A/N I'm back! Submissions are kind of slow… I'd greatly appreciate it if y'all could do some advertising. But until then, I'll just continue to review several characters from Meaningless. Here's Velleius.

If you read Meaningless, there may be some repetition of ideas. I'm trying to make it so that a new reader doesn't have to read Meaningless to understand Under the Sun.

Also, I'm going back to the States in two days! You know what that means? MORE CHAPTERS! YAY!

ALSO (again), this really isn't a big thing, but you all have to stop thinking about Panem the way you think about it in the books. Throw away your previous ideas about who's good and who's bad because Panem is no longer the same. This specifically refers to the Inner District Trained alliance and the Snows. The Inner District Alliance is NOT the Careers. They aren't always even as strong as the Outer District Alliance. They can't afford to hunt, so they have to settle for simply surviving as a pack. And the Snows, they aren't necessarily evil. I know; most presidents in SYOTs are evil, but keep this in mind: I will rarely make my antagonists blatantly evil. If it's unclear who my antagonist is, then I have succeeded.

Whoops; that was a tad bit too long.

Velleius Essault, 37 Years Old, Capitol Citizen

I take off the Peacekeeper helmet, my hair drenched in sweat, and place it on the rack in the Peacekeeper station. It's been another long, boring day of standing in one place, doing nothing all day. I suppose my fellow Peacekeepers in the districts have more exciting lives, but as one stationed in the Capitol, my life – as well as my pay – sucks.

It's only because my ancestors were District Three citizens before the Dark Days a millennium ago. The ones with Capitol ancestry – Capitolians – have all the advantages and all the perks of living here. Those of us with District ancestry are looked down upon, and it's nearly impossible for us to move up the social and economic ladder. We're very rarely promoted, and most Districto Peacekeepers are stuck standing in the Capitol for their entire life. Most of the time, only Capitolians and volunteers from One and Two are sent to the other Districts, in particular, the problematic ones such as Nine and Twelve. Nine because it's common knowledge that the rebel movement is alive there, and Twelve because violence against other citizens is so common. Many experts predict that Twelve will cease to exist in another century if it continues to self-destruct like this. In such districts, the Head of Peacekeeping forces, Carnelian Reeves, distrusts us Districtos.

Oh well, it's better than nothing. At least I'm making enough money to support my family; it's definitely better than dealing with all my debt. I signed a contract for ten years in return for being debt-free, and it's already been three years. Considering that I had to choose between this and prison, I think it's safe to say that I chose the better option. I'm a lot safer here, anyway.

I take a quick shower and put on my regular clothes before I take the bus home. I live in a cramped apartment complex; more than half of all District One citizens are better off than we are. Still, there's enough room to live and raise my five-year-old son, Cyprian.

I get the stack of letters from the mailbox and trudge up the rickety stairs to where we live on the fifth floor. It seems like this place was designed to make fun of us and tell us that we're not equal to the Capitolians. If we were equal, we wouldn't be stuck in these poor corners of this city. I grab my keys and open the door, where I'm immediately hit by the smell of spaghetti. No one cooks like my wife, Lilia.

"Daddy!"

Cyprian runs up and me and wraps his arms around my waist. I bend down and pick him up. "Cy!" I say, tickling him. He laughs. "What did you do today?"

"I made pizza!"

"Really? Cool!" I say. Nothing brightens my day more than Cy greeting me when I get home from work. Lilia looks over from the kitchen and smiles. I put Cy down. "It's mommy time now, okay?"

He nods and goes back to playing with his toys. I step over his wooden-block building and go into the kitchen.

"How was your day?" Lilia asks.

"Same old, same old," I say, throwing down the mail on the counter. "I stood at the corner where Peace Avenue and Harmony Street intersect. The most exciting thing that happened was a lady chasing her dog."

She sighs. "Please, don't talk like that. It almost sounds like you're complaining about your day now."

I shrug. "Nothing happens. How about you? How was your day?"

"Well," she says, thinking for a moment, "I dropped Cy off at his daycare and then went to meet a candy distributor to talk about buying from them." Lilia works as a manager for a small chain convenience store, but even with that job, she barely makes more than I do because of her ancestry. It's so unfair. "When I brought Cy home, we made little pizzas," she says.

"Ah," I say, "He seems like he enjoyed it."

"He did," she says, her face bright and happy.

I begin looking through the mail. Most of them are advertisements for things we can't afford; are they trying to rub it in? At the very bottom of the stack is a letter from the Assignment Bureau at Peacekeeper headquarters.

"Huh," I say.

"What?" Lilia says, looking up from her cooking.

"I got a letter from the AB," I say.

"What?! Why?"

"I'm still opening it," I say, pulling the letter out and beginning to read aloud.

Dear Mr. Velleius Essault:

You have been reassigned to District Three for two years. Be at the station on May 22nd for further details. You will be departing on May 27th.

"That's the gist of it," I say, "The rest is a whole bunch of stipulations and a warning for those who choose not to go."

"District Three?" she says, looking over my shoulder at the letter, "Oh… Gosh…"

I look further down. "And I'm not allowed to bring anyone." That means… I'm leaving my family for two years. I won't be allowed to see them at all. Cy will be in school in two years.

"You're leaving on the 27th… That's ten days!" Lilia says, "Don't they usually tell you a month in advance?"

I look at the timestamp. "They sent this on April 29th," I say, "It must've gotten delayed in the mail."

"Our stuff always gets delayed in the mail," she says, sighing, "Can you ask for it to be changed?"

"I can't," I say, "Only Capitolians have that right. And you know I have to go." She nods. The last person to resist was executed.

I look up at her, and she wipes her eyes. I stand up and give her a hug. "It'll be okay," I say.

She doesn't reply.

"Daddy!"

I look to the kitchen door, and Cy stands there, looking at us in surprise.

"Why is Mommy crying?"

I let go of Lilia and go over to Cy.

"Daddy will be going away for a long time," I say, bending down.

"Why?"

"I have to," I say.

"But why?" he says, grabbing me, "I don't want you to go away."

"Daddy can't explain," I say, "But I won't forget you. I'll write letters, okay?"

"I don't want you to go!" he says.

I sigh. "I don't want to go either," I say. "But I have to."

Once he calms down, I stand up. And that's when it hits me.

My ancestors were from District Three. In a twisted way, I'll be going home.

Of course, I hate leaving Lilia and Cy, but maybe, just maybe, there will be some good in this trip.

A/N So… how many of you remembered him? I'm just curious. If he's new to you, what are your impressions of him?

Submissions are still open… C'mon guys!

See y'all!

~Joseph