District Four

When the crowd cheered for their two tributes the sound resonated throughout the whole area. Hands clapped hands and mouths echoed words. But all Hyeri could hear was a tsunami swirling within her own ears as she absorbed the congratulations that the district gave. In that moment of glorification that could only come from her district, she admitted a confession that stabbed her with guilt.

She actually liked the feeling of being a tribute.

The rose both of the tributes’ hands into the air, speaking words of encouragement and confidence into their not so frightened minds. Hyeri wore a somewhat excited smile as she scanned the area. She made direct eye contact with every person that she knew; holding a stern and reassuring gaze with some of the more important people within her life. She couldn’t tell whether she was feeling a surge of reminiscence or heartbreak when she looked into the blank expressions on each of their faces. It was bittersweet.

The two tributes were led to the rooms within the Justice Building to await meetings with their family members and friends. The red haired male tribute glanced over at her and held his stare. She looked back, mimicking his ogling.

“Do you need something?” she asked. A sliver of rudeness had crept into her tone.

“For a second there, out on the stage, you looked kinda happy,” the boy said.

“What’s not to be happy about? They love us.”

The boy just frowned. It wasn’t the answer he desired to hear from her. “Will they still love us when they see us slaughtering each other?”

She hushed. She broke the eye contact and kept her eyes trained on the ground in a mix of embarrassment and shame. She didn’t feel as ecstatic to be a tribute.

“Break it up you two,” the peacekeeper said as he maneuvered them into opposite rooms. She obliged willingly but the boy just stood still and developed enough courage to release another string of words that would make her question her morals.

“Don’t think this is a game Hyeri. And don’t think they love you because they think you’ll win.”

Before she could turn around the peacekeepers shoved her into the room and slammed the door shut; cutting off whatever connection she had with the boy. She shivered. Not at the thought of entering the games as a tribute against twenty three others but at the fact that she began questioning whether she would win. If she lost she wouldn’t be able to get back home, and if she couldn’t return home, to the cries of joy and yells of genuine belief, then she thought dying was a worthy substitution.

She paced the room in strenuous patience. She began to persuade herself into thinking that she had a chance at winning. It was the only thing she could do to preoccupy her mind as she waited for someone, anyone, to enter the room.

She counted her odds on her fingers.

One. She pulled out her pointer finger. She was handy with a trident. Despite majority of her district being skilled with the weapon she had been told that she was better than most, she could even wield two at the same time as if they were extensions of her own arms.

Two. Her middle finger gave company to her pointer finger. She was an excellent swimmer. If she found a source of water she could probably search the depths to find edible sea life. Even though it wasn’t an offence strategy when she would need to survive on her own, her little skill would be useful.

Three. Her empty ring finger stuck out. She was in one of the career districts. If she could saddle up closer to the tributes from one and two then her survival odds would appear better. She would be part of the hunters.

Four. Her vulnerable pinky hovered in the air. But she couldn’t think of another reason. Hyeri just stared at the finger contemplating but not saying.

There was no fourth reason. And no visitors had arrived for her.

“Oh I was so worried about you for a second,” his mother cooed.

“And why would you be worried about me?” Minhyuk said rather sardonically.

“Well, I was worried that you wouldn’t be picked of course. Your father put a lot of effort into getting your name around this district. If you weren’t picked then, then-”

“Then what?”

“It would be an outrage,” his mother said, obviously flustered.

“Well it wouldn’t be that terrible if I wasn’t picked,” Minhyuk said nonchalantly. He went over to the window with four perfectly even quarters that revealed the crystal sea. He was going to miss it.

“It would be. Minhyuk, you have to do this. Win it for your father’s sake. You have to keep the legend alive. What would people say if the son of the greatest victor from district four couldn’t even survive the bloodbath?” She had moved to stand behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder as a caring sentiment. Her actions didn’t even feel maternal to him. “Think about your little brother. Don’t you want to be a role model to him?”

He shrugged her hand off of his shoulder in one simple movement and walked away from her. “I am thinking about him. But this isn’t the way to be a role model for him. Entering the games just so he can watch me starve and die? Is that what you want for your eleven year old son? To see his older brother deteriorate?”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

“Yeah but that’s what’s going to happen,” he morosely said.

“You’re going to win. You have to.”

“Just because I have to it doesn’t mean that I’m going to be able to. Trident girl across the hall has better odds than I do.”

His mother kept quiet. The frustration she felt towards her pessimistic son burned holes into the back of his head. Her shoes clicked against the floor as she made her way to the door. Her tolerance towards her son’s troublesome mouth was very low. The brass handle was glacial against her skin, but her son’s next words were worst.

“If you think me becoming a tribute is a good thing, then I don’t think you’re qualified to be a mother.”

Skin on skin. It was a large impact, like the sound of the crowd clapping for him outside. Except it was just one clap and it was in no means a sign of congratulations. His skin stung with a burst of pink as his mother exited without saying goodbye. The tips of his fingers lightly grazed his cheek, feeling the sensitivity that came with the slap.

Minhyuk did not cry. He was too old for weeping over something that occurred to him on a weekly basis. All he did was sit. It was the only thing he could think of doing.

District Five

She fumbled with her fingers madly, trying but failing to comprehend the situation at hand. She was trapped in a sleek moving vehicle filled with high tech appliances and a bounty of food. watered at the sight of the well cooked steak but her fingers kept betraying her. They twisted between each other and kept her preoccupied.

The boy beside her, closer to the window, was chomping away on the fresh bread that was situated on the table. He had a content expression slathered on his face but Jooyeon only assumed that it was because of the comfort of the food. She groaned.

“If you’re hungry eat,” the boy said with food still rolling around in his mouth. She grimaced at the sight.

“You could close your mouth you know,” she said.

The boy just stared at her as if she were a foreign alien. Or the ghost of an ex-tribute. The moment was short-lived as he almost immediately returned to eating the delicacies set out before him.

A grumbling intestinal noise echoed in the train carriage. The boy laughed. “Eat,” was all he said.

He didn’t need to give her another directive as she practically inhaled the piece of meat before her. The tough yet tasty meal was enough to convince her that being a tribute was worthwhile. She chewed her food as if there was no tomorrow. Despite her district not being one of the poorer of the twelve, they didn’t have any rarities like steak. The meal made her insides feel like heaven.

“What’s your name again?” the boy asked with a spoonful of jelly in his hand.

“Jooyeon,” she mumbled with the cow still rolling in . She had succumbed to the goodness that was the food from the Capitol.

“You could close your mouth you know,” he imitated.

The parallel only made her chuckle and feel partially humiliated at the same time. “Sorry.”

The boy returned her laugh. “I’m only messing with you.”

She nodded her head, the discomfort slowly evaporating. “And your name is?”

“Sungyeol,” he smiled widely.

They both returned to devouring the food before them, both eating as if their meals were about to run away from them. The fizzy pop of the orange drink and the multiple servings of beef made Jooyeon happier, even if it was just for a few minutes.

“So, why do you think you got chosen?” Sungyeol asked with a crab leg hanging from the corner of his mouth.

The question made the food suddenly unappetising and tasteless. She droped her fork back on the plate. “I don’t know.”

Sungyeol sensed her immediate discomfort at the question and attempted to swerve the conversation another way. “Well, I know why I was chosen.”

She tilted her head in bewilderment. “Why would you be chosen? You’re so young and I doubt there’s anything bad about you.”

“I’m only just sixteen. But that doesn’t make a difference really,” he wearily said. “I guess everyone voted for me because I’ve been causing trouble around my area for a while. Mindless pranks. I thought they were only light tricks but the next minute the power in our area went out. I’ve kind of become public enemy number one right now.”

Jooyeon remembered now. He was the boy her parents were talking about, the one who caused all of the incidents around the eastern part of district five. Looking at his innocent face she sympathised with him. Maybe he was just all alone. Maybe he needed somebody. A friend.

An ally.

Sungyeol nodded his head vigorously at Jooyeon’s request to be allies. Despite not knowing other tributes that may be stronger he needed to start somewhere. He gave her a gummy smile and took a sip of the apple cider in the champagne glass.

The door near the front of the carriage slid open and their mentor entered. The man had a gruff appearance from head to toe. He wore cargo pants and a t-shirt that was navy coloured. Sungyeol felt uncomfortable being around such a man but if he was going to survive the arena he needed all the help he could get.

“Hi I’m-” Sungyeol began.

The man intervened before he had the chance to finish his self introduction. “From this day onwards you two are my pupils. You will address me as either sir or sir. You will be boy,” he pointed a meaty finger at Sungyeol. “And you will be girl. No names required. You will do as I say and when I say it. Are we clear?”

Both of the tributes’ mouths gaped at him in shock but they were able to easily recover themselves with complacent nods. The man took a seat opposite them and began his interrogation.

“Girl,” he pointed at Jooyeon. “What’re your strengths and weaknesses?” he said.

“M-Me?” Jooyeon questioned. Sungyeol rolled his eyes. She seemed slower witted than Sungyeol would have assumed. If he were in her position he would have answered immediately.

“Yes you,” the mentor said sternly.

“Oh okay,” she said, her eyes pinned to the bubbles floating in her drink. “My strength is … throwing and my weakness is …”

“Finish your sentences,” he snapped with austerity.

“My weakness is that I can’t swim.”

The man absorbed the information before asking Sungyeol the same question, this time with a harsher tone. Sungyeol answered rapidly.

“Sir, my strengths are in camouflage and electronics. My weakness is in sword fighting.”

“And have you ever picked up a sword before?”

Sungyeol gulped. “No sir, but if I did I would most likely get skewered.”

“Skinny kid like you, most likely …” the mentor stated. He took out a cigarette and lit it. “This year I can’t do much for you two. You’re both too inexperienced. Might as well enjoy the food and the perks of being tribute, but other than that I don’t think I can help.” He puffed a cloud out of his mouth that almost made Sungyeol gag.

The train carriage went silent for a moment. Sungyeol looked out the window in defeat while he could hear Jooyeon sniffling near him. The thought of dying hadn’t exactly been in either of their plans.

“Um, excuse me,” Jooyeon said. For a second Sungyeol thought she would retaliate and prove their mentor wrong. He was hopeful that his ally would be of some use to him. But she had only dismissed herself so that she could escape the carriage with a grief-stricken look on her face. Sungyeol fought back another urge to gag, this time from her cowardice.

Once she had exited the room Sungyeol stole his only chance at survival. “Sir, I also have another strength.”

“What is it boy?”

“I’m an excellent actor.”

District Six

“I’ll give you this locket for it but nothing else okay?” she said confidently. She hadn’t planned to stay so long, and with only a few more minutes left until the Reaping would start, but business was taking too long.

“It doesn’t even look like real gold,” said the man who wore a black beret.

It was a shady bar, practically empty because of the Reaping and partially because it was already abandoned to begin with. The maroon curtains were drawn tightly over every translucent window and only decaying light bulbs hung from the ceiling. Gayoon still received chills whenever she entered.

“Well it is real gold and it is valuable. I’m your only customer for today and if you haven’t already realised, everyone around here isn’t getting richer by the day,” she impatiently said.

The man took furtive glances around the room. Back and forth as if he knew they were being watched. But with such a business that was so clandestine, spies were not an issue. “Fine.”

He grabbed a small medical packet out of his pocket. It was label-less and just the right size to be able to slip into her pocket. They exchanged goods. The lustrous necklace being interchanged with the plain rectangular box.

“I’ll be seeing you then,” she said as she stuffed the box into her coat pocket. She ambled towards the exit, eager to escape the shifty environment around her.

The man grinned wickedly as he opened his payment. The inside of the locket was a dull silver. He screamed with rage. “Hey! Get back here! This is fake!”

“Sorry, I’d love to stay and chat but its Reaping day today,” she replied with a sly grin. She scurried out of the bar and onto the street, joining the crowds of people bustling towards the Justice Building where the Reaping would take place.

 Gayoon’s life hadn’t always been based on trickery. There had been a time when she hadn’t known about the underground network that channelled the most expensive drugs. But her situation had demanded that she be a part of the deceitful trading. The situation was her younger brother.

The doctors had said it appeared to be malnutrition. But the horrifying stomach pains he felt at night were enough to dismiss the doctor’s over-simplified estimation. He described the sensation as being torn from the inside-out. It hadn’t taken long for him to worsen and for the doctor’s to admit defeat. The only thing that could prolong his life, even slightly, was morphling. The strange drug wasn’t sold on the streets but at least a quarter of the district’s population had the knowledge of where they could find it.

Soon, she had become the errand girl. She traded what her family was willing to part with and received the necessities for her brother. Her efforts were acknowledged but when the drugs took no effect and he had taken his final breath, things had taken a turn for the worst.

She had only started by taking one. The rest was just a chain reaction. She had been mourning over his passing and pleading for comfort when she had found it in the pills. They had gone from becoming her brother’s ailment to her addiction. She couldn’t stop.

Majority of the district had begun to notice her slight fluctuations in behaviour. The moody look within her dead eyes and the frozen delay in her movements were always evident. So when her name was called up as tribute she stalked onto stage with her head held high.

She focused her vision onto the crowd looking for someone to communicate with. Her gaze latched upon a man wearing a black beret. Even though he was metres away it was impossible to deny the cold amusement that protruded from his slitted eyes. She blamed karma for her misfortune.

His head spun. Not like any normal head spinning where you would immediately classify it as a headache, but the real spinning. Where your whole body feels like a sickening mess and the only thing that feels desirable is vomiting. That was how Chanyeol felt when he was summoned.

But of course, he only felt worse about himself. He was a walking tree with a deep voice and unlikeable features. His whole district despised him. He even disliked himself. But not to the extent that he would sign himself up for inevitable death. That was where he and his district differed.

He was so close, so close to being free. Free from the games and the constant fear of being reaped. But they had dragged him back by the collar, and tossed him into the pit of despair.

It was no lie that he would die. Maybe that was why they had set him up for such a failure. He had never once even handled a weapon before and now they expected him to fight? He felt like running, fleeing, crawling away. But the peacekeepers would just haul him back. There was no escaping a political game this big.

The peacekeepers on either side of him directed himself and the female tribute through the Justice Building. His palms were sweaty.

“Wait here,” the taller one commanded. The two guards left them within a narrow hallway where pictures of trains hung. They were evolutionary, set up in a way that the photos were a timeline of their progression as the district of transportation. He felt dizzy again.

“Tall guy, are you alright? You’re as white as a sheet,” the female tribute said.

He cursed his bad luck. Not only had he been voted as tribute but the girl from his district was a known substance addict. He needed support and she appeared to be the best he had. “I’m fine,” he said, voice cracking.

“If fine means you’re going to pee yourself then okay.”

She had a haughty tone to her voice; as if she was an adult listening to a grown man tell her about his imaginary friends. Chanyeol didn’t like the way she spoke. “Who are you to make judgements about me?”

“It wasn’t a judgement, it was a statement,” she said boldly. She had nerve. In the arena it could either be perceived as endearing or idiotic. Chanyeol just found it even more infuriating.

“So the morphling addict is suddenly so much better than me?” he said raising his voice for emphasis.

“For a boy who can’t defend himself it appears so.”

“So you admit it? You admit that you’re a druggie?”

“I didn’t say that,” she rebutted.

“But you didn’t refute what I said,” Chanyeol spoke. There was more conviction within his voice. “If you can’t deny it then I’m pretty sure you are one.”

“Do you want to die right here right now? Because I can make it happen tall guy. You’re really pissing me off right now,” she said menacingly.

“Go for it. I bet you can’t even use a sword.”

“Doubt you can either but I’d do a much better job,” she voiced. “And, I’d be able to kill a pansy like you with one swipe. Don’t bother trying to save yourself.”

Chanyeol was mad. He hadn’t ever experienced rage with girls before but this one just provoked him from every angle. For a moment he was actually looking forward to entering the arena. Just to able to cut the smug look off her face would be enough for him.

“You two! Over here now!” the peacekeepers were back. They obeyed, putting their argument on hold as they stepped in front of two adjacent doors.

“You better watch your back tall guy. When we’re in the arena and I have a weapon, you’re the first on my list,” she threatened.

“Well, when we get into the arena, regardless of whether I have a weapon I’m still going to come after you,” he countered.

The peacekeepers forced them into the rooms and banged the doors close to end their dispute. When the adrenaline rush had faded and his anger dissipated Chanyeol’s head spun once again. Instead of making an ally he had made an enemy.

He was doomed.

A/N: Next batch of tributes up. Just an info thing to put out there, morphling is a drug in the Hunger Games book series that you can only really get from the Capitol. So this drug gives you some hallucinations and it's been rumoured that that people of district six have a hard time because of it. Mainly meaning most people are intoxicated by it. Yep, that's pretty much it. I shall try hard to get the other tributes up as well.