Summary: (This story is set before the 74th Hunger Games and before the Rebellion against the Capitol took place.) It is the year 3209 and Kurt Hummel has been chosen as the male tribute from District 10 to represent his District in the televised battle for survival: The Hunger Games.
Warnings: Violence, I suppose.
Prologue:
Hi guys! So I've decided to start a new fanfic. The title of it may change because I'm not too sure about it yet but we'll see… I have abandoned The Best of Enemies yet! It's just that everytime that I go to write the next chapter, I hit a metaphorical brick wall….if that makes sense….
Anyway, I will try to post at least one chapter per week (probably on a weekend) so the next chapter will most likely be out on Saturday or Sunday.
I'm really sorry if this doesn't turn out well… it's just that I'm not very good at the whole 'writing stories' thing.
So, without further ado and all that crap, here goes…
The video tape finished with a click and the screens went blank.
The crowd was silent as Traci Simmons ascended the steps of the stage and made his way towards the podium. He tapped twice before speaking, "Welcome, District Ten, to the twenty fifth annual Hunger Games Reaping." He waited for the applause that didn't come before continuing, "As you all know, the Hunger Games is an honourable event in which two tributes from each of the twelve districts fight within an arena for their survival. At the end of the games, the remaining tribute is crowned victor and receives a lifetime of wealth and luxury...But first, we have to select our courageous tributes!"
The crowd shuffled anxiously.
This was it.
One boy and one girl's life would be changed today, most likely for the worse, and it was all down to a name on a small slip of paper.
Two peacekeepers slowly stepped forward and both placed a large bowl of paper slips on the table in front of him, but Traci's eyes remained on the crowd. To his left stood the girls and to his right, the boys. There was a young girl in the front row, around twelve years of age. She wore a faded blue pinafore-dress that came down to her knees; her feet were bare. Her long, blond hair was braided loosely and rested softly against her back, but this wasn't what caught Traci's attention. No. What caught his attention was the angry scar running diagonally across her face from her hairline to the middle of her right cheek. Traci's breath caught in his throat as he stared.
The peacekeeper to his left coughed quietly, shaking him out of his thoughts.
"Right, um, well," He let out a quick, nervous laugh as he ran a tanned hand through his perfectly coiffed hair, "Let's get on with it shall we?...Ladies first."
He glanced once again at the young girl. Her eyes were fixed on him. He gulped.
Traci visibly shook himself and reached his hand forward into the left bowl. He let his hand swirl around in the pool of paper before grasping a slip of paper between his thumb and index finger, and bringing his hand out of the bowl. The paper felt soft and fragile, trapped between his finger tips. Helpless even.
He gently unfolded the paper and glanced at the printed name on the slip.
Tina Cohen-Chang
An almost-silent, collective sigh of relief ran through the crowd to the left of him, not quite masking the harsh gasp that rang out from a slim Asian girl in the middle of the second row. The girls around her backed away from her slowly, as if, at that one announcement of her name, she had suddenly contracted a contagious, lethal disease. In a way, she had.
The girl stumbled forward as two peacekeepers grabbed either arm and pulled her towards the stage, her small whimpers echoing as the crowd had turned silent once again. Traci's grin failed to reach his eyes as he offered a hand to her and helped her up the steps, "Ladies and Gentlemen, your female tribute for District Ten: Miss Tina Cohen-Chang!" He clapped enthusiastically. The claps slowly subsided when he realised that no one was joining him.
Clearing his throat, he leaned towards the microphone and stage-whispered, "And now, the gents." He flashed an encouraging smile to Tina, who snivelled in response, before leaning towards the bowl on his right and reaching his hand inside; once again, he let his hand glide through the sea of paper. He seized a slip, more forcefully this time, and unfolded the paper.
Kurt Hummel
"Kurt Hummel."
There was a short pause before a loud cry rang out, "No! Not my boy! You can't let them take my boy!" A stout middle-aged man pushed his way towards the low barrier separating the potential tributes from the rest of the District. Three peacekeepers rushed towards him, holding him back as he thrashed wildly and screamed,"T-they can't! No! Kurt!"He sank to his knees, sobbing.
The only other movement was the slow parting of the crowd on the right as a pale, effeminate boy made his way towards the stage with his head held high. He refused to let the peacekeepers touch him. He refused to appear weak.
Traci saw the boy gulp nervously before he grabbed onto the rail tightly an ascended the stairs towards him. The boy, no, young man, had must have been no older than sixteen years of age and here he was, walking towards his death. They both were.
Traci shook his head again to focus. It was his first time as a district escort. He was bound to feel a bit of sympathy towards his tributes, but that didn't mean it would stop him from doing his job, and right now, his job was to congratulate Tina Cohen-Chang and Kurt Hummel for being District Ten's lucky tributes that get the chance to take part in the twenty-fifth annual Hunger Games. So he did.
"Can we get a round of applause for our District Ten tributes?"
No applause.
"Ah, um, right then... Thank you all for attending the Reaping for the twenty-fifth annual Hunger Games, District Ten. Miss Tina Cohen-Chang and Mr Kurt Hummel will be fighting for your District in this year's Hunger Games! I will see you again next year, but, until then, Happy Hunger Games...may the odds be ever in your favour!"
With that, Traci Simmons turned and descended the steps of the stage, the tributes slowly following. He made his way through the peacekeepers, making sure that the tributes were still following, before he stopped in front of a tall, marble building. The building stuck out like a sore thumb in the bleakness of District Ten.
The double doors swung open and he quickly ushered them inside; he took one last glance at District Ten. He took in the skinny and undernourished children, the unstable, iron huts, and the dull sky.
Traci grimaced at the poverty that lay before him.
Yes. May the odds be ever in your favour.
Please review x