Chapter Text
The Reaping was upon District 3.
The Creator had raised Moon and his family to be in the Hunger Games.
Most families disliked the idea of preparing their children for the reaping; they looked down on the Career Districts, though they never said it.
Sun and Terra told their family often enough for Moon to get the unspoken opinions, however.
But their family wasn’t like the others. Their father, whose true name was Sven Ivanov, created them, yes, created them, for the sole purpose of winning the Hunger Games.
The Creator was never a father to any of them. He kept them alive, did repairs when he needed to, but he never stayed and worried.
That was a job that Terra and Sun took over.
They worried for Moon and Eclipse whenever the two of them worked too late at night. They worried for Cosmos whenever they flinched and jumped at sudden noises.
They worried for the day one of them was to be reaped.
While their father said being reaped was a great honour, because of the chance of riches, Moon knew the chances of them surviving were small.
Each of them had their own downsides.
Terra was strong, but she was an easy target for anyone with a long-range weapon. A well-shot bow or spear would be enough for Terra if she couldn’t react in time.
Sun reacted quickly, and he knew how to protect his own, but he was easily trusting. One wrong person would leave Sun in a situation he couldn’t get out of.
Cosmos was only slightly older than Terra, made a mere year before her by Eclipse. Despite this, they were less experienced than everyone. They disliked harming others without reason, and even with reason, they could refuse.
They were easily the weakest of the family.
Eclipse was the most likely to survive the games if he were ever reaped. He had his way with nature and his way with a weapon. He was skilled with a variety of weapons and quick on his feet. He could very well be a victor if he wanted to.
Then, it left Moon. Moon was nothing special. He was decent with weapons, preferably a heavy stick or metal pole, but nothing extraordinary.
His only saving grace would be technological and his intelligence. Seeing as technology was not allowed in the arena, his chances dwindled dramatically.
Of course, there was no complete 0 chance, not in the Hunger Games, but compared to his siblings, he was just as weak as Cosmos, but twice as useless.
The Reaping wasn’t quite that special in District 3. The square was dressed with colourful banners, but there was a subdued, almost silent chatter.
Moon had gone through the order for so long that he was on autopilot. He only focused back in when District 3’s escort, a human named Raven Chatham, started drawing names.
First, the girls were drawn, Moon held his artificial breath, willing all he could that it wasn’t Terra.
The tribute was someone Moon was unacquainted with, but he knew them through Terra and Cosmos’s words.
The tribute drawn was named Mars. He was not a girl, but when he was 12, he was forced to place himself in the girls' bowl. Once he grew and shared the information that he was not, in fact, a girl despite how his creator made him, the Peacekeepers refused to change his name to the right bowl.
Something about having to go through the bowl for a painstakingly long time, but the District knew that they couldn’t bother.
It was one of the reasons why Moon and Cosmos’s names were in the “boys” bowl rather than any other miscellaneous one. A fact that ticked Moon off, but he willed himself to ignore since there was nothing he could do about it.
Mars stepped onto the stage with no comment; the same could not be said about his sister, Earth. Moon could see the animatronic step out of the 16-year-old line to reach for her brother, or to volunteer as tribute.
The only reason she stops is when another person stops in front of her. The only reason Moon knows is that she stops and goes back to her place without another sound.
Moon can only guess she stopped because of Lunar, an animatronic she was often seen with.
Moon could feel his mechanical heart clench. He felt terribly bad for Earth, but some selfish part of him was so glad it was not Terra.
His internal gratitude was interrupted once the second tribute started being drawn.
Moon could feel the oil in his pumps slow as the name was called out.
Cosmos.