Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games.
Call To Arms.
Chapter One: Desire.
Prologue, Part One.
President Belsarion was intimidating, to say the least.
The confined spaces and cramped bodies did nothing to make his skeletal appearance seem more. . .human. His sunken cheeks and stressed-out eyes raked over as many people as he could muster, before he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.
Around him was his small council: Vice President Valor, Commander Ares, and Counsellors Fennix and Lisanna.
"You all know why you have all been summoned," Valor spoke up on his behalf. "It's time to find a solution that will sate the citizens."
The war had ended a month ago. Two long, desperate, pain-filled years that hung over everyone like a blanket. Days and weeks and months that were spent spilling blood, counting casualties. It was finally over. . .but they had another crisis on their hands. A small number of said casualties had been Capitolites. Two bombs - one that struck a hospital, the other a school.
Before the celebrations. . .Capitolites mourned their fallen. Children and the sick. How could the districts be so cruel to target innocents? It was as if nobody saw the irony - that, across Panem, the districts dug mass graves for their deceased. Too poor to have lone burials. No real place or time to mourn their beloved in their own uncertain futures.
Now. . .they wanted revenge. They thirsted for the districts' atonement, their blood.
"We have to be careful not to start another war," Fennix pointed out. "As much as the citizens want blood, if we push the districts too far, we might have to deal with the consequences. Deploying more soldiers, rationing more food. . .I doubt we could handle another dark day on our hands."
"My soldiers are ready for anything," Ares grinned.
"Have you not slaughtered enough children?"
"It's not my fault that the districts decided to send in small-fry. I simply did my duty and protected Panem. I don't think I saw you out there in the dirt with my boys, Fennix. Snuggled up in your panties as real men defended their homes."
Fennix snorted dismissively, looking at Valor for answers. Valor simply shook his head. "Violence is out of the question, Commander Ares. We need a solution that will last centuries."
"I agree," Lisanna spoke up. She laid out paperwork in front of her. "When we reclaimed each district, every rebel was recorded for reference. . .just in case we were to face any further issues."
"Your point?" Ares crossed his arms over his hulking chest, smiled condescendingly at her.
Lisanna ignored him. "We can use this record to our advantage."
President Belsarion - who had simply listened in on his council's bickering - looked up at Lisanna. "What are you suggesting, Counsellor?"
"To our amazement, a third of the rebels were in fact children. Some we caught red-handed. Others were passed to us in the form of deals. We have roughly a hundred children with skills and attributes of soldiers, roughened by war," Lisanna beamed proudly, sliding the notes to her superior, "I have a solution."
Lisanna continued her train of thought as Belsarion scanned the findings. True to her word, a good chunk of the names were children as young as fifteen: forced or willingly, it was hard to say. Maybe even a mixture of both. There had been rumours of children on the front line. Too outlandish to truly believe unless you witnessed it. Each district had at least ten children rebels. Some with incredible feats burned against their names.
"This kid. . .flipped a tank?"
Lisanna looked at the President. She smiled. "He did indeed. A homemade landmine. He's from District Three, after all, so it shouldn't be that much of a surprise."
"He's sixteen. . ." Belsarion almost laughed. So the rumours had been true. The districts had been beaten to the point that they called upon children to fill out their ranks.
How many had they killed? Belsarion couldn't help but wonder. When he took power, he promised himself to be a kind leader. Respectful and understanding. He had opened the borders for the districts. Increased their rations. He deployed his own personal army - aptly named Peacekeepers - in order to watch over them and help out. He wanted to strengthen Panem's links.
Where had it all gone wrong? When did it get to the point where they tore each other down?
He never wanted war - it was only when the school was bombed, and the citizens flew into rage over the poor children that he decided to act. And that one action forced them into a two-year long war where children were used as pawns, pieces on a chessboard.
"President Belsarion?"
Belsarion came around. Glanced at his people. "Apologies. I was lost in thought. . .you were saying, Counsellor?"
"Execution," Lisanna repeated herself. "We bring forth, say, a third of these rebel children. Pit them against each other in an arena. It should be enough to sate the citizens' appetite, whilst making a last stand against the districts - reminding them that we hold their fate in our hands, and we were kind enough to only punish a select few."
Fennix shot out of his seat. Fury was etched in his beady eyes. "They're children!"
"I like it!" Ares grinned.
"It's barbaric! We'd be no better than the districts who murdered our own children in that bomb attack!"
"They sent their children to war," Lisanna calmly injected. "If they were honestly worried about losing them, they shouldn't have dragged them into it. And, if you look at these reports. . .some of these children are hardly innocent. Some of them killed soldiers, Fennix."
"I vote no," Fennix said vehemently, sitting down. "I'm completely against it. . .are you even human, Lisanna? To suggest a thing? You have teenagers yourself. Would you like them to fight to the death against one another?"
Lisanna's calm exterior dropped. A moment of coldness flashed over her face. "I didn't drag my children into something so dangerous and let them play soldiers, did I? But the districts did. . .and those kids were pretty good at slaughtering our troops. I find it only fair."
President Belsarion couldn't believe the notion. He hated it. He didn't want to shed any more unnecessary blood. He sighed, pinched his nose again. Sickness made him feel delirious. As much as he hated the idea. . .the Capitol wanted something extravagant, or they'd want his head on a platter instead. By why not adults? Why did they pick on the supposed weak? Was it because. . .they were easier to control? Stripped from their comforts, they might not fight as hard. . .
"I'm in," Ares beamed, "In fact, I'm willing to send my troops to round them all up for you. Prisoners of war."
"Two to one," Lisanna smiled, "Vice President?"
For a brief moment, Valor didn't answer. But then he silently nodded.
It fell to President Belsarion. His word was final. No matter their opinions, if he said yes or no, it would happen. He rolled the idea around in his head. It was complete madness, forcing children to fight until they die. What would it achieve? It might stir another war.
Then again, with District Two back on side and District Thirteen completely obliterated. . .their forces would be significantly weaker.
No! Ludicrous! You're not a murderer, Belsarion. . .you're too soft.
He wanted to avoid another war. He didn't want to be the President that took his citizens to war and then orchestrated a vicious bloodbath of children after, as if making a show of power. He simply wasn't that guy.
But that guy won wars. . .was adored by crazed people. It made them feel safe, secure. He only ever wanted that.
"Sir?" Valor placed a hand on his shoulder, "Are you feeling okay? You look pale. . ."
"I'm fine," Belsarion straightened up, "I just need to process this."
"You're considering it?" Fennix sounded aghast.
"Have some respect." Valor shot him a harsh glare, a gentle reminder. "Take as long as you need, Sir. We don't have to act upon it yet. I'm sure the citizens will understand. . ."
His people. He had promised them an answer by nightfall. If he postponed it. . .
Without thinking, without allowing another thought into his already stressed-out head, Belsarion nodded, eyes shut. He heard Fennix sigh. Ares clap his hands. Valor's warm hand was still on his shoulder, a comfortable slip of humanity in what felt like utter darkness.
"Excellent," Lisanna seemed happy. "I'll make the preparations. A call to arms, so to speak."
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