Natasha
Natasha Romanoff stood in line, internally scoffing at how fearful some of the younger children looked. This was Reaping Day. Didn’t they know that someone would volunteer for them if they were chosen? Honestly, it was as if they had no faith in the system.
Natasha couldn’t remember a time when she had ever been frightened. She knew that when she was twelve- the first time she was eligible for a Reaping- she had been more focused on her ballet lessons than the possibility of dying painfully. Just after Reaping Day the next year, when she was thirteen, she had begun training in preparation for the Games.
District Two had won in the second year of the Games, and come close in the first. This had been sheer luck of the draw; in a district known for strong stonemasons and peacekeepers, it wasn’t hard to find strong potential tributes among the older teens. But in the third year, a thirteen-year-old’s name had been drawn. He had died horrifically in the bloodbath, and that was when the mayor authorized the creation of the Red Room to train volunteers. District Two was the only district with such a system, although Natasha had heard rumors that One was in the process of setting up something similar.
Natasha had been the youngest girl chosen in that first year of training, and she had quickly gained a reputation as a prodigy. This year, finally, she was allowed to compete. Originally, the plan had been to wait one more year, but this year’s batch of eighteen-year-olds were subpar at best. She’d beaten all of them in training, and so the Red Room had declared her ready.
District Two had had two male victors already. This year, Natasha was determined to add a woman to the list.
Finally, she reached the front of the line. “Natasha Romanoff, seventeen.” She told the guard, holding her arm out so he could take a blood sample.
It only took a few seconds after the pinprick for the results to show up, and he nodded in satisfaction. “Next!”
Natasha took her place in the crowd next to the other seventeen-year-old girls. She was early; the Reaping wasn’t due to start for another half an hour. To pass the time, she closed her eyes and began to recite battle strategies in her head.
Play it dirty. Aim for the throat if possible; the knees or the groin if not. If there’s sand, throw it in their eyes. Make alliances only for convenience, but always be the first to break them when they lose their usefulness.
She studied the male tributes across the square. The group of eighteen-year olds was large, but she could clearly see five or six that looked like promising candidates. They were standing a few feet apart from the others, a clear divide between those who had trained and those who had not.
It wasn’t long before the presentation began to play, extolling the virtues of the Capitol and reminding them all what the Games represented. And then, finally, it was time to draw the names.
Norrin Radd, who had won only two Games ago, stepped forward to draw a name from the bowl. His silver-dyed skin reflected the light as he pulled a slip of paper from the bowl. Behind him, Adam Warlock stood silent, the older of the two victors not giving away a trace of emotion.
“For our male tribute, District Two selects Mortimer Toynbee.” He read off of the slip. There was a moment of silence as everyone glanced around, trying to locate the selected tribute. Natasha was one of the first to find him, a scrawny black-haired boy among the thirteen-year-olds.
“What, are you deaf, Toad?” One of the boys near him whispered. “That’s you!”
The boy’s face drained of color. He hesitated only momentarily, then turned and began to run in the opposite direction of the stage. No one made a move to stop him; they were all too startled. Before he could reach the edge of the square, however, a Peacekeeper grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to the ground.
There was a moment of silence, and then, “I volunteer as tribute.” Natasha’s head snapped around to see a tall, well-muscled boy with tan skin and brown hair. He had to be nearing his nineteenth birthday, judging by his size. He made his way to the stage slowly, shoulders tense. He kept glancing at where Toynbee was now being dragged off by a group of three Peacekeepers.
He has potential, Natasha thought to herself, but he’s nervous. He shouldn’t be so distracted by the boy.
Still, nobody else seemed to notice his slip-up, so she supposed it must not have been that obvious. At least, not to those that hadn’t been trained to notice every detail, no matter how slight. Or perhaps they were simply so distracted by the fact that someone had tried to escape that they weren’t paying enough attention to their real tribute.
“And your name, sir?” Their escort, a pink-haired girl who couldn’t be much older than Natasha, questioned. She was new this year, and she kept chewing on her lip when she thought no one was looking.
He spoke in a low, gruff voice. Even with her acute senses, Natasha couldn’t quite make out what he said, but the escort turned to speak into the microphone. “Let’s have a round of applause for our newest volunteer, Erik Lehnsherr!”
There was a moment of hesitation before the crowd began to applaud. Their previous escort hadn’t been anywhere near this peppy.
“And now for the girls.” She motioned for Radd to draw the next name. As he did so, Natasha stepped forward.
“There’s no need for that.” She called out. “I volunteer.”
Radd’s face cracked into a smile, but the pink-haired girl just looked confused. “Um, it’s tradition that we call the name first.” She hedged.
Natasha gave her a sickly sweet smile as she reached the steps to the stage. “Are you asking or telling?”
The girl flushed in embarrassment. “Alright, then.” The she said. “I guess we have a volunteer.”
Natasha didn’t wait to be prompted, instead stepping in front of the microphone herself. “Natasha Romanoff.” She said, still wearing that too-sweet smile.
The escort nodded. “Erik Lehnsherr and Natasha Romanoff, our tributes from District Two!”
Natasha’s smile grew as she looked over the crowd. Thousands of people, all of them counting on her to win the Games and make them proud.
She wouldn’t let them down.