The air of District 2 was unlike that of any other District; filled with eager young teenagers willing to risk their lives to bring their District the utmost honor of being a Victor. Elias and his husband stood proudly on the stage, scanning the pool of children to see which lambs would get to go away to the slaughter this year. With the sudden and seemingly irrelevant deaths of Falca and Bullet from last year’s Games, the whole of District 2 was buzzing with a certain excitement to see their tributes marched off to the Capitol and possibly bring home a crown.
Behind the excitement, however, was something different. It was a feeling hardly ever felt on Reaping day, a feeling of uncertainty. It had been two months since the massacre in the training school. All of that year’s potential career tributes had been brutally murdered with words, “Born to Die,” carved into their bodies. The murderer, a 16-year-old at the school, had been found covered in her classmates’ blood. Instead of being punished, however, it was determined that she would be the female tribute of the 39th Hunger Games.
The escort was new this year; usually they killed the escort if D2’s tributes didn’t make it to the Top 8 during the last Games. This woman looked like a peacock; her tall, lanky body was draped in an assortment of blue feathers. Her headdress looked like a peacock’s tail when it strutted.
She reached her multi-coloured fingers into the Reaping bowl and pulled out the name of the female tribute. “JANA PIERCE!” It was her, the murderess. Jana was unfazed by the parting of citizens as she walked towards the stage, whistling that same sadistic song she’s sung when they discovered the massacre. Jana looked as crazy as everyone thought she was mentally, her dark hair was messily tied into a ponytail with a tattered black ribbon, she wore a loose dress that barely managed to cling to her body, exposing the “Breed to Kill” tattoo on her collarbone, her dark eyes had prominent circles and bags under them.
She reached the stage and grinned widely at the District. She may have been a murderer, but that’s what made her a promising tribute. She was experienced. How else had she managed to kill ten 17 and 18 year old who had been trained to kill themselves. The mentor reached into the bowl again, ready to pick out the male tribute. Jana couldn’t help but look to the sky and imagine her sister watching down on her when she would make her first kill in the arena.
“Rolf Meister!” The young boy was barely shown on the screen for a moment before Satin stepped forward to take his place. Satin was a strong boy of 18. He had only escaped Jana’s mass murder because he had been working on his endurance, running throughout the district, that day. He was tall and muscular, the epitome of a trained killer with sandy blonde hair and concentrated blue eyes. His nickname throughout the district was Satan, as he once beat up someone at the training school so bad, that he was nearly unrecognizable by the end of it.
Satin stood on the stage with crazy Jana, neither sure what to do about the other.