District 3 Pre-Reapings

ITHACA EMORY (18)

DISTRICT THREE FEMALE

Don't bow down to anyone, you're smarter than them, debate until the very end.

An order that her mother had given her when she was five, one she had initially waved off, but had soon learned to comply with.

After all, she simply wasn't going to bend the knee to anyone, least of all the stupid Capitol.

Those tyrannical ruling elite sitting in their thrones on high, cackling as they watched the Districts suffer in abject misery, Ithaca wished that she could get rip them to shreds.

Those disgusting propaganda posters always seem to show them as kind, noble saviours. But would such valiant, pious people enforce child murder for the sick pleasures of their peers?

Ithaca doubted so. Nothing the Capitol ever tried to do to sway her into thinking that they were the good guys even came close to making sense inside her head. They were all rotten lies, lies fed to unwilling District people as if they were famished dogs in an abandoned yard.

Lies that quite frankly, hardly anyone believed in the first place.

As such, Ithaca became obsessed with devouring knowledge that the Capitol sought to take away from her and the rest of her fellow compatriots, basking and revelling in the ideas that could spark a revolution and ogling at the concealed truths of Panem's dark past.

How did she manage to do all this? People often wondered.

Well, it was simple, really. All she had to do was map out the secret, underground network of the Ruby Archives, which, by the way, had nothing to do with Ruby Ashgrove, that vile Gamemaker who Ithaca had to concede was a brilliant thinker, just that her intelligence was being enslaved by a greater entity, exploited for inhumane and barbaric purposes.

And what were the Ruby Archives?

A small sneer flickered across Ithaca's lips as she pulled out a magnet from behind a dusty, old wooden cupboard inside the cellar of Burke's Apothecary.

How did no one figure this out? she thought to herself, amused by the Peacekeepers' apparent lack of brain cells. Those white-armoured soldiers with their big guns who thought they were so smart, couldn't even locate the branches of Ruby's Archive, staring right at them in plain sight.

And they thought that they were the smart ones.

Ithaca chuckled at the thought of Peacekeepers being smart. Their intelligence was surely a far cry from hers, her incredible bank of knowledge and intellect being by far superior compared to anyone who joined the ranks of that army.

She was smarter than them and nearly everybody else and proud of it.

She placed the magnet onto the surface of a certain section of the cellar floor, and felt that familiar tug of magnetic attraction. With all her might, she began to lift the cover of a wooden trapdoor built into the ground, that flicker of a sneer quickly igniting and growing into a wide, cunning smirk as she hopped down a tiny iron ladder, and pushed open a small door, entering a large, underground room full of hidden books.

This was the Ruby Archives.

Hundreds upon hundreds of secret books, stacked neatly in bookshelves that spanned across a considerable amount of underground space, with wooden ladders allowing short people like her (don't you dare call her short, though) to climb up and reach the top shelves. There were numerous tables, couches and chairs all around the place, as well as a small chess board for use during secret gatherings of covert rebel groups. A handful of oil lamps lit up the whole place, creating a magical glow that illuminated the hallowed walls, the smell of paper filling the air, like a refreshing aroma to Ithaca's lungs.

This was where she was meant to be.

She pranced forward, skipping past a row of bookshelves that had an old, faded photograph of Lake Michigan prior to the founding of Panem, once a tranquil vacation spot with a beautiful sunset view, now turned into a lake void of life and filled with hazardous biochemicals. There were only several spots that were safe for swimming, an activity that Ithaca had thought that she could master just by reading books on how to do so.

She was partially correct.

Weeks of researching and poring through books and websites on her dusty old computer had allowed her to learn the fundamentals on how to swim.

However, it was a whole other kettle of fish when she actually did jump into the icy waters.

Ithaca shuddered, roughly shoving aside that memory. Nope, the loud, high-pitched screams that had thundered across the landscape was far from a good memory. To put it simply, her ego had been hurt very badly, an embarrassing moment she vehemently refused to dwell on.

She poked her head around a shelf containing rolls of large maps detailing the territory of Panem over the years. She had examined each one of them with a vivacious sort of eagerness, basking in the company of these centuries-old maps that were a rare find outside of the mythical Presidential Archives. There was even one in a foreign language that she couldn't understand, showcasing an ancient, far-flung land called 'Costa Rica', a map that according to the head librarian of the Ruby Archives, Ruby Hoffman, was the oldest map in the collection, a map that had been found in a pile of rubble in the town of Lansing, one of the richer towns of District Three. No one knew much about 'Costa Rica', but the bright, colourful birds and mysterious-looking creatures and regal beaches that were scattered across the map certainly piqued Ithaca's interest. A mad scramble for more clues as to the location and identity of this fabled land was soon commenced, with Ithaca scrolling through as many books as she possibly could within the hidden library, searching for mentions of this long-lost land.

And Ithaca was never going to give up the search, no matter how hard it was going to be.

Because when Ithaca Emory wanted to know something, she would never stop in her pursuit of that bit of knowledge.

So far, she hadn't gotten anything, other than a couple of mentions of 'Castries', which she doubted had much to do with "Costa Rica'. But that was why she was here now, to keep looking.

She poked her head around a corner, and a smug smile skidded across her face as she caught sight of her best friend Allan's mop of dirty blonde hair, falling over his eyelids as he bent his neck, his attention focused on a thick encyclopedia that sat on his lap, a soft hum emitting from his lips as he read. The pair had known each other for ages, and their friendship was one that stretched back for more than a decade. They were like siblings, sharing a close bond with each other, spending much of their time together in the Ruby Archives in search of 'Costa Rica', although recently, Allan had also begun to embark on a personal quest to find out more about 'Castries'.

But Ithaca, being obviously the smarter of the pair, was only focused on one search and one search only.

It was better for her that way.

"Well, well, well," she snickered, strutting up to Allan, her chin held high. "If it isn't the second best Mathematician in Detroit."

Allan looked up, his bright blue eyes shining with annoyance. He sighed, shaking his head slightly. "It was one competition, Ithaca. And besides, this is the fifth time you've bragged about this today."

Ithaca grinned, folding her arms in a show of pride. "Am I not allowed to exert my dominance over a vastly inferior competitor?"

"I mean, if you are that superior, why are you wasting your time bragging to a vastly inferior competitor, huh?" Allan countered, raising an amused eyebrow.

Ithaca's smile faltered for a while as she racked her brain for a counter-argument. "Well, this is my way of boosting my confidence in preparation for a contest with hopefully far better competitors," she finally said, sinking into a chair beside Allan.

"You mean that kid from Grand Rapids?" Allan asked. "Harvard, wasn't it? The guy who beat your ass in a debate a couple of years ago?"

Ithaca snarled. No one brought up Harvard McKinley, no one. That rotten scoundrel was not to be mentioned around her, but Allan being the bitch he was just had to mention him. "It was a street argument, not a proper debate. And besides, a year later I whooped his ass and sent him crying back to his mother. You, on the other hand, lost a debate to-" She paused, pretending to check a fake notebook. "Bernadette, Cooper, Knox, Cambridge and that little kid Coda."

"Hey, Coda is a smart kid who's just pretending he isn't!" Allan protested, but the flush on his face signalled to Ithaca that she had, once again, won this one. Allan sighed, slumping back into his seat. "Ugh, fine, whatever."

Ithaca grinned. "Ha."

Allan rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated puff. "Why are you so late anyway? You're usually early."

"Well," Ithaca said calmly, even though she knew that the subject at hand would not be a calm one. "I got a minor distraction from Martha."

Allan groaned. "Oh, what did she do now?"

The pieces of the memory puzzle rapidly clicked together in Ithaca's head, and the satisfying image of a flustered-looking Martha storming off screaming a slew of curses at her popped into her mind. "Oh, she tried to steal Bernadette's lunch."

Allan's jaw dropped. "Wait what? Martha? Stealing?"

Ithaca shrugged. "A mean joke, perhaps? I am not entirely certain either. But anyway, she started bragging and pointing out all of Bernadette's faults-" Ithaca paused, her heart thumping hard against her chest in a moment of blinding rage as, with a heavy heart, she realised that this was exactly what Ithaca would do to someone. She wouldn't take it to the same extent as Martha, but she would still diss the hell out of anyone who even had the guts to debate her.

The similarities were overwhelmingly annoying.

"And then she started sneering about how her family has favours with the Capitol while Bernadette's mother was killed by the Capitol." Ithaca shuddered at this bit. Anyone who even uttered a single word of praise about the Capitol was wretched in Ithaca's books. And the fact that Martha had dared to bring up Bernadette's mother? Simply vile. "Don't worry, I launched into a full-fledged argument and sent her walking home with her tail between her legs," Ithaca said proudly.

Allan heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness you took care of her. Poor Bernadette, though, she's a sweetheart, why the heck would Martha do this?"

Once again, Ithaca shrugged. "Don't know. But if Martha dares to even approach Bernadette again-"

A smirk tugged at her lips.

"I'll throw in a punch along with beating up her fragile ego."

Because if anyone messed with Ithaca or her friends, she would go hard on them.

CODA JENKINS (13)

DISTRICT THREE MALE

Don't follow anyone's lead, they may be smarter than you, but they aren't you.

Admittedly, his parents had told him the exact opposite, but Coda never listened to them.

Or anyone, for that matter.

Coda was Coda, and no one could take that away from him.

I am who I am.

People often tried to get him to do something, but that only pushed Coda to do the exact opposite because, come on, where was the fun in obeying stupid orders and following the rules?

Coda lived for the thrill of being a free spirit, one who was in full and complete control of his own life and could do whatever he wanted.

His parents, however, had rather different opinions.

"Coda, where do you think you're going, young man?" his mother shouted, her voice rising by an octave, her tone trembling with irritation. She stormed out of the kitchen, wooden ladle in hand, a cold, icy wrath blazing in those stormy dark eyes. Her footsteps were loud, furious, and her hair was in a tangled mess, but for once she didn't seem to care.

And neither did Coda, who simply slung a backpack around his shoulders and shrugged as he began to strut out of the house. "I'm going out," he said matter-of-factly.

"Hey, I need help in the kitchen!" his mother screamed, aiming the ladle at him. "You are not going out without my permission, you-"

Before she could finish, though, Coda had slammed the door of the house shut. He rolled his eyes, puffing his cheeks as he could hear a muffled scream from inside his tiny, modest house along the River Rouge. He didn't pay much attention to his mother's attempts at getting his attention, but he thought he heard something along the lines of 'staying away from the old Ludwig factory'.

Great, she had just given him a brand new idea for a brand new outing with his friends!

"Thanks, mom," he said, chuckling to himself. "It's gonna be a fun trip, I guess."

He walked down the dirt-covered paths of Crawley Street, gazing by at the empty houses that lined this road, all of the occupants having gone out to work in their respective factories and laboratories. In the distance, he could see the broken top of a crumbling building poking just above the others in the vicinity, its blackish-grey facade blending well with the asphalt of the streets, the roof of what had once been a large factory that could accommodate up to two hundred workers now sitting abandoned, lonely, its roof having collapsed a couple of years ago.

But the dull exterior didn't deter Coda at all.

Not when inside, a whole host of mysteries and urban legends lurked in the shadows.

It's haunted, people often uttered about it. The most dangerous place in Detroit!

From what Coda could gather, it was haunted by the ghosts of at least twenty workers who had died there during the Battle of Detroit in the Dark Days, a battle that District Three had been doomed to lose right from the start. Anyone who dared to enter, would almost certainly never come out again. The discovery of a pile of human skulls that had supposedly shot out of the collapsed roof of the factory in the middle of the night, frightening half of the people on the streets, only fuelled the slew of urban myths and legends that surrounded this eerie place. Not even the Peacekeepers dared to enter, for a battalion that had once stormed in during the spring prior to the second Quarter Quell had not been able to escape the grounds alive.

So, naturally, Coda being the stubborn kid he was, planned to pay the place a visit.

He turned a corner and entered a different, much more pleasant looking street, and his face lit up into a smile when he saw two figures sitting on the ground, having an animated conversation with one another. Neon and Aaron, two of his closest friends, were having a rather odd discussion about hair.

"So, when you don't tie it all up, it kinda feels weird when it just hangs loose, doesn't it?" Neon chattered, that trademark bright, bubbly look lighting up her face as usual.

Aaron shrugged. "I don't know. I have short hair," he muttered, glancing awkwardly at her.

"Well it does, for me, at least, and-" Before Neon could continue, however, she looked over Aaron's shoulder and saw Coda approach. "Hey there, Coda!" she called out, waving excitedly at him.

"What's up, Neon?" he asked, grinning as the pair exchanged a fist bump.

"Oh, nothing, just talking about random stuff as usual," Neon said absentmindedly.

"I mean, who on earth plans a conversation?" Coda reasoned, laughing.

"I know, right?" Neon giggled. "In fact, who even plans?"

"Plans can be useful at times but whatever, I guess," Aaron murmured.

"Nah, they're boring and so stereotypically District Three," Coda told him, rolling his eyes.

"I mean, sure," Aaron sighed. "Pass me that bottle over there, will you? And please don't throw it." He gestured towards a blue bottle beside Neon filled with water, with Aaron's nametag on it.

Coda nodded, but he ignored that last bit Aaron told him and flipped it into the air. Aaron yelped as he stretched his hands out and fumbled as he attempted to catch it. He opened his mouth to shout at Coda, but then closed it again. There was no point in trying to tell Coda to do something, he would never listen.

And Coda never planned on changing that part about him.

"So, what are we gonna do today?" Neon asked, flipping her long strands of blonde hair backwards.

A devilish grin spread across Coda's face. "I think we should go to that old Ludwig Factory. It'll be a cool place for an adventure, you know."

Neon's eyes flared with a joyous thrill. Her back straightened and her smile began to widen. "Ooh, yes, that's a good one. I'm all for it!"

Aaron, on the other hand, instantly bolted right up, an appalled look on his face. His jaw was unhinged, and his eyes blinked, trying to snap him out of what appeared to be a dazed, stunned moment.

Coda stared at the look on his eyes and his smile faltered as his people-reading skills began to kick in.

He knew what the response was going to be.

"No, no, no, nope," Aaron muttered, backing away as if Coda had just suggested they go on a murder spree. His limbs fidgeted wildly and as Aaron glanced up at the tall factory building in the distance, his face began to pale. "No way, you're crazy."

Coda shrugged. One could say that he was crazy, but he didn't like to think of it that way. Crazy was a term he would use to describe a person who didn't even know anything about trigonometry or arithmetic progression or how to code a simple command. Coda knew all about these basic, day-to-day things, just that he tried his very best to steer clear of them, for fear of falling into the stereotypical District Three nerd category.

Which he certainly wasn't.

He gazed at Aaron, who was still shifting his glasses and trembling like a leaf, looking more frightened than a kid who had just gotten Reaped. What the heck was he so scared about? It was just a factory, just a building, just another fun adventure, wasn't it? Besides, even if they did run into any trouble, so what? Surely they could pull through together, right? But he wasn't going to push his friend into going, not when he could potentially hold them back. Aaron had never been the bravest of kids, the kid who was always picked on by others for his apparent cowardice, before Coda had stubbornly fought them despite pleas from his little sister Mira not to. But that only proved that Coda cared for him and wasn't about to push him. "Okay then, you do you."

Aaron nodded, gritting his teeth and shooting Coda and Neon a cold stare. "You lot are actually insane. Please, don't do it."

Coda shook his head. "Sorry, Aaron. But you know me, when I say I'm gonna do something, there's no turning back."

Aaron shook his head and turned sharply on his heels, before marching off briskly, shaking his head as he kept his gaze low on the ground, the quiet mutters about Coda and Neon being crazy slowly becoming nothing more than an indistinct chatter as he walked further away in the direction of his home, a shophouse with a cafe on the first floor right on the banks of the Detroit River, one that Coda used to often frequent before the place became overrun by those weirdos who took their pet birds with them. Ugh, he hated birds, they just had those odd eyes that seemed to stare right into his soul, and the sounds that they made, the peculiar screeches and weird squawks, they unnerved him.

But he wasn't going to think about that now.

Not when they were going to embark on a new adventure.

"Come on, let's go!" Neon said, her face beaming with a shining sort of excitement that she always seemed to radiate. That was the thing that Coda had always liked about her, she had always been that positive outlet in his life ever since they were toddlers, and he would never thrust away their friendship for anything in the world.

Except maybe his own life, of course, but he wasn't going to entertain those thoughts.

Coda and Neon marched straight ahead in the direction of the looming factory in the distance. Along the way, Coda's hand accidentally brushed against Neon's, and Coda raised his eyebrow when Neon yelped and quickly stumbled backwards, away from Coda, her face turning a bright shade of red.

Neon? Blushing? Well, that was far from normal. Neon never got embarrassed, she was tough as nails, the girl who stood up to Mira's bullies who were twice her size whenever Coda wasn't around to fend them off himself, so why was she blushing right there and then? Coda frowned, the wheels turning in his brain as Neon cleared her throat and continued walking, although she seemed a little less focused and nearly bumped into an old, shattered lamppost.

What's up with her? he wondered, trailing behind her, trying to figure out why she had reacted that way. He walked up right in front of her and grabbed her hand, tugging her forward, trying to make it seem playful, although deep down he was merely trying to test a theory. Instantly, she recoiled backwards, her face reddening once more.

A small smile popped up on Coda's lips. "What's the matter, Neon? You're looking a little, hmm, flustered, I should say."

Neon's eyes steeled and she crossed her arms, a pouty look on her face. "Oh, shut it, Coda."

A wide grin began to spread across Coda's face as his suspicions were confirmed. He wasn't going to shut it like she had told him to, nah, he was going to do the exact opposite, good old Coda was going to keep teasing her about it until the end of time!

Because where was the fun in simply listening to others?

SPONSOR QUESTION:

- What did you think about Ithaca and Coda? How far can they go? And so far, who's your pick for Victor?

A/N: Boom, there we have it, another chapter, another new pair of tributes! Thank you to chcolate for Coda and RubyTree7 for Ithaca, these two were great! Welp, I've been temporarily gifted with the power of Maria and Tia's speed, but with the weekdays approaching, time for me to disappear from the update list for another week lol. Sorry for the irregular updates, life has been a roller coaster for me and recently I've had, uhm, problems, but that's not for you to worry about lol. Anyways, hope you enjoyed and if you did, be sure to leave a review and if this chapter seemed a little wee bit bad, sorry, I'm still trying to get to grips with the whole SYOT writing thing, but I assure you, I'll try to make the pre-Games events better because by then I'll probably have settled in well in this new writing format. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far, your reviews do mean a lot to me! And yeah, that's about it, see you next time for District Eight! Until then, have a nice day, and cheers :)