Disclaimer: The Hunger Games is still not mine.

Note: Since more than one person has asked ... I'm going to aim for updating roughly twice a week – probably once around the middle of the week and once on the weekend. This is, of course, subject to real life. If I'm particularly swamped with work, I may not be able to update mid-week. If I'm feeling particularly inspired, updates may be more frequent. But, for right now, twice a week is my intention.

Also, some people seem to have had problems trying to review this chapter. This happened because there was previously a Chapter Four that became Chapter Three when I deleted Chapter Two (which was the submission form). So, in other words, this shouldn't be a problem after this chapter.

Thank you to xDisgraceful Avengerx and bobothebear for Equinox and Kiona, respectively.

District Two Reaping
Pride and Despair

Vester
Mentor, District Two

Vester gritted his teeth as the mayor read the treaty. The treaty he had fought for. Had been willing to give his life for. The treaty that, once again, would deliver two children into his hands, and at least one of them to certain death. Probably both. Seven years, he'd been a mentor. Fourteen tributes. All dead.

Why should this year be any different?

Merrill Perlimpet rose, grinning, and plunged his hand into the bowl containing the girls' names. He seemed to take forever to pick one, stirring the papers casually, somehow not caring that life and death depended on which way his hand moved. Finally, he removed one of the slips. "Kiona Brink!"

For a few moments, there was nothing. No sign of where this girl might be. Vester tried hard to keep himself from shaking his head. Wherever this Kiona was, she wasn't doing herself any favors by trying to hide. Trying to disappear.

A Peacekeeper made her way to the eighteen-year-old section, and the crowd parted as she approached a tall, solidly built girl. Vester saw the girl shake her head. She was arguing with the Peacekeeper. Did she really think playing dumb would help?

Apparently not. As the Peacekeeper turned to summon her coworkers, the girl delivered a blow to the back of the Peacekeeper's neck and took off, shoving her way through the younger children, who, startled, gave way for her.

The girl had almost made it through the fourteen-year-old section when she was caught by two Peacekeepers, who dragged her firmly to the stage. Resigned at last, she took her place, but a smoldering fire lingered in her deep brown eyes.

"My, what a lively tribute!" Merrill offered, trying to make the best of a bad situation. Vester couldn't help smiling a little. 'Lively' was an understatement – the girl had an almost wild look about her. Her beautiful velvet dress was torn from her tussle with the Peacekeepers, and strands of her dirty blonde hair had come loose from her bun and now hung about her face. Maybe she hadn't made the best first impression with the audience by trying to run, but no one could deny that she had spirit.

At last, Merrill recovered. "And now for the boys." He stirred the other bowl for what seemed like hours before selecting the next victim. "Equinox Kunzite!"

In a jarring contrast to the silence that had followed Kiona's name, there was a sudden burst of roaring laughter. Vester stared, scanning the crowd. Who would be cruel enough to laugh at a tribute during the reaping?

But, as a tall, limber boy emerged from the sixteen-year-old section, Vester realized that the laughter had come from the tribute himself. The boy was still laughing as he took the stage, his grey-green eyes glaring fiercely at the crowd despite his apparent amusement. The boy was frighteningly pale, his strawberry-blonde hair spiked near the front.

Then, just as abruptly as it had started, his laughing stopped, and his face settled into a stern, cold glare. Distant. Unfeeling. Uncaring.

The two tributes shook hands, but not eagerly. Vester could see in their eyes that they already understood – one of them would have to die.

But maybe not both. For the first time in years, Vester allowed himself to think that maybe, just maybe, District Two could have its first true victor.

Kiona Brink
District Two Female

It could have worked. Would have worked, if not for that Peacekeeper – the one who had taken her blood before the reaping. Not many people knew her, much less knew her name. Kiona made a point of laying low. Staying hidden. It was the best way to bury the past.

But now the only way out was to fight. Kill. And the worst part was, she knew she could. She had done it before. It had been years, but the memories were still fresh. The last years of the rebellion. Wanting to help her family in any way she could. Playing the helpless, innocent nine-year-old long enough for the Peacekeepers to come closer.

Close enough to drive a knife into their gut.

Kiona tossed the necklace her foster parents had given her across the room. They had actually been foolish enough to believe she would accept it as her district token. But they weren't her parents. They were the enemy. Capitol supporters, like so many in District Two. So different from her real parents. Her real brother and sister. Her sister, Amphrite, who had given Kiona her real district token – a red hairpin in the shape of a butterfly.

She didn't even know how they had died. They had been separated in a bombing, and she had been taken by Peacekeepers, given to a different family. But she had no doubt her real family was dead. Long dead, like the rest of the rebels. Killed. Slaughtered. Murdered.

No. No, that wouldn't help. Anger wouldn't help her now. Hatred wouldn't help her. Kiona took a few deep breaths, burying her anger once more. She would have to be careful. Very careful.

Because if the Capitol learned what she had done in the past, she would never make it home.

Equinox Kunzite
District Two Male

He wasn't crazy.

That was what they would all think, of course, listening to him laughing. Crazy. Unbalanced. Dangerous.

The last one was true, of course. He was dangerous. Dangerous to the other tributes in the arena. Deadly.

Equinox fingered the small, empty flask his mother had given him. She had actually come to say goodbye, which was a surprise. Not that it mattered. She was drunk, even more so than usual. She certainly hadn't intended to give him a district token. For all she knew, he could be going to the moon.

Maybe when he got back, he could move to the Victor's Village without her. She certainly wouldn't notice the difference – except that the house would be quieter, and there would be no one to fight with. She would get used to it.

She would get used to it either way. Win or lose. Live or die. There was no difference, really – which was why he had laughed. He wasn't crazy. He simply saw more clearly than they did, how pathetic their little lives were. It didn't matter. Didn't make any difference at all, in the end. Which was what made him dangerous.

He had nothing to lose.

"Pride and despair! Nay, I have seen more than thou knowest … For thy hope is but ignorance."