You know that feeling where something has happened before, and it's happening again?

"Ladies first."

I sometimes hate that feeling.

The inevitable sigh escapes my lungs at the Capitolite's announcement, and I have to resist the urge to slouch while standing in line with the other male candidates.

They're seriously milking the theatrics as much as possible. I guess in the end, the legacy of the Games permeates everything here in Panem, even though almost three years have passed since those events have officially been abolished. Granted, at least the dizzy bint didn't start the ceremony off with that whole "odds being in your favor" drivel; that would have probably pushed things into the farcical. Well… more farcical than they already are.

Also, instead of rummaging around for slips in some reaping bowl, she instead takes out an embossed envelop and opens it to read out the name of the lucky winner:

"Charlene Russell."

Everybody gives the girl a polite congratulatory applause as she walks up the central aisle to reach the steps of the Tower. I don't remember seeing her on the on the ride here, and there's little-to-no reason for any self-respecting resident of Central to be a participant, which must mean that she's from the earthquake-ravaged hellhole that's East City; seriously, almost half a century has passed since the Great Quake and they still haven't got their shit together.

Anyways, the applause and the thinly-veiled expression of accomplishment on the girl's face is probably the main thing that differentiates this from a reaping. Because instead of being randomly picked for an event where a bunch of kids run around and die pathetically like the idiots they are — barring that last one, but the less said about it the better — the kids in this ceremony are purposefully chosen for the chance to go to school under the Paylor Reconstruction Ordinance. Apparently, our president wants to "create a strong foundation to build upon a better tomorrow" or something along those lines. So last year, under that philosophy, she announced the PRO plan which contains a patchwork of different government projects that are supposed to get this nation all prosperous 'n' shit. Well, one of the programs is one that will send a guy and girl from each district to study, free of charge, at the University of Panem in the Capitol; the idea being that it would train new leaders for the future.

I'm actually more than capable to affording both the tuition, travel, and living expenses — I mean for nice living quarters; not some morphling-ridden tenement in District Town — but my folks knew that there was no way I was going to waste money going to some liberal arts program where I'd be surrounded by limp-wristed Capitolites and resentful district kids with lofty notions in those added minds of theirs. I don't want to be in the Capitol; I want to be here in Central, but that's still not a possibility right now even though I'm legally an adult. So when this program was announced, Ma and Pa made a deal with me: if I entered into this contest and at least became a prospective candidate, they'd try to pull some strings to allow me to return; if I somehow win, then there should be no reason I couldn't return after I finish with everything.

So I agreed to their terms and applied; better than pouring over the genetic information of random agricultural products. After applying, I had to take a comprehensive test which served as a screening tool. There were the usual math, science, literacy, and conceptual questions — a bit on the steep side of the learning curve, but nothing out of the ordinary — but the biggest part of the test contained the subject of civics. Fortunately, they allowed ample time to study beforehand. And lo and behold, I passed, which made me a prospective candidate. From there, background info of the candidates gets sent to the committee so that they can decide on who they deem worthy to attend the program.

That last "background check" part is why I'm more than sure they're not going to pick me.

"And now, for the boys."

Yeah yeah yeah… let's get this over with so I can go back ho—

"Edwen Bannon."

-me? Wait, what.

To say that I'm floored would be an understatement. I mean, I know that I'm smart enough to get in but I also know that my background should have been considered a liability in the decision-making process; not to mention that it seems a bit unfair to pick the one guy who is actually able to afford this.

What the hell were these people taking when they chose me?

The announcer calling my name again shakes me out of my thoughts, and I look up to see that, to my abject mortification, the cameras have already focused on me and are projecting my wide-eyed and slackjawed visage for the crowds — not to mention those watching the nationwide broadcast — to see. Great, now I look as mentally-deficient as the mouth-breathing chuckleheads surrounding me.

After quickly clamping my mouth shut and adopting an expression of professional impassiveness, my previous bemusement is carefully smoothed away by me casually straightening my vest before I begin my walk to the center aisle. As I do so, the usual polite applause comes from the rest of the kids and their families, though those who do recognize me aren't bothering to hide their contempt. However, behind them, an uproarious cheer goes up from the crowd at the perimeter — something they didn't do for Russell, which confirms where she's from — and I can't help but grin and wave a bit. While I may no longer reside in Central, everybody here so far treats me as if I haven't left in the first place; then again it's not like I left by choice, no thanks to the damn Rebellion.

Oh well… there's no point dwelling over the past when there's stuff to do now.

I take a look forward to see the people standing at the top of the steps. Besides the program representatives, there are the winners from Districts Eight, Twelve, and Eleven — Three's the last district for this section — plus District Three's governor who has come down from the new capital city, which is around a hundred klicks north of us; the place is still under refurbishment, which probably explains why we are having the ceremony here and not there. And then there are Central's officials: Mayor Charlton, Provost Lewis, Secretary Beetee — as the new department head, he has moved the Department of Science and Technology from the Capitol to here; it's fitting in my opinion — and of course, probably the scariest person in all of Panem, Commander Porus.

As I walk up, the officials are all applauding as well, and the ones from Central actually have smiles on their faces; well, except for the Commandant, but that's a given. Suddenly a look of confusion appears on the outsider officials' faces, the smiles turn to exasperation on the Central officials, and the Commandant pinching the bridge of her nose. When Beetee starts rapidly beckoning for me to hurry up, I comply but give him a questioning expression; he motions to one of the screens, and that's when I see a certain CMY-haired bastard striding purposefully on my trail and rapidly shortening the distance between us.

Sonuva…

Before I can pick up my pace, I'm lifted off the ground and thrown across a set of shoulders.

As I'm carried the rest of the way, I growl, "Luce, what the fu—"

"Language, Ned," the Corpsman chides in that infuriatingly chirpy manner of his. "This is still being broadcasted; don't want to make yourself look bad, do you?"

"You are doing a good job of it yourself. I hope you get NJP'd for this."

"Off-duty and out-of-uniform," he counters.

"Officially maybe. Unofficially, don't you still live in the same household as the Commandant?" AKA his mother; I suspect that he's not too old to get grounded or at least lectured to, which is a lot worse than it sounds when the person lecturing is taken into account. She's probably not too thrilled about the fact that Three, or at least Central, is probably becoming the laughing stock of Panem.

Luce's freckles are thrown into contrast as his face pales ever so slightly, but he casually states, "Worth it. Fact."

I sigh in response before noticing something: "Hmm… you're actually looking pretty sharp right now, and your cover's missing. She dressed you, didn't she."

"Thanks, but what makes you say that?"

"Because we both know that if fashion sense was tied to combat capability, you'd lose a fight against a snowflake… in summertime. Joe ain't any better, and you are old enough that the Commandant ain't going to be dressing you anytime soon. That only leaves the Bi—"

"Hold that thought for a moment, Ned," Luce interjects. "You know that I'm always one to respect your opinion. Just keep in mind that Lucy is still my sister and you are within my grasp."

Despite the friendly tone, I recognize a warning when I hear it. Sometimes it's easy to forget that this guy is capable of killing a person with his bare hands in more ways than I can count and that he can also inflict nonlethal-yet-excruciating bodily harm in just as many ways. "Well… you get the idea. So… is there a reason you actually decided to rock the smart casual look?"

"Ain't it obvious?" When I don't respond, he huffs slightly. "We knew that you'd win. So making sure that you have a memorable entrance is the least that we could do, and it helps to looks good while doing it."

"It seems that I'm the only one who reckons it's weird that I got chos—aah!"

We must have reach our destination as Luce immediately lets go, which causes me to tumble down his back. Fortunately, he's done this more than a few times in the past, so I know how to hit the ground in a way that not only prevents injury but also keeps my clothes from being scuffed.

However, while I stand back up, my attempt at salvaging any remnant of my dignity is short-lived as a torrent of ice water cascades over me. After the initial shock, I turn around and push back my now-soaking hair to look upon a grinning Joe and Brue — both also dressed fairly decently — holding a now-empty cooler between them. All of the outsiders in the crowd appear to be frozen in shock while those from Central have increased the volumes of their cheers; the officials just look resigned.

All three of the guys give me congratulatory pats on the back and tousle my hair before they quickly scurry off when the Commandant sends a scowl in their direction. Thing is, their version of a congratulations may have been on the… excessive side, but I can't say I'm not pleased to see them again. In general, it's good to be back, if only for a short while. If the outsiders have a problem with this display, they can go suck eggs and pound sand.

While still in a dripping state, I accept congratulations from the officials in a more professional manner, though the ones from Central also pat me on the back. I could be imagining it, but I swear that I even see a hint of a smile on the Commandant's face.

My future classmates are less amicable; all seven of them are looking at me with thinly veiled contempt and disdain. As we shake hands, I bare my teeth in a technical smile and, without visibly moving my lips, say, "Hey guys! Do I know any of you?" A slight check verifies that sound is not being broadcasted. Good.

Russell decides to speak for the group. "No…"

At her answer, I make sure they all get a good look at my face and eyes before stating about how much I really care what they think:

"Then fuck off."

Disdain is replaced by shock as they focus more on looking presentable for the cameras, which I also turn to smile for.

Who says I can't be diplomatic?

~oOo~

After the ceremony, the trip to the Capitol is pretty uneventful. Before the train left, we were allowed to mingle around; so most of the wait was spent with Ma fretting over me while Pa wished the best of luck. Of course both of them also warned me to stay out of trouble as much as I can since the Capitol is a media haven and, unlike West City, isn't a place where they can keep me out of the spotlight if I get caught doing anything risky. In all honesty, I already knew that and planned on keeping a low profile anyways; the last thing I want is to be the source of a smear campaign on the company. But, I allowed them to voice their concerns; after all, they may be a bit overbearing sometimes but still are my folks. The guys also managed to catch me right before I left — sure enough, all three were chewed-out by the Commandant before they were free to go — and gave me a couple gifts to liven up wherever I'm going to be staying.

The train itself is actually a refurbished tribute train, with most of the amenities still intact; though from what I've been told, the food we're provided is a lot more low-key than what was provided for Games tributes. Two other trains are tasked with bringing winners to the Capitol: one goes through Ten, Five, and the former Career districts, while the other's in charge of Thirteen, Six, Seven, and Nine. They apparently carefully staged the ceremony schedules to have everybody arrive at around the same time.

Most of the time, I keep to myself expect for whenever it comes time to eat, and the others don't really bother interacting with me in turn. The only two who seemed to have already gotten over the initial shock of my introduction to them are the cousins from Eight: Natt and Danni Jolson. Then again, if the marks on their bodies are any indication, they have probably seen and experienced more than the other kids. Also, it doesn't mean that they've stopped giving me resentful glances.

In the meantime, while it won't be until we reach the Capitol when we receive the majority of the specific information pertaining to the program, a sheet goes around which shows who we are going to be paired with as roommates. Funnily enough, all that's provided is a name; no picture; no district. Presumably, the whole idea is for everybody to have no preconceptions about who they room with. Of course, the fact that you can watch the reapi— I mean acceptance ceremonies sort of negates that. Granted, I haven't watched them and can't be assed to watch the replays, so I'll be going in blind.

Edwen Bannon

Diocletian Cohen

Or not.

They may not state what district the guy comes from, but I've been around enough Guardians to peg a name as being Two-ish. If so, this may be interesting; I wonder if he comes from a Peacekeeper-slash-Career or geological-slash-industrial background. Probably the latter since a good chunk of those on the other side of the war fled the country to settle north of the Hadean Wastes — Paylor's currently in negotiations with them with the hope that they come back into the fold; at the very least, things seem to be civil enough that they're trading with us — and almost all of the kids who were training to be Careers have mysteriously disappeared for some reason.

In any case, all I'm hoping for is that this "Diocletian" won't be some preachy pain in the ass like many kids have become after the Rebellion. I also hope that he's within half-a-foot of me.

It's not long before the train is plunged into darkness, which must mean that we're getting close. When we finally reemerge from the mountain tunnel, the majority of the kids run to the widow to peer outside with expressions of curiosity. The only ones who haven't moved from our spots are me and the duo from Eight; I'm sure they've been here before and not just as the average visitor. In my case, I've already visited once as well but only right after the double-demise of Paylor's immediate predecessors, and it was via aircraft instead of train; also I'm right by the window already so I don't have to exert myself to take a look outside.

By now, they've cleaned up all the debris from the war, and much of the city has been renovated and rebuilt already. The buildings are definitely not as ridiculously gaudy and impractical as they used to be, but the place is still more ostentatious than the rest of the nation. Even with the redistribution in effect, I guess that some things still never change.

As the train pulls into the station, I can see that the other two have just made it as well; their passengers are already disembarking. After gathering our stuff, we end up doing the same and join our interdistrict compatriots in the main hall. Here, everybody is told to find their roommate and buddy-up with them to get to know each other. Everybody else had to have seen the footage as the process goes pretty smoothly, though Natt doesn't seem too thrilled at being paired with the guy from One; I forget if the male's Opal and the female's Velvet, or if it's the other way around. In due time, everybody's paired up… except for me.

Where the hell is that guy?

After a couple minutes of looking around and making sure that it wasn't just a case of us missing each other, I decide to turn around and head back to the train platform.

Welp, this was a waste of my ti—

I barely get to take a step forward when I collide face-first into what feels like a brick wall — or maybe it collided with me — and get knocked backwards to the ground.

"Aah! Oh man, I'm so sorry! Are you alright?" To his credit, the guy does sound genuinely distressed. Also, judging from the young Two-ish accent, I think I just found my roommate. "Here, let me help you up."

Normally, I'm one to help myself up, but I'm too busy massaging my nose to object being lifted to my feet. "Thanks." After making sure everything's accounted for, I finally take a look at the source of the collision. "But don't worry, I'm a—aww... you have got to be shitting me…"

Okay, relax… just because the guy in front of you has a Two accent and looks to be within the age range, and there's nobody else around that fits the profile, it doesn't mean he's your roommate. There's an easy way to confirm this. So I push my initial dismay under and casually ask, "Diocletian?"

The kid looks a bit uneasy — actually his uneasiness seems to be a continuation of me swearing to his face — but states, "Yeah. Though if you don't mind, I prefer Dio." Dammit! "You're Edwen, right?"

Instead of answering right away, I take a good long gander at the source of my dismay. My hope for a roommate who's within six inches of height hasn't just failed to be fulfilled; it's been smashed to pieces and burnt to cinders. He's not just taller than me but actually has at least a foot on my height; hell, he possibly has an inch or two on Luce, and it's clear that he's even more athletic in build which is no small feat.

The next observation actually doesn't bug me at all like the first one, but it's very likely that my prediction of him not being from a Peacekeeper-slash-Career background will be proven false as well. Seriously, this guy looks like a poster child for Career recruitment. Even disregarding the physical build, everything about him screams Two-based military discipline: sandy hair cut within regulation, light but fitted tunic belted over trousers, said trousers without a trace of wrinkling and tucked carefully into legging-secured boots, said boots shined to an even matte finish… The only thing that potentially mars the clean-cut image is the dimpled scar near his left temple; however, even that just helps to show off a martial appearance.

In the end though, the Career image falls short a bit. Because, for all of the grooming, there is this quality to the kid that hints that he'd be a piss-poor Career. It could be his constant fidgeting as I scrutinize him. It could be the friendly and concerned tone in his voice which I've not heard in any Career interview. It could be the look in his eyes that lacks any sort of arrogance or aggression, which is more than I can say for the other kids in this program.

Whatever it is, for some irrational reason, I'm finding this not-Career to be quite agreeable. So I exhale a huff of air before, against better judgment, offering my hand and replying, "You can just call me Ned."

Once I say that, a lot of the nervous fidgeting dissipates as a relived smile breaks on Dio's face and he gives me an eager, if crushing, handshake. Though I notice that he also seems to be having some reservations about something judging by the way he's looking at me; that kind of look where you know that someone is having an opinion about you but is too polite to say anything even though the lack of subtlety renders it all moot. So I roll my eyes and sigh, "If we're going to be roommates, you might as well get whatever's on your mind off."

Dio seems a bit startled by my statement and the fidgeting comes back in full force. "You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure." Hopefully it's about the scars, my eyes, or even my background. As long as it's not about—

My train of thought is interrupted by me being picked up and, seemingly in an effortless manner, being lifted up to be held at arm's-length so that we are at eye level to each other; those eyes — the amber color of them is bright enough to almost veer into the same kind of golden yellow that certain birds of prey contain — make me want to take a blood sample.

Before I can ask Dio what the hell he's doing, the smile on his face widens with an almost childlike glee, and before I can stop the incoming horror, he pulls me into a crushing hug.

And over my suffocated squawks of protest, the idiot squeals, "You're. Just. So. Portable!"

Something tells me that this is going to be a long school year…

A/N: Alright, this is something that would probably feel more familiar for those who have already read Seeds of Panem. However, I hope that this story will be able to stand on it's own; I will occasionally redirect to SoP.

This reasoning behind this story is twofold. One is just to make a fun slice-of-life story, but another purpose is to show what Panem would look like during its post-war reconstruction period. What kind of challenges would it face? What resentments would linger? What would the government look like and how are diplomatic relations? Stuff like that. Also there may be some intersections with canon characters here and there.

Also: for those who have read Vox Libertas, this story is canon-compliant. However, there is stuff here that's important to the Spielpolitik AU, including the sequel. In fact, if you are reading Vox Libertas at the moment, I suggest putting this story on hold until you finish.

Oh, and it probably goes without saying that the opinions espoused by Ned aren't necessarily that of the author. Seriously, he is not somebody I would normally consider to be a role model.

In any case, hope you enjoy.