this nagging?"

"Son, your mother has a point," his father retorted. He had his book in one hand, but had gracefully closed it to say goodbye to his son. "I myself am curious as well to what would have made you a target."

"You mean that wasn't a topic of conversation at the poll booths yesterday?" Rome inquired.

"You ought to know that no conversation was supposed to happen as to who was voting for whom."

"But campaigning was allowed, even encouraged."

"You campaigned!" Again, his mother's voice could have woken the dead. Rome almost wanted to say yes, just hoping she would storm out of the room, but the more sensible part of him won out and told her the truth.

"I may have gotten a bit tipsy and said some things I didn't mean."

"Some things?"

"I may have told the whole town they could vote for me. Okay, bye, I'll see you in a couple of weeks," he started to usher his parents to the door.

"Rome Emerson Maren!" His mother exclaimed, turning on him.

"Mom, I know it's hard, but whatever happens, be happy, okay? I want that for you," Rome insisted, putting a brave face on as he saw what could be the last of his parents shut behind the doors of the Justice Building.

Helaine Kurso Second Round Female Tribute

"Mama, I'm sorry," Helaine said as her mother, Yves hugged her. "That's all I could think when I was walking forward, my mama's gonna be alone. She's not gonna have her girl with her."

"Hey, hey, there wasn't anything you could have done," Yves soothed her. "You just work hard and I'll see you again."

The confidence that was always there in her mother's voice didn't fail her now. Even in this moment, it brought a smile to Helaine's face, a smile that was all too hard to come by. Her mother, her rock, the one person who stuck by her side through her father leaving, through the times when it had been hard to make rent, the mother she had written poems for, the mother she loved. This was the reason she'd have to make it back. She squeezed her mother's hand, denying the tears that were threatening to fall. They had no control over her. She was in control of her destiny, no matter what the Gamemakers or the Capitol thought. She just had to look at her mother to see it.

Her mother, the most stubborn, most powerful person in her world, believed in her. She didn't need to have the Capitol standing in support of her as long as she had that.

"They're gonna get hell brought to them," Helaine nodded.

"Here, take this," her mother instructed, holding out a journal, one of the ones she had splurged on for Helaine when she was writing poems. She nodded in encouragement. Yes, this was her token. This would be perfect. She was going into the fray. She nodded and her mother left the room.

"I'll see you soon," they said in unison as the door closed.

"When I find myself in times of trouble, mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom, let it be."