A/N: This fic and Bitten are the two I'm going to focus on the most.
End Of Days is one of my favourite films and after watching it tonight for the first time in a while I knew I had to do my own version of it in the form of a fanfiction.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games or the general idea of End of Days.
Prologue
Italy: December 28th 1979
Father Heavensbee stared at the moon in horror. The book he held in front of him depicted a similar image, of a moon with a streak of cloud above it similar to an eyebrow. He compared the image several times. He had to. He had to be sure. Finally, he realized it was true. It was the moon they had been expecting, the turn they had feared ever since they were ordained.
God's Eye.
Father Heavensbee immediately dropped the book onto the table and left his room in a hurry. Every time he passed the Paple Guards, they saluted him which he didn't exactly feel like he deserved. As a servant of God, everyone is equal, especially in the House of The Lord. Father Heavensbee barely had time to think, his thoughts were filled with endless images of terror and pain and blood and anguish. It had begun.
The Pope sat where he always sat, surrounded by his fellow Fathers in the most grandest room in the Vatican. Father Heavensbee noted that he looked tired as ever, sitting weakly in his wheelchair, his back stooped with years of duty pressed on his shoulders. Father Heavensbee genuflected, took the Pope's hand and kissed it humbly. Once on his feet again, he began to explain.
"Father, the time has arrived. The moon has reached the state known as God's Eye," Father Heavensbee explained. "The child has been born."
The Pope simply nodded, as if he had expected it all along. He turned to his faithful servant, who stood by his side at all times. "Send emissions out to every city," he murmured. The servant nodded and made his way out of the room.
One of the surrounding Fathers-Father Undersee-immediately stood up. "We must find the child and kill it," he said. "Kill it before it's too late."
"No," The Pope said, his voice weak but firm. "We must not kill. That is not God's will. It is the will of the devil. We must find the child before his worshippers do and protect him. Never fight fire with fire, the end is result is only a bigger fire. We must protect, always." His eyes fell on Heavensbee. "You must find the child and protect him."
Father Heavensbee nodded. "Of course, Father," he said with a bow.
The Pope smiled faintly and blessed him. "Have faith, my child, and never lose trust in God."
"I won't, Father," Father Heavensbee promised. "I won't."
~xXx~
New York City: 28th of December 1979
Eileen Mellark was exhausted, Alma could clearly see this. She stood by the woman's beside and dabbed her forehead as she struggled through labour. Her screams echoed in the ward, racous roars of agony. Some say childbirth is the most beautiful thing on earth. Alma only saw it as a disgusting trial of sick, unnecessary pain.
"Stop pushing Mrs Mellark while I check the cord isn't wrapped around the child's neck," the doctor instructed.
"You can see the head?" Eileen gasped.
"Yes, we can," the doctor grinned. "Okay, one last push should do it. Ready?"
Eileen nodded and with a massive inhale, she gave one, last, almighty push. The relief was obvious as it washed over her face in waves while the air filled with the painful cries of a startled child. Eileen began to cry as her baby boy was handed to her, her eyes alight with happiness. "Oh, he's beautiful," she sobbed, holding her boy close to her chest. "Oh my god, he's so beautiful."
Alma tried not to turn her nose up at the use of such a disgusting phrase. Stepping forward, she gently prised the child from Eileen's arms. "We're just going to clean him up now," she said.
"Do you have to?" Eileen whimpered.
"Yes, but it's alright, we'll only be a minute," Alma said in her sweetest voice. "Don't worry, he'll be back in your arms in no time."
As she walked away, pushing the child in the incubator, she couldn't not agree with Eileen. The baby was beautiful. But maybe that was just because she could see the child's future in his blue eyes. What was to become of him in the innocent gaze of the baby. What despair those eyes were to experience. What morbid and terrifying sights were still to be seen.
No one questioned Alma when she took the baby to the lower floors. She was one of the most trustworthy nurses in the hospital, she obviously knew what she was doing. Besides, she was only taking the child to be washed up. What was there to be concerned about?
Snow was waiting for her in the lower floors. Upon seeing him she hastened her pace, sick with excitement of what was to come. When she reached the table, she lifted the baby out of the incubator and laid him on the table in front of Snow. "Is it him?" he asked.
"Check for yourself," Alma all but purred, delirious with anticipation.
Snow took the baby's chubby arm into his hand and examined it thoroughly. Yes, there it was. Stamped onto the skin-in the style of a common birth mark-was the sign. The little curve in the shape of a horse shoe. The mark of the devil. The prophecy had been true.
"Where's the snake?" Snow asked.
One of his henchmen-Alma hadn't bothered to learn names-brought the clear bell jar that contained the poisonous viper that had been obtained from the Amazon just two days prior. Snow stuck his hand into the jar, completely unafriad, and yanked the reptile out. Alma watched with twisted pleasure as the baby lay on its back on the table, unaware of what was going on around it. The cries had ceased, thank Satan, and the child simply gurgled and cooed at the people surrounding him.
Snow drove his dagger into the viper's neck, dragging it down the body so blood spluttered out. He held the corpse over the baby's body, so the blood splattered the infant's skin. Snow then proceeded to dig his finger into the snake's neck, twisted it, and retracted the digit which was now coated in the thick liquid that was the reptile's cold blood.
The baby didn't protest when Snow slipped the blood soaked finger between its lips and chanted in latin. It was only a child, after all, and had no idea what was going on.
Alma returned the baby to Eileen with the same faux cheer as before, unable to tear his eyes off the child. She could see the future in that one baby. The future bloodshed and glory. It thrilled her to think about.
"Have you thought of any names?" she asked kindly.
Eileen nodded, smiling at her child fondly. "Peeta. His name is Peeta."
Alma smirked, her true intents hidden behind the affectionate mask she had worn ever since she had sold her soul. "Peeta Mellark. What a wonderful name," she praised, pulling faces that made the baby boy laugh in delight.
Peeta Mellark was born.
The End of Days had begun.
A/N: I know it's short but it's only the Prologue.
If you know the movie End of Days-great!-this story will basically follow the general idea of it but won't be exactly the same. If you haven't, I'd greatly recommend it!
Please R&R! :D