District 6 Pre-Reapings

TW: This chapter contains indications of sexual harassment

ASHTON FEKYU ('18')

DISTRICT SIX MALE

Ashton was born to spread his message.

He was absolutely certain about it. Okay, maybe not absolutely certain that he was born to do it, in fact, he was quite indecisive about it at first, but eventually he vowed to become a sort of 'messenger' for the District, spreading a message to the masses.

You see, District Six was a District built on huge inequalities. Ever since they were incorporated into a single, large District following Panem's invasion of the area now known as District Seven, vanquishing the local chieftains there, District Six was faced with a huge wealth inequality problem that became quickly evident the instant one stepped out of Winnipeg.

The richer, more affluent Western District Six, the original District Six, could often enjoy the benefits of having their own vehicles and cases of death by starvation, dehydration or murder by a drug gang were extremely low in comparison to their counterparts in the east.

And that was what concerned Ashton the most.

Eastern District Six, originally District Seven in a bygone era, in the era of Sebastian Hummel's reign in the Capitolite seat of power, was riddled with vast expanses of slum regions that spanned for miles upon miles and whose residents were forced to live in the worst possible conditions, struggling to even last a single day, with many dropping dead every single day, hordes of Peacekeepers and drug gangs battling each other in the streets and overworking these impoverished malnourished citizens every day.

And the worst part was, the Easterners were not allowed to cross over to the Western side unless given special permission by the mayor of District Six himself.

And thus far, only ten have ever accomplished that feat, an alarmingly low number considering the multitudes that lived in those slums.

It's just not fair, Ashton thought as he entered the door of his house, a relatively nice bit of property that allowed him to live a comfortable life.

But you should never take what you have for granted, his father often told him. You are blessed beyond words, now go out there and help those who aren't.

Ashton glanced down at the folder in his hand, the one that had mysteriously shown up on his mailbox and was signed 'Dawn', a new proposal for a planned merger between the Eastern and Western parts of the District, one that would provide far more economic opportunities for the undoubtedly talented people living in those slums.

After all, out of the ashes of the muck and grime, Ford Hamilton, a Victor and star racer in the Panem Grand Prix, had emerged and taken center stage, a remarkable feat that Ashton was more than certain could happen again if the Easterners could just be given a chance.

He hadn't read this particular proposal yet, nor had he ever heard of this mysterious Dawn, but he assumed that she was just another supporter of his cause. He had attained many of those over the years, due to his daily efforts to go door to door with his best friend Grenna, trying to stir up an active band of support to formulate a proposal, one the mayor certainly couldn't refuse, and to push him into accepting it should he once again reject it.

Money talked in the upper classes of District Six, so the mayor had already rejected more than twenty past proposals, the first ten of which were admittedly quite impractical, but if everyone showed up in support of this newest proposal, surely the mayor would give in?

This act of going door to door had led to him obtaining a rather affectionate nickname from his peers: 'The Messenger', and he would often help them deliver messages, letters and parcels too in a charitable act of kindness.

In fact, he could never turn down a chance to help someone, even if they refused.

As he shut the door of his house, his mother entered their living room, panting and gasping for breath as she hefted a large wooden crate across the room, beads of sweat dripping down her forehead, her muscles looking more strained than ever. Ashton knew that she was a very strong woman, one more than capable of lifting her own husband above her waist, but she had been working hard in the kitchen and in their workshop the whole day, and looked more than exhausted at the moment.

He didn't even hesitate, he simply marched right forward and tried to take the crate from her. "I can help you," he told her, trying to slide the crate onto his arms.

Instantly, he let out a gasp as a portion of the crate's full weight was loaded onto his arms. His muscles began to ache and throb, his arms ebbing with pain as he grappled with his mother for control of the crate.

"No, I can do it myself!" his mother barked, trying to snatvh it away from Ashton but he was unrelenting.

"You deserve a rest, let me do it," Ashton tried to reason with her, gradually able to pry the crate away from her hands.

His mother let out a huff of annoyance. "You fool, I could've done it myself! I don't need your help!"

Ashton, however, didn't pay attention to her words. The crate was incredibly heavy, and he felt as though he was holding the weight of the sky in his arms, which threatened to drop the crate that instant from pure weariness.

But his desire to help out overpowered his need to rest.

He turned on his heels and marched towards the kitchen, one that had a window with a view of the Assiniboine River, a river swamped with pollution caused by the waste discharge from riverside factories. When he lowered the crate onto the crate, he bit his lip, trying to hide the throbbing pain in his arms, as he turned to face his mother, who stood behind him, her arms crossed, an irritated look in her emerald green eyes as her lips bore a deep scowl.

"I could have done it myself, you know," she grumbled.

Ashton sighed. "Maybe you could have, but I just wanted to help."

"I didn't want or need your help," she snarled, before turning sharply and striding off, murmuring something underneath her breath.

Not even a 'thank you', Ashton thought, a sense of mulling sadness in his mind. He was used to being unappreciated by others, but still, he would have hoped that his mother would be just a tad more grateful.

Just then, he heard the doorbell ring. He frowned, raising a skeptical eyebrow as he shot a glance at the clock. It was eight o'clock, who would be visiting him at this time? Grenna was usually out with her boyfriend Lexus, so it couldn't possibly be her, could it?

Ashton sauntered over, curiosity bubbling in his chest. He grabbed the door handle and twisted it, before opening the door to reveal none other than Grenna herself. But there was something odd about her. Makeup was smeared all over her face, a touch of red lipstick blotted on her chin, her cheeks covered in ruined gloss, her hair in a frizzled mess, her eyes a puffy, bloodshot red as a tear dripped down from those melancholically empty, almond-shaped sockets.

"Hey Ashton," she croaked, her voice unusually hoarse, a far cry from her usual cheeky, bubbly self. She shifted uncomfortably, rubbing her hands together in a show of nervousness.

Ashton could feel a pang of sympathy in his heart. He and Grenna had known each other for nine years, she was by far the greatest friend he could have possibly asked for, someone who stuck by him and always knew how to brighten up his day.

To see her in such a broken state nearly crushed him.

"Grenna!" he exclaimed, pushing the door wide open. "What happened? Are you okay?"

Grenna lowered her gaze, pursing her lips slightly as more tears flowed down her rosy cheeks. Her back was hunched so it appeared that Ashton was taller than her, when the opposite was true. It had always been something that Grenna had teased him about, being taller than him despite the fact that Ashton was a year older. Well, not according to the Panem Citizen Registry, though. They incorrectly recorded his age as ten when he was eleven, a mistake that the stubborn mayor refused to correct. It was annoying, but Ashton no longer thought too much about it. "C-can I come in?" she asked meekly, her voice trembling as a gust of wind flew by, rattling some leaves into her dress.

"Sure, of course," Ashton said, nodding as he stepped aside to allow Grenna to enter. "I'll go get you a handkerchief."

"It's fine, I don't need one," Grenna murmured softly as she took quick, willowy steps towards the couch.

"Please, I insist," Ashton persisted.

"No, I-" Grenna began to object but Ashton had already dashed into his room to retrieve a handkerchief from his closet. He returned to the living room, where Grenna sat on the old couch, her face buried in her hands, her legs shaking a little, soft, anguished sniffles escaping her lips.

"Here you go," Ashton said, handing the handkerchief to her.

"Oh, thank you," she uttered, her voice like a careless whisper in the wind as she gingerly took the handkerchief and began to dab furiously at her eyes. A small Polaroid photograph slipped out of her pocket, one of her and Ashton on a trip to the Eastern side of the District, grinning as they stood with a family in the slums that had given them accommodation for the night, a small stuffed bear that Ashton himself had crafted as a gift for them wrapped tightly in the hands of one of the children.

"What happened, Grenna?" he asked, reaching for a jar of biscuits.

Grenna looked reluctant to eat, but at Ashton's insistence, she relented and took a small bite of a salty biscuit, chewing slowly and she continued to wipe the tears from her eyes.

"Lexus…" she murmured. "I was going over to his house for a date. Then I saw a photo that one of his mates took of him going over to the East and beating up an Easterner." She choked back a sob and blew her nose into her handkerchief, before continuing. "When I confronted him he began screaming at me, calling all those Easterners 'poorfellas' and said that if I cared so much about them I was just like them, human scum. I tried to leave but then he tried to beat me up too, until his mother arrived, and-" She couldn't hold her wails back anymore, and a torrent of tears began to rapidly flow down her cheeks, prompting Ashton to grab a box of tissues for her. As he did, though, he could feel that bit of rage churning in his guts as Grenna's story sunk in.

Poorfellas. It didn't seem so bad on the surface, but here, it was a derogatory insult for any impoverished person, and was the equivalent of calling them a piece of shit.

And yet, despite the connotations, it didn't stop a lot of Westerners, including the mayor himself, from using the term loosely.

It's horrible, Ashton thought as he grabbed the pink box of tissues lying on a wooden table. Those people are humans too, why can't they be treated equally?

But what angered him the most was Lexus's treatment of Grenna. Lexus had been known to hang out with Tyde, that horrific sexist monster who often assaulted young girls, homosexuals and people of colour. Ashton had been apprehensive of Gemma's relationship with him, and tonight, he was unfortunately proven right.

Lexus was, just like Tyde, a vile monster too, and as Ashton sat back down and noticed several bruises along Grenna's arms, he felt as though he could almost punch Lexus for hurting his best friend in such a manner.

Almost.

He was never supportive of violence.

But he was nonetheless committed to fighting inequality in District Six.

It was what his father would have wanted him to do.

ESMA CYPRUS (17)

DISTRICT SIX FEMALE

Esma was born to fly.

She was absolutely certain about it. As Esma headed towards the Winnipeg Flight Centre, she could still feel that small bruise throbbing on her left knee from her earlier fight with a member of the Cossacks, a relatively small gang of drug dealers that she and many around her in Winnipeg often crossed paths with in their daily lives.

Of course, anyone who tried to cross her path would instantly regret it.

A smirk tugged at her lips as the fate of that sexist piece of human scum resurfaced into her mind. Badly beaten up, gagged, tied to a tree, yep, that was what happened when someone cat-called her and tried to assault her, she would beat their wimpy little asses up in a heartbeat.

She tilted her head to the side, and a wave of satisfaction washed all over her as she saw the horrified look on the face of Alvin Miguel, one of the weaker, more cowardly members of the Cossacks, when she saw her approach the vicinity of the Miguel household, a relatively modest place near the banks of the Assiniboine River. She couldn't resist a soft chuckle as that little weakling swiftly scampered off, quickly returning to the shadows from which he had tried to emerge from.

It was a befitting punishment for his betrayal all those years ago, which had led to the death of her mother.

Her mother…

Esma shook that thought out of her head, staring coldly ahead in an attempt to hide her emotions.

No, I won't think about that now. Not at this hour, she scolded herself, jamming her fists into the pockets of her ripped jeans as she took a shaky breath, the steel gates of the flight centre standing tall in the distance, the gleaming statue of an eagle perched grandly on top of them, shining in the bright, golden dawn that was quickly rising over the awakening District. Esma quickened her pace, her heart thumping with excitement. Morning flights were her absolute favourite, a necessity for her to start the day right, her own personal version of a morning coffee, or whatever those Peacekeepers drank before their morning shifts. Exhilaration coursed through her, peals of energy jolting through her veins like an electric circuit as she anticipated flying through the lovely white clouds freshly washed with rays of golden sunrise.

She simply couldn't wait to fly once more.

Esma sat in the cockpit, donning her flight suit as behind her, one of the nicer Peacekeepers in town, Belinda Swiftbane, stood to watch her as a precaution in case she tried anything against the rules, which unsurprisingly comprised of a pretty long list, because a flight tester like her had to be kept under a tight leash. Esma hated the rules and wished that she could simply stab them and get them out of her way, but she knew that they were inevitable, a set of constraints that she could never flee from no matter how much she grumbled.

But hey, at least Belinda knew the fundamentals on how to smile (something some Peacekeepers and people in District Six had never learned how to master, by the way) and could make some light-hearted conversations with her.

She reached her hand out and pushed several buttons to turn on the fuel pumps, before starting the APU. It was a routine that she had practised a countless number of times, a way of starting the engine that was engraved deep into her mind, a knowledge that she knew like the back of her own hand. As Belinda went over to have a chat with one of the flight centre workers, Esma moved her hand down and flicked a small switch to turn the beacon on, a step that as a seven-year-old child, she constantly forgot to do, which her father constantly chastised her about until she could finally remember. Then, she turned a dial to turn the ignition on, before finally turning on the engine. Belinda reemerged, pushing her way past a particularly grumpy worker before taking her seat beside Esma in the co-pilot's seat.

"Ready to fly?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as she strapped her seatbelt, a crucial part of a jet that had once saved Esma's life during a particularly nasty crash.

Esma gave her a sideways smile, her eyes glinting with a glowing excitement that danced about her pupils. "Of course I am," she said matter-of-factly, picking up her walkie-talkie and pushing a button on the side. "Flight Test 182, ready for take-off," she told the workers on the runway below.

"Flight 182, this is ground control, you are good to take off," the familiar voice of her brother Quinn crackled. He had been the one who had designed this plane, and held a pretty senior role in the flight centre due to his level-headedness and ability to keep the designing and manufacturing teams on task.

A flash of a reckless smile appeared on Esma's face. "It's time."

The plane soon took off after that.

Esma clutched the steering wheel, a focused, concentrated expression pressed tightly onto her face, a look that her best friend Rae often told her had a tendency to spook others. Not that Esma cared, though. They weren't her problem. As the plane burst into the sky, she could hardly resist a squeal as right in front of her, a majestic beauty of a landscape began to unfold before her eyes, a tapestry of colours and scenery blending perfectly together that was on display as the plane soared through the ethereal realm of enchanting dawn.

"Remarkable, isn't it?" Belinda muttered, fiddling with that notebook she always had with her.

Esma nodded, and she steered the plane lower, tipping it slightly to the side so that she and Belinda could have a better view of the landscape below them. Peeking through the clouds, she could feel something stir within her as the vast, seemingly endless swathes of slums stretched across the Red River Valley came into view, the scenes of extreme poverty and desperation screaming with the silent voices of a land forgotten and neglected by the Capitol.

The Capitol.

The name of that wretched society stung in her heart, like sharp pinpricks poking at her heartstrings. She scrunched up her face, her fingers tightening around the steering wheel as the numerous atrocities that the Capitol had committed over the years flooded into her head. She gave a withering glance at Belinda, whose head was, for the moment, turned away from her.

How satisfying would it be for her to just kill Belinda right there and then.

How satisfying would it be for her to just avenge her mother by killing a Peacekeeper.

But no, she couldn't.

Not when her family could potentially face the consequences.

Not when Rae could be in danger.

Not when Belinda herself had actually bailed her out of a couple of risky situations before, all those reckless moments in her life when she'd gotten herself into a brawl with a member of The Brothers, a notorious drug gang far more powerful than the Cossacks, or when she had so recklessly ridden her bicycle through a swamp in search for some adventure as a young child.

She lowered her gaze, and turned once again towards the slums below, quickly fading into much more pleasant townships.

She couldn't do it.

Her now glum, repressed eyes glanced back at the town of Gimli, the tall, now abandoned lighthouse with a torn blue flag on its roof towering above several small cottages and low buildings. Esma could barely resist a snicker as she thought of that time she had scaled the lighthouse in the dead of night in search of a rumoured treasure, only to come across a gang member who she pushed off a window and into the lake below. The dirty, polluted waters of Lake Winnipeg lapped against the shores of the town, washing over the rocky shore that Esma had once dared to play in despite the pleas of the locals.

"Turn the plane around," Belinda instructed her, her startling silver eyes glinting as the Peacekeeper outpost that marked the northernmost borders appeared, a tiny speck of white amongst the aspen woodlands that hid tiny factories billowing little puffs of grey smoke. Esma had always wondered about what lay beyond, and often found it ridiculous that they weren't ever allowed to start any expeditions into the undoubtedly vast expanses of uncharted lands.

Esma rolled her eyes, exasperated by the rules, but she had no choice but to comply. She turned the steering wheel and the plane swerved, changing its course back to Winnipeg. She took a different route this time, though, one that went over the town of Selkirk. As the large factories and workshops typical of a District Six town came into view, Esma took special note of a large building painted a pristine shade of snow white.

Snow white.

She gritted her teeth as the Thermal Baths frequented by Peacekeepers disappeared underneath a blanket of clouds.

That shade of white was a symbol of pure evil, one that reminded her of an unspeakably despicable man whose cruelty knew no limits, whose tyranny roared like lions across the reaches of Panem.

The limits of the town of Winnipeg reemerged in her eyes, as the sun continued to rise higher and higher into the grey clouds, ascending like a fiery angel into the heavens.

The Red and Assiniboine Rivers snaked into her line of sight, threading across the valley and cutting into the heart of the town she had grown up in. Esma could vividly remember all the times she had gone cycling down the Red River with Rae, in search for its source long before her flying days, although her attempts had always ended up in disaster, with her once falling into the river after attempting to cycle without using her hands. Rae had had to rescue her and it had been far from a great day in the end, but hey, the thrill of it was fun.

She spotted Kelsey's Bakery, a place frequented by drug gangs due to the owner's addiction towards those white, powdery substances and the dirty syringes. One misadventure had once led Esma to that place, where she had first encountered the Cossacks. A chase had quickly ensued which, Esma could remember fondly, had ended when Esma spied a crossroads in the distance with two paths, one that led to a dark alley and another that led to a water fountain.

Being the risk-taker she was, she had made the split-second decision to go with the former in the hopes that the quickly advancing gang wouldn't expect her to go down this path.

She was right and she came out unscathed, but with an enthralling new story to tell Rae.

From the corner of Esma's eye, she could see a house painted a bright shade of red, and her eyes narrowed in fury, a bitter distaste forming in her mouth.

It was Tyde's house.

Tyde, that sexist, homophobic piece of shit who had spat at her every time they crossed paths. Tyde, that cruel bully who constantly bragged about his pools of wealth and towers of riches, none of which even existed to begin with. Tyde, that narcissistic criminal who had once tried to assault Rae, before Esma dealt a big blow on the side of his face to send him running, a moment that would spiral into a bitter rivalry between the pair.

She wanted to tear him to pieces.

Belinda clicked her tongue as Esma began to seethe at the mere thought of Tyde, smoke almost bellowing out of her ears. Her face felt hot red with molten outrage as she thought of what had happened just the day before, and what had become of that poor little girl who lived near the Hurst Factory.

Why couldn't he just treat girls like actual fucking people? she had often wondered. Esma had always detested him and those weak cronies of his, way more so than she despised the Cossacks. They held a special place in her heart, occupying that tiny corner filled with the list of people she would gladly toss into a pit of blazing flames. Because those people that he mistreated, from Rae to the dark-skinned boy whose ankle he intentionally broke to the lesbian couple who were punched in public, they deserved justice.

They deserved equality, something she vowed to fight for in District Six, not just for the women, but for all those who were considered inferior within the boundaries of the place they called home.

It was what her mother would have wanted her to do.

SPONSOR QUESTION:

-What did you think of Esma and Ashton? Will they ally? Could they win?

A/N: Boom, there we have it! Our third introductory chapter and it's District Six who takes the helm this time round with Ashton and Esma! Thank you so much to Pacecca and Marie464 for submitting these two and for reviewing too, ya'll are great :) Hope you enjoyed this and sorry for vanishing, life has been super busy for me lately and I've had my struggles with myself, which brings me to the point of that self-insert that I briefly mentioned in Iris's prologue, which has divided opinion. I wanna explain that it was a whim moment where I was just insecure and put myself in there to boost my morale and there is a greater significance to him being Iris's brother who she takes under her wing, but I don't wanna dwell on that personal issue, I highkey do regret it but it is what it is. And yeah, that's it, I know this chapter is kinda bad lmao, I'm sorry for that, and school has been tough so updates might be quite slow, but anyways, have a nice day, and I'll see you guys for D3 next time! Cheers :)