Tamerlane Cobenus

A/N: Hopefully, these chapters will be coming more often, now. This took me three days to complete, and I took a two day break in between Atlas and this guy.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

It had been three weeks since the discovery was made, and they had been the three most difficult weeks of Tamerlane's life.

The gym was dull and unenergetic, with gray walls, white plaster ceilings, and reddish-brown gym equipment that looked like it was about to crumble to pieces. With the Reaping tomorrow, the building had been reserved for training Careers, or "Lunk-Heads," as he liked to call them.

Tamerlane lifted up a 15-pound weight. His hand shook, unsteady, but he managed to lift it up above his head. Placing it down, he switched hands, rubbing off the metallic grit on his palms with his fingers, all smelling like rusted metal.

If he took a break, he'd be reported. That was the way his parents had set up "the system" ever since they had discovered that he didn't want to be a tribute. A report meant two extra hours in the gym, added to his mandatory four-hour schedule.

Setting down his weight again, he traced his fingers through his damp, brown-orange hair.

If only all of the tributes from Two had to be volunteers! he thought, angrily. He turned to the security camera that watched his every move, and wanted to give it an obscene gesture, but that would result in a report. Brushing away the thought, he walked over to the treadmills. His friend, Richard, another non-Career, was running on the shaky rubber track, unfocused on his exercise. His black hair bobbed up and down on his scalp. Richard was one of only two friends he had left, due to the coming out of his views. After Tamerlane's secret was revealed, he "came out" to his parents, who set him up on the same system as his friend.

Richard's real name was Vladimir, based on his Russian ancestry, but he preferred to be called by his middle name, seeing Vladimir as too brutal of a name.

Tamerlane stepped onto the treadmill next to him, feeling the track sag.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Nothing, really," Richard huffed, losing steam from running. "So, what about those Reapings, tomorrow?"

Tamerlane looked over his shoulder at the weaponry training section of the gym. Over three dozen aspiring Careers were ripping away at some unlucky foam figures, yelling at screaming in their adrenaline-pumped rage. One girl, roughly fourteen, kicked in a dummy's abdomen, breathing like a rabid animal. Tamerlane shuttered.

"I hope that the more… friendly ones get chosen," Tamerlane explained, half-joking. "It would be nice to see some semi-normal Careers."

"Oh, I'm so sorry that I'm about to slit your throat!" Richard joked, talking in an overly-compassionate voice. "Can I give you a back massage with my mace, first? It'll only hurt a lot!"

Tamerlane chuckled.

The two friends talked for a little while, and then headed back to the bathrooms to take showers. The steam engulfed his body, swirling around the stall, but he couldn't really enjoy the sensation. Grime caked the corners of the stall and showerhead, and the floor tiles were stained. Who knew what infectious diseases he was catching?

Changing into a red t-shirt and jeans, Tamerlane stepped out of the shower. Approaching the mirror, he stroked a comb through his hair, and looked at his reflection. There weren't many mirrors in the District, due to their ideal of not caring about personal appearance. Tamerlane studied himself. He had amber eyes that matched his hair, a small, narrow nose, and a few freckles, here and there.

After meeting up with Richard, and his other friend, Lydia, a girl with short, black hair and blue eyes, the three walked home. Lydia, unlike Richard and Tamerlane, had parents who never strived to be Careers. While she was also a non-Career, she sometimes showed up at the gym for support and company.

Stepping out into the outdoors, Tamerlane observed the dark-blue sky. It was later than he thought. That meant that his parents were home from their jobs as Hunger Games weapon-creators. Breanne, his mom, and Ares, his dad, worked to recreate approved prototypes created by inventors for the Games. Curved daggers, prism-shaped swords, and other disarrays of weapons surrounded them all day.

"Crap," Tamerlane muttered. "I should be home by now."

"They don't care," Lydia told him, her voice, as always, having a noticeable volume, without actually being loud. "All they want is their damn film footage. Why don't you spend the night at my house, guys?" She turned to both boys. "There's a spare bedroom upstairs, and the couch pulls out to be a bed. It'll be fun! Besides, it'll be like a pre-celebration for our freedom from the chances of being Reaped!"

Tamerlane thought it over. Sure, he didn't want to go home, but what was the cost of not returning.

Oh, who cares?

"Sure!" Tamerlane told Lydia. He turned to Richard. "You in?"

Richard shrugged his shoulders. "Why not?"

"Yay!" Lydia squealed, wriggling with delight. "Let's go!"

The three teens passed the stone and brick houses of District Two, taking in the cool air as they made their way to Lydia's house.

The night was a lot of fun. The three friends, along with Lydia's two identical twin littler brothers, Edgar and Quentin, ate snacks, played games, and watched movies all night long. To Tamerlane, it was nice to have his mind taken off the Games for a few hours, but the thoughts embedded themselves into his mind once again as he draped a wooly blanket over his body, laying on a soft, plush couch, preparing for a few hours of sleep before the Reapings.

Lying restlessly on the couch, he couldn't help but think what would happen if Richard or Lydia were Reaped. Could they survive? Would they kill? Would they ever… be the same again?

The thoughts rushed through his mind as he drifted off into slumber.

Tamerlane awoke to the sounds of rapid footsteps down the stairs the next morning. He slowly sat up on the couch, seeing Lydia pattering down the stairs. She was dressed in a flowing, aqua, satin dress. Diamond-shaped earrings hung from her ears, and she wore white flats.

"Tamerlane!" Lydia exclaimed. "Hurry! The Reapings start in less than twenty minutes!"

Tamerlane practically leaped off of the couch. "Why didn't you wake me up?!"

"We all overslept! We were all upstairs getting ready!"

"What am I supposed to wear?!"

"My dad has something ready for you upstairs. Now, hurry!" She breathed heavily, and headed back upstairs. Tamerlane rushed after her as quick as his newly-awoken legs could carry him. It felt as if someone had replaced his bones with bricks, but he got up the stairs in a hurry.

Lydia's father, Morris, was in his bedroom. He had brown hair and gray eyes, and was very slim and athletic-looking, like a cyclist. He wore a gray suit and black shoes.

"Tamerlane!" he exclaimed. He gestured for him to come into his room. Seeing him, Tamerlane approached.

There, he was handed an outfit.

"It used to be mine when I was your age," he explained. "I think it'll fit. Don't be long."

Tamerlane nodded, rushing into the bathroom. He slipped out of his clothes, which he had worn the night before, and quickly dressed himself. The top consisted of a white, long-sleeved, button-down shirt and a black tie. Slipping on black dress-pants and gray shoes, he quickly fixed his somewhat-curly hair with a comb and water. A few stray drops of water rolled down his face, but he ignored it.

"Tamerlane!" Richard exclaimed. "Ready?"

"Just about!" he exclaimed, putting down the hairbrush, and drying his face with a washcloth. Swinging the wooden bathroom door open, he rushed down the stairs and to the others; Richard, Lydia, the twins, and Lydia's parents.

"Everyone ready?" Lydia's dad asked the group.

Richard, Quentin, and Lydia's mom nodded, so he opened the door, letting everyone step outside. Tamerlane walked behind Quentin, who was dressed in a white shirt and red vest, with khakis and dress shoes. Edgar was dressed in the same fashion.

The late-morning air warmed Tamerlane's face, and the sun shone down on him from the clear, periwinkle sky, which was a rare sight in the District.

How ironic, thought Tamerlane. The weather becomes NICER on a depressing day like this, and the rest of the year we have depressing, overcast skies.

No one in the group would've been in a rush to get to the Reapings if it hadn't been for the lack of time they had left. Most of the District was already at the Justice building, camping out for the "exciting ceremony."

It was about twenty minutes later when they arrived, and the Treaty of Treason was just beginning to be read, but the group arrived early enough to not be reprimanded. Lydia's family hung back with the rest of the non-eligible population, and Lydia made her way to the female side of the clearing, leaving Richard and Tamerlane to walk to their positions. Richard, who was just barely seventeen, gave Tamerlane a friendly nod as he went into his section. Tamerlane took his place at the Male, 16 section, just in front of Richard's area.

It was nice to see a less flamboyant escort for District Two for once. The last escort, Richter, had tried to act tough to fit in with the District's culture. Rumor had it that he had been executed for betting on tributes' chances in last year's Games.

The escort this year, Serenity, was much more reserved and polite, for a refreshing change. To be honest, she looked out of place among the rugged and gruff citizens of Two.

As Serenity read off the names of the winning volunteers, many boys and girls around him glared at the winners. They had beaten out all of them for the spot, and envy practically beamed off of them.

He recognized the boy as a Topazine, even though he had never meet him before, due to his curly, platinum-blonde hair, oval-shaped eyes, and large, buff figure. The family's genetics were almost trademark.

The girl went to his school as a freshman last year. He didn't personally know her, but he had seen her in the halls, recognizable by the mischievous twinkle in her amber eyes, and curly, brown ponytail that was always curved to rest on one of her collarbones.

"Now, let's select our non-volunteers," Serenity announced, not much enthusiasm in her voice. Tamerlane doubted that she wanted a job like this, by the disappointed look on her face. She didn't exactly look like someone who obsessed over the Games.

His stomach rolled as she placed her hand into the bowl, pulling out the slip of paper on the very top. She gently unfolded it, and focused her eyes on the name.

"Tamerlane Cobenus!"

Eyes focused. Gazes pierced into Tamerlane's soul. A heavy step was taken towards the stage, and then a look at Lydia and Richard. Tears were forming in her eyes. His eyes were widened in fear. It took a moment for him to continue. It felt like his neck was stuck. He wanted to run to them, and embrace them, and cry with them, and-

"Come on!" a deep, scruffy voice belonging to a Peacekeeper yelled.

Pulled out of his memories, Tamerlane made his way to the stage. He nodded to Artemis and Serenity, and Serenity smiled back in sympathy. As he took his place next to Atlas, the Career began to study him like a paranoid security guard, his head tilted, and his eyes wandering to Tamerlane's head, hands, feet, and other body parts.

Serenity's voice startled him. "Hazel Donelly!" Tamerlane watched as the Reaped girl walked to the stage. She showed no emotion besides anger as she approached the stage, obviously mad at the choice that was made. She didn't even bother to look at the other tributes.

"A-and there you have it!" Serenity announced, her voice faltering slightly. "Our tributes from District Two! Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor!"

The departure room was desolate, cool, and made of stone and metal, which made for a morose atmosphere in a morose event.

Lydia, her family, and Richard all entered first. Most of them were in tears, apart from Edgar and Richard. These people had known Tamerlane for a long time, and his departure was so abrupt.

Lydia's mother, Alicia, wrapped Tamerlane in a hug. Her brown, curly hair draped against his face as she squeezed him tight. It was strange to see such affection from an adult that wasn't a relative, but he didn't mind.

She pulled away, and looked straight into his eyes. Her eyelids twitched, and her eyes reflected white from tears. She looked like she wanted to say something, but she couldn't force the words out, and went into her husband's embrace.

Lydia and Richard approached him at the same time, wrapping him in their arms. Tamerlane sniffled, and his vision blurred as his eyes began to water. He rested his head on Richard's shoulder, and they hugged him tighter, not wanting to let go.

"You can win," Lydia whispered, her voice shaky.

Tamerlane pulled away. "Lydia-"

"You can win," she repeated with more clarity in her voice than before. "Find an alliance of people you trust, that have potential."

"Get the Capitol on your side," Richard explained, his face still pale from shock.

In the background, Quentin's sobbing could be heard. Tamerlane, stricken and despondent, attempted to maintain his composure while spending his final moments with his friends. It took all the strength he had to stand, as if he was holding the weight of the world above his head.

"You have thirty seconds," the Peacekeeper in the room announced, his deep voice devoid of emotion.

Lydia and Richard both looked at their friend with sorrowful eyes.

"I… I guess this is goodbye…" Richard muttered.

Tamerlane nodded, looking at the rough, stone floor.

"We'll see you soon, right?" Lydia whispered, yearning for an answer.

"Right," Tamerlane answered, not believing his own statement. Lydia seemed to catch the tone of his voice as a discouragement, but she didn't argue.

Richard simply nodded to Tamerlane, at a loss for words. His mouth hung open in confusion at the situation.

With that, the group was escorted out of the room, all looking at Tamerlane as if he were already dead.

He didn't even have the chance to process what had just happened before Breanne and Ares, his parents, stepped through the door, barging past Morris and Edgar to get in.

Ares's face held a smug expression. His lip curved up at one corner, and his brown eyes were narrowed in accomplishment. Despite being the exact same height as Tamerlane, his demeanor seemed much more intimidating.

"See?" he explained with pride. "The couple weeks of training that you got are going to help you!"

"That training did nothing," Tamerlane growled, eyes slit in anger.

"You say that now," Breanne replied. "But once you feel that Career adrenaline flowing through your veins in the Capitol training center, you'll realize how important all of that was!"

Tamerlane collected his thoughts. His parents had turned into ignorant, uncaring people ever since they had discovered that Tamerlane wasn't a training Career. For seven years, Tamerlane had tricked his parents into thinking that he spent his days at the gyms in Two, training for the Games, when he had really been spending his time with at friends' houses, or the parks in the District, riding his bicycle down the hiking trails. When his secret came out, Tamerlane became a ball of clay to his parents, a ball of clay that needed to be molded to fit their expectations. If he didn't get his point across now, they'd never understand.

"I don't want to win," Tamerlane snarled. "If I win, I'll only end up as your trophy of success. I'd rather die honorably, in peace, than be your reputation! There are children out there getting Reaped right now that would make more deserving Victors than me!"

Ares charged at his son, yanking him towards him by his collar. Tamerlane, startled and frightened, looked at his father, speechless.

"Listen here, son," he snarled viciously, like a blood-thirsty lion. "You are going to win the Games and come back, and you will feel like a winner, not a criminal. You're going to kill anyone that gets in your way!"

"And how do you think that you'll manage to make me do that."

"I have connections to the Capitol! I can keep you alive in the arena, and make you suffer for weeks without dying. I can convince the Gamemakers to kill anyone you care about in the Games! I can-" his grip tightened, and Tamerlane began to choke. His eyes widened, and he began to gag.

"Hey!" the Peacekeeper yelled. "Get off of him!" It took him a moment, but he managed to pry Ares off of Tamerlane. He pushed him towards the door.

"Ares!" Breanne yelled, rushing towards her husband.

The Peacekeeper shoved Ares out the door, and Breanne came out with him. The door was slammed shut, and Tamerlane was left alone in the room.

If I do come back, Tamerlane thought. You're not my family anymore…

A/N: Next up, Artemis Wolker!