Hi, everyone! As promised, here's the Reaping of District 3. I will upload also the Reaping of Four as soon as possible and then go on with Love Is the Deadliest Weapon. Before we start, let me thank you for your support to both my stories, it really helps.

And now, enjoy your reading :)

Last year

Dorah Asyn (17)- Citizen of District 3

The war lasted only some months, but they were sufficient to bring about death and devastation in all of Panem. Today is my mother's funeral. She was not a rebel, yet her life was not spared. Actually, my family has always supported the Capitol, since they helped us with my hyperactivity. They were the only ones who gave us the right diagnosis; if one listened to Three's incompetent doctors, half of the population would end up in mental hospitals.

The service was quite simple, and I appreciate it. Ma' wouldn't want a pompous funeral. To be honest, we can feel lucky to have a grave to bring a flower to; many corpses are still missing, many others couldn't be identified and, therefore, were given a common burial. How to go through such a spectacle of death? By thinking positive. Life has to go on, and it will, whether we accept it or not. That's what I try to tell my little cousin Jordan, who's crying desperately beside me, because he lost both his parents in the war. We will look after him, my father and I.

"Come on, your parents wouldn't want to see you cry," I whisper to him, while we're walking past their graves.

A drizzle is now starting to fall over the crowded graveyard. Even if I'm wearing warm clothes, it makes me shiver. Jordan stops and kneels down beside his parents' graves. He touches the recently dug earth, as if he was trying to reach them in its depths. I put my hand on his shoulder but remain upright.

"Jordan," I gently call him.

He doesn't answer. His eyes are dropped, his whole body is shaking like a leaf. I can feel his sorrow, it is mine as well. But someone has to stay strong.

"We'd better leave, it's raining," I go on.

"You can go, if you want, I'll stay here," he replies with a quivering voice.

He doesn't even look up from the ground.

"We'll return tomorrow, when the weather's better, okay?" I offer.

"I'll stay here," he insists.

"If you stay here, you'll get sick, and you won't be able to visit them."

He seems to consider this for a moment. When he finally stands up and watches me with his reddened eyes, I can tell by his gaze that he gave up. His knees are smeared, so I try to clean them as good as I can, but the only result I get is that now my hands are smeared too. In the meantime, Jordan has never taken his eyes off me. It's a bit creepy.

"You didn't cry, why?" he enquires, while we're heading home.

"I don't know," I reply.

"Are you indifferent?"

"Not at all! That's just another way of suffering."

I'm not indifferent, I do suffer. I don't know why, but I've always been able to distance myself from mourning. Maybe it's just because I ardently hope that one day, I'll see again those I lost. After all, death is a fact of life, it's just a threshold to walk through.

"What do you mean?" Jordan asks me.

"People react differently to the same situation. Not everyone expresses their grief by crying, someone just prefers keeping it inside," I explain.

"Does it hurt? I mean, keeping it inside…"

"It hurts in any case."

"And when does it stop hurting?"

"Never entirely. One learns to live with it, that's why it appears less painful."

"And how can I learn it?"

"You'll need time," I answer with a sad smile. "When you lose someone you love, you suffer, because you cannot see them any longer. But they won't abandon you for real, as long as you don't forget about them, okay?"

"I could never forget about them," he replies, wiping away his tears.

"You'll make it then, and I'll help you. We can do anything together."

"Thank you, Dorah."

…...

Some months before the Reaping

Quantum "Quan" Sparks (17)- Citizen of District 3

Winter has been particularly pitiless this year. Every limb of my body is shaking like a leaf, as I'm wandering through the market, wearing only a hoodie and a pair of worn jeans. I should wear something warmer, if I had any… but that can be easily remedied. People sell anything at the market, from food to clothes, one has just to wait for the right moment to take action. Basically, the stuff they sell here is the waste of the rich, but I don't mind. The most important thing to do is causing enough distraction, so that I can grab what I need and sneak off unnoticed. I have to be careful, though; there are some peacekeepers here and there, and, since my face is known, I risk getting recognized.

Hood on, I walk past the drop site, dropping a lit match. Then, I speed up my pace. My rucksack is open, hanging from only one of my shoulders. My hands are itchy with eagerness. Suddenly, the poppers I hid where I dropped the match start crackling. Panic breaks out, and peacekeepers rush to see what's happening. In such confusion, no one would think of the goods. When everything eventually quiets down, I'm already far away.

I reach the abandoned building where I set up my camp. It's a strategic place: not too far away from the town and full of possible hideouts and escape routes. Actually, it used to be a factory of household appliances in the past, but it closed, and its owner must think that the demolition costs are too high. Good for me. I empty my rucksack with a satisfied smirk on my lips. Inside, there are two plaid blankets, a hoodie, two or three matchboxes, and some beef jerky. Shopping is over for today. Water? It's not a problem this time of the year. I filled two buckets with frozen snow, I just need to make it melt with fire… and that's precisely what I'm going to do. I light a match and set fire to a pile of branches, which I gathered in the woods outside District 3. I put one of the buckets near the fire, then I sit down cross-legged, wrapped up in one of the blankets I stole. Finally a little warmth.

I live off what I can steal. I've been living like that for almost five years… since I've run away from home along with my little brother Seren. I take a picture of him and me out of my pocket. We look so happy and carefree... such a distant reality now that it seems almost it never happened. If our parents weren't two hopeless drunkards, we would have stayed home, and Seren wouldn't have died in a street brawl. I miss him, sometimes. His death was terrible, but it was avenged. By dint of stalking the streets, I found who killed my poor brother and punished them. Their corpses were found bloody and broken in a mangled heap in a dark alley, and peacekeepers couldn't trace their murder back to me.

Since then, crime has become a normality for me. I don't even feel guilty, because that's the only way for me to survive. But sometimes I wonder what Seren would think of the person I've become. Would he understand my motives? Or would he just condemn my actions?

…...

Present day

Dorah Asyn (18)- Citizen of District 3

When my father comes to wake me up, he finds me already up and dressed. Actually, I got up early this morning and went to the graveyard to bring flowers to my mother's grave. Don't know why, but I felt the need to do it.

"Oh, it's a pleasure to see you up, princess. Could you please go wake Jordan as well? Breakfast is ready," he says, smiling.

"Sure," I reply.

My father is an excellent cook, but he hasn't got time during the week, because he has to go to work early, so it's me who usually prepare breakfast. Be he doesn't have to work today, so I'd better take advantage of that and enjoy his cuisine.

I enter my cousin's room. He's still sleeping. I approach his bed and shake Jordan from his slumber.

"Wake up, Jordan! It's morning!" I tell him.

In response, he buries his head in the pillow, moaning.

"Pa' has cooked breakfast!" I add, then.

This seems to convince him to get up from bed. "Good news, finally," he comments with a wide smile, while stretching.

"Hey! Why aren't you so enthusiastic when I cook?"

"Because you… you're not very good at cooking?" he offers.

"That's not true! Besides, you should thank me. If I didn't do it, you would starve to death, since you can barely cook an egg!" I point out, offended.

He giggles. "I was just joking, Dorah!"

"I hope so."

When he's ready as well, we join pa' in the kitchen. By the delicious smell coming from that room, I can tell that he made pancakes. My mouth starts watering. There it lies… in the middle of the table, a plate with an inviting tower of pancakes and rivers of golden maple syrup dripping from its top. A king breakfast. We immediately sit at the table and start stuffing our mouths with pieces of pancake.

"Hey! Slow down! You're not starving!" complains my father.

"These pancakes are delicious!" comments Jordan, talking with his mouth full.

"That's impolite, Jordan, I've told you thousands of times," he scolds him, but my cousin doesn't seem to mind.

My father sighs, resigned. "Okay, I'll close one eye… but just because today there's the Reaping. A little glee won't hurt."

Yeah, the Reaping, I've almost forgotten about it… almost. This gonna be my last Reaping, the last time in which I'll stand in the square as an eligible girl. But I'm not afraid of it. I know that, if it's meant to be, I will be reaped. No use worrying beforehand. I'll stay positive. This strategy has always worked for difficult situations, and I'm sure it would do also in case I was chosen for the Games.

After finishing breakfast (ugh, I'd like more), we head together to the main square. Unconsciously, I start whistling a tune.

At some point, Jordan turns toward me. "I don't know how you can be so easy-going," he tells me.

Even if he's not yet of Reaping age and, therefore, risks nothing, he seems to have lost his earlier cheerfulness.

"Just trying to mind off," I reply, shrugging.

Once to the square, I have to part from Jordan and my father and reach the eighteen-year-old section right in front of the stage. There, I meet my best friends: Binary, Tesla, and Amperia. Looks like I've made friends with people who are opposite of me to some extent. Binary is indeed very quiet, whereas I often talk too much; she's opposite of me in her stillness. Tesla lost her parents during the war, and, since then, she has grown more aggressive, whereas I tried to go on with my life; she's opposite of me in her rage. Last but not least, Amperia is a born pessimist and constantly depressed, whereas I've learned to appreciate even simple things; she's opposite of me in her attitude towards life.

While I'm musing on these things, the mayor has started reading the Treaty of Treason, even if it's an out-of-date document, since it refers to the first rebellion. As soon as he finishes, the escort from the Capitol mounts the stage- a colourful figure with rosy cheeks, light eyes, and long, pearly white hair. She's so young, she could be even younger than me.

After presenting herself as Iridia Rainbow, she goes on speaking in the typical, cheerful manner of Capitolites: "Let's start with the girls!"

She picks up the first slip of paper her gloved hand meets. "Dorah Asyn!"

When my name is called, my self-confidence falters for a moment, but I quickly recover. I mount the stage, taking a look at my friends, who are staring at me with scared eyes. Once onstage, I try to find my relatives in the crowd on the sides of the square, but I can't see them.

"Does anyone want to volunteer for this young lady?" asks the escort, but no one answers.

"Let's call the male tribute, then… Quantum Sparks!"

The reaped boy is seventeen years old. What strikes me the most is his physical appearance: athletic build- even though he looks a bit underfed; startling, aquamarine eyes; blonde hair dyed electric blue at the edges- so light that it appears almost to be made of silver; sharp jawline; high cheekbones. He doesn't look scared, he looks rather confused. Everyone has their own way of reacting to the Reaping, I suppose. While mounting the stage, he almost trips over a step.

"Welcome onstage, Quantum… safe and sound," says the escort, eventually.

"Oh, thank you, Miss Rainbow… and you can call me Quan," he replies with a shy smile.

Oh, he smiles so sweetly! That's the kind of smile an innocent lamb could have… before being slaughtered. I immediately feel sympathy for him.

"You're very polite, Quan. Volunteers?"

No one answers, of course.

"So, let me introduce the tributes of District 3 for the first time: Dorah Asyn and Quantum Sparks! Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour!"

Without any further ado, we enter the Justice Building, where we're immediately assigned a separated waiting room for goodbyes. The room is quite simple, the only piece of furniture is a couple of couches, which don't look very comfortable, though. My father and Jordan visit me first. My cousin runs towards me and hugs me tight, tears flooding from his eyes. The last time I saw him cry like that was at his parents' funeral. It's a heart-breaking sight, but, again, I have to stay strong for him.

"Dorah… that's unfair… it was your last year… you…" he stammers.

"Hey, don't worry, I'm still alive, and I promise you I'll do anything to win the Games," I reply, trying to comfort him.

"But the Games are cruel, I don't want you to become a monster," he rebuts.

"I'll always be myself, whatever happens. Besides, if you root for me, it will be easier, okay?"

"I'll be rooting for you… always."

"Thank you."

Then, it's my father's turn to speak. When Jordan breaks our embrace, he comes closer to me and puts his hands on my shoulders. He's teary too.

"Dorah, your mother would be proud of you as I am," he says with a sad smile.

"Thank you," I reply, hugging him.

"I know it's useless… I mean, telling you to do your best… I know you'll do your best, just… be careful, please… I lost your mother, I don't want to lose you as well."

"You won't lose me. I'll find some good allies and make it out of the arena alive. I could ally with my district partner for a start."

In response, he breaks our embrace with a worried expression on his face. "I don't think you should, Dorah. I've heard some rumours, that boy is a crook, apparently."

"Just rumours," I retort.

"Maybe, but not always people are what they seem."

At this stage, a peacekeeper enters the room to send away my relatives.

"Please, a little more time!" pleads Jordan.

"There are other visitors waiting outside, and we have no time to waste!" is the response of the peacekeeper.

As soon as they're gone, my friends enter the room. Their eyes are reddened, they have been crying, but now they're trying to stay strong for me. They know I want them to stay strong.

"How are you?" asks Binary, a bit uneasy.

"Believe me, I'm fine. I know I shouldn't feel like that, but I know I can make it," I answer.

"That's the spirit!" says Tesla with a smirk. "Show them what District 3 girls can do!" she adds.

"Too self-confidence could be your ruin, though," Amperia chimes in with her usual pessimism.

"Oh, come on! She's going into the Hunger Games! Could you be more supportive for a change?" complains Tesla.

"I'm just telling the truth," retorts Amperia, rolling her eyes.

"Please, girls, don't argue now, we won't see each other for a while. Anyway, I really appreciate your support, and I thank you for coming to say goodbye," I chime in.

"We couldn't abandon you, you're our best friend, Dorah," replies Binary with a sad smile.

"Thank you very much."

…...

Quantum "Quan" Sparks (17)- District 3 male tribute

There's a map of Panem drawn on the wall of the waiting room. I'm staring at it. I've got plenty of time to waste after all, since I don't expect anyone to visit me there, not even my parents… well, they'd better stay away, I don't want to see them. As far as I know, alcohol could have already killed them. In any case, I don't care. Their carelessness caused Seren's death, and I will never forgive them, that's for sure.

I keep on watching the map. There are thirteen districts in Panem, but only three are considered Career districts: One, Two, and Four. District 3 is right between two Career districts during the initial chariot parade, that's why our tributes are always ignored by sponsors. But that could be an advantage. Since Three tends to be underestimated by both Capitolites and Careers, no one would ever think that its male tribute might turn out to be a killer. That would be a great surprise- pleasant for Capitolites, definitely unpleasant for Careers. I've already started preparing this great surprise at the Reaping, but I cannot keep on depreciating my character also in the Capitol, I shall display some skills, but just a little. Rather than a surprise, I shall be an enigma… an enigma that won't be solved until the arena.

So, other two tributes ready to be sent to the Capitol. What do you think of the positive Dorah (by santiagoponcini20) and the enigmatic Quantum (by Rune Whisperer)?

Thank you for reading :)