AN: This is going to be a long fic, with multiple character deaths throughout, some of which are going to be fairly gruesome. It's quite different to The Hunger Games in the sense that it's set in Lima, I decided to go for a house set up, instead of a place in the Capitol as their base until the Games begin, and it focuses on most of the characters instead of one. The majority of the chapters (I don't know how many there will be) will be a little bit shorter than this, but they're all going to be pretty long regardless. I'm still fairly new to fic writing, so your reviews mean the world to me! Thank you :)

Santana Lopez groaned, and shifted restlessly in her bed. Two days to go. The soft warmth of her pillows masked the dangers that awaited her, but she was determined to make the most of it. In a few days she might be sleeping in a damp cave, or worse, dead. There was a knock at the door, and the matron, a motherly figure named Carole, entered.

"Come on Santana," she said. "Everybody else is up, and breakfast is ready."

She attempted her best smile, but it never quite reached her eyes. Every year she watched a group of new kids come and go, and she knew that pretty soon almost all of them would be dead. Santana rubbed away the sleep from her eyes, and climbed out of bed. Carole took her pile of washing from its place on the floor, and left the room. Santana moved to the window, and surveyed the gardens outside. The house they would reside in until the beginning of the Games was large, big enough for everyone to feel isolated, and the grounds were no different. Vast fields, an orchard, even a small stone quarry – little reminders of home.

Home meant something different to each of them. There were twelve districts that made up the majority of Lima. In the centre of them all was the Capitol, led by President Figgins, who ruled all of the lower districts with an iron fist. There were once thirteen districts, but, many years ago, there was a great rebellion, and, as a punishment, the thirteenth district was destroyed. As a yearly reminder of this attempt to overthrow the Capitol, two children, a girl and a boy, aged between fifteen and eighteen, from each district were chosen to participate in The Hunger Games – a deadly fight to the death broadcast throughout Lima.

For Santana, home meant the roar of wind turbines, solar panels littering the roofs of houses, and the odd nuclear testing facility. She was from District 5, which was responsible for supplying the whole of Lima with power. The male tribute from District 5 was Jesse St. James, a mysterious boy, who lived not far from Santana. They'd attended the same school as young children, as their parents did before them, but, until now, they'd barely spoken. Usually it was the other way round – the tributes from the same district would have probably laughed and played together as children, and would now act as though they were complete strangers, preparing to kill each other. But this year, for some reason, was different.

It baffled the people of Lima, who viewed the whole experience of the Games on televisions in their districts. This year, most of the tributes had bonded, seemingly over a love of music, and appeared to be close. Those in charge at the Capitol initially viewed this as dangerous – the districts did not have contact with each other, and showing these twenty-four children bonding could have inspired another rebellion – but this quickly gave way to the realisation that this would make the Games even more exciting. There's something extra heart-breaking about watching friends kill each other.

Santana left her room, her bare feet padding quietly on the thick, crimson carpet. Along the corridor, the cold faces of the Games' previous winners stood out from illustrious portraits. Santana particularly admired one, a fierce looking girl from District 7 named Terri Del Monico, who had one almost fifteen years ago in a particularly spectacular and deadly version of the Games, where the tributes battled not only each other, but large, venomous scorpions, all whilst avoiding great pools and lakes of spitting lava. Santana was only two at the time, but the stories of the best and the worst were passed down to this day. One particularly bad tribute was a boy from District 4, named Joe Hart, who had been expected to do well, only to be killed for stepping off his starting plate before the sixty seconds was up and being blown to pieces. That was only a few years ago, and Santana remembered it well – watching the boy, with his dark eyelids, and his long hair in dreadlocks, dying on the screens in the square.

Santana made her way into the dining hall, where the individual tables for each district had been replaced by one large one, which everyone sat around, smiling, eating, and chatting happily. Santana sat herself down beside the girl from District 10, Brittany Pierce. The two were almost inseparable, and although she didn't like to admit it, Santana felt butterflies in her stomach every time the other girl would laugh. She had beautiful eyes, which really sparkled when she discussed her life at home, rearing the livestock that would feed the Capitol. A little further down from the table was the male from District 10, Blaine Anderson, who was discussing this morning's breakfast with the boy from District 8, Kurt Hummel.

District 8 was in charge of textiles, and Kurt relished the remaining days where he could wear what he liked, before they were all thrown into the plain outfits to be worn in the arena. He looked around the table, examining what each of his fellow tributes was wearing. He particularly admired Quinn Fabray's clothing, but she too was from District 8, and so her refined sense of style was to be expected. He laughed to himself as he watched her, mesmerised by the plate of bacon in front of her, and by the pretty brown haired girl sat opposite – Rachel Berry, from District 9. Kurt guessed that whatever the two were discussing, it wasn't textiles or the grain which District 9 produced, as they were both smiling, their eyes occasionally breaking contact to flicker around the room.

Nobody but Kurt particularly noticed their actions. Mike Chang, also from District 9, was busy discussing with Tina Cohen-Chang what life was like in their own districts. Tina was from District 11, where large orchards and fields of grass produced enough agriculture for the whole of Lima. District 11's male, Rory Flanagan, was chatting to Mercedes Jones from District 7, which produced lumber, Sam Evans from District 4, which was known for its fishing, and Noah Puckerman and Becky Jackson, both from District 2, who were skilled in the tough job of masonry, and for whom the grounds' quarry had been created. Unbeknownst to Kurt, he was being watched by Dave Karofsky, a boy whose quiet personality did not match his strong build. He was from District 12, which produced coal, and was the only district to have seen two victors, many, many years ago. His female counterpart, Aphasia, sat silently, eating her scrambled eggs at the end of the table. She alone had avoided too much bonding with the rest of the group, to the extent where nobody even knew her surname. It seemed she was more realistic about the prospect of having to kill everyone around her in a mere two days' time.

But she was not the only person, however, whose surname remained a mystery. Harmony, from District 4, had been so excited when she first arrived to introduce herself to the other tributes that she had talked incredibly fast, and nobody could understand what she had said. Thankfully, Jeff Sterling, a sweet-natured blond boy from District 6, which focused on transportation, had managed to work out that her first name was Harmony, but her surname had still not yet been determined, and everyone thought it rude to ask. The remaining tributes, made up of Finn Hudson from District 7, Sunshine Corazon from District 6, Jesse from District 5, Artie Abrams and Lauren Zizes from District 3, which produced technology, and Sebastian Smythe and Sugar Motta from District 1, who, as the district produced luxury goods for the Capitol were the richest, were having their own discussion in one large group, when Beiste and Burt entered the room.

Shannon Beiste and Burt were both previous victors from the Games, and had been assigned as mentors to the tributes. Beiste handled the boys, and was known for her no-nonsense attitudes. Burt looked after the girls, and was a favourite amongst the districts, as his victory in the Games had been particularly unexpected, as he had been up against another boy named Ken Tanaka, who may have lacked intelligence, but more than made up for it in brute strength. Breakfast ended, and the tributes split up into the two groups for what they believed was yet another day of training.

The training sessions were a challenge. The tributes faced having to retain a delicate balance between training enough to survive in the arena, and not showing off their skills too much to their future rivals. As the days wound down, and the Games became ever near, it was particularly essential that the tributes knew how to use some of the weapons they may be presented with in the arena, and that they could start a fire, and set traps to catch food. Different tributes were skilled in different areas. Brittany was particularly good at coaxing animals towards her, she had a natural affinity for them, and it seemed to the others that she could almost even communicate with them. Rory, with his agricultural home-life, could spot poisonous berries from harmless ones, Dave could live weights of almost double his own weight, and Sugar, who could afford training back in District 1, despite its illegality, was incredibly fast and nimble.

Today however, Burt did not lead the group to the training room, but instead to a drawing room, where he instructed the girls to be seated on one of the many couches.

"Why aren't we training?" Tina asked.

"Because today I've been instructed to prepare you for the Games," Burt replied.

"Does that mean we've finished training now?" Rachel asked quickly.

"Yes," Burt nodded. "Tomorrow you'll meet with the stylist to prepare for the interviews, and then it'll be time for you to enter the arena."

They were surprised, to say the least. Two days did not seem very long at all. Burt remained standing awkwardly, looking down at the girls, whose mouths were all slightly open in shock. They were relying on him to prepare them for the harrowing days ahead, and there was little he could say that would be of true use, or of comfort and meaning.

"The main thing you need to focus on is staying alive," Burt continued.

"Isn't that kind of the point?" Aphasia said, rolling her eyes.

"Well yes, but you need to remember to eat when you can," Burt said. "And to keep warm. You'll be surprised how often kids die from frostbite rather than being attacked."

"We're not surprised," Quinn said quietly. "We've been watching it happen all our lives."

Burt sighed; Quinn was right, and there was little he or anyone else could do about it.

"Just remember girls," Burt said. "You matter. They can put you into the arena and force you to kill each other, but they can't take away your humanity. Since you've been in this house you've all bonded, and teamwork is the key to surviving in the arena. Today may be your last chance to all have fun as a group, so I suggest you use the rest of the day wisely."

He nodded, more to himself than the girls, and made to leave the room. As he was heading out of the door, he stopped, and turned around.

"If any of you want to come and see me privately about some more training, you're welcome to. It would be a good opportunity to work on your skills without revealing them to everyone else."

With that, he was gone. The girls looked at each other somewhat suspiciously. It seemed as if everything had become real for the first time. This was their last proper day together, some of which may be spent training to kill everyone else. They were no longer friends, but children lining up for the slaughter. Aphasia was the first to stand, and leave the room.

"Do you think she's going to Burt's training session?" Lauren asked.

"Probably," Santana nodded. "She's never really been keen on the whole 'group' thing."

"But do any of you think you could do it?" Harmony asked in her usual rushed manner, her eyes glinting. "Kill her, I mean."

"I don't think I could kill anyone," Sunshine replied, shaking her head.

"I'd rip out her hair and drag her down to hell myself if I had to," Becky said.

She stood up, and marched out of the room, leaving everyone in stunned silence. Gradually, the others began to file out, leaving Santana and Brittany alone.

"San, are you going to a training session?"

"No, Britt," Santana shook her head. "I'm spending my last free day with you."

"Awesome," Brittany grinned.

Tentatively, she held out her hand, and Santana took it in her own. Brittany laughed, and stuck out her tongue, before pulling Santana out of the room, along the corridor, down some short steps, out of the house itself and into the grounds.

"Where are you taking me?" Santana laughed.

"You'll see," Brittany smiled.

They eventually stopped at a small fountain, surrounded by hedges, marked by small, white benches. Everything was pristine – the house was used for about two weeks a year and kept perfect for the rest. Brittany perched on one of the benches, and Santana followed suit, sitting next to her. Their hands remained intertwined.

"This might be the last few hours we have together," Brittany began, seemingly nervous. "So I wanted to make the most of it."

Santana's gaze dropped from Brittany's to the gravelled ground. Brittany squeezed her hand tightly.

"San?"

"Don't, Britt," Santana said.

It wasn't fair. Nothing was. In a few days they'd be parted, forever. This couldn't be happening now. Not when it seemed that they'd found each other. Brittany let go of Santana's hand, and raised it to her chin, lifting her face so that their eyes met once more.

"I won't let anything happen to you, San," Brittany said.

Santana nodded. Normally she'd be the fiercely protective one, but with Brittany it didn't seem to matter. After a second's hesitation, Brittany leaned in, and kissed her.