D-D-D-District Three..? *Audible gulp like a cartoon character* They're finally here!

A quick thank you to Grim Apocrypha, Dante Aleghieri1308, Skeekiest, yoyowhitehole, booksandcuddles, Very New To This, savwriting, and ladyqueerfoot for the reviews! You guys and your support is what keeps the motivation going, and I appreciate the time you take out of your day to give me feedback and immerse yourself in the world I'm trying to build!

Before we begin, I want to give a quick shout-out to another SYOT - That being Calidus by LongingForRomeo! Am I biased because I've submitted a character to this one and want to see it succeed? Yeah! Sue me! This author already has a completed SYOT under their belt and is looking to start a new one and (from what I see on their bio) could still use a fair amount of submission! So if you're looking for a place to sub one of your kids... consider Calidus!

Ad out of the way - onto District Three with Alt and Vivienne!

"Ma! Dad!"

Alt awaits an answer. One second passes, and then two. No response. Alt shrugs to himself, a smile growing across his face. Guess they weren't home. Dad made sense - he was usually at work when Alt was getting ready to go out, crunching numbers for some big-time clients. Ma was usually home, though. Maybe she was out shopping today. Eta was out, too. She was having a sleepover with her best friend tonight, or something along those lines. Alt hadn't particularly paid attention, and didn't particularly care. As long as she was safe, she could do whatever. He had more important matters to attend to.

Tucking something into his jacket, Alt thinks to himself. Ma and Dad and Eta weren't here.

That just left...

Alt slams into a familiarly brawny body, stumbling back after such a forceful collision with his brother.

In front of him stands Router. Short, close cropped brown hair. Perfectly clear skin that Alt envied more than anything in the world. Tall, fit figure that Alt couldn't ever help but compare to his own.

"Watch it, jag-off." Router starts, his tone seemingly light and easy. But Alt knew better.

Router was a master of hiding his true nature. Outside, Router was popular. Router was strong. Router was a lady-killer, known for his dangerous smile and wild humor. The life of the party and the shining beacon of any room he deigned to enter. But, once again, Alt knew better. Router was all of those things, sure, but he knew more.

Router was also a bit of a prick.

Alt's smile immediately flips, the corners of his lips turning down and the top of his lip curling upwards slightly.

"You watch it. I'm going out." Alt responds simply, moving a hand through puffy brown hair. God, it never just laid flat, did it? He could have sworn he'd emptied a half a bottle of gel into his hands, and his hair stuck up the same as before. Whatever. At least Anti liked it. She thought it was 'cute.' He didn't see it. But if she did, then that was all that mattered.

"What, to visit your little girlfriend?" Router's tone remains airy. "Bet she's asked you ta' talk. She's gonna break up wit' you."

"What? What the hell are you talking abou-"

"Cause you don't wash yer' face." Router finishes, interrupting Alt's words. Internally, Alt's heart is beating faster by the second and externally his cheeks begin to flush. It takes all he has to not throw a punch at his brother. Who gives a fuck about size? Router could have stood with his head pressed to the ceiling and Alt still would have felt like slugging him good. Router knew. He knew that Alt's acne was his biggest fucking insecurity, he knew that he was everything his younger brother was not, and yet he still brought it up almost daily.

"Rather have a fucked up face than a fucked up brain." Alt retorts, shoving past his 'perfect' older brother. "See who's laughing when you throw your back out at 23, fuckin' wrench-monkey."

Alt feels the smile return to his face as the door shuts without another retort from his brother.

...

"About time you showed up, Alty!"

A cheerful voice rings from just outside the door, the voice chipper. Even after all their time together, it still makes his heart flutter a bit every time.

"Sorry. Asshole brother held me up a bit."

"Oh no!" The girl feigns a response. "Did he hurt you? Need me to kiss it better?"

"Aw, c'mon, Anti. You know I can't say no to that." Alt protests weakly as she approaches rapidly, arms outstretched.

"I know! That's why I said it." Anti plants a kiss on Alt's cheek, stepping back with a wide grin on her face.

He'd seen her almost every day for the past six or so months. After going steady, the two of them had become almost inseparable. He'd seen her in just about as many ways as a person could be seen. And yet, despite this familiarity, he still felt himself going beet-red as he looked upon her today. She was ravishing - she always was. Brown skin clear and her smile dimpled. Shiny black hair tied back into a long, loose braid that reached the middle of her back. She wore a dress - sleeveless, he noted, with a long skirt that reached down to her ankles. A dopey smile crosses his face, despite his best efforts to hold it back.

"What are you looking at, silly guy? Helloooo?" Anti waves a hand in front of Alt's face in a comedic attempt to snap him out of his loving daze. He needed it, too. He could have sat and stared forever, if she'd let him.

"You. You're... you look beautiful today. And, uh - and every day. But I wanted to say it right now." He stammers out, straightening his posture slightly.

"Awh - you're the sweetest, Alty. You're pretty cute today, too. Look at you - button-up and all. Hey, is that your dads jacket, or..?"

"It is.." He sighs sheepishly, shaking his head. "He doesn't know I took it. I'm sure Router will tell him."

Anti blows a raspberry at this idea.

"Boo on him. Don't think too much about it, though. Let's enjoy this, 'kay? You've been talking this up for weeks. I'm excited!"

Alt clears his throat.

"Ahem... then allow me. But first-" Alt reaches into the interior of his jacket, pulling out somewhat of a rarity for Three. A singular red rose, trimmed of thorns and beautiful in color. He finds himself delighted as Anti's eyes light up.

"But that's not all." He continued, reaching a bit further in. This time, he produces a small, rectangular box. Anti gives him a quizzical look, and Alt clears his throat. "Chocolates. Uh... you know, I know you're into sweets, and I figured... It's not the most expensive, or the tastiest, but-"

Alt is cut off when the air is squeezed from his lungs in the tightest hug he's ever been given. Anti's arms are so tight around his chest and his back that he thinks he's going to cough up one of his ribs. Despite this, he perseveres. Love hurts, or something like that. He was pretty sure that's what someone out there had said once.

"It's perfect. Today's perfect. I love you, Alt. Thank you."

"I love you too, Antikythera. Happy six months."

"Don't full-name me." She swats at him playfully, before considering him with mild impression. "You've gotten better at pronouncing it."

"I practiced." He replies simply, earning a good-natured eyeroll.

"Whatever. Let's eat! I'll tear into the chocolate afterwards, okay?"

"Of course. Ahem... like I said, allow me." Alt steps in front of his girlfriend and opens the door, allowing her to enter the building first. All thoughts of Router or Dad or anything else was gone. This was a good day. The best day.

With Anti by his side, more good days were surely just around the corner.

Reaping Night always offered the best parties.

The finest champagne flowed for those whom could afford it. Tuxedos, suits and gowns rarely seen in a district as modest and practical as Three were displayed proudly and without shame by the elites of the technology district. Vivienne had come to be familiar with the spectacle. Many saw Three as a boring, bland district, the harsh modern buildings the same dull grey as the always cloudy sky above. Even most of those who lived here would never get to see this level of decadence in their lives. This year, though, wasn't as good as the last.

Last year she'd come with Adrian.

The taste of the champagne in Vivienne's mouth immediately sours as an image of his face forces its way into her mind. His stupid, perfect hair. His disgustingly charming, inviting smile and the white teeth that could blind a-

"VIVI!"

A female voice cuts her thoughts off, and Vivienne roughly swallows the drink in her mouth, clearing her throat afterwards in an attempt to rid herself of the taste. Lucia Dwyer rushes forwards - or, perhaps rushes is a strong word. In her 4 inch heels, it's more of a clumsy stumble. But Lucia doesn't care. She never did. Frizzy blonde curls flounce up and down as Lucia makes her way over, paying no mind to the quizzical expressions of the other partygoers. The smile on her face is as bright as the lights that buzz above them, and Vivienne can't help but return it. Lucia was perhaps the one person she considered a friend, even after she'd elected to sever most of her deeper personal ties.

Lucia had stuck around, stubborn as ever, to the point where even the determined Vivienne opened up - and Lucia had stuck around after that, too. It was nice to have someone by your side like that. Through thick and thin, they were friends, their bond forged through equal parts hardship and enjoyment.

"Hello, Luci." Vivienne speaks in a graceful tone that she only barely manages to keep the humor out of. She's unable to fully mask the smile upon her face, though, which only makes Lucia's grin brighter.

"Don't hide your smile, now, Vivi! It's a night to celebrate! Smile to your heart's content."

"You know I'm only here for appearances, Luci."

Vivienne shakes her head lightly, her smile beginning to fade. Even as a self-described socialite, Vivienne was still a teenager. Most of these high end parties consisted of drinking champagne, talking to the same 4 dozen or so people that made up District Three's 'high society', and eating food worth more than most of her classmates would ever see in their lifetimes. It was good for connections. Good for appearances. She could charm the socks off of anyone in the room, no doubt. The benefits were what she enjoyed. Her name, her family's name, circulating and being praised. But the process of doing it was a chore. One she was exceptional at, but a chore nonetheless.

"And? You're off somewhere every other night for 'appearances.' I think you could afford to take one night to actually enjoy for yourself. Come over here - I hear they've imported salmon from Four for tonight. Just don't walk too fast - I'm not as good in these clunky things as you are." Lucia gestures down to her heels and extends a hand to Vivienne, whom gladly takes it. Perhaps she could afford to let her guard down, just a small bit.

Two minutes later, both girls are in possession of plates and dainty golden forks.

"Ifn't thif good, Fifi?" Lucia speaks with her mouth full and appears to be readying another bite, much to her compatriot's dismay.

"You shouldn't speak with your mouth full like some savage, Luci." Vivienne chuckles, unable to help laughing. Lucia's antics had a way of bringing out the real Vivienne. Not Adrien's ex-girlfriend. Not the daughter of the technological mastermind behind the Cross Industry or his status-obsessed designer of a wife. She could just be Vivienne Cross.

And, for a peaceful half-minute or so, she is.

"Is that Greg's girl I spy?" An old, gruff voice tinged with humor speaks as a large, rotund man approaches. A rarity, in the districts. Such gluttony was usually impossible.

"Please, call me Vivienne. We're all of the same class here, no? Unless one of us has snuck into the party." Vivienne replies, her walls already building themselves back up as she defaults back to her expertly veiled false charm and humor.

"It's good to see you again, Mr. McGucket." The lie slips through her teeth with practiced ease. "I trust your investment's paid itself off?"

" 'Course it - hic - has, girl. Cross has never steered me wrong before, and I think that's partially thanks to you. Your father's got a real... real prodigy on his hands."

Of course he does. Vivienne thinks. He just won't ever say it to my face.

"I'm flattered, sir. Perhaps you'll be the one to get that through his head."

McGucket lets out a guffawing laughter, as loud and insensitive as the man himself. Lucia looks uncomfortable, her eyes flickering between the older man and her friend.

"Have you tried the fish, sir?" Vivienne offers. "It's quite the rarity - but I suppose this time only comes around once a year. Why not indulge?"

"Suppose I might, though I've never been fond of those fish-kissers in Four. Does it pair well with the alcohol?" The flush in McGucket's cheeks has been apparent since he's walked up. With every word, Vivienne just silently wishes he would leave and never return.

"It does. You really should try it."

"Then I'll take your word. Like I said... hic... never steered me wrong."

When McGucket is out of sight, Vivienne stands, Lucia still looking at her with a mildly uncomfortable expression.

"When I'm out of mom and dad's massive shadow..." Vivienne begins, walking away to find another room in the venue as Lucia follows behind.

"I'm never speaking to him again."

Vivienne is determinedly certain about that.

Reapings in Three were always a solemn affair. The champions of intelligence, forced to bid farewell to their best and brightest. The Games - to put it into the District's terms - were always a statistical loss. Probability, stats gathered over the years from Capitol-funded studies had determined that over the past 62 Games, District 3 had approximately a 4.84% chance at victory and a 12.90% of making it to the 'finale' of that years arena. Three victors and eight finale appearances.

District Three citizens tended to groan with annoyance whenever they heard the age-old phrase. 'May the odds be ever in your favor.' It was more than just annoying, to them. They'd run the numbers. Done the tests. The odds were not, in fact, in their favor. It was quite the opposite - going into the Games, District Three had one of the lowest probabilities when it came to producing a victorious tribute.

Most are written off. Three tributes fade into obscurity, usually the first to go down due to their lack of physical capability and practical training. Knowing how to code or crunch numbers or engineering brilliant technology won't save you when it comes down to grit and steel. But then, once a decade or so, they produce a wonder-kid. A whiz who manages to find - or be sponsored - some electronics inside of the arena and wreak havoc upon the competition. And then, for the next 3 or so years, the following tributes from the Technology District are hard-targeted at bloodbath to ensure nobody is electrocuted or set ablaze again. It's a vicious cycle that they can't seem to break out of.

Usually, they could tell right away. The intelligent glint in the eye of that year's male, or the small smirk that plays across the Three girl's face during her interview. There are always signs that only those from Three can read.

"Alt Kingston!"

This year's boy does not appear to show any of them.

Three can tell instantly. There are two cries - one from the male's section, and one from the female's. Within seconds, peacekeepers are dragging a terrified looking boy from the mass of relieved teenagers. They look for the glint in his eye - but all they find is fear. They look for the quiet confidence - but all they find is a trembling body. Everything about him reads as utterly pathetic, and Alt Kingston is quickly written off.

Another cry sounds from the female section and there's a brief shuffle of movement, but it stops just as quickly as it's started when a row of firearms is leveled at the crowd. It was clear. There would be no interruption.

Alt lets out another cry, sobs wracking his body as he watches. He'd be relieved that they didn't shoot, if he wasn't so fucking terrified right now. Router. Where was Router? His older brother was fit. Strong. A whole head taller than Alt. He could volunteer, couldn't he?

But he wouldn't. Alt already knew that. He'd resigned himself to his fate the moment the Peacekeeper had clutched his arm.

His moans of sorrow echo throughout the square, and Three's escort finds herself having to raise her voice to speak over him as she unfurls a paper slip from the female's bowl.

"Vivienne Cross!"

This time, there are no cries. Only quiet murmurs and a wave of gasps.

"...Cross..."

"...Greg's..."

"...volunteer..?... hell no..."

Three once again begins their search for the telltale signs.

Vivienne is the opposite of her district partner in every way. She needs not be removed from the crowd - she finds her own way. Her steps are steady and her eyes remain ahead, her posture stiff yet tall. She does not hide and she does not attempt to escape her fate.

Each stair feels like ascending a dozen. Her legs feel heavy and she desperately doesn't want to go. But Vivienne is smart enough to know that nobody is going to volunteer for Gregory Cross's daughter. He was privileged enough, they probably thought. He could stand to be knocked down a peg. Money wouldn't get him out of this one.

The murmurs continue, whispers echoing her exact thoughts.

But there were other whispers, too.

As Vivienne stood with her hands now neatly folded behind her back, she appeared the paragon of tranquility. Compared to her district partner, she appeared almost a statue.

Silently, Three began to agree on one thing.

They were not a notably wealthy people, financially or emotionally. They were used to making logical sacrifices. Putting their eggs into one basket, because it was all they could afford to do. Usually, this phenomenon happened with large-scale projects. Sacrifices were made. Labor was cut and the project itself downsized to better fit the availability of the resources.

Their support - the district's funding - would have to be downsized to one tribute. They saw her calm exterior and the elegant confidence she exuded and made the natural deduction - she was their 'contender.'

And there was only room for one of those.

Aaaaaand that's D3! This one got a bit longer than I would have wanted - little bit of a yapfest, but oh well! It was an entirely new environment, with everything I've written up until now being centered around volunteers (minus our lovely Hyperion) and Districts that generally don't have to worry about loved ones being whisked away into the Games or even being afraid of the Games (like poor Alt) in general. I hope the delivery came across alright as every one of these sections has been written VERY late into the night haha.

That being said - thoughts on Alt and Vivi? It was nice to take a step back from all the intensity of the Careers and just have two people living their normal lives before having that facade of normalcy absolutely shattered! Let me know what you think of them!

That's about it - D4 next! I will say expect that update VERY quickly in comparison to this one, as I had a fair amount of time to stockpile and it's pretty close to done. Very excited about that one!

Hope you all enjoyed. We out!

Until next time

logangster outta here