Bellona "Billie" Silverrock, 17

District 2 Female

It was a fairly cold day in District 2, despite it being the height of summer. The wind was strong, making my eyes sting and water. Abracia's twisted curls were shifting with the breeze and she pulled her sweater tighter around herself.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" she asked me as we walked toward the Academy.

"Maybe not, but it's important," I said. "Today is my last day to be heard."

"To be heard here," Abracia reminded me. "That's the whole reason you're volunteering. To be heard everywhere."

"Yeah," I said with a smile. "And I'm excited."

We stopped at the bottom of the Academy steps. We'd arranged to meet here along with several other girls from school. Blake was already there, and she gave us a wave.

"Hey Billie. Hi Abracia," she said when we got close. "Cold out, huh?"

"Very," Abracia replied.

"Did you bring the pamphlets?" I asked. Blake nodded, taking her bag off her shoulder. Inside were dozens of small pink pamphlets educating people on anti-racism.

Unfortunately, it was still an issue in Panem, and District 2 was a predominantly white district. And I'd faced too many racist people to stand by and do nothing. So, we protested. We educated. We fought for a better future.

I was even suspended for two weeks last year for speaking out, but I was welcomed back to school with thunderous applause from the students. The majority of my peers supported me, and would even donate or participate in marches and protests. It was the older people of the district who were fighting the change, and unfortunately, they were the ones in charge.

"Hi guys!" someone called. We all turned to see Ajax and Amira hurrying towards us. They were twins, and also big supporters of the cause, as their mom was black. I gave Amira a quick hug as she and her brother joined us on the steps.

"Still planning on volunteering?" Ajax asked. I nodded.

"But won't Honora be angry?" Blake said.

"Probably. But I already talked to my parents and we're okay with paying the fine."

"I'm glad you're doing this," Amira put in. "I just really hope you'll be okay."

"I'm glad I'm doing this too," I told her. I didn't want to consider the possibility that I wouldn't be okay. I needed to focus.

A group of trainees got out of a car and Blake grabbed a pamphlet.

"Hi!" she said as they approached. She held out the piece of pink paper. "We're spreading awareness about anti-racism and inclusive training practices. Care to learn more?"

The tallest guy grabbed a flier and thanked us before heading inside. I grinned. I couldn't be more proud of this cause, and my loyal friends.

Spartan Akuma, 18

District 2 Male

I sat on the edge of my bed, examining the wooden mask I'd carved myself. A large piece had been carved out during my fight with Falco. Frowning, I traced my fingers over it. It was unfortunate that such a nice piece of craftsmanship was ruined, but it was worth it. That lying, deceitful cheater was dead. And I would be representing District 2 in the Hunger Games.

There was talking outside my dorm door, but I ignored it. The Peacekeepers assigned to watch me were chatty, which was mildly annoying. Mindless chatter had no purpose. I set my mask aside and picked up the book Sage had given me before I moved to the Academy dorms. It was a book on heroes of all kinds, and it was my most treasured possession.

When I was just a newborn, I was abandoned by my parents. Some quarry workers found me in an alleyway and raised me communally, though Sage was the main figure in my life. They were the ones who instilled a sense of justice and honor within me. They were who District 2 was supposed to embody.

But when they saved enough money to send me to the Academy, the darker, corrupted side of our district was revealed. People would lie and cheat and scheme their way to the top. It was disgusting and dishonorable.

The Hunger Games were the ultimate challenge for victory and honor. It was absolutely unacceptable that the Academy's council hadn't chosen me as the male volunteer, and so I'd had to take matters into my own hands. Falco deserved every bit of pain he suffered before he died. Like the Oni, I punished him for his sins.

I leaned back on my bed. I was grateful to be back in my dorm. There was a comfort in familiarity, and while the beds weren't the best, they were much better than the beds in prison. I'd spent a month behind bars after killing Falco, but was released a week ago. I was free to do as I wished, but I had to have a Peacekeeper escort.

I didn't mind. I'd accomplished my first goal. My next goal was to win the Games. Then I'd rid the Academy of dishonorable students and staff and establish a new era for our district.

Tomorrow I would volunteer. Tomorrow the change would begin. It was far past the time for it to happen, but I was proud to be the one to bring it about. District 2 would be glorious again.

Mozu Striker, 20

District 2 Victor of the 56th Hunger Games

I examined my hands as my fellow victors chattered away all around me. This year I'd be mentoring on my own, not just shadowing Lyme. Someone's life would literally be in my hands. Well, not fully, but partially. Enough for me to be extremely nervous.

Someone put a hand on my shoulder, making me jump. I turned to see Garrison, one of 2's older victors, smiling at me.

"Nervous about mentoring?" he asked. I nodded.

"I understand. I've been mentoring for over forty years and I still have some nerves."

"That's not very reassuring," Hortensia said, overhearing our conversation. Garrison laughed lightly.

"I'm not the best with advice," he said. "I just wanted you to know it's normal." He gave my shoulder a final squeeze before stepping away.

I had come to appreciate the connection I had with my fellow victors more than I originally did. My friends were incredible, but they just hadn't experienced the same hardships I had. And that had driven a bit of a rift between us.

Hayato seemed to understand more than most though. He rarely talked about his family, but I knew that, like me, he didn't have one. But someday we would be a family. We were already discussing moving in together.

The talking around me died down as the Capitol anthem blared outside. Our district's escort, Veridie Hammond, wobbled onto the stage in ridiculously high heels. She was dressed in a puffy white dress and looked a bit like a cloud. Even her hair was white and puffed up.

"District 2!" she cheered. "What a delight to be back. I am so honored to return as your escort this year. Now, let's welcome our victors!" Applause broke out as I led the way onto the stage. I waved a little as I walked.

"What an impressive and prestigious group of individuals," Veridie gushed once we were all seated. "Now, let's quickly watch this short film and then we'll get to the good stuff."

The usual film began to play and I listened faithfully, but my mind was definitely elsewhere. I forced my focus back to Veridie when the video was over.

"How touching. Now, shall we select our female tribute?" She tottered over to the large glass bowl and selected a slip from the top. In the other districts they'd sometimes drag it out for suspense, but here someone pretty much always volunteered, so it wasn't necessary.

"Ellis Paiss," she called. But before Ellis could move, a pretty girl with dark skin was darting forward, out of the 17-year-old section.

"I volunteer!" she shouted. I frowned. That wasn't Honora. She looked familiar; she'd made some public statements near the Academy and had fliers up inside. But I couldn't remember her name.

I spotted Honora in the crowd, a frown on her face and fury in her eyes. But there was nothing she could do because the other girl was climbing the stairs to the stage.

"Hi!" she said into the microphone. "I'm Bellona Silverrock, but you can call me Billie! I'm here for the black girls, and for all the underrepresented people out there!"

A few people in the crowd cheered and Veridie smiled brightly.

"How wonderful," she said. "Now, let's select your partner!"

Again, she chose a slip from the top of the bowl.

"Gerald Huntington!"

"I volunteer!"

A hulking boy with a black buzzcut stepped forward, his eyes narrowed, as if daring anyone to protest. I shuddered. I knew this boy.

He joined us on the stage, making Billie take a step back. Veridie held her ground though, extending her microphone to him.

"A volunteer!" she gushed. "What's your name?"

"Spartan Akuma," he said flatly. Veridie nodded.

"Panem, I give you your District 2 tributes: Billie Silverrock and Spartan Akuma!"

Hey everyone! Sorry for the gap between updates. I've been having seizures, and then got a concussion as a result of that seizure. That's why these POVs are a tiny bit shorter than usual. I hope you like Billie and Spartan! They're VERY different, but were both a blast to write for. And there's only one more intro chapter after this! Please leave a review and tell me what you thought of these guys!

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

- Fiona