District One

She flitted through the halls with a cool smile. Reaping Day was tomorrow and she couldn’t bear the thought of having her name selected rather than her best friend’s. She beamed at everyone who passed by and proudly displayed her hand made pin advertising her friend as tribute.

It was not out of the ordinary for her district to begin promotional campaigns to become tribute. Everyone trained hard and practiced even harder just for a taste of fame. And to receive this little chunk of recognition they first needed to appeal to the masses.

Qri had no intention of joining. But her best friend was another story. Hyomin had been training to the point where she had the ability to decapitate an enemy with a deathly gaze and a butter knife. Even though she had been outdone by district one volunteers in previous years, this special Quarter Quell would ensure that she become a tribute.

Qri’s glowing cyan hair flowed off of her shoulders in a way that spoke of superiority above everyone else. Her wide eyes flickered with saccharine persuasion as she continued campaigning with only the thought of her best friend’s victory in mind.

“Vote for Hyomin for tribute in this year’s Quarter Quell!” she shouted.

A tall raven haired boy with chiselled features approached her warily. “Hyomin? Don’t you want to be tribute?”

“Of course not,” she laughed off, “Hyomin has this in the bag. And I promised I’d help support her so she would do our district justice this year.”

“So you’re saying that you’re not putting yourself up to be tribute because you think you can’t do it?” the boy said with a cocky smile that caused her forehead to crease.

“I didn’t say that,” she drawled, still with the sugary tone but a deadly warning crawling into her voice. “But if I were nominated as tribute then everyone should be prepared for some entertainment in this year’s games - very quickly followed by my name in lights in the Capitol.”

The boy huffed with indignation. “Well obviously that isn’t going to happen.”

“You wanna bet?” Qri responded with a menacing glint in her eye.

The boy accepted the challenge with a nod.

Qri began to walk away, trotting with a new fervent flame fuelling her campaigning. “Vote for me as tribute in this year’s Quarter Quell!”

The boy smirked with amusement.

When Choi Siwon would stalk through a crowd of girls none would go by unaffected. His muscular build and well defined features practically gave off a god-like aura wherever he went. He was worshipped by majority of the female population within district one. And they were of all ages.

It didn’t take long for word to spread that he would be district one’s new victor. Everyone expected it of him and he did nothing to dial down these rumours. He had a strategy this year. He would win and return home with a girl on his arm for each day of the year. They would worship him properly. Just like the true god that he believed he was.

It wouldn’t even be a difficult win for him. He was already highly trained and lethal with a mace. One of the more … rare weapons. This just allowed him to be able to have a more unique skillset in comparison to his lesser opponents. And it would give him a greater advantage in the rankings. Having such knowledge of how to wield the spiked weapon was something to be proud of.

Siwon stood within the crowd of males all waiting for the tributes to be announced. He glanced around at the burly boys on either side of him and laughed. It was too easy for him to be chosen.

The representative of district one opened a pristine envelope within his hands.

“District one’s female tribute is … Lee Qri.”

A loud gasp erupted from the girls’ side and the green haired girl stepped out incredulously. Her glittering eyes spoke of disbelief. The brunette girl who stood next to her had horror and worst of all, malice, in her eyes. The tribute made her way onto the stage and smiled at the crowd looking like a true luxurious gemstone from district one. She was less surprised at that point.

The district representative moved on to open the next envelope. An expectant smile painted itself on his mouth.

“And your male tribute is Choi Siwon.”

At the sound of his name instant applause escaped from the crowds. Everyone was in agreement that he would be the chosen one. He gladly received slaps to his back and high fives from every direction as he made his way up to the stage. He grinned vibrantly. The female tribute just stared at him in bitter confusion. She recognised him.

“Y-You!” she cried.

He winked at her. “I guess we’ll just have to see whose name is lit up in the Capitol now won’t we?”

District Two

Krystal welcomed the scent of rust when she arrived home. The temperature was higher than usual, raising her curiosity. She ran downstairs towards her father’s workshop with a light spring in her step.

Plumes of dark grey smoke ploughed out of the stone-walled fire; curling onto the ceiling and escaping through the open window. She inhaled. The murderous smell was no longer a hindrance to her breathing, what with her father’s job and all.

“What’re you up to today?” she asked.

“Making more tridents for district four. Apparently some rich family wants them personalised,” he replied.

“Interesting …” she whispered under her breath. Taking careful steps around his workshop she stood in front of the bronze trident with intricate seashells flourishing the dangerously sharp tips. Krystal grinned.

“Try it if you want,” her father said from the corner of the room. “From the rumours I’m hearing off the street it sounds like my youngest daughter is going to be the next tribute.” His tone darkened.

“Appears so …” Krystal said, too awestruck by the weapon she held in her hand.

Having a blacksmith as a father was a blessing in disguise. Most of the district two citizens would laugh off her father’s job as just some pointless occupation where horseshoes were made. But they didn’t know about the true job a blacksmith had. Specifically, her father's. He created weapons. Deadly spears, feather-like daggers. He made them all. They were so popular that the Capitol even inherited them to give to the tributes during the games. As a toddler Krystal received a firsthand experience with the weaponry her father made, all too engrossed by the power each one had. The power of the weapon that was used to strike and the power the yielder had to make the decision.

She swung the trident between her two hands as if it were a baton performance. In one fluid motion she whipped it to the side as the air made a sickening whine at the speed of the swing. A haunting echo floated in the air, receiving an appreciative smile from Krystal.

“Don’t worry appa, you’ve got a fighter,” she murmured.

The sneer on Himchan’s face was anything but discreet as he stood onstage shaking hands with the female tribute of district two. She was a nobody with a smear of grime on her cheek and a lip bite that conveyed her inexperience. But he did admit that she was pretty. And this fact made him even more anxious to start the games.

With his devious expression and pronounced stance he made sure that all the cameras would capture him the way he saw himself. Not as a tribute but a victor. Because that’s what he was, Kim Himchan was a winner.

Before the reaping his mother approached him with her coldest expression. She yelled at him, practically strangling him saying that he would be a tribute. He would enter and bring honour to his father. He remembered the moment and almost laughed, recalling the look of determination within his mother’s eyes. Who did she take him for? Some loser from district eight? No, he was the son of one of the head peacekeepers within the district. Success was not a question but a statement.

He released the girl’s hand and returned to egging on the cameras with a promising expression. He would ensure the Capitol understood who they would be rooting for and that the other tributes knew who to fear. Who to beg to when they had a spear to their heart and a plea of mercy stuck in their throats. The thought made him giddy like a six year old receiving the perfect birthday present.

“Krystal! Krystal!” a girl’s voice rang out. Himchan rolled his eyes.

Not again, he thought, irritated by the girl’s shouts. She was a chestnut haired girl who had a striking resemblance to the female tribute next to him. A sister most likely. This had been her second outburst, screeching for her sister to return to her. Boo hoo. That was all Himchan could think when he heard the desperation in her voice.

“She’s my only sister! Please! Plea-”

Her cries were cut short as a pair of peacekeepers dragged her away from the scene as if they were carrying a rag doll rather than a seventeen year old girl.

“Finally. Someone shut her up,” Himchan uttered under his breath. He sensed the female tribute shifting next to him. He gave her a malicious smile. “Don’t worry sweety, when you die she’ll stop screaming. They all have to sometime.”

He turned away with satisfaction, barely able to see the girl curling her fists until her knuckles were white.

District Three

Nicole assumed that it was possibly when she arrived at work, mismatching the various electronic gizmos together, that she could die. She had come to the resignation that she would possibly be a tribute in this year’s games. She didn’t have any direct or conclusive evidence to back up the worrisome claims but she knew it was a large possibility. It happened to increase in size the more she thought about it.

15%.

That was the percentage she had given herself for being chosen. She blamed it on her poor social skills. She had an inability to choose the right friends. She had, accidentally, broken into one of the safe houses which stored the district’s supply of data boards. They were all the rage in the Capitol so her friends had decided for her that she needed it. Except, she hadn’t exactly realised that they were talking about stealing instead of “temporarily borrowing”. Not until the Peacekeepers arrived. Smart.

30%.

She pricked her finger on one of the frayed wires. She had, also accidentally, hacked into the networking database as a demonstration to her class about the dangers with computer hacking. Unwise one right there.

“Nicole! The Reaping is starting soon. You better make your way to the main square quickly. I don’t think this is an occasion you want to miss,” her boss directed with a somewhat bemused expression.

40%.

Because her boss hated her. It wasn’t an uncommon thing to receive hate from your boss. But, when you talked back at her that one time, calling her a self-serving-two-faced-cheap- She couldn’t even finish the insult in her head anymore. Her boss had connections, severe ones that could destroy her fully. Maybe this was the revenge her boss had been planning for the past few days.

“I understand,” Nicole sighed. She threw off her apron and headed for the exit barely able to look anyone in the eye. She sprinted out into the fresh air and slumped against a pale grey wall they called “the thinker”. It was something she could never understand ever since she had began working. It was just a plain, blank wall with nothing special or thought provoking about its apathetic design. But, at that very moment, she understood its purpose. She saw beyond the dullness of the grey.

She leaned all of her troubles and the gnawing worry in her gut into the dull bricks and thought.

60%.

The percentage had risen. And this fact made her sigh. The entire district saw Nicole Jung as an attention seeker. They only viewed her as this because she had a well off family and a not so well off track in life. It wasn’t her fault that she had “accidents” that turned into giant commotions. But the district didn’t know that, and they sure did know her name. That was enough to get her into the Hunger Games.

All of a sudden, Nicole’s odds weren’t looking very good and “the thinker” did nothing to comfort her.

He kept spinning the same fact in his head, over and over as he stood within the crowd of adolescents. It was his only source of reassurance for the moment.

I am smart.

The three words looped in his brain and through its synapses. He continued to think about the gears within his most prized organ, metaphorically whirring while the axons did all the work in relaying the messages throughout his body. He was over thinking things. Just a bit.

Minhyuk’s eyes latched onto the girl on stage that held a mask of calm. Her usually optimistic face was clouded with acceptance and what he thought was expectance. It was almost as if she had foreseen her fate. Maybe she could tell the future. Like a seer he heard of in prehistoric stories. Like one of the three fates who in ancient times controlled the destiny of others. He wanted to punch himself. He was getting out of hand again.

She was just picked because everyone thinks poorly of her, he confidently stated to himself.

For a moment he slowed down and was almost joyous with the thought that he could simplify his thoughts. But the virus crawled back into his internal hard drive and drove him back on edge.

I am smart.

Intelligence led him to astounding technological miracles and great advances. His highly appraised intellect was the talk of district three since his first word; onomatopoeia. But for the moment, his genius brain was nothing but a burden that came with a price. And he was not looking forward to what was fast approaching him.

“Kang Minhyuk.”

His name flared within his own ears and he felt like crying.

Even though he wasn’t in a career district everyone hooted around him. They cheered and cheered for the boy with static hair and rounded glasses because he was smart. Because he was their symbol of hope. Because he had the most potential out of everyone within the district.

When he faced the camera and quivered on stage his tongue was sand paper and his saliva was non-existent. Speechless, for the first time in his short fifteen year old life. And he berated himself for this because he had already anticipated his nomination.

“Can you tell us something about yourself?” the said.

“… I-I,” he muttered. Deciding against talking his mouth clamped shut and he just shook his head in defeat.

If the super genius Minhyuk was anything, it was smart. And if he was smart he knew when to stop talking and when to start strategising. The gears in his head began to produce smoke as he thought about how he would get home again.

A/N: Here we go ~ First three districts and their tributes. One and two are career districts hence district one doing campaigns to become tribute and the district two tributes being badass LOL. District three is pretty much the most intelligent district and they could possibly be the biggest threat - if they know how to utilise their intelligence. I shall update with the other districts soon ^^