Hello, hello, hello. It's….. *checks watch* about 9:13 in the evening. I'm wearing my comfy PJ's, have a can of off-brand Mountain Dew (which I don't own rights to, only cans of!) next to me, and I'm in a creative mood. That can only lead to one thing: The District Two Reapings! But, before we get to them, I'd like to say a few things to some people…

mspadfoots: it's not pathetic. I know exactly how you feel, too; I'm like that for some of my favorite stories. And nice pun, even though it wasn't intended.

Notthegovernment: You're right, they don't seem like Careers now. Wait till you see them in action, though. They'll show you how much of a Career they are!

angelofmusic4ever: Thank you for your kind words! I appreciate it.

xxxRimaxxx: Thank you, I'm glad to see that you're pleased to see how I portrayed your Tribute! I feel successful, knowing I conveyed someone's idea into something for everyone to enjoy.

Thanks for all the compliments! So here they are, your District Two Tributes…

Cas Mason, age 18

Today's the day. The day I volunteer to compete in the deadly, dangerous, exciting event called the Hunger Games. The day that leads to the payoff of my countless years of training. I'm not going to chicken out like last year. Nope. This year, Cas Mason will volunteer to be another District Two Victor. I feel bad for everyone else in the Games this year, though. Actually thinking that they have a chance? Funny. I almost just laughed right now, thinking that. But if I did, then I'd wake up Mel, the girl beside me. Who is Mel? Just some girl I met at the party last night, the pre-Games party that we always have for the coolest cats at school. Of course, I'm always at them. Everybody loves me, and it's hard to not to. Who doesn't love six feet (and one inch) of muscles, good looks, and pure talent?

Quietly, I slip out of the bed, grab on some clothes, and tiptoe down the hallway. Unlock the door, open the door, and step out. Check. Even with the rising sun, there's still some people passed out on the lawn. I walk down towards the Victor's Village, which is actually a sort of mini-Capitol, there's so many people. There's a lot of houses, and I'm pretty sure that they'll need to build more in a few years. But the only house I pass on the way to my own is the Lewis household. Man, that family is crazy. The dad and two of three daughter have all won the Games, and I'm pretty sure that the youngest will, too. She's nice on the eyes, if you catch my drift, but no way will you catch me forming a relationship. No way, pal. That's not how Cas Mason does things. Committing to a relationship is a man's number one weakness, and I am not weak.

By this point, I'm in front of my own house. Perhaps I should explain-I too live in Victor's Village. That's thanks to my brother Trace. He won the Games four years ago, although it hasn't always been nice. He's all that my parents care about, at least at home. It gets on my nerves, but it won't for long. I'm going to win this year, and with no one after me to come and steal the glory, I'll be set. But for now, at least, I still have all the fangirls at school who throw themselves at me. It's actually pretty funny. Once, there was a big catfight over who got to sit near me at lunch. Some of the girls still have scars….

Inside, I see that the family is up and Mom is making breakfast. Weird. Usually the servants do that. But I guess she's feeling sentimental today, for some reason.

"Well, finally you're home," my dad says sarcastically. "How was the party?"

"Pretty good," I respond, sitting at the table. "We had a lot of fun."

"Sounded like it. I could hear the music from here," Mom says in a sort of complaining-not-complaining voice. "Was there alcohol there?" I tense up slightly. There was, but I didn't have any.

"No," I say.

"'No,' there wasn't any there, or 'no,' there was but I didn't have any?" Trace walks in.

"Lemme smell your breath," he says. Before I can protest he's on me, holding open my mouth. "Breathe out," he instructs. I comply, and he inhales. "Well… I can tell you this: that is definitely not alcohol," Trace says, smiling. I can feel my face go red a little, because I know he knows what the smell is. Before we can continue, however, Mom comes over with a plate for each of us. Mine is filled with bacon and sausage, and a pile of pancakes. Trace has waffles.

"Eat up, boys, we've got a big day. Trace, make sure you get there early, my handsome Victor! And Cas, well, you know what to do." That last bit is cold, and her gaze is sharper than usual.

"Yes, Mom," I say quietly. But the hollow feeling in me doesn't last long, nor does my breakfast.

Vivian Lewis, age 18

It's ten minutes until the Reapings, and honestly, I can't wait much longer. Ever since Astrid had volunteered for the Games, it's only been a big countdown until this year, when Mom and Dad have wanted me to volunteer. "It's only right," they say, for me to be just like my sisters. Maybe it's been too long for them to remember, but Sasha volunteered when she was seventeen. But, there was no point in arguing—all they really cared about was having another Victor in the family. Dad won, and during his Victory Tour, met Mom. Then they had Sasha, and then Astrid, and then me, Vivian. Well, it's a good thing I know that Dad won't be my mentor—that's been banned ever since Dad mentored Sasha and she won. People claimed that she had received extra training, and that had helped give her the edge she needed to win. It was bull, of course, but ever since no family members were allowed to train family members.

"Hazel, is it ever going to start?" I ask her, because I'm getting impatient. Hazel Whitmore is my best friend, and has been forever, it seems. We've been through thick and thin, and the worst was when that jerk Cas Mason acted interested in her, but after a couple days called off, saying that he "wasn't into relationships," or something like that. If he wasn't so full of himself, wasn't such a prick, then maybe I'd forgive him. But no. Everybody loves Cas Mason, the golden boy of District Two. Rumor has it that he'll volunteer this year. They said that last year, but no, he chickened out. Golden Boy was actually ridiculed for a week after the Reapings. If he does volunteer, well, I know that I'll have at least one worthy opponent in the Games.

"Shut up, Vivian! This is only the thousandth time you've asked me!" Hazel complains, but quickly changes voice. "Ooo, look, it's Trace Mason!" she said excitedly, pointing down the road. That would be Cas's older brother. Trace wasn't as bad as Cas, and I actually respect him. Beside Trace, though, was the Mason we dislike the most. He didn't even to dress up that much, just some generic-looking nice-casual clothes. Typical man.

Cas Mason

"So, Cas, who was it?" Trace is asking me as we walk down the road. It's about ten minutes until the Reaping ceremony starts, and he needs to be down there to sit with the multitude of District Two Victors.

"Mel Hemson," I tell him, waiting for him to respond.

"Mel Hemson!? That's the MAYOR'S DAUGHTER! How did you… never mind. Hormones and a party. Nice choice. How was she?" he asks, giving an approving look. I grin devilishly, knowing I had done pretty darn good.

"Well, for being easy, pretty good, actually," I tell him. Now, we're close to the stage and the groups of people standing. Some are people hoping to compete, and the rest are spectators to the ceremony. "Oh, well, I guess you gotta go. See ya in the Capitol."

"Train ride," he corrects, then walks up to a spot on stage, next to one of the younger Victors in our district. I go and sign in, then join the rest of the 18-year-old male section. I see my best friend Mark.

"Mark, how's it hanging?" I ask, smacking him upside the head.

"Not bad, you big oaf. How was Mel?"

"Pretty good. Give 'er a try someday. How's your baby brother?"

"Cato? He's good. He just turned six about a week ago." At this point, I need to kill time, so I decide to make fun of Mark.

"He looks just like you."

"No, he doesn't! He's blonde, and I'm dark-haired!" The argument would go on longer, but we're cut short by the Mayor.

Vivian Lewis

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is an honor to introduce myself, Rayth Hemson, as your Mayor. Much like all of you, I am excited for the Sixty-Fourth Hunger Games!" The Mayor pauses, and the crowd around me cheers and applauses. I don't. I hate clapping. The Mayor continues, his old voice strong and clear. "However, first, I must read to you…" and then he read to us the boring Treaty of Treason, like usual. Yes, we know that 65ish years ago, the Districts rebelled, blah, and for punishment the Hunger Games were established. Same thing every year. Still boring. You would think that someone would make it more exciting, but no. Finally, the Mayor stepped down, and our Escort came to the microphone. Hilmary Bollmar. She was quite the character. Her hair—in some weird combination of a ponytail and a mullet—was red. Her face was orange, a neon orange. I'm not sure if it was makeup or surgically altered, but she had her share of alterations already. One arm was yellow, and her other was green. I quickly guessed her pattern—a rainbow. I was right; one leg was blue, and the other purple. Her dress-like clothing was also a rainbow, and shimmered.

"Welcome, and Happy Hunger Games! Before we draw the lucky Tributes, I'd just like to wish the odds in everyone's favor!" her shrilly voice rang out over the crowd. A small boy came out holding the bowls filled with paper. "Now, for the girl…" She put her yellow hand into the bowl, moving it around. Finally she stopped, and pulled out a name. Reading it, she began to call out a name. "Ha—" she begins, but there's no way she's finishing it.

"I volunteer as Tribute!" I yell, almost hurting my own ears. Short other bursts of "I" and "I volunteer" quickly die off as the hear me. I walk up to the stage, confident.

"Well, a volunteer. What's your name, sweetie?" Hilmary asks, the ee sound rising in both parts of sweetie.

"Vivian Lewis."

"Vivian Lewis, what a name. Tell me, are those your sisters?" she asks, pointing over to where Sasha and Astrid are sitting with the Victors. I nod. "Ah, I see now. Adding another Victor to the family, are we? Now, on to the boy!" This time, her green arm is in the one grabbing a name. After a few moments, Hilmary pulls out the name. I know that whoever gets called won't actually get to be in the Games. The hush that has fallen over the crowd is actually breathtaking. It's dead quiet, and that's surprising. Usually, even a bird or something is making noise. Our escort opens her mouth and begins to pronounce some sound—I couldn't tell you what letter it was—when a voice breaks the dead silence.

"I volunteer as Tribute for District Two!" comes a clear, enthusiastic voice. I freeze. I know that voice. It belongs to the cockiest boy in all of Panem. It belongs to the boy who called it off with Hazel. The Golden Boy, the chicken.

It's Cas Mason's voice.

One though goes through my mind as he walks up to the stage, swagger in his step from years of praise. As he tells Hilmary his name, as the crowd applauses, and as his green eyes lock onto mine while we shake, I think of the ways I'm going to kill him. No matter how I do it, though, his last thought will be of how he never expected Vivian Lewis to be the one to end him. And that will make up for everything.

So, there they are. I hope that you enjoy these Careers, because they will definitely be Careers. As usual, reviews are nice, and I'd also like to thank mspadfoots and GirlOnFire4 for submitting these great Tributes! I look forward to seeing them in the Arena, and I look forward to seeing all of you wonderful readers at the next chapter. Until then, happy Hunger Games….

….and may the odds be ever in your favor