am i insanely jet lagged? yes. did i wrote this half asleep? also yes.

take what you will from that, but i am excited for you guys to meet these kiddos! (Also you get backstory into two of my tributes this chapter so you can look forward to that too)

leave a review and let me know what you think of it!

Cordera "Cora" Escudo, 18

district 10 female

The clock struck midnight, and all hell broke loose. Elieen wasn't sure if she would survive, but hell if she didn't give it her all. At least if she died, she would die having served a purpose. At least she would die knowing she had provided advancement for the organization.

But she refused to die before getting the last word. She refuses to die unless she takes down Zoe with her, an enemy agent who had been on her ass since the first time they met in the field.

Speaking of the devil.

"Agent Kelson," Zoe raised her sword and Elieen held her up in a defensive manner. She knew the blonde was going to come. They had been doing this delicate dance for far too long. "I would say it's a pleasure to see you again but it's really not."

Elieen grunted and raised her sword arm, forcing Zoe to raise her sword as well, before their contact broke off and Elieen turned to cut off an opposing agent sneaking on from behind her. If there was one thing she prided herself in, it was spacial awareness. The agent didn't have the time to gasp before Elieen twisted her sword and dragged it through his body, cutting a deep gash through his chest, and towards his abdomen. He gasped, before falling at her feet, still gasping for breath. She kicked him aside and pulled her sword out just before Zoe struck again.

"Nice move, your heart hasn't gone soft," Zoe smirked, and Elieen rolled her eyes.

"And your aim hasn't gotten better," she retracted her sword and spun away as Zoe thrust her sword arm forward again. "Guess you're just too slow."

"You are a thorn in my side, you know that, right?" Zoe grunted before their swords clashed again, and Elieen groaned at the force being pushed upon her arm. "The organization would not win. Black Herons are always a step ahead."

Elieen pulled back her arm and watched as Zoe fell forward. She swung her sword and grinned victorious when her sword cut through the blonde's armor, leaving a trail of blood behind. Zoe growled and charged forward aimlessly, just the way Elieen liked it. If they get enraged, they don't think. When they don't think, they become reckless. And when they become reckless, they leave a wild opening for her to strike.

"Such strong words, yet you lack skills to stay true to it," Elieen laughed, and stepped aside easily as Zoe charged forward again. She swung her sword behind her, grinning wildly when the sound of her sword meeting flash echoed to her ears. a thud sound from behind her and she pulled out her sword. There was blood scattered across the sandy hills, and Elieen watched in satisfaction as the organization continued to push forward.

A knock on her door interrupted Cora mid thoughts and she snapped, dropping her pencil as the words flew away from her mind. "What?"

Her brother sounded apologetic as he spoke through the door. "Maribel is here to see you. She said that the two of you were having a. picnic today."

A small smile made their way to Cora's lips and she closed her notebook. "I'll be right down!"

Her brother's footsteps retreated away from her door and Cora quickly rushed to her closet to pull up the dress she had selected a few days ago, when Maribel first made the plan with her. There was something about Mirabel that made Cora's heart beat faster everytime they met. Probably out of jealousy.

Mirabel is one of the prettiest girls Cora had ever laid eyes on, and she wanted that to be her. She has a line of suitor waiting right outside her door willing to do anything to grab her attention, yet all Cora has is her ability to twist the gossip in her favor and create a false persona that allow her to become popular (it was a main source of argument between her and mamá but she prefer not to think about it).

There was a beige knee length flower dress hidden in the back of Cora's closet, and she reached for it, before going towards the front door and slipping her foot into the boots by the door. Her brother sat by himself at the kitchen table, a newspaper spread in front of him while he flipped the page with his one hand.

"Have fun, Cora," Leo gave her a small wave, to which Cora returned, before she made her way out of the door and pulled Mirabel into a hug, who gasped in surprise.

"Hey, it's nice to see you again," Maribel is soft spoken, unlike Cora, who spoke loudly to make sure she doesn't drown out in a group. But like Cora, she was well liked and respected, while being everything Cora was not, a fact that always leaves Cora flabbergasted.

Maribel was holding a picnic basket in her hands, and Cora linked her arms through the other girl while leading her away from her house. They found a spot just at the outskirts of town, where a tall hill overlooked the pasture, the main source of income for district ten. Almost everyone in the district works within that industry, and Cora was no exception.

Yet she longs to escape that fate, but marrying rich was easier said than done.

"To our last reaping," Maribel held out a small cupcake in her hand, handing one to Cora, who smiled and raised her cupcake as well.

"To spend the rest of our lives free of the capitol's grasp," Cora added.

They cling their cupcake together, taking a bite.

Technically they weren't free from the games yet, but there were whispers of a rigged reaping this year. A pair of twins whose names were whispered fearfully in the dead of the night. Whose hands were dirtied with more blood than any capitolist had ever seen in the games. Their parents were known criminals, imprisoned during the failed Everdeen rebellion years ago, and had been serving life sentences ever since. They grew up on the streets of district ten, but there were rumors that the girl was mentally unstable and the boy was born different.

Not that it would make any difference, they were being sent into the games this year with no chance of survival, if the capitol had any say about it. Which means Cora was safe. And if she wanted to toast to one more successful year of escaping the reaping, then she was freed to do so.

"I have never been more thankful for having serial killers in our districts," Cora laughed, and Maribel nodded with a grimace. "What do you want to do with your life? After the reaping that is."

Maribel shrugged. "I don't know. I never really let myself think about anything beyond eighteen, just in case…"

"Well, I want a rich husband," Cora grinned cheekily. "Maybe Dior from our History class. He's cute, rich, and nice."

Maribel snorted. "He's not good enough for you. All he sees is your body, there's absolutely no brain in that head. And he won't value you for who you are."

Cora sighed, looking away. She wouldn't dare admit that she would take a husband who cares about nothing but her body if it means she has to get out of the hellhole she lives in. If she gets to escape the slaughterhouse, if she gets to leave all of this behind.

It doesn't matter if Maribel approves or not (it does), Cora just needed to get out, then everything would be fine.

Acorn "Drew" Dallesandrew, 18

district 7 tribute

The thing about walking tightropes was that Drew got to toe the balance between life and death.

There were definitely close calls, times at which Drew was convinced that it was his time in which death came to him, but he always managed to pull himself off, and wave at the audience as if he had always meant to fall off. His fellow performers had always praised that he was born to be in the circus, and Drew wouldn't have it any other way.

It was on the platform in which Drew's heart beats the fastest, the anticipation of what was to come looming at the front of his mind. But the second his first feet found their footing on the tightrope, his heart quiets, and it was just him, the rope, and the holded breaths of the audience that awaited for his ultimate success.

They cheered when he did his first run across the tightrope, hand held high above his head and doing a risky flip off onto the platform. They cheered louder when he landed, and he grinned widely and stretched his arms wide, doing a quick bow before twirling into his next trick.

Drew's mind was quiet as he put his all into the performance. It was one of the only times in which the guilt didn't eat away at his chest and made it hard to breathe, when the thought of his old life didn't threaten to knock down the carefully constructed wall around his mind.

Every audience loves him, and he thrives in their applause, and bow during his final act as if he was the only performer on stage.

Lyrics pulled him aside after the show, while Drew was still drunk on the high of the performance. "There's a line of clients waiting for you."

They whispered the words in his ears, before disappearing into the crowds and Drew was left alone to walk to his tent, where he had set up a station for his underground market. The first client was a woman hidden behind a mask, and Drew greeted her warmly.

"What are you looking for?"

"My husband is a pig," the woman didn't hesitate to start as she sat down at the offered chair. "We have five daughters at home, and he claimed he loved all of them, but he only wanted a son. He beat me every time I told him about my daughter, and he didn't hesitate to beat my daughter as well. I see their bruises and scars, I've seen the poorly concealed marks my daughters try to hide from me. I heard whispers that you have just the thing that will help me solve my situation."

Drew hummed and gave the woman a look-over. "Do you wear perfume, ma'am?"

"I am the cook in the household. If you have any seasoning-like object…" the woman trailed off, and Drew grinned, grabbing one of the empty square glass bottles, and pouring a handful of their special liquid herbs, that tasted plain but had life-changing effects.

"Pour this into your husband's food, it would seem as if nothing is happening at first, but you gotta trust the process. Over time, he would get sick, and the doctor would believe it is a seasonal flu, and that all he needed was some rest," Drew swirled the liquid around in the bottle. "He would believe the doctor, but he will not get better. You will be his charming wife, and you will act all dotting, and you will tell him that you are with his son, he will write his wills to you. He will die within the month."

The woman's eyes brightened, and she looked as though Christmas came early. This was the kind of reaction Drew long for, to know that she had helped change someone's life. The woman took the bottle with gratitude, and kissed Drew's cheek before she strolled out of the tent, head high.

The next woman who came in had a problem with an ex who just wouldn't leave her alone, and Drew worked on a special mix while the woman talked on.

"I hooked up with him once, in my early twenties. Do you know how old I am now? Forty-one!"

"You don't look a day over twenty," Drew offered, looking up at the woman with a charming smile on his face. The woman blushed and wove his compliments away.

"Aww, you're so sweet, darling," the woman turned away and Drew grinned, before going back to his potion once more. "But anyways, he follows me everywhere, you know? And I don't know how the fuck I can get rid of him without just carrying a knife and just stabbing him to death. But my friend claimed that I will not survive in prison, so here I am."

Drew frowned, and looked up from his work again, pushing his safety goggles to the top of his head. "How likely is he to accept a gift from you?"

"Oh, really likely. He is convinced that I'm still in love with him, which I'm not, in case you were wondering."

Drew squinted at the woman, before nodding to herself. "Yep, this would do then."

He set the content he was making aside, and reached into one of his shelves and pulled out a wine bottle. "Do not open this bottle under any circumstances, okay? It's gas, and if you ship it to his house, the second he smelt it he would be dead within the hour." Drew frowned at his own words and added a question, just in case. "Does he live alone?"

"Yep, one of his latest reasons for getting back together with me was that he moved out of his mother's basement."

Drew made a face, and the woman whole-heartedly agreed. "Well, the authorities will certainly claim that he drank himself to death. You know what they say, alcohol is poison."

Drew winked, and the woman laughed and accepted the bottle from his hands. "Thank you, handsome. You've helped a bunch."

"Don't mention it," Drew grinned, dimples showing. The woman turned and basically skipped out of the tent, while Drew smiled in satisfaction to himself.

The rest of the night goes more or less the same, and Drew happily drafts up plans to help the women in need. Chess came in when the last client left, and sat down at the chair Drew offered to those women. "Well, a successful night, babe?"

Drew shifted and shrugged. "Yeah. Just the usual women, needing help. So I helped them."

"You're so sweet, Drew," Chess leaned forward slightly, and Drew struggled to stay still. Chess wasn't half bad out of the show, but when he had a face plastered with white make-up and scary eye liners, Drew was unnerved more often than not. "When I'm a woman in need, will you help me?"

"Umm, sure," Drew chuckled and flashed him two finger guns (it definitely wasn't awkward because they hook up… twice. No, definitely not). "You know my shop will always be open to you."

Chess stood up and patted down his costume. "That's just what I like to hear!"

He pressed a kiss to Drew's cheek, closer to the corner of his lips, before he walked out of the tent, and Drew was left to stare after Chess's retreating figure. He wiped away the red lipsticks that lingered, and hastily cleaned up his station.

"It's not like I'm hooking up with him again," he muttered to himself. "I told him it was the last time."

Chess's figure still lingered in the doorway, and-

"Screw this."

Drew pulled Chess into a bruising kiss, and the latter wrapped his arms around Drew's shoulder as they fell onto his bed, clothes scattered around the room.

Thorn Lehman, 15

district 11 male

It wasn't like Thorn was stealing on purpose, he was like Robin Hood (if he does say so himself), he gave some of what he stole to the little kids on the street, he took stuff back to the orphanage and gave it to the other kids who were often starved due to misbehaviors. It was a plus that his actions angered the authority, they were a piece of shit anyways.

Running through the streets with stolen goods in his pockets brought Thorn a sense of thrill and satisfaction. He slid smoothly down another table, as the Peacekeeper struggled to keep up. He threw aside the fruit atop the table and watched as the peacekeeper tripped over one another while the angry salesman screamed after him, fruit knife in his hands. Thorn just laughed and continued running, pushing aside people as the Peacekeeper got up to try and chase him again.

He jumped over another food stand, watching as the angry woman at the table screamed at the Peacekeeper about keeping their job out of the market.

"We're trying to chase a thief, ma'am. We're doing you a favor."

"DOING ME A FAVOR MY ASS! DO YOU SEE THIS LAYER OF DUST ON TOP OF MY CUPCAKE? SPECKLES OF DUST, BOY!" The woman pushed the peacekeeper out of the way. "IF YOU LOTS WILL STOP CHASING THIEVES THEN THEY WILL STOP JUMPING OVER MY FOOD STANDS!"

"Ma'am-"

"DON'T MA'AM ME!"

"With all due respect-"

"RESPECT MY ASS!"

Thorn watched from the roof as the woman argued with the peacekeeper, taking out the chocolate he had stolen from a vendor and biting into it with a moan. Food always tastes better when it is stolen (or maybe the kitchen staff just suck at cooking because seriously, he wasn't aware something as easy as an egg could taste like cardboard. It's a shock that he was still alive, honestly).

One of the three peacekeepers finally looked around, and nudged the other one who wasn't arguing with the woman. "He's gone."

"What?"

"What am I supposed to tell the lieutenant? That I lost the boy again?!" The second one exclaimed, and the third one finally stopped arguing to realize, they did indeed lose Thorn again. Really, they are such dumbasses, Thorn wasn't sure how they got chosen to be on his case.

He watched them for a moment, before they ran off deeper into the market, and Thorn let out a breath and slid down the roof, landing in the alleyway. He put on his hood (one of his best steals), and started a stroll towards the usual hang out place. It was a little cliche, but Thorn wouldn't hesitate to admit that holding secret meetings in a warehouse definitely fit the vibe.

Fawn greeted him as he walked in, and they sat together in a circle as the rest of the group trickled in. It wasn't really a 'rebel group', per say, but they coordinate their actions so that they don't sabotage another's mischief.

"The chase today was good," Fawn leaned over and whispered into Thorn's ears. She was two years older than Thorn, seventeen, but she was rich. Her father was the man in charge of the company that processed all agriculture that goes out of district eleven. And if that doesn't make a man rich, then the capitol was more ruthless than believed. Her little sister was only thirteen, but Thorn had often seen her tagged along with her sister to the meeting. Speaking of the devil-

"Hi Thor," Aurora was short for her age, but loud. She squeezed in between Fawn and Thorn, settling down as if she had been there the whole time. "Guess what I did today?"

Fawn ruffled her sister's hair, and Aurora scowled but moved away. "Did father see you?"

"Nope, I've mastered the art of trickery and hiding and sneaking out," Aurora sat proudly and Thorn scooted further away from the excited thirteen years old, who wouldn't leave him alone. "You know Thorn, you should join us sometimes. We never get chased by Peacekeepers."

"We will if Thorn joins us," Fawn gave Thorn a pointed look, and he looked away while Aurora stuck her tongue out at him. They were shushed soon, when their leader walked into the room, an eighteen year old with a long scar along the left side of his face. No one knew his name, but they all called him Stealth, for obvious reasons.

Stealth took a glance around the room, before sitting upon the only chair in the room. "I heard the Peacekeepers are scrambling today. Apparently an old woman stopped them from taking one of ours."

He took a long look at Thorn, who grinned proudly.

Stealth continued. "Nonetheless, they may be good, but we are better. The system is, simply said, fucked. And if we want the next generation and the rest of district eleven to live well, we will do well to take it down!"

Everyone cheered, while Thorn shared a look with Fawn. He was all in for fucking the system over, but taking it down completely? Well… that sounded like a lot of work for a bunch of misfits and teenagers with no power. He cheered too though, raising his fist into the air. No one beside him noticed how Fawn sneaked out, pulling Aurora along with her.

It wasn't like she could understand. She was well off with daddy's money, she didn't understand what it meant to starve and live in a house with more children than it could support. They were just on some rebellious streak that no one quite understood. Thorn shrugged them off and turned into the discussion taking place, about the distraction needed and the people they had on their side. Not surprisingly, not everyone agreed with the capitol and what they were doing. They were more often wrong than not, look at his mother.

Killed for falling for a mayor's charm.

They left Thorn with no family and no home. At least when he was struggling, he was struggling with his mom. They were a family.

And if there was one thing Thorn knew for sure in life, it was that the Peacekeeper was going to pay for taking everything from him. They will see, he will take everything from them too.

last intros next week! then we reap them all from their happy life (right) and then all hell breaks lose

~ kathy