Cheyanne Talor, 17

District 3 Female

Chey leaned forward just a bit more, really leaning into her stretch. She loved her morning runs, but her muscles were tight after a bad night's sleep. Her leg muscles ached, but it was the good kind of ache; the satisfying kind of ache. But today, her chest ached too. Her parents told her they had something important to discuss over breakfast, which was stressful to say the least, and terrifying to say the most. Her dad was even taking the morning off work. Her mom usually worked nights.

Still, she had time for her run. Chey laced up her shoes and pulled on her yellow vest. About a year ago, she'd almost been hit by a Peacekeeper's van, and she'd learned her lesson. Bright clothes were a must for dark, smoggy District 3.

She made her way down the rickety stairs of their narrow townhouse as quickly and quietly as she could. Her parents and her little sister Anne were probably still asleep. They were night owls, but Chey was a full-on early bird. She stepped onto the porch, double-checked that the hidden key was still in its place, and then began to run.

Chey had always felt a bit out of place. District 3 was home to geniuses, and Chey wasn't a genius. She wasn't dumb, but academics were not her strong suit. Athletics were. Running, swimming, climbing... that was her domain. Her parents were accepting, but she knew they didn't fully understand. Sometimes she felt as if she wasn't truly their daughter.

By the end of her run, Chey was sweaty and tired, but satisfied. Anne always teased Chey for running away from her problems. Chey told her sister she ran through her problems. Physical activity helped her process. And she had a suspicion she'd need to do a lot of processing soon. As soon as she stepped inside, her dad met her by the door with a glass of water.

"Hey honey," he said with an awkward smile. "Did you have a good run?"

"Yes," she said hesitantly, taking the glass. "Thanks." Before she could say anything else, her dad steered her to the living room, where her mom and Anne were already sitting. Chey sat across from them, and her dad took the second armchair.

"Chey..." her mom began. "We love you and your sister more than anything. You're our kids, and we'd do anything for you.

"When your father and I first got married, we were struggling to conceive. We knew we wanted a family, but it didn't seem like it would happen." A knot appeared in Chey's chest and she looked at Anne, whose face was pale.

"Around the time we were going to give up, the Peacekeepers reached out to several families. They said a girl from District 1 was in custody, and she'd just had a baby. She couldn't keep her. We immediately offered to adopt you, Chey."

"I-what?" Chey stammered. "I'm adopted. My... mom was from District 1?" Both her parents nodded.

"A little less than a year later, a baby was left at the community home. It was Anne. Knowing we'd taken Chey in, they asked us if we would adopt her too. We said yes."

"So... we're not actually sisters?" Anne had tears in her eyes, and Chey felt the knot tighten and she fought her own back.

"Of course you're sisters!" Chey's mom exclaimed. There were tears in her eyes too. "You two are our daughters; our family. Nothing will change that. But you deserve to know about your past."

Chey stood on shaky legs.

"I need to shower," she finally said, after stretching for words for a few moments. Then she darted upstairs before anyone could protest.

Once she'd locked the bathroom door, Cheyanne looked at herself in the mirror. The knot in her stomach was starting to unravel as she forced herself to take deep breaths. 'My biological mom was from 1', she thought. 'I have career blood'.

Taroh Akagi, 14

District 3 Male

It was another drizzly day in 3 and Taroh was sick of the rain. He considered it atmospheric; perfect weather for a future hero to stumble across a portal to another realm and begin their grand adventure. But it had been raining for almost two weeks. And it was supposed to be summer!

Admittedly, the air was warm as he and his best friend Yakob made their way down the street. They'd spent the morning at the library and now he was walking Yakob home.

"Mira! Grab it!" someone shouted from a nearby alleyway, and Taroh winced. He knew that voice all too well. Kyle, the school bully, was undoubtedly a genius, but he loved to test his inventions on stray animals. But they weren't inventions. They were torture devices.

"Taroh," Yakob said slowly. "Are you sure?" As always, he was reading Taroh like the books he carried in his bag. "Your mom is going to be furious, and reaping day is tomorrow."

"I can't let them hurt another animal," he said, wringing his hands together. Yakob nodded in understanding.

"Come on then. Let's go save the day."

Despite the situation, Taroh smiled a little. He'd always dreamed of being a hero, and when he was with Yakob, he felt like one. Time with his friend was fantastical.

Entering the alleyway, the two boys saw Kyle and his friend Mira cornering a small black cat, who was arched up against the wall and hissing furiously. Kyle's other crony, Charlotte, was holding a sack.

"Hey!" Taroh yelled. He handed his bag to Yakob and stepped forward. "Leave the cat alone!"

"Oh look," Kyle chuckled, stepping forward. "It's heroic Taroh, here to get his ass kicked."

"Leave. It. Alone." Taroh growled, fists clenching. He forced himself to take several deep breaths, smelly-sweet dumpster air filling his lungs and making his stomach churn. That, mixed with his anxiety, was enough to make him want to vomit, but he held it together.

Kyle came forward, throwing a firm punch that connected directly with Taroh's face. He stumbled back, but shook off the pain and kicked Kyle's shin as hard as he could.

Gasping in pain, the bigger boy staggered back, injured leg in the air. Taroh lunged forward and shoved him, hard. Kyle fell back, head cracking against the pavement.

Taroh's eyes widened.

"Oh my–sorry!" he gasped. Had he just killed Kyle? Head injuries could be really bad, and he'd fallen pretty hard.

But Kyle hauled himself to his feet, swaying a bit.

"You're not worth a fight, he growled. "You're not worth anything." He shoved Taroh one more time before stalking out of the alleyway. Mira and Charlotte followed, sneering. Taroh watched them silently, head throbbing.

"You okay?" Yakob asked once they were gone. Taroh just nodded.

"Let's check on the cat," he said quietly. Yakob gave him an indecipherable look before heading towards the little feline.

"Oh!" he said suddenly. "That's Mr. Cohen's cat!"

"What?" How do you know?" Taroh asked, rushing over.

"See that little white streak on his chest? It's exactly the same as the one his cat has."

Taroh squinted at the cat, who was still huddled against the wall. It did have a small while flash on its chest, as well as long whiskers and big green eyes.

When it saw the two boys weren't going to hurt it, it relaxed a little and hesitantly approached. Yakob stroked its head, and it accepted the affection without fear.

"Let's bring him home then," Taroh said.

Yakob carried the cat while Taroh held their bags. They made their way to the apartment complex Yakob lived in, passing by his front door to knock on the one two doors down.

An elderly man in a black sweater opened it. Taroh had seen him around before when visiting Yakob, but they'd never spoken. His eyes widened when he saw the cat and he gently took her from Yakob's arms.

"Janie!" he gasped. "My goodness! Where did you two find her?"

"An alleyway about five blocks away," Taroh said. "Some kids were being mean to her."

"Thank you boys for finding her," he said. "She's been missing for three days. I thought she was never coming home. Here, let me pay you."

"Oh, no need," Taroh said, and Yakob echoed his refusal. But the man shook his head.

"I insist."

He gave each of the boys a 50 with a smile on his face.

"Thank you for bringing my girl back," he said as he handed over the money. "And kid, you may want to hide that black eye."

Taroh's hand flew to his left eye, which was still throbbing. "Yeah…"

Mazie Rye, 16

District 9 Female

Mrs. Winters always insisted on quiet time after tests. She said it helped the brain rest and recuperate, and it also gave her time to grade. And since it was the last day of school, she had to get it done now.

Usually, Mazie would be looking forward to summer. And technically, she was. But she was also nervous. Tonight was her first show! Comedy had always been her way of coping, and making people laugh was the best feeling in the world. She loved the way their eyes would light up and their faces would crinkle.

Ever since she was 10 and first started working, she'd known comedy was her calling. She'd told a silly joke to the farmer's son, and everyone burst out laughing, not just the kid. She'd felt proud. She'd felt like she was worth something.

When Mazie's mom died, her father turned to alcohol and began to neglect his children. Bran, her older brother, had practically raised her, with the help of the kindly neighbors. Her dad still worked, but his money all went towards ale. Bran and Mazie were the ones who kept the household running.

"Alright everyone," Mrs. Winters chirped, bringing Mazie out of her thoughts. "I've finished grading your tests. I'll hand them out, and once you receive yours, you're free to go."

She walked down the rows, long brown braid swinging back and forth. Mazie tied up her own wavy brown hair, fanning herself off a bit. Summers in 9 were dreadfully hot.

Mrs. Winters placed Mazie's test and final grade card on the table. She waited until the teacher passed to read them. A bright red A was scrawled across the test, and Mazie smiled. The notecard made her smile even more.

Mazie is a delight to have in class. She never fails to put a smile on my face. She is undoubtedly a quick-witted and intelligent young lady who will go on to do great things. While she sometimes speaks out of turn, Mazie shows lots of promise.

It was one of the nicest parent reports she'd ever gotten, not that her dad would ever see it. This was why Mrs. Winters was her favorite teacher. She didn't judge students if they had trouble sitting still, or weren't good at math, or forgot to raise their hands. She worked with them to help them do better.

As the other kids filed out of class, Mazie slipped the papers into her bag and approached Mrs. Winters' desk.

"Hi Mazie," her teacher said. "You did well this year."

Mazie grinned.

"Thanks. I was just wondering if you knew of a place where I could put on my show tonight?"

"Show?" Mrs. Winters asked.

"Yeah. I wrote a comedy routine and I want to perform it. I even made flyers! Is there a place I could do it?"

Mrs. Winters thought for a moment before nodding.

"Why don't you use the classroom? I'll leave it unlocked. And I'll bring my husband over after he gets home from work. He could use a good laugh."

"Really?" Mazie asked, blue eyes widening. "I'd love that! Thank you so much!"

"Of course," Mrs. Winters said, grabbing her bag and standing up. "I have to run, but feel free to reorganize the room if you need to. What time?"

"5," Mazie said with a grin. She was unable to keep the smile off her face.

"Alright! I'll see you then."

Mazie waited for Mrs. Winters to leave before letting out a squeal of excitement. Today, she went professional.

Oberon Murdoch, 17

District 9 Male

"Obi?" a soft voice whispered, shaking Oberon from a deep sleep. He sat up groggily, wiping the sweat from his forehead. The old creaky fan in the corner was not enough to combat the dry heat of District 9's summers. Still, he welcomed it.

"Hey Regan," he murmured, reaching out to take his little sister's hand. "What's up?"

"I had a nightmare and now I can't sleep," the 9-year-old said softly. "I'm scared."

"Oh," Oberon said, giving her hand a squeeze. "They were just dreams. They can't hurt you."

"Yes they can," Regan insisted. "I feel scared. So they did."

Oberon smiled.

"When did you get so wise?" he asked.

"Yesterday," Regan said matter-of-factly. "Jillian said I was wise too."

This made Oberon laugh lightly. He and Regan had been living with Jillian for the past four years, ever since they ran from the district orphanage. The older kids had been creepy with Regan, and Oberon couldn't let that continue.

"Want to lay in my bed?" he asked, trying to stifle a yawn. He'd only come home a few hours ago, and with Regan in his bed, he wouldn't get any rest. She was a squirmy sleeper. But he'd do anything for her, and she knew that.

"Yes," she whispered, and he scooted towards the wall, allowing her to slip under the rough covers. Her foot brushed against his bruised leg and he winced.

"Sorry," Regan mumbled, noticing his expression.

"It's okay," he whispered back. "I'm fine."

"Did you get hurt bad?" she asked. Oberon shook his head.

"Nah. It was just a bump. It'll bruise, but I'll be fine."

"Okay. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

As Regan drifted back off to sleep, Oberon pressed his thin frame against the wall and tried to rest his tired limbs. His most recent job had been a tough one. He'd scaled a three-story building to get to the roof, and fallen hard on his way down. Luckily, no one had heard him. He didn't know what he'd do if he'd been caught.

Four years ago, Oberon robbed the wrong guy; the owner of a thieves' guild. But he'd gotten very lucky, and instead of making an enemy or being imprisoned, he got a job. Joe had been impressed with his skills, and now Oberon was a skilled cat burglar.

He and Regan had been living on the streets one day, and in Jillian's house the next. She had a spare bedroom, and as long as Oberon kept up on his work, they would have a roof over their heads.

And that meant a lot. Oberon's parents died in the worst winter District 9 had ever seen. There was no wood for fires, no food to build fat. The cold had gotten to both of them, leaving 10-year-old Oberon to raise a toddler.

He missed them, and he knew they wouldn't approve of who he was today. But he also knew they'd want him and Regan to be safe. And they were. He'd always keep them safe.

Hi everyone! Here's the second chapter of Chaos Reigns! I wrote Chey's POV ages ago and recently stumbled across the doc, which inspired me to write again. I don't have much to say, so thanks to everyone who submitted, and I hope you're reading! Please leave a review if you're following along. I need some serotonin.

Have a nice day, be kind to each other, and never stop reading!

- Fiona