Author's Note: This is partially a parody. Please keep this in mind, as there are blatant references to things that would otherwise not fit in a drama. Also, it is my first fic, so please be kind!
It's the future, and the world has become a dark place. The divide between the rich and the poor has only gotten wider. In a statement of protest and unrest, the poor had taken to dancing in flash-mob style on the streets. The rich did not approve, and war broke out to subdue those who dared to dance in this horrid street – or hip hop - fashion (rather than a beautiful ballet or the sort). The rich won, and now their people live in a place of prosperity and pop culture known as the Center (though those who sided with the poor, or are caught dancing street-style, are ejected from this place of peace). The poor are divided into Sectors.
The Center now approves of their dancing – but only for the Center's own pleasure. To mock the old uses of the dance and to remind the poor of their place, the Center made a game. Every two or three years, a group of dancers from each sector are recruited to compete against other dancers. These dance-offs appear on large screens throughout the Center, making them a spectacle. It starts as crew vs crew, until only two remain, at which point all remaining dancers must compete as individuals. At the end of these dances, the citizens of the Center vote for their favorite. The losers die nearly instantly through a variety of means decided by citizens (or leaders) of the Center. It usually is something done to them via the microchip implanted in every Sector citizen. This continues until only one dancer remains: The winner of the Step Up Games.
Today is the Harvest, the time in which a different representative from the Center comes to each sector to announce the dancers chosen to compete. No one likes this day, since only one (if any) of so many returns each time.
This day is particularly hard for Blake Collins. He steps off the train in Sector 2, amid the dust and graffiti, surrounded by guards. They wear an armor of white that already is starting to stain at the feet from the grime in the sector. Fortunately, they are dropped off just outside of the stage.
Past the shade of a tunnel, he steps into the light of the city's core, where a large, recently re-painted stage stands high above an open field, the only clean thing in an otherwise filthy environment. As Blake climbs the steps onto the stage, he looks out into the crowd of sullen faces, hoping not to see the person he knows is there. They use to both live in Sector 2, before the divide happened. Blake had pleaded for him to come to the Center, but the man refused. It's because of his stupid love for that street dancing, Blake thinks, still searching the crowd. It's because of that girl…
Andie West watches Blake from the crowd. He never liked me, she recalls, remembering a simpler time when that could only mean that she wasn't accepted to the Maryland School of the Arts. Now it could be something more deadly. She takes a deep breath and stretches her fingers before gripping Chase's hand. His fingers clench over her hand, hurting it. But the pain is good – it means they are both still alive.
When Blake reaches the podium, his eyes meet hers, and quickly turn to her right. She sees his jaw tighten, and feels the man next to her stiffen. In an attempt to comfort Chase, she grips his hand tighter. She looks to him, and notices the same intensity on his face as sits on Blake's. A family trait it seems.
"We're going to be okay," she says. Chase takes his eyes off of his brother (the one he often calls a traitor) to look at her. An attempt at a smile forms briefly on his face, but it dissipates quickly as the Center theme plays over speakers surrounding the area.
Three large screens in front of displays a logo so pristine that it somehow loops back to ugly as the music comes on full – a piece that's all strings and flowing movement, with no discernible beat. As the sound decreases in volume, the logo on the screens fades into larger versions of the man standing at the podium in front of them. Andie feels Chase turn away from the screens, leaning towards her to press a kiss into her hair. She knows it's just a distraction for him, but she pulls him closer for it anyway, leaning her head onto him.
"Welcome," Blake begins. Andie ignores the screens and watches him right in front of her. Chase continues to notice everything in any other direction. Blake continues his speech:
"Welcome to the 74th annual Step Up Games. This is a time not to be feared, but to be celebrated. This is a time to bring glory, honor, and wealth not only to yourself, but to your sector." He pauses a moment, as if people are to cheer. When the silence lingers too long, he continues. "Since I am originally, and will always be in my heart, from Sector 2, I hope that you can make us proud. The best will be sent out, and the even better will be the one to return. Let that be someone from here this year."
Something falters in his already grim voice. It catches Andie's ear, and she straightens up. He was looking at her and Chase with his last sentence, and pauses a moment on them before his eyes pull away, his speech coming to a close.
"So let us be glad to begin," he says in his best grandiose voice, a slight quiver giving him away, "with your president."
He dramatically lifts his arm towards the screen, which, instead of showing him lifting his arm towards the screen, dissolves to a man with whitened hair. Everyone knows him, but the screen still displays his title: President Winters.
Winters smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes.
"My citizens," he begins. "I am delighted to have you all united on this wonderful occasion."
"'Cause nothing unites liking dividing us against each other, right?" says a familiar voice to Andie's left.
Andie looks over at her friend. He stands by her side, with the mess of dark curls that is his hair blocking a part of his face. It's grown longer this year. Robert Alexander III watches the screen, his expression is glazed over with thoughts elsewhere.
"Moose," Andie says in greeting. He smiles and quickly and nods at her before turning back to the screen.
While Chase is tense, his grip tight in Andie's hand, Moose can't seem to sit still. His fingers wiggle, his feet cause his whole body to bounce. Andie notes that she, herself, has a tell of her nerves: Her free hand taps her leg without rhythm.
President Winters is brief this year. Before Andie is even done looking at Moose, she can hear the president say, "but enough from me. Lets remember why it began."
The screen dissolves to a map of the country. A voice over, a sensual feminine tone, begins:
"Before the sectors were formed, the world was in chaos…"
It was the start of the traditional Step Up Games video, the one that tells the history that was mentioned previously in this story. But it tells the story from the Center's perspective: The appalling appearance of hip hop unexpectedly. An old couple stares, mouths agape, aghast at the sight. It shifts to the riots, claiming those dark days were caused by the uncontrolled street dancing, rather than both being the result of unrest.
"Fortunately," the voice over continues, "our great leaders found a way to bring peace and order back to the land: Keep the people organized into sectors, and ban all street dancing…"
It shows the military force as the hero, the thing that saves everyone. It doesn't show it how Andie remembers: The screams, the tears. Moose and his girlfriend Camille being literally pulled from each other's arms. (Andie holds Chase's hand a little more firmly, grateful to have him by her side in this moment.) The butt of a weapon striking Tyler Gage across the face simply for continuing to dance in protest. Andie hasn't seen him since that day, and a part of her hopes it stays that way.
The screens call Andie's attention again as the sultry woman's voice finishes the familiar video's narration:
"Let us begin… the Harvest."
A lump forms in Andie's throat and stays there no matter how many times she swallows. She notes her own foot tapping, her legs shifting. How can Chase be such a stone?
The screens dissolve, from the video to a live feed of a crowd and a podium. But it is a different sector, a different group standing around nervously. Andie knows it, since she used to visit the area before the separation had started: Sector 1. The crowd is too dense to pick anyone person out, but there's one in the crowd for which Andie searches. She knows she won't find him.
Before she can find anyone, the screen switches to a close up on the podium. A woman with short, blond hair and small eyes stands at the front. She's a contemporary choreographer. Andie remembers her from the pre-division days.
The woman clears her throat and leans down a little too close to the microphone. She comes through loud and mildly unclear.
"In the crew," she starts, "for Sector 1 will be…"
The list of names begin. Andie knows very few of them, but knows enough to believe they won't be returning home from the Games. It is now widely known that the Center picks who will be competing in each games, and how many from each sector. Andie wonders to herself what these men and women did that has the Center wishing them all dead.
"The last member of the crew," the woman says, still having not moved back from the mic. She pauses here, lingering in the sentence, as if it will draw out her time in the spot light.
Finally, she says two words. Two words that seem to have a seismic effect on the ground beneath Andie, making her lose her balance just a little. (She remains standing thanks to the tight grip of one Chase Collins). Two words that cause Andie's heart to sink to the pit of her stomach.
"Tyler Gage!"
He walks to the stage from somewhere unknown to Andie. In a blink, he's there, standing on the stage next to the rest of a crew that seems doomed to failure. She can't help but wonder if he was the target all along somehow, that the others are pawns to see his certain fall, something that would otherwise not likely happen.
"No," Andie hears herself say. Chase's hand slips out of hers and strokes her back, an attempt at comfort. She can feel Moose on her other side, hugging her.
But the moment dies quickly. The screens fill with Blake Collins at the podium. It's their turn to see who is called to join the crew.
She watches him in person, ignoring the screens on either side of him. He's looking down at some notes and wipes his brow. The list is already right there in front of him. He knows the names he's about to call. Andie studies his face, trying to read her or Chase's fate on it.
"In the crew for Sector 2," he starts. His voice is much smaller than the woman's was – much smaller than it is on an average day, even. Andie feels her heart pounding heavier at this. Blake continues to look down at his notes, glancing up at the crowd. A part of her wonders if he will be asked to return with this display, and for a moment that distracts her.
But only for a moment.
"Robert 'Moose' Alexander the third."
Andie looks to her friend. Moose makes eye contact with no one, though a gloss covers his eyes and his mouth contorts, as if he is trying to force a smile. Once he starts walking forward, he succeeds in allowing a quick look around and an artificial smile to appear.
"It's alright," he says, looking at his friends in an apparent daze. "I can win this."
He's soon on the stage, staring out above the crowd. He's failing at keeping the smile on his face, and gives in to the frown that wants to be there. His nervous bounce is visible from where Andie can see him.
It doesn't get much better from there. Andie can only watch as Hair, Kido, Fly, Monster, Cable, Missy and Smiles all end up on that stage. She recognizes each of them and knows their skills. At least they have a better chance than sector 1, Andie thinks. She is still close to some of them, too: Kido and Missy danced by her side during some of her hardest times. Her mind moves farther back, going back to a time that she knew all of them.
The drum of her heartbeat sounds like a fast-pace death march as she realizes what is happening.
"It's our crew," she says in a panicked whisper. "It's our crew."
"What?" Chase starts, turning his grim expression away from the stage to meet her eyes. "Andie, calm down and tell me what you mean."
But she can't calm down. Three others she doesn't recognize join her friends on stage, but it doesn't lull her into a sense of security.
"It's the MSA crew," she sputters out, her voice starting to rise. "They're harvesting the whole MSA crew, which means-"
"Andie West." Blake's voice interrupts her, confirming her fear. Without thinking, her body numb, she pulls away from Chase. She's pretty sure she hears him saying "no," but it sounds like it's coming through a wall.
"I volunteer!" Chase shouts, but it is in vain: Everyone knows they stopped taking volunteers after that Kat girl caused so much trouble.
Andie feels herself slip from his outstretched hands and walk up to the stage. She doesn't even remember walking up the steps, but she is soon standing between the podium and Kido.
The crowd looks like blotches of colors before everything becomes all too clear. She sees Chase staring in despair from the crowd, but she doesn't look at him for too long. She watches Blake instead, saying a silent prayer that he is ending things there.
But he isn't. She can tell. From next to him, she sees his lip quivering, a streak of moisture escaping from the corner of his eye. "And," he says, but his voice breaks and he grips onto the podium, an attempt to regain composure.
"No," Andie whispers to him urgently. He takes a deep breath and continues:
"And the last member of the crew – "
"I'm the last, say it – "
"- for sector 2 – "
"Blake, please."
She hates to plead. But she needs to. She will do anything to possibly spare him. It seems to work. Blake chokes a second and looks at her. He bites his lip, forcing himself to remain composed. But he shakes his head and mouths, "I can't." He looks back to the crowd, destroying Andie's hope in the process:
"Chase Collins."