The Capitol's anthem blared from every speaker positioned around the square in District 7. Balthazar, an eccentric from the Capitol who insisted on wearing huge golden wings over a black suit at all times, was stood on the stage between two glass containers. Today was the reaping.
"Now!" Boomed Balthazar in his silly adopted accent. "I'm sure you all know how this works. I pick two of you lot to go fight to the death for our entertainment!"
A lot of people hated Balthazar for his frank, crude, don't-give-a-shit attitude but Dean liked him. At 15, Dean Winchester had a warped sense of humour and Balthazar's jokes fit right in. Dean sighed. Another year, another reaping, another two kids off to die. Never before had the reaping bothered him, if he was picked he would fight, no big deal. But this year Sammy was here. Dean's eyes scanned the crowd of 12 year olds and found Sam's. Emerald green locked on chocolate brown and Dean smirked. It would look almost menacing if you didn't know him, but Sam knew that slight look of cockiness and it calmed him more than words ever could.
Dean hadn't realised he'd zoned out until he heard a small cry. Jo.
