I introduce you all Annabelle Gray by DCdreamer55, Alec Swift by Iris Hunt, Ariel Marina Bright by DCdreamer55, and Achilleus Nairn by Youngwriter333.

District Three

Annabelle Gray, 14

Hunger. A gnawing hunger and anger. A raging war of hunger and anger brews within the fourteen year old Annabelle Gray.

She glares down at her newest piece of artwork. It is a slab of shiny copper with harsh, crude scratches from a sharp knife to form a horrible image of a small girl standing amongst a black fog. The girl is her. The hair curly and wild around her head. Empty black holes for eyes and mouth.

The girl looks like a soulless monster. And in a way, Annabelle feels like she is a monster.

The difference is that she doesn't care.

What she does care about is the gnawing hunger she is experiencing. She hasn't had food since the day before, and that was when she helped herself to a sandwich. Her parents always said, "Oh don't worry, we'll get some food in a minute." And they never did.

Wildly scraping the knife on the metal, she accidently slashes the knife along her open palm which is holding the copper in place. She merely winces as she automatically drops the knife and holds the bleeding hand in the air, curiously watching as the blood seeps from the wound.

You see, little Annabelle Gray is not a normal girl. Instead of holding any love for cute teddy bears, girly dresses and gossip, Annabelle loves drawing, solving equations and…the sight of blood.

As the blood drizzles down the palm of her hand and arm, Annabelle glances at her large drawings on her walls of dark, charcoal pictures. She nimbly steps away from her bed and walks to the wall. Holding her arm carefully, she swipes the blood across her drawings, the black charcoal smudges merge in with the blood perfectly. When she's finished, she takes a step back and stares proudly at her art piece.

The wooden floorboards in the corridor outside Annabelle's large bedroom creak as a patter of footsteps walk on them. In a lightning hurry, Annabelle yanks her artwork down to the floor. She hates it when people see her drawings, because to her they are her private, precious love.

Her bedroom door creaks open and standing in the doorway is her two years older sister, Calliope. She is taller than Annabelle and is prettier with her long blond hair cascading down her arched back. Callie is everything Annabelle is not and their father adores her, and for that Annabelle hates her.

Callie nervously peeks into the room, her wide light blue eyes glancing around the dark bedroom until they settle onto her younger sister's bleeding hand.

"Annabelle, what happened?!" she shrieks, forgetting her nerves and darting into the room to her sister. Callie tries to reach for the smaller girl's hand, but Annabelle bitterly wrenches her arm away. "Are you okay?"

Annabelle peers up at her sister through her thick, dark locks and murmurs in a low voice, "I'm perfectly fine." Callie gulps at the sound of Annabelle's raspy voice.

"Well..um," she splutters, slowly edging away, "Clean that up and come downstairs. Father and mother are here for the day. It's the Reaping Day, that's why they're staying for the day." She pauses. "Isn't that great, we get to spend time with them!"

Annabelle glowers at her sister. "How stupid can you get?"

Callie blinks momentarily. "What?"

They stare at each other for a long, silent moment. Annabelle is always very indifferent toward her sister, but whenever their parents are mentioned, she begins to feel resentment. The dislike she feels for her parents is intense, because after everything she went through, she refuses to be bent down and be their puppy, following their every command.

"Do you really think I'd be overjoyed to spend a whole day with our parents when they will just give all the attention toward you and Davin? Just get out," Annabelle finally murmurs monotonously. She feels nothing. She can't even feel a remote remorse for the look of hurt crossing Callie's face.

Callie turns her back and strides out of the room, leaving Annabelle alone as usual.

Annabelle stands alone in her bedroom. It's been a long time since she did care. Ever since her birth, her parents were disappointed to have another girl after Callie. But when her nine years old brother was born, she was completely forgotten and still is, so since then she had to fend for herself. At the age of five years, she tried to do something that resulted in her parents hating her…

"It's time for lunch!" the curt voice of her mother yells up the stairs.

A small, darting figure passes her doorway. The young boy skids to a halt, his blond head juts inside the room and a cheeky grin spreads across his face. Davin audibly whispers, "Freak."

Davin bursts out into laughter at Annabelle's neutral face before bolting off down the stairs of their wealthy house. Feeling a slight annoyance, Annabelle mutters to herself. Her brother is simply the most irritating, arrogant and spoilt boy on the face of earth. Oh how much I'd love to throw him off a cliff, she muses with a dark chuckle.

Smoothly descending the stairs, Annabelle can hear the loud racket in the kitchen and rolls her eyes. Sometimes she would love to butcher all of her ridiculous family to death.

Entering the kitchen, Annabelle takes in the disgusting sight of her 'happy' family together, all forgetting about her. Callie is currently jesting with her father, Daxx, and Annabelle's spoilt sister is drinking in all of the attention. Annabelle's mother doted on Davin as he grins haughtily as usual.

"Ah, good morning, Annabelle," Daxx says in greeting as he glances at his ignored daughter. His kind, brown eyes widen in dismay at the sight of the dripping blood on Annabelle's hand.

"Oh, for god's sake, not again," grumbles the mother. Gala tosses her carefully done blond hair back as she chucks a white cloth at Annabelle's chest. "Clean yourself up. You need to look respectful for the Reaping."

Annabelle narrows her icy blue eyes. "Who cares about the Reaping?"

"I care, considering Callie could get reaped." She averts her eyes away once she realises she didn't mention Annabelle's name. "Oh and you too."

A flash of hurt flitters in Annabelle's heart, and she longs for it to diminish away. She'd prefer to feel nothing. "How typical of you, mother, to forget about me," she says in her usual harsh, low tone. "I wonder what it'd be like to live a peaceful life without your nagging voice in my ear."

Gala rises from her chair and fixes her own icy eyes onto Annabelle. "You little, ungrateful brat—"

Daxx coughs and clears his throat. He gives a stern look at Gala, who doesn't even tremble under his heavy gaze as she is too fixated on Annabelle. "Gala, please be nice."

"How can I be nice if she's never nice?!" Gala immediately turns her attack of petty words onto her husband as Annabelle smirks at the sight of her furious mother spitting. "You bastard, you have no idea what she does to me. I try to be nice and everything, but after what she did I can't be very forgiving!"

"She was only five years old, so she had no idea what she was doing," Daxx reasons.

A chorus of dark laughter erupted from Annabelle's taut lips. The entire family stare at her in surprise as the silence drags on. "How naïve you all are…" she murmurs, as if to herself. "I indeed knew what I was doing. That day feels like yesterday… It was a wonderful day."

Callie stares at her sister in horror. Davin glances around, puzzled about the turn of events. Poor little Davin, he has no idea…! Daxx's face turns red with anger. And Gala's reaction is the best Annabelle could ever expect.

Gala screeches like a singing cat and briskly grabs a saucepan off the oven, still steaming and hot with two slabs of fried eggs on it, and viciously throws it in Annabelle's direction. Annabelle smirks and nimbly steps out of the way. She is used to her mother throwing things at her in her rage so she eventually learnt to calculate when her mother would throw an object and to sidestep quickly before she gets nasty bruises.

"You horrible little monster! We all wish you don't exist, you ungrateful bitch. I cooked food for you to hear you say that!" Gala screams, spit spraying from her mouth.

How disgraceful and ugly she looks as she sprays out salvia. If only she looks at herself in a mirror, she would run away in shame, Annabelle chuckles at her thoughts.

"I already know," Annabelle says in a cold, knowing voice. "All I was doing was telling you the truth. So why are you so angry?"

Daxx slams his newspapers down onto the wood table. His usually kind eyes are narrow with concern and indecision. He flicks a look at his insane wife. "Leave her alone, love. I have enough of her and her inability to feel emotions." He says this in a callous voice.

Annabelle can't help but register the truth in those last words. She has long known she can't process normal feelings, but experiences a lack of emotion. And she doesn't even care. And without her realising, that's because she is a sociopath. She can't relate to other people's feelings, even her family or anybody at all. That's why she has no friends, and is forever antisocial amongst her fellow schoolmates.

Annabelle likes to believe that her possible condition makes her even cleverer. Her loneliness led to her drawing and solving equations more than any average District Three girl would. So in fact, she actually enjoys her loneliness immensely as she doesn't need some useless company.

Gala mutters under her breath and quickly runs her slender fingers through her blond strands to check if it is in place. She grinds her teeth together as she stares at her daughter's tattered dress. "Darling, you need some better clothes for this special occasion."

"I don't need some better clothes, mother. I'm not going to get reaped, which is unfortunate as it'd be interesting to experience the arena and the bloodbath…" Annabelle's voice drifts off into silence as she thinks of the Games and how cleverly evil they are.

She leans down and plucks up a fried egg fallen to the floor when her mother threw the pan at her, and puts it into her mouth, smiling as she eats it. The juicy taste of the split yolk floods her mouth and she murmurs a 'mmm' sound. "Thanks, mother. I'm off to the Reaping, so you guys have fun bonding."

Alec Swift, 14

It is another exciting day in the technology factory for Alec Swift.

He rapidly taps away at the keyboard, his pale grey eyes on the glowing screen the entire time as he memorises the complicated codes, branding them on his mind like they're printed there forever.

His job is to design computer software; giving them a complicated setup therefore the Capitol can hide their darkest secrets away from everyone. But only he can find a way to hack into them. With his incredible intellect, he can find a way to dig into the Capitol software and secret files, and this entertains him. It gives him an advantage to know about something the Capitol is hiding.

His pure hatred of the Capitol is so boundless; it's slowly consuming him and driving him to go to the dangerous limits. He no longer cares if he's going too far and gets caught…

Or he likes to think so.

A long series of codes in numbers and letters run down the screen in a lightning quick speed, but Alec handles it all with ease like he has been doing it for years. And he has, in fact, been working with computers since he was at a young age when the computers organisation in District Three recruited him after discovering his talents. But he wasn't the only one they recruited; they recruited his best friend, Isaac.

The large room Alec is currently residing in is silent except for the relentless tapping of the employees working on their computers, their eyes glued to their big screens. It is a spacious room with a high ceiling made of glass, and Alec amongst his co-workers have their own space with walls to give them privacy which is perfect for Alec to do his work without anyone sneaking glances at what he's doing.

He knows many of them wouldn't report him to the organisation's head, Mr Watkins, but there are some who are loyal to the Capitol. He despises these loyalists; therefore he keeps his rebellious work in secret, considering it's a death sentence to rebel against the Capitol.

But after what the Capitol did to his friend, he doesn't give a shit about what the Capitolians might do to him…

In some way, Alec respects the Capitol and President Thorns for their clever, manipulating ways of maintaining their dominant control over the Districts through the strict regime and the Hunger Games. He shakes his head, attempting to disperse the thoughts. No, the Capitol is evil for what they did.

His strikingly pale grey eyes are beginning to ache from the huge amount of time he has spent that morning staring at a screen just when the software he was trying to gain access to cracks open.

Yes!

The entire screen pulsed as the software is opened and what he sees are numerous of files. He pauses.

His finger hovers over the mouse.

Curiosity fills him as he stares at the files. He couldn't believe it.

This is the furthest and the most dangerous he ever got in his entire career. He has cracked…the Head Gamemaker's files. This is something nobody else ever managed to do, and he just did it. He never expected to do it, but he pushed himself to the brink to succeed it, almost giving up in the process. He is now immensely glad he never gave up.

In a panicked hurry, he typed away at the keyboard, saving everything on the software onto his memory stick and sending it off to the rebels in the District who pay him for all of this information. They're going to be so happy with this, he thinks, chuckling. Think of everything they can do now they got Varys Norbert's files. Flashing images of the different strategies the rebels could do to overthrow the Capitol stir inside his mind as he critically think of what their new scheme would be. If his District win using Varys' information on the Games and the Capitol, he would be free from the tight clenches of the Capitol's greedy claws.

A menacing grimace cross his face at the thought of the Capitol.

A hum of buzzing suddenly penetrates through his thoughts.

His eyes flit back to the screen to see a bold red heading flashing repeatedly, a warning. Across the heading, it says You've been discovered.

A gasp involuntarily ripples from his mouth. His eyes widen in shock. He has been caught.

Oh fuck…

He has no idea how he has been caught, but the heading seem to taunt him, laugh and point at him. It must've been Varys who blocked his access, that clever bastard. But to his luck, he still has the memory stick. If only he hides it somewhere, later he will be able to find out Varys' secrets…

The Peacekeepers must be coming right now!

He immediately shut down everything, trying to do it in his usual calm, calculated way in order not to raise any suspicions from his fellow employees. The computer hums to a close, the screen switching off and becoming a black blank slate, the touch keyboard losing its glow and dulling down. He glances at the large clock mounted on the wall opposite him. Five o'clock. The Reapings will be in fifteen minutes so they should be finished by now.

Just as he calculated his thoughts, the overweight and beastly Manager, Mr Watkins, wobble onto the balcony high over them on the wall to Alec's right. Mr Watkins glowers down at his employees through squinted, snake-like eyes which are strangely too small for his oversized, round face.

"Your shift is over, fellows," his voice bellows out over the room, echoing and bouncing off the walls with such force it hangs in the air. He smiles, but it looks more like a grimace. "I want you all to enjoy your day after the Reaping, so don't bother coming back."

And with that, he pivots on his foot and walks off; his guards are holding the double doors leading to his large office. Once he disappears, there is a loud commotion of happy, relived sighs and chatter. Nobody likes Mr Watkins, especially Alec. He knows from resources he heard that Mr Watkins is actually secretly a Capitolite, because how would he get that enormous? Every time Alec sees the gigantic elephant, he feels resentment for how much wealth and food the man has in comparison to his poor family.

Thinking of his family, Alec grimaces in pain. It's his fault. Now his family are going to get hurt for what he has just done… He wouldn't be able to live with the idea of his parents and siblings suffering because of him, even if he's not close to them.

Glancing down at the memory stick in his palm, he has a dilemma in turmoil inside him. Now or later?

Look at the files now? Or look at them later?

Conflicting thoughts fight within his mind. Eventually, the more intelligent and dangerous one wins.

He stares at the memory stick for a moment, ignoring the steady flow of employees rushing out of the doors. He cannot risk the Peacekeepers finding this on him or it would be evidence, so he must get rid of it but still have access to it…when he needs it.

Grimacing at the horrible thought, he slowly puts it into his mouth and swallows. Fortunately, the stick is very slim and small but it is still a struggle to swallow it down. He's not sure if the files will survive on it due to the acids in his stomach, but he knows the advanced District Three technology on the stick will most likely give it a protective shield against all types of acids. After swallowing the memory stick whole, he feels uncomfortable but is reassured by the fact it is over.

But still the Peacekeepers will know it was him who hacked the Head Gamemaker's profile, and they'll go after his family.

As he walks out of the building, his wiry shoulders hunched over in thought. He is oblivious to the faces of the walkers outside, oblivious to the heavy, low fog of smoke and ashes from nearby factories, completely blocking out the sun. As he critically analysis every single tactic he could employ in order to save himself and his family, he walks blindly next to the bland buildings of the Academy where they've recently started training Careers, as more and more Districts in Panem are beginning to train their own Careers in the last five years. He has always glowered at the windows of this Academy, hoping his glare-daggers are tangible enough to stab one of the Careers. But this time, he is stuck in his thoughts as he robotically follows the throngs to the square.

He can't bear the thought of seeing his family, so he'll see them afterwards… After he volunteers.

The new thought brings light to his eyes as he suddenly realises how well that would work out. If he volunteers, the Peacekeepers won't be able to kill him or his family. Yes! They need his family to interview in the Final Eight, so he needs to volunteer to allow them to live. And if he wins…when he wins, they can't kill him because he'll be a Victor.

If he's a Victor he would have everything. And he would be alive…

So he actually has a chance of surviving in the Games more than eventually getting caught by the Peacekeepers and being shot in the head without a trial.

Oh god no, Alec, this is a ridiculous idea. You hate the Hunger Games, why do this?

He shakes his head to chase away the negative thoughts. He has no time for a dilemma; he has to act on it right now. If he even pauses, he'll die. Also, if he goes into the Games, he could backfire what the Capitol wanted their petty little Games to be.

Nodding to try and comfort himself, he strolls into the square. Panic clenches his throat when he catches glimpse of the Careers. What if they arrest him right now?

Slowly and cautiously, he walks up to one of the Peacekeepers. She is a short woman with eyes hidden behind the white helmet, but when she pricks his finger and registers him on the computer device, she recognises his name.

"Alec Swift… You did a bad thing, but I'll have to wait until after the Reaping to arrest you," she murmurs in a bored, monotonous voice. She dismissively flicks a hand for Alec to go to his age section.

He leaves her, relief cascading down on him like the rain pattering down from the heavens.

When the Mayor of District Three finishes the long speech of nonsense, the cameras swivel in unison to follow the timid steps of Mayo Larkson.

Mayo Larkson is a petite escort with a red shade of cherry hair styled into a bob and a high fringe, her doe-like eyes are enormous on her small face as she nervously gazes out at the audience. She is dressed in her usual, crisp uniform of a purple, flowery shirt, black mini-skirt, purple kitty heels, and an assortment of gold necklaces hanging heavily around her delicate neck.

Many people would expect her to be one of the Capitolites, bubbly and ignorant, although Alec cannot help but believe she is a nice, sweet person. What confuses him is why would she be an escort with a horrible job of steering cattle to their death…

"Ladies and gentlemen," Mayo squeaks out in her timid voice. She smiles graciously at the cameras but focuses her intense brown eyes on the audience. "Good luck, kids." She is blunt whenever it comes to the reaping, never saying many words.

Quickly, she walks over to the female bowl. Glancing one more time at the audience with a slightly sad look on her face, she dips her hand into the bowl and plucks out a lilac sheet rolled up tightly. She slowly pries it open, swallowing before saying the name out loud:

"Annabelle Grey!"

The crowd in age 15 section splits apart to reveal a skinny frame of a girl with a mass of curly hair surrounding her tan face. The cameras zoom in on her and Alec is shocked by the too bright blue eyes that seem to glow on her tan, brown skin. Annabelle seems to pause, allowing the reality to sink in, before a bizarre small smile flickers across her face. She strides up to the stage with the smirk plastered on her face. Alec watches her closely, studying her every feature. He needs to learn her strengths and weaknesses already.

The girl has a fiery storm of brown hair and a round face with a pointed, upturned nose. Her appearance seems to be rough, especially considering the fresh cut on her palm. However, she looks too young to be age fifteen which would give her an advantage for sympathetic sponsors.

The escort gives the little girl a sympathetic smile but Annabelle scowls at her. Mayo has already moved onto calling out the boy's name.

Alec doesn't even register what the boy's name is, as he is absorbed in his own tormenting thoughts. Slowly raising his hand into the air, he pushes through the crowd.

His steps are shaky and unfocused. On the screen, he sees his shocked, white face. He looks so wiry and frail, his body underweight, his pale skin looking too white under his shoulder-length coal-black hair…it's almost laughable. Who would even sponsor him? But he doesn't have to worry about that, he has his own intelligence and memory to support him.

"I, Alec Swift, volunteer," he manages to muster up into audible sounds. He stumbles up the stairs, ignoring the confused cries of his mother and father. He'll explain to them later…

Mayo stares at him momentarily, surprised. She probably never had a volunteer who looks so terrified. In his own time, Alec hardens his face and posture as he roughly shakes Annabelle's hand.

The curly-headed girl grins at him wildly. "Gonna be interesting to get to know you."

Alec narrows his eyes and automatically switches his critical, suspicious manner back on. "You too."

District Four

Achilleus 'Akkie' Nairn, 17

There is a chorus of noise crackling up on the field as Achilleus Nairn played rugby.

Thump.

He smashes straight into the chest of another bulky player, knocking him down in the process.

Squelch.

He skids along the muddy grass, racing ahead like he's running for his life with the ball in his arm.

Roars of cheering erupt from the side-lines, encouraging him to run even faster than ever. A wild grin spreads across his face.

Slap.

The second he reaches the try line, he slams the ball down and throws his arms wide. He has won the game for them. His rugby mates all flood onto him, pushing him to the ground as they all cheer in unison.

"Akkie! Akkie! Akkie!"

A sensation of happiness swells inside him. In every match with his rugby friends, he always feels this familiar, happy feeling that leaves him in a good mood for the next week. That's one of the reasons why he does rugby; to make friends.

"Okay, okay, guys. I get it, I was fabulous in that match," Akkie jests as he pushes himself up onto his feet. He brushes himself down, but it was useless considering his knees and legs are entirely caked in mud.

"Nah, you sucked, mate," a familiar voice interjects behind him. Akkie swirls around to face his best friend, Elias Rivinbell, who is another very good rugby player.

"You sucked even more, dude," Akkie retorts jokingly, reaching out to rub Elias' brown hair playfully.

His friend cracks a grin and Akkie couldn't help but mirror the grin.

"You are getting so good at this, Akkie," one of the smaller boys with freckles smattered across his face compliments him. Akkie mentions his thanks just when their coach appears out of the blue.

"Achilleus, you're getting better." Akkie resists rolling his eyes at how monotonous his coach sounds, which is not surprising as he's always very indifferent to his rugby players, especially Akkie. When Akkie first joined at age 12, he was a small, skinny thing and coach immediately didn't like him. He predicted Akkie to never strive, therefore making Akkie's self-estem slowly die out until Elias came along to personally train him.

So how do you feel now, dickhead, Akkie inwardly thinks. But he says nothing.

"Right, practice is over, so off you all. The Reaping is soon, so make sure you don't miss that out," the coach commands in his haughty, authority voice.

Akkie patiently waits for all of the rugby players to depart. His friend, Elias, frowns questioningly but slowly walks off to leave them alone.

"Are you going to call for any inspectors?" Akkie inquires curiously and desperately.

The coach flicks a cold look at him, his eyes as narrow and cruel as a snake's eyes. "No. You're not good enough for inspectors."

"But—"

"Don't even bother trying, Akkie. You have no idea how much work would be required if we get inspectors here to just watch you. And I know what they're like, they're extremely fussy when it comes to rules, and you often bend the rules to your will," he rambles in a conceited tone. He turns on his heel without another word and storms off in the direction of the sports department.

Akkie stands in silence as he glares at the back of his coach. He is alone on the field, with none of his friends.

It's like his older days when he was an outcast with nothing to live for. He used to feel like he was going to be nothing in the future. And right now, as he stands alone with his hands clenched in fists, he feels worthless again. He is nothing.

He feels a longing for a dark hole in the ground to swallow him up. He's embarrassed to know he's going to have nothing, no matter how hard he strives for what he wants.

There is a small, niggling voice at the back of his head which he tries to ignore but it is too permanent, even what it suggests frightens him.

You still have a chance…

After quickly changing back into his white shirt and black trousers, Akkie strides down the street with Elias. Elias constantly glances at him, sensing a discomfort in his friend but doesn't say anything. That's what Akkie likes about Elias. Elias never asks you until you feel comfortable enough to tell him what the problem is.

But this time, Akkie doesn't even dare say a word.

Elias shrugs, looking up at the colourful banners hanging out of the windows. "It's strange, isn't it? Our District loves the Games but they're too cowardly to volunteer."

"It's not cowardly to want to live," Akkie counters, "But the Games are a lot of fun, though."

Elias lets out a chuckle, nodding. "They're useless, but you have to admit they're fun to watch…"

"Yeah," Akkie replies in a flat tone.

"Look, what is the matter with you, mate?"

Akkie averts his eyes, toward the dry ground. "…The coach refused."

Elias abruptly comes to a halt, a mask of confusion and dismay on his face. "Are you kidding me?! He refused you?"

"Yeah, he said I'll never be good enough."

"That's bullshit, man. What are you going to do, then? I think you should tell your uncle and let him sort the coach out."

"Well…my uncle wouldn't really want to do that. He wants me to do something else," Akkie says, shrugging. "He actually wants me to volunteer for the Games."

"What?!" Elias exclaims with wide eyes. A grin slowly spreads across his face. "That would be awesome if you do!"

Akkie smiles at his friend's enthusiasm. "I will be. That's one of the main reasons why I started training years ago, you know, just in case I eventually decide I want to volunteer and win the Games."

Elias frowns, his eyes narrowing. "Just be careful, though. This is the Games we're talking about, Akkie, people die in them. You could die…"

"Oh," Akkie attempts to jest, "you don't think I will win?"

Elias looks down at the ground. There is a steady breeze blowing off the sea and working its way through the streets, rustling around their feet and weaving invisible fingers through their hair. "Just be careful, Akkie. You're my best mate, so don't you die on me. I really want you to win, because that'd be great but please be guarded in the Games and don't trust anyone at all."

"Trust me; I already know what I'll have to do. I've gone over my strategy every single day, and now I'm certain it'll work out well." Akkie stares down the lonely street, his eyes falling onto the beautiful, glistening surface of the sea. "Just have some confidence in me, Eli, then I'll win it with no problem."

Elias plasters a grin onto his face; although it looks forced Akkie is pleased to have his friend accepting his decision. "After seeing you train and play rugby, I have immense confidence in you." He claps a hand onto Akkie's board shoulders.

"Thanks, Eli," he replies, smiling. He wishes he could tell his friend the main reason why he's volunteering for the Games. The reason why he lied to him and have actually been planning to volunteer for years, just that it was originally for next year.

But he is certain this year is the right year…

It's another usual hot, sunny day in District Four. The sun hangs high in the crystal clear, blue sky. The melodic sounds of the crashing waves are beautiful to Achilleus Nairn's ears as he strolls along the shore to his very remote house.

He stares out at the white waves hitting the sand with force, like the ocean is itching to swallow the land up. To swallow him up and stop him.

But nothing will stop him now.

In his mind is a very vivid image of him standing on the stage, his face alight with victory as he stares down at the audience in his home District. And amongst the crowd would be his father…

If he becomes the Victor, he'll learn where his father is. He'll learn why his father disappeared when he was too young to remember him. He'll learn what it is like to have a father.

He finally approaches the wonky gate of his uncle's garden, the cracked slabs of rock leading a path through the overgrown flowers to the house. The house is in good condition with plentiful rooms. There is always a cleaner coming around each week to bring the house back to its spotless state. There are big rooms inside, with enough food if his uncle bothers to leave his office, aka nest, to buy some groceries. Akkie supposes he should be grateful to have his uncle looking after him.

The second he walks in, he sniffs the air and smells the heavy stench of whiskey and vodka. Slumped across the couch in the living room is Uncle Talon.

Uncle Talon peers up at him through groggy, misty eyes. His jaw is unshaven and misshaped from one of the fights he had in a bar when he was drunk and insulted another man. Beside him on the floor are bottles of alcohol, some empty and smashed. It's bizarre to see the messy state his uncle is in as he is surrounded by bottles in the crisply cleaned living room.

His uncle was doomed since an early age with his genius mind. Talon has the mind of a rare inventor in District Four. He should've been born in District Three, Five or even any other Districts as in this District he was rejected for his intelligence and ideas for years, therefore he turned to alcohol. However, recently, Talon has made a contract with a big growing organisation in the outskirts of District Four where they build ships, and they bought Talon's sophisticated designs of very technology advanced ships.

That, unfortunately, hasn't stopped his uncle drinking.

"Hey, Akkie," Uncle Talon greets him, slitting one eye open. He grins. "How was rugby?"

"It was alright," Akkie responds neutrally, his facial expression unreadable. He drops his rugby kit and strides across the room to the collection of weapons he'd been training with.

"Just alright?" Talon guffawed, and eventually falling into silence as he curiously watches his nephew. "What's up?"

Akkie swirls around to face the older man, frustration tinted in his voice. "So do you definitely do not know what happened to Dad?"

Uncle Talon sits in silence, he watches Akkie as if trying to work out what he is thinking. "I do not know."

"That's why you're eager for me to volunteer. So that we can find my father if I have more power."

"You will indeed gain more power. I mean, look at the Victors in this District, they get on with whatever they want without getting into trouble." Talon pushes himself up onto his feet. "You will win this Games, I know you will. And I will make sure you will. I promise you that."

The blond boy frowns, puzzled by his uncle's words. "What do you mean, you will 'make sure' I'll win?"

Talon leans in and winks. "I have connections."

Akkie scoffs. "How will that help me win?"

"Trust me, it will. So all you have to do is go into the Games and try to stay low, don't trust anyone and just fight for yourself. When you win, we'll find out what the hell happened to your father. But I suspect the Capitol was involved in his disappearance." Talon exhales as if the thought of his brother saddens him. "So does that mean you'll be volunteering for this year's Games?"

A renewed confidence blossoms inside Akkie. He straightens his back, towering over his uncle as he says his promise. "I am. And I'm going to win it."

Ariel Marina Bright, 15

Painful pinpricks of sleet fell in a torrent directly over the ten years old Ariel Marina Bright. The young girl shivered in the cold, her auburn hair flying wildly in the dominant wind that swept across the ocean and through the sand soaring, and hitting Ariel in a hard blast as she watched, helpless.

She never felt such powerful terror in that single moment as she stood, watching.

She stared straight across the sinister, dark ocean. The waves looked dangerous, like they were threatening to pull and submerge her in. There was a thick sense of death hanging in the atmosphere…

Floating on the wild crashing waves was her mother.

She had her long brown hair with the lovely red highlights Ariel remembered so vividly. She looked so small in the midst of the ocean. Her eyes were wide open and glazed over, the piercing blue irises matching her blue shirt. Her hands were stretched out, as if she was longing for Ariel, silently encouraging her to swim into the deadly sea and join her.

"Mummy! Mummy, please come out!" she screamed out, but the strong gale blew her words away. "Mummy!"

Her mother didn't respond but lay motionless. Little Ariel whimpered like a lost puppy.

She was alone…

Alone…forever without her mother. And it was her fault.

"Ariel!"

Ariel swims out of her horrendous nightmare of her most terrible memory.

"Ariel!" A pair of cold hands shake her out of the slumber.

Ariel's blue eyes fly open to land onto the grey eyes of her best friend Violet.

Violet stares down at her, worry etched onto her face. She flicks her gaze to the side, and Ariel follows her gaze to see Storm and Wave hugging each other, fear and concern on their faces.

"Did I shout out in my sleep again?" Ariel asks apologetically. Violet silently nods. "I'm sorry, girls."

She reaches out for her little sisters, her hands still sweaty from the nightmare. Her mind is swirling from the memory she just experienced, again.

The seven years old Wave nestles right into Ariel's arms as Storm huddles against her side. Ariel loves her sister more than anything else, she feels it is her sense of duty to look after them since their father is rarely seen by them. Every day she feeds and helps dress them, walks them to their school, and at nightfall she sooths them to sleep whilst in her arms and comfort them if they get nightmares.

Little Storm is twelve years old and tries to acts so mature, often hanging around with Ariel and her friends, but at night she is so vulnerable to the nightmares of their mother. Just like Ariel. So Ariel tries her best to protect her and Wave.

"Did you dream about Mum again?" Storm asks in a feeble voice, staring up at her older sister with wide, sea green eyes.

Ariel looks down at her sister sadly. "Yes."

There is a moment of long silence as they all think of their dead mother.

Ariel casts her bright blue eyes toward Violet, suddenly remembering that the orphan stayed at theirs over night. Violet and Ariel have been friends for a long, long time, and Ariel still couldn't believe how tough and brave she is for living on the streets.

Violet is peering out their window down at the overcrowded street. Her eyes are unreadable, but there is a slight sense of dread in them as she stares out at the banners and throngs of people cheering.

"Oh god, I've almost forgot it's the Reaping!" Ariel suddenly says, carefully unfolding herself away from her sisters to rush to Violet's side and look over the street.

There are numerous happy faces. The trained Careers are prancing the streets with pride on their faces. Banners are carried down the street. Families are joined at the elbows. But there are still some faces with dread and apprehension on.

"Do you think we should do a bit of training before heading to the square," Ariel murmurs thoughtfully. "Or is it too late?"

"Nah, those people want to do the entertainments in the square, that's why they're early. So we still got time," Violet replies with her usual careless attitude.

"Why are you still training, Ariel? I thought you don't want to be in the Games?" Storm says passionately. Ariel looks at her sister with a serious face, she knows how much Storm loathes fighting, but this is important to her.

"Because me and Violet need to defend ourselves. Also if we get reaped, we need to know as much as possible, Storm."

Storm furrows her brows together. "But there's always volunteers!"

"Yes, I know but not every year. Remember last year, the boy got reaped and…nobody volunteered for him." Ariel shudders at the memory of the poor kid being ripped apart by scorpions in the middle of a desert.

"You'll never get reaped, though, silly," Wave giggles, shaking her round head.

"Yeah, I'll never get reaped, honey. But also—"

"It's exercise," Violet finishes off her sentence like she read her mind, shrugging her shoulders.

Storm makes a face. "Ew, exercise."

Ariel and Violet erupt into laughter, and soon the sisters join in. The loud chorus of their laughter floats down the stairs and reaches their madly drunken father's ears.

"Girlssss, come d-down!" the slurred voice of Ariel's father echoes up the narrow stairs. There is no tone to his voice; it is as if his voice is dead from drinking.

Ariel rolls her eyes. She directs to the bedroom door for them all to go downstairs. As they walked through the old corridor, Ariel looks sadly at the state her house is now in. The bare light-blubs are weak and flickering endlessly, casting moving shadows across the stained, tattered wallpapered walls. There are broken glass frames with pictures of her mother in them. Her smiling face gazed down unknowingly at their now messy lives. She was one who kept the house alive and their father happy. If she were here to see, her heart would be broken.

As soon they enter the overflowing kitchen, the stench of alcohol and smoke hit their nostrils like a disgusting stink bomb. Ariel immediately dashes for the windows and pry them open, allowing the cool fresh air come into the humid room.

Their father is slumped in his chair, and in his dangling hand is an empty bottle of whiskey. His hair is dishevelled, uncut and grey, and his eyes slit half-open. Sadness and exasperation fills Ariel as she stares helplessly at her father. Violet glances at the sad look on Ariel's face and automatically strides to the alcoholic man, making him sit up right and taking bottle out of his tight grasp.

The father Rin wakes up from the movements, his eyes fluttering open to reveal colourful seas-green eyes.

"Where's my fag?" Rin asks nobody in general.

Lifelessly, Ariel picks up a half-used cigarette on the kitchen's counter and places it in Rin's open hand. Rin casts a happy beam down at the cigarette before lifting it up to his mouth and lighting it, inhaling the tar and nicotine.

"Thank you, girls," he glances at his younger daughters. There is a heavy, sad sense of love in his drooping eyes. "You're all my world."

Ariel stares at her father. Her father rarely ever looks at her straight in the face because she 'looks fucking too much like her mother'. And she longs to mend his broken heart. It is her fault he cries at day over their dead mother and drinks away his sorrows at night.

Ariel doesn't even notice Violet siding up next to her. "Ariel, I don't think we have enough time to train."

Ariel pauses before mustering up choked words. "I'm not too fussed to train now anyway. Let's go to the Reaping and meet up with Sapphire." She turns to her sisters. Wave is underage (lucky) so she'll go to the Reaping with Rin (not so lucky). Whereas it is Storm's first Reaping ever this year, and she is cowering beneath her too large dress, eyes wide and frightened.

"You'll be fine, Storm," Ariel murmurs as she kneels in front of her sisters. Storm is already getting tall but she is still as young and vulnerable as Wave. "Nothing bad will happen today, I promise."

"It's the Reaping, right?" Rin's voice interrupts as he struggles to his feet. "We should get going then."

The square is overflowing with the citizens of District Four. Ariel glances around as she walks in, hand in hand with her sisters, for any sign of her friend as they approach the flank of Peacekeepers in a queue. She is wearing her favourite dress. The dress is dark blue, almost like a navy colour, and it once belonged to her mother.

The queue is long but quick, so eventually Ariel finds time flying by when she has to say goodbye to her sisters and father before facing the Peacekeeper in front of her.

The Peacekeeper is massive. His jaw square beneath the black shade of his helmet. He holds his hand out for Ariel's finger to be pricked. Ariel reluctantly holds it out and winces at the small pain. Afterwards, she marches off to her female section with Violet, her eyes running throughout the crowds for Sapphire.

Her eyes immediately land onto Sapphire.

"She's there!" Both her and Violet jog to their friend's side.

Sapphire's face breaks out into a beam once she sees her friends. "Hey guys, you just made it in time for my very boring father's speech."

That's right, her father is the Mayor.

They fall into silence as the Mayor recites the usual, boring speech they always repeat each year. The second he even finishes, the escort gracefully pushes herself from her seat and yanks the microphone out of the Mayor's hand.

Usha McDonald's face is even more fake and ugly from last year. Her Asian complexion is tight and puffy with Botox, her skin is entirely caked in make-up and her eyes in a thick black eye-shadow. She wears a white hairband in her big, wavy hair which falls in loose, bright orange curls. And she wears the most flashing white outfit consisting of a dress with a low neck-line and the hem barely reaching half of her thighs. And, of course, her massive breasts are almost dropping out of her dress.

There is uproar of cheering and wolf-whistling from the boys as Usha plasters a seductive smile across her face. Her brown eyes twinkle in the direction of the boys.

"Hello, District Four!" her high, accented voice carries itself on the air. "Hope you all are excited for this very special day!"

More cheering erupts from the audience, whilst Ariel stands in silence. However, she forces herself to place a smile onto her face, because she couldn't afford to be caught by the others in her Career District.

"Let get to business," Usha tosses her ginger hair over her shoulder and saunters to the female glass bowl. Without having to raise suspense, she quickly plucks a note out.

Silence relapses over the square. Ariel glances around, trying to peer out for any possible Careers preparing themselves…but she sees none.

What if…

"Ariel Marina Bright!"

Gasps fall around her. But Ariel frowns.

Sure, she's confused and surprised. She has never expected it to be her name to be called out.

She smiles at her best friends.

"Don't worry, I'm sure somebody will volunteer," she reassures them, and with that she strides up to the stage with a neutral face on.

Somebody will volunteer, right?

As she walks up the stairs, she hears the loud sobs from the side where the families are waiting. She gulps, unwilling to look over to catch glimpse of her crying sisters, because if she does she would break down into tears.

There'll be volunteers, no doubt, right?

She waits on the stage. Her knees feeble and shaking.

"Any Volunteers?!" Usha doesn't even bother shake her hand but goes ahead for the volunteers.

To Ariel's shock, there is only silence that responds.

No girls are volunteering…

What! This can't be!

Her face is as blank as an empty page, but within her are conflicting thoughts and emotions.

She doesn't even register what happens next; only that Usha is immensely disappointed and continues grudgingly. She doesn't even recognise the faces in the audience, recognise her emotions, and recognise what is occurring.

She is brutally brought back to reality when a male volunteer bellows out, his hand upraised. Her eyes follow the stocky figure, distinguishing him with his muscular arms and big shoulders with tousled dirty blond hair just barely falling over very blue eyes. As he confidently strides up to the stage with a cocky smile on his face, Ariel can't help herself but stare at him.

She never seen him before, but for some reason she recognises him.

Usha smirks in pleasure as the stocky boy replaces the skinny reaped boy. "What is your name, handsome?"

The boy chuckles a warm laugh. "I'm Achilleus Nairn, but please call me Akkie, your new Victor!"

He waves at the audience, radiating with confidence and absolute faith in himself.

Whereas, Ariel stands on the stage, frozen and motionless. Her thoughts and emotions slowly dying as the reality of the Games hit her. She's going to have to kill or die…

Author's Note: Here we are! Back to the Reapings! It took me a while to get back into the writing atmosphere of the Reapings as there's so many characters but I really enjoyed it. I immensely love each of these Tributes in different ways. Don't you worry, you'll see more of them and find out some of things I didn't include in this chapter because I'm saving them for later and to build up the suspense ;)

Now, so many of you are so interested in the 200+ word prompts, but you just have to wait until next chapter for the first 'theme' of which you will write about. I'm really happy you're all eager to do it that I've thought that for the winning prompt I will let you think of ANY sponsor gifts you like to sponsor for free. At some point I'll putting up a list of sponsor gifts in different prices onto my profile near the beginning of the Games, and for each review you get £5, each two sponsor questions £10, and for each written prompt (PMed to me, remember, guys) £20. I hope this isn't too confusing, if it is just ask me questions via PM.

I hope you all enjoyed this Reaping chapter, and I've already got a lot of ideas and plots for these Tributes so far haha. I can't wait to read your reviews on what you think on the tributes, because they're wonderful and really help me understand which tributes you love, like, dislike, hate or feel indifferent to.

Q6: Which Tribute in this chapter would you befriend?

Q6: Would you rather to be a Tribute from a Career District, or from a Non-Career District? Why?