Nothing Personal

District Two Reaping

District Two, like District One, revelled in the Games. Their tributes were mostly allies, but the competition back home between the two was fierce. They had almost the same number of winners; District Two was ahead by two, and people were often more concerned with their tributes lasting longer than District One than actually winning.

Despite this, Two was nothing like One. Hills rose ominously, shaded by thick woodland perfect for training in, and the buildings were practical rather than aesthetic. Most were small chalet-like constructions, although the Justice Building was tall and majestic, a complicated dark maze of narrow corridors and dusty rooms that were never used. The people were more serious, although they let themselves loose on reaping days and wore their best clothes, usually in dark colours.

Today the weather was chilly and snow hung in the air; young children were dreading the thought of cold-weather training, nights spent outside in the snow with nothing but a pile of sticks and a thin blanket for warmth. Older children were looking forward to creeping quietly and pretending to be bears. This was risky, because some of the more brutal kids would attack without warning and it wasn't unusual for them to cause serious injury. It was embarrassing for the injured, but the kid's parents were always very proud and went around their little hamlet, bragging.

For two tributes, more than ten years of training would finally come to a head today. For more, all those years of training would be in vain. The tension was already wound up high and there were a couple of small scuffles at the tribute's entrance to the square. One girl dislocated her shoulder trying to headlock another girl but didn't even yell and swaggered through the middle of the square to great admiration, her arm hanging uselessly at her side. The defeated opponent dragged along behind her, head down. Her hair fell in a luscious silky curtain, hiding her face.

As she slipped into her pen, the girl next to her punched her arm mockingly. Most of District Two were dark; dark hair, dark eyes and pale skin, but this girl had luxurious blonde hair tumbling down her back and eyes that were such a deep blue that they were practically violet. She was laughing brightly, whilst eyeing up the muscular boys in the next pen. A few of them smiled at her encouragingly and she winked back, wiggling her hips.

Just like in District One, there were fifty random names in the final pots. The Capitol escort was a woman with her gleaming black hair in a rock hard style that twisted around her head, with some curls dropping down around her ears, and when she smiled a hint of dark, looming blue - the colour of District Two - glinted in one of her teeth. She waved at people in the crowd, peering up at the sky theatrically. The clouds were fluffy and nearly black, although light blue peeped through every so often. She huddled further into her luscious fur wrap, rubbing her hands together. Some of the girl were in strappy dresses and the boys wore light shirts that fluttered in the wind whipping around the square.

"District Two, are we excited?" she asked.

"Yes!" shouted about half of the crowd; the rest felt that this kind of charade insulted their dignity.

"Oh, that was rubbish!" she exclaimed teasingly, "I bet District One were better than that!" This triggered the boos that she was expecting, ringing around the tightly-packed square.

"We'll try again then, shall we? District Two, are we excited?"

This time, the response nearly blew her shawl off. "Now that is more like it!" she cheered enthusiastically. The little orange light on the cameras was starting to blink rapidly, so she quickly hushed them all. This was easy; District Two always had preferred the silent approach. The wind howled in the buildings and around the steep hills.

The light went red.

"Hello there Capitol, and welcome to District Two, home of this year's winner!" she announced, and right on cue the audience cheered. The camera zoomed in on several kids in the crowd, the most enthusiastic bouncing up and down and punching the air. The people in Capitol Square would be loving this. "Now, we're all ready and raring to go here, but you caught us a bit early and we still need to do the speech!" she lied. Nobody dared to groan; besides, it made a great story. They listened eagerly, the kids jumping up and down but also trying not to look cold.

Finally, it was time for the reapings. First the girls. The escort reached into the pot, winking into the female pens, calling enthusiastically, "Tile Reserning!"

The blonde girl screamed happily and bounced up to the stage, shaking the escort's hand and waving her hair around so that it swished around her waist. She felt that her whole life so far had been for this moment, the crowd cheering her on, the boys whistling, the other girls all glaring up jealously. This time she was actually above them, sneering down at them looking so small. She snatched the microphone and beamed at the crowd.

"I will make you proud," she announced, to wild cheers, placing one hand strategically on her hip, "I will make you proud, and I will prove that everyone who ever said I was weak, pathetic and not fit even for District Twelve was wrong, do you hear?"

Everyone whooped, instantly falling in love with the bold and arrogant blonde. The girls snarled, several of the eighteen year olds vaulting the fence and skulking into the main crowd, secretly wishing that whatever killed her was very painful. The boys whistled; she winked down at them, relishing in the buzz of power.

The moment was broken too soon by the glamerous escort sashaying over to the boy's bowl. Tile didn't mind that much. She would have many more moments like it when she got back.

"Klaus Hollasin!"

"Yes! Get in!" roared a testosterone-fuelled voice, and a boy leapt out of the pen in one fluid movement. Rather than using the stairs, he hurled himself at the stage and hauled himself up using his little fingers; people roared approvingly and he punched the air, showing off substantial muscles. He then ran his hand through his dark brown hair, making it stick straight up, and turned to Tile, raising an eyebrow. She was pouting prettily, annoyed at being out-done.

"Hey," he drawled. She wrinkled her nose but smiled, swinging her hips casually.

"Nice to meet you too." She'd changed her voice; now it was soft and slinky rather than loud and brash. He'd heard things about Tile from his mates, mostly complimentary. Maybe he'd even seen her in training a few times, tearing dummies to shreds with a machete and a bubbly laugh. He knew she would have heard things about him. He was the strongest in the district. Everyone knew it.

"That's my little brother up there!" shouted someone proudly and he picked out Rian in the crowd, clapping vigerously.

Only he didn't, because of course Rian wasn't there because Rian was dead. Rian had been shot. He had to keep telling himself that because, three years on, it still didn't feel real.

"Klaus? Klaus, anything to say?" said a voice somewhere in the distance. He jumped back into the real world, where Rian was dead and he was onstage, about to enter the Games.

"Yeah. Yeah. I think my brother would be proud of me," he said shortly. He handed the microphone back, frowning at the woman in the fur. Tile was looking at him curiously, her eyes half-hidden by huge eyelashes.

"Cat got your tongue? Let's hope you don't bottle it in the arena," she teased. He laughed, then felt guilty for laughing and went quiet again.

"Ladies and gentlemen please give a huge hand for your District Two tributes this year: Tile Reserning and Klaus Hollasin!"

District Two cheered louder than ever before as their tributes shook hands firmly, and retreated into the Justice Building. Tile grinned giddily at everybody, bouncing instead of walking, laughing at the slightly dazed expression on the escort's face and cooing over the soft, velvety luxury of the carpet. Full of pride and anticipation - there had never been a winner quite like her, that was for sure - she turned to say something to Klaus and instantly forgot it.

Klaus kept swinging his head around, as if seeing something in the corner of his eyes, but there was nothing there.

He was certain that Rian was following him.