District 6! Half-Way Through the Reapings!

Chapter 6 - District 6 Reaping

District 6 Female - Rail Tate (16)

Rail stood in a far corner of the train yard, checking her reflection in a particularly shinny train car. Ugh, she thought, gazing at the drab grey jumpsuit she was forced to wear. It was bland, oversized, had clearly been patched several times, and did absolutely nothing for her figure. Sighing, she flopped herself down on the most comfortable patch of gravel she could, her sponge and soapy bucket lay abandoned several train cars over.

Blowing a strand of her long brown hair out of her eyes, Rail reflected on her current situation. Really this whole thing was ridiculous, she hadn't done anything really. So what, she enjoyed a tab of morphling every now and again. It's not like she was selling it. It was all Maggie's fault, she thought, throwing pieces of gravel at the track, If she hadn't been stupid enough to blab who her customers were, Rail wouldn't be in this mess. Maggie should have just kept her fat mouth shut.

Rail sighed again, louder this time. It just wasn't fair she had to be a part of this stupid work program, the Capitol's new solution for District Six's teen drug users, apparently the last step before jail time. Not that Rail believed that. First of all, she was far too pretty to be in jail. Second, she knew plenty of people who did morphling and were never busted, so really jail was just an empty threat the peacekeepers made to scare them. Rail turned away from the sun, the last thing she needed was to get a horrible looking sunburn while she was forced to be out here cleaning train cars.

She had tried to convince her parents to get her out of this, but they just wouldn't listen to her. They didn't understand how unfair it was for her to be out here, wasting away. They kept saying things like, 'it was for her own good', and how 'she needed to learn how the real-world works'. Rail thought that last statement was extra dumb. She totally knew how the world worked, that's how she knows she isn't supposed to be here. She should be out partying and having a good time, just like her friends were. So what if that involved morphling? That was just part of the culture, and being such a popular girl, she was obviously expected to partake every now and again.

At least tomorrow was the reaping, Rail thought with a smile, that meant she didn't have to report here at the god forsaken hour of six AM. She sighed once more, looking at the clock tower at the end of the yard. Two hours down, eight to go.

District 6 Male - Terminus Clarke (18)

The hammer crashed down hard on the molten steel, hitting it once, twice, again. The repetition of the forceful swing swiftly shaping the steel into a railroad bolt. Terminus took his tongs, removed the bolt from the stand, and tossed it in a bucket filled with other cooling bolts. With a quick motion, another red-hot piece of metal was placed before him and he repeated the process once more. He got through another ten bolts before the whistle that signaled the shift change went off. Terminus finished the bolt he was on, tossing it in the pile, before making his way off the factory floor.

He entered the crowded locker room, making his way between the loud workers, most of them delighted to have the day off for the reaping tomorrow. Most of the people who worked with Terminus were single men, old enough to be free from the reaping, without families to be concerned about. In that respect, Terminus was the same. His parents had died three years ago in a train accident, leaving Terminus to drop out of school, get a job, and fend for himself. He quickly got a job as a bolt worker, his muscles quickly growing with the repetitive movement of the hammer. He had always been tall and bulky, but this job quickly filled him out. It was hard, demanding work, but Terminus was good at it, surprising his supervisors with his efficiency.

Terminus quickly stashed his safety gear in his locker and made his way out into the summer evening. He saw the local pub was already filled with workers, anxious to make the most of their free evening. He passed the pub, going down a few streets to the rundown apartment building where he lived. He climbed the stairs up to the sixth floor to his quarters. He entered the sparse room and moved to the kitchen to fix himself a quick meal before his second job started. Terminus worked as a bolt worker to pay the bills, but his second job was his passion.

He was halfway through his meal when the first knock came. Terminus quickly opened the door, greeting the man who was there. He escorted his client to the sitting room, directing him to lay on the couch and remove his shirt. Meanwhile he got his tools and checked that everything was in working order. He settled down next to the client, asking if he was ready. He got a terse nod, and that was enough. Carefully Terminus brought the buzzing needle to his client's skin. This tattoo would take him most of the night, but he was being paid well for it and had nowhere to be tomorrow except the reaping. His last reaping. After that he could come home and catch up on sleep.

Rail D6F (16)

Rail had worn her most stylish, shortest dress for the reaping. She got a judgmental look from her mother when they left the house, but she wasn't forced to change as they were already running late. Rail wasn't paying attention to the escort, who was dressed to look like a tiger with his skin dyed orange and black, she was thinking about the party she was planning to go to after this. Her parents told her she couldn't go, but Rail planned to slip away after the reaping.

Rail watched as a huge, muscular boy made his way from the eighteen-year-old section up to the stage. She couldn't help but stare, not only because of the bulging muscles, but also because the boy was covered with tattoos. She wondered why she'd never seen him around before; he was only two years older than her. It's bad he was going into the games, but given his size he had a good shot.

Her thoughts were cut short when the escort's gravelly voice read out, "Rail Tate."

Rail looked around, seeing all the eyes on her, "No," she said, shaking her head profusely, "there must be some mistake, I couldn't possibly be reaped!" She stubbornly remained where she was standing.

The peacekeepers, seeing her refusal to step up, surrounded her and marched her up to the stage, ignoring her protests.

"You can't do this! This isn't fair! I have rights you know!" Rail continued to shout as she was forced to shake hands with the large boy and then pushed into a cramped room inside the justice building. She pounded on the door, but no one ever came to let her out. She sat down on the loveseat, arms crossed, a pout on her face.

"This just isn't fair!"

Terminus D6M (18)

Terminus sat quietly in the room set aside for goodbyes, knowing that no one was coming to see him. All his family were gone, and he wasn't close enough with anyone else to warrant a death bed visit. Instead, he looked at his arms, taking in the multitude of tattoos he had gotten over the years. Every single one told a story. Everything he had been through, laid bare for all to see.

Terminus probably should have felt sad, or angry, or in shock at his reaping, but honestly the only thing he felt was regret he wouldn't be able to make his art anymore. It was the only thing he had left. That settles it, he thought, shaking off the slight melancholy, He would just have to win the games. He was strong, capable, and had been through worse.

He sat there, resolving himself to his chosen path. He would not just roll over and die, he would do everything possible to make it out alive. Then he could dedicate all his time to his art. He may not win, but Terminus would give it one hell of a shot.

I'm very fond of Terminus. He definately has a shot at winning. And we have another beautiful example of entitlement with Rail! Anyone sticking out to you? Let me know!