"Honor. No matter how dire the battle, never forsake it."

Becket Hyde, 18, District Four Female

September 12, Year 77

District 4 Residential Area

Becket Hyde carefully placed the last sandbag in the wheelbarrow. It landed with a dull and wet thud on top of the other sandbags that had been piled there. She then took a moment to wipe the sweat from her brow before grabbing the handles of the wheelbarrow and giving it a hard shove to get it moving away from Mr. Bellinger's home and towards the waiting truck.

Sandbags had been distributed three days before to the homes closest to the beach in anticipation of an incoming storm. However, the residents were expected to set them up on their own, something that the aging Mr. Bellinger was no longer able to do. Becket had learned about his predicament from one of her classmates, who was Mr. Bellinger's neighbor. Her classmate already planned on helping, but Becket volunteered to assist as well.

Her classmate had assisted with setting up the sandbags but had fallen ill during the storm and was still recovering. He wasn't able to help take them down, but Becket just told him to get some rest and to get better soon before taking on the task on her own. It took hours, but it eventually got done, and knowing that Mr. Bellinger's home had made it through the storm relatively unscathed made it all worth it.

When Becket reached the truck, a peacekeeper circled around immediately to help her get them into the back.

"That the last of them, Miss Hyde?" she asked.

Becket nodded. "That's all of them. Thank you, ma'am."

The peacekeeper grunted in reply as she tossed a sandbag into the truck. "You said the homeowner is staying at your place?"

"Yes, that's right. Just as a precaution."

"Probably not a bad idea. These sandbags are reliable, but it's always better to be safe than sorry. We lost two people in that storm. Two fools out on the beach, got washed away by the tide."

Becket felt a pang at that. Her mother knew those people, they were brothers who worked under her on the fishing vessel that she was the first mate on. Her mother always described them as good kids, but not very bright, and very daredevilish.

Daredevils tended to die in District Four, and those two boys had proven that by being on the beach. Her mother was currently with the boys' parents, comforting and mourning alongside them, leaving her father to keep Mr. Bellinger company.

"I should probably get going," Becket said quickly, throwing the final sandbag into the truck. "Unless I'm needed elsewhere."

"Not at all," the peacekeeper replied. "Your service to your district is greatly appreciated."

"Thank you," Becket replied. She gave a small bow, the customary sign of respect towards an authority figure in Four, and turned to leave. This peacekeeper was clearly one of the good ones. The peacekeepers used to be firm but fair, and while they still were in a way, ever since the Quell, they had grown harsher. Still, Becket knew it could have been worse. She had heard the rumors of how the Peacekeepers treated the citizens they were supposed to protect in other districts, and it disgusted her.

When Becket passed a nearby clock shop, she took note of the time. The clockman was always adamant about making sure all of the clocks he sold were set correctly. "To prove they work," he once told her with a smile.

It was two in the afternoon. Classes didn't start back up again until the next day, but Becket knew she wanted to head to the gym for one of their seminars on alliance management. The gym had finally opened for the first time since the storm, and while they were still cleaning up the training area, seminars were still up and running.

Becket had just enough time to check in on one of her neighbors and run home for a quick shower before she had to go to the seminar.

Some might have said she was trying too hard, but Becket didn't care what others thought. She was on track to volunteer for the next Hunger Games, and she was hellbent on staying on that track. There were usually volunteers from District Four, even though their training system was nowhere near as formal as Districts One and Two, but there were years that there weren't, and in those years, it was a poor kid who didn't stand a chance that went into the arena. Even worse, there were years when one of the trainees, be it from One, Two, or sometimes even Four, were bloodthirsty killers, people who believed that inflicting pain was the only way to get positive reinforcement or even enjoyed it.

Becket had watched the Hunger Games for her entire life. It always disgusted her. She hated how the Capitol ripped twenty-four children away from their homes every year and had them ritualistically murdered every year. It was a disgusting abuse of power, all under the guise of celebrating the end of a war that Becket doubted ever truly ended.

If the protests following the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games didn't prove that, the Quarter Quell certainly did.

Becket still remembered the hovercraft crashing through the arena, the television turning to static, and being confined to her home for three days while things calmed down. By the time things opened back up, Finnick Odair, who had been crowned victor, had been unceremoniously sent home and life in Panem continued as if nothing had happened, aside from the increased numbers of Peacekeepers.

A lot of Becket's classmates were discouraged after that fiasco. A lot of them stopped going to the gym. Becket couldn't blame them. If not even the Victors were safe from the Games, then there was hardly any point. However, throughout all of the dropouts, throughout all of the fear that spread through the district, Becket carried on.

It wasn't because she wanted to taste the glory of a Victor. She just wanted to keep an innocent kid from going in. Not to mention, she knew she'd play the Games the right way.

When Becket reached her elderly neighbor's home, she took a moment to inspect the property and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that the home was intact aside from some debris scattered around the home. She walked to the front door and knocked. A few moments later, the door opened, and the smell of freshly baked cookies flooded out into the salty ocean breeze. Mrs. Court gave Becket a warm smile. "Hello there, Becket."

"Hello, Mrs. Court," Becket replied politely, returning the smile. "I was just checking up on you, what with the storm and all."

Mrs. Court's smile widened. "Oh, well, I appreciate that. I'm quite alright. Just a bunch of debris everywhere is all."

"I can pick that up for you if you want," Becket offered.

Mrs. Court laughed and shook her head. "No, no, that's quite alright. My son is coming by later to take care of that for me. You're so sweet for offering though. Why don't you come on in? You look exhausted!"

Becket's eyes went wide and she shook her head. "Oh, no, that's alright. I don't want to impose."

"Nonsense! You'd never impose. You're such a hard worker, Becket. You could really use the break. Please, you'd be doing me a favor. I made way too many cookies!"

Becket thought about protesting again, but she relented. Mrs. Court did have the best cookies after all. A quick chat with her neighbor was the perfect break, and the perfect way to do right by the district she loved so much.

"I'm doing my best, right? That's what they always say."

Lucian "Luce" Visser, 18, District 4 Male

May 17, Year 78

District 4 Supplies Warehouse

Lucian Visser hopped off of his bike and locked it on the rack before heading inside the warehouse. Technically, his last order of the day was three orders ago, but he needed as many jobs as his supervisor would allow. He needed the money if only to give his mother a buffer so that she wouldn't rip the food out of his younger siblings' mouths with her increased spending habits. Those checks from his father only went so far anymore.

Lucian felt terrible for leaving Pallas alone to watch Chase and Sandy, but desperate times called for desperate measures. His mother was probably at her coffee club like she always was at this time of day and week. Hopefully, she would be home in time to make the kids dinner, but just in case, he asked Keller to swing by and check on things once he was off work.

Lucian's supervisor looked up from his clipboard upon seeing him approach. "You want another one, Visser?" he asked. "Other people need these too, you know."

"I know," Lucian replied. "Trust me, I know. Just one more and then I'll call it for the day, I promise."

"Things really that tight at home?" his supervisor asked under his breath. "Fine, but last one, clear?"

"As crystal. Thank you. I really appreciate this."

"Yeah, sure," the supervisor looked down at his clipboard and began to read out the order. "A shipment of nets needs to go to Dock 12."

"Didn't we just bring them nets yesterday?" Lucian asked, not out of defiance, but curiosity.

The supervisor rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, apparently someone cut them up and tossed them overboard."

Lucian felt a pang when he heard that. Ever since the mess that was the Quarter Quell two years ago, things in District Four have gotten a lot harder. If it wasn't the constant Peacekeeper inspections and checkpoints every time he turned around, it was the criminals trying to break things.

Honestly, Lucian hadn't had much time to think about it, between his training, his job, and supporting his family. Whether rebellion was the right word for someone slicing up a shipment of netting and throwing it into the ocean, he didn't care to think about it too much. If anything, it meant another job for him.

"Have they caught whoever did it yet?"

The supervisor shrugged. "Hell, if I know. I just know that it means more business. Look, kid, do you want this job or not?"

Lucian nodded, almost offended that he even had to ask. "Of course, I do!"

"Then grab the box and get going."

"Yes sir," Lucian replied before turning around and heading towards the crate.

"And Luce?"

Lucian looked back at his supervisor. "Yes?"

"Don't worry about coming back here when you're done. I know you'll get the shipment in. Just head on home. I'll have someone drop your check off at your place, tell them to make sure to leave it with your sister this time. It'll be there before you get home."

Lucian gave his supervisor a grateful smile. He nodded, picked up the crate, and headed outside the warehouse to where his bike was waiting.

With one Leto Harper, his closest friend and confidant, sitting on the seat, grinning like the cat who ate the canary. "Hello, you," she said.

Lucian gave her a small wave. "Hello, you." He walked over to the sidecar that normally carried deliveries and placed the crate of nets inside before securing it.

"Room for one more on that sidecar of yours?"

Lucian nodded. "If you don't mind sitting on top of the…crate…" he replied, his voice trailing off when he saw that Leto was already doing just that. Lucian quickly recovered, shook his head, and unlocked his bike. He then climbed into the seat and began pedaling. "You better hold on. Your parents will kill me if you fall and hit your head."

"Eh, wouldn't be the first time," Leto replied. "Volunteers are being announced here in a few weeks. Are you nervous?"

"Not really," Lucian replied. "I'm feeling pretty good about my chances."

"I know you're getting tired of me asking this, but…are you sure this is something you want to do? I mean, once you're in, there's no turning back, and you either come back a victor or in a casket."

Lucian kept his eyes forward at the road ahead and kept pedaling. "You already know the answer to that Leto. I don't have a choice."

"Yeah, you kind of do. There are other uses for your training besides the Hunger Games, you know? You could be a Peacekeeper, or work in security."

Lucian shook his head. "I could, but I won't."

"I'm just saying, you don't have to prove anything to anyone."

"It's not about proving anything. I just don't want to spend the rest of my life fighting to make ends meet. I want to be able to properly support my family. If I win the Hunger Games, I can do that."

It was the perfect lie, one with a bit of truth. The reasons Lucian wanted to volunteer were complicated, and it was a topic he struggled to understand himself for the past year. It was true that Lucian wanted to support his family. It was true that he wanted to support his siblings while allowing his mother to maintain the lifestyle she had before the divorce. Not to mention he owed the Gym for providing him with a sense of structure and balance after his father abandoned him. But what he refused to tell Leto, was that he did have something to prove, a point he had to make.

His father told him that he had the mindset of a Victor when he was younger. As much as he hated to admit it, those words still resonated with him. After all, it was one of the better memories he still had of the man, one of the few left that wasn't tainted by resentment or sadness. It wasn't the most important reason, but it was a reason.

Lucian shook those thoughts from his mind before they could be betrayed on his face. Leto could read him like a book, and he really wasn't in the mood for an interrogation. "Look, Leto, I want to do this. This is something I've been working towards my entire life. I think I have what it takes to win, and if this gets my family out of our hand-to-mouth situation, then it's worth it."

Lucian could feel Leto staring at him as he carefully turned towards the street that went towards the docks. "Okay, then. If this is really something you want, then I'll support you. Of course, I will."

"I appreciate that Leto. I really do." Lucian began to slow the bike down as he approached the docks. "Now, please get off the crate before you get us both in trouble."

Leto leaped off the crate, stumbling a bit on the landing, and walked beside him the rest of the way to the docks. When they arrived, they dropped off the crate of nets with the dockmaster. Lucian noticed that it wasn't the same one as the last time he made a run to Dock 12. The last one must have been relieved of his position after the net-slicing incident. As the new dockmaster signed off on the shipment and sent Lucian on his way, he idly wondered where he was now, or if he was even still alive.

"Do you need me to drop you off at home?" Lucian asked Leto as they were leaving the docks.

"If you don't mind," Leto replied. "Before we go though, there was something I wanted to give you."

Lucian raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"

Leto reached for her wrist, where her favorite bracelet, made out of intricately woven rope, rested.

"Leto, hang on," Lucian breathed. "I can't accept that."

"You can and you will," Leto replied, slipping the bracelet off of her wrist and slipping it onto his, adjusting it so that it would fit properly. "For good luck over the next few months. Don't worry, I fully expect you to give it back to me once you win."

Lucian stared at her for a moment, completely stunned at the gesture. "Leto, I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. I told you I would support you. This is the very least I can do, for now anyway."

Lucian twisted the bracelet on his wrist, admiring the handiwork. Then, he looked up towards the horizon, where the sun was setting over the ocean. A smile crept up on his face. "I'll make sure to give it back to you myself," he replied.

Leto gave him a friendly nudge. "You better. Now let's get home. I'm willing to bet Pallas and Keller are getting tired of entertaining Chase and Sandy."

"What would I do without you two?" Lucian asked.

Leto shrugged as she climbed back into the sidecar. "I don't know. You'd do just fine probably. This is you we're talking about after all."

Lucian chuckled as he pedaled away. "Thanks, Leto. I mean it."

*takes the schedule, rips it to shreds, and throws it in the trash* Thank you to Arctos for Becket and to Son of Arryn for Luce! Becket's faceclaim is Erin Kellyman and Luce's is Charlie Ost! I will be uploading the playlist soon, so keep an eye out for that! I decided to take the opportunity to do some worldbuilding with these intros, given that Finnick won the Quell and he's on pretty thin ice with the Capitol. Honestly, Four is lucky to still even have some sort of training school. Everyone is mad at Finnick! Over time, we'll see how fair that is. The Quarter Quell did NOT go well, to say the least.

Next up is District Seven, where we'll be meeting Ebony and Gideon! I decided to hell with the schedule, so updates should be a bit more frequent. I'll make it a point not to let a week go by without some sort of update though. See you next time!