Title: Love Is Not AContract,It Is Not An Equation ,And It Is Not A Happy Ending

Relationship(s): Sidney Crosby/Cristiano Ronaldo,Carvina Carvalho/Ricardo Carvalho, Iker Casillas/Sara Conbonero, Marc-Andre Fleury/Veronique Fleury, Mario Lemieux/Nathalie Lemieux, James Neal/Paul Martin, Jonathan Toews/Patrick Kane

This was inspired by the Hunger Games series by Suzanne Collins. I've wanted to write this for a while, but I never got around to it. This was originally posted on archiveofourown dot org under my account. So don't be alarmed.

If you have any questions, concern, or opinions, leave them in the comments and I'll get back to you ASAP.

This goes unbeta'd, so forgive me for any mistakes.

Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one. I make no money from this.

Chapter One:

In the year 3015, the world was half way into losing a war against the power of the mighty Australians. Three months and two years later, they successfully took over all the world with the help of Russia, Germany, England, and the United States of America.

On October 21st, 3017, no more than seven months into their victory, then president Michael Richardson created a tournament that tests the strengths of their children, aptly named the 'World Games'.

USA, Canada, Portugal, Argentina, England, Germany, Spain, Sweden, Russia, and Uruguay all had an annual reaping. Sending two boys into the World Games.

In the ninty-ninth Game, Luis Suarez from Uruguay had been diagnosed with a mental disorder after he consistently bit his opponents. He was killed by the Game makers (though they deny it), and his country was pulled from the games and replaced by France.

The one hundredth game is projected to be the best of them all. One hundred years of entertainment for the Capital (held in Sydney, Australia), one hundred years of support for the wealthy countries (USA, Germany, Russia, England), and one hundred years of endless torture, unfair treatment, and starvation for everyone else.

There seemed to be no hope in a world like this. Pray all you want, they say, no God will help you.

Sidney Crosby rakes his fingers through his hair in an attempt to keep the curls down. When that fails, he sighs, turning around to face his baby sister. Taylor technically isn't a baby because she's ten years old, but he all always call her that.

"You ready to go?" Trina, his mother, asks in her soft voice.

Sid pats Taylor's head, "Ready as I'll ever be."

Sidney already won the Games three years ago. He had to kill three tributes. Two from Argentina, the other from Spain. He hadn't wanted to, but he had to come back for Taylor, for his mother. His father, Troy, died two months after his sister's birth and he was the only one who could take care of them.

Since he already won, Sidney can't be chosen again. But he still has to sit with the other victors and see who he'll be mentoring. He also has a friend, James Neal, who turns eighteen in a few months, making this his last reaping.

The commons area in which the event takes place isn't to far away, taking them a mere ten minutes to walk there. Sidney tries not to look at the twelve years old who are entering their name for the first time, or the families on the sidelines, tears streaking down their cheeks and hands pressed together as they pray. It always breaks his heart to see mothers wait to hear whether or not their boy's name will be called, little sisters looking confused and sad, fathers (if they have one) trying to be strong when they're just as scared.

Sid gives his mother a hug and his sister a pat on the head before walking over to the victor's circle. The only other people who sit there are Mario Lemieux (his mentor) and Marc-Andre Fleury (he won two years ago under Sid's mentoring).

"Everybody welcome!" Nathalie Lemieux, Mario's wife, announces with sadness in her eyes as usual, "I am honored to welcome you to the one hundredth World Games!" She smiles apologetically, "I know we are all very excited!" She pauses licking her lips nervously, "Since this is such a ... special occasion, President Michael Richardson and Head Game maker David Beckham have informed me that .. one of the previous victors will be rereaped along with a new tribute."

Sidney clenches his jaw shut to keep it from falling open. He had such a hard time time three years ago. He can't go through it again. He already has to many nightmares. He's gotten more than enough blood on his hand (literally, he left the arena soaked unit). He can't leave his family .. Not again .. they already suffered ...

But he doesn't want Mario or Marc to go back in either. Mario has health problems and a family. Marc just had a baby with his wife, Veronique, and he's so innocent and sweet and .. and ..

"The first tribute is .." Nathalie reaches her hand into the bowl, shuffling through the three pieces of paper. The nerves showing in her eyes as she slowly unfolds the paper, "M ... M .. M-Mario Lemieu-ux."

Mario frowns, grabbing the arms of the chair to help himself up.

Sidney instantly reacts, springing up from his chair, "I volunteer!"

"Sid-" Mario begins to protests, but Sidney grabs his hand.

"Its alright."

Sidney's heart beats furiously and his legs tremble a bit as he walks onto the stage. He's not going to let his emotions show. He won't let the Capital know the hollering and crying of his baby sister is once again breaking him.

Nathalie hugs him, "Thank you so much."

"I'd never let him go through this again." Sid mumbles as she pulls away,

Mario's wife wipes the tear from the corner of her eye and reaches into the second bowl, "And the other tribute is .. Claude Giroux!"

Claude, a small ginger that's only a year younger than Sidney, walks wth shaky legs and panic set into his eyes. Sid nods sympathetically, remembering how he himself looked, how Marc had looked, which wasn't much different.

The tributes shake hands upon Nathalie's request. Sidney shows absolutely no emotion. Especially not when his best friend James rushes over to Trina to help with a sobbing and trashing Taylor.

"No again! I can't lose my Sid again!" She hollers.

Sidney just bites the inside of his cheek. He's doing this for Mario, the man who saved his life before, and he'll do it again.

A guard takes Sidney by the elbow, ushering him into the back of a van. Claude is forced in violently, mumbling pleas in French.

"Please, please. This all has to be a mistake! I-I can't fight for my life!"

The guard slams the door closed, making Giroux wince.

"It'll be okay .. Just calm down. If you keep freaking out, they'll sedate you until we get to our night quarters. Trust me, you'll need this time more than you think." Sidney consoled the distressed man.

Claude sniffles, "S-Sedate me? That's legal?"

Sid half smiles, "Claude, they're making us fight for our lives. I highly doubt they care whether or not that's legal."

The ginger nods, "I know. I'm just .. I'm so scared. I don't wanna die."

Sidney grabs his hand, "Nobody does. Just .. don't think about dying. Think about coming home."

Claude wipes his face, offering a small smile of gratitude.

"Now get some sleep. You'll need it." Sid instructs, crossing his arms over his chest and shutting his eyes.

"Sid?"

"Hm?"

"Good luck."

"You too."

...

Cristiano Ronaldo shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Rereaping former victors? Isn't the point of winning to never go back into the arena? Leave it to the Capital to come up with some stupid shit like this.

"The first tribute is," Carvina Carvalho, the wife of the infamous victor Ricardo Carbalho who won because the man he loved gave up his life so Ricky could come home (talk about awkward for his wife ..).

"Cristiano Ronaldo dos Santos Aveiro!"

Without missing a beat, Cris springs up, pointing a stunning smile at the camera as he struts to the stage.

"And the second tribute is ... Joāo Pereira!"

The two shakes hands before being lead into a van, Cris blows a kiss to no one in particular and wipes an imaginary tear from his eye (showing off for the cameras of course).

Joāo snarls at him once the doors are shut, "Don't think winning the Capital over will win you the Games again. Because it won't."

Cristiano smirks, "That is no way to make friends."

"I don't want you as a friend fuck face."

"Good," Cris chuckles, "Then I promise that you'll be my first kill. But don't worry. It'll be slow, painful, and you'll wish you never disrespected Cristiano Ronaldo."

Joāo snorts but keeps quiet the rest of the ride.

If theres one thing to know about Cristiano, its that he never breaks a promise.

...

Nicklas Bäckström stands beside previous victor Sebastian Larsson with his head up high. Nobody will believe him, but Nicky is going to win. He doesn't think he will, doesn't hope he will. Nope. He may not be big, and he may not be strong. But he is smart, fast, and good with weappns. That is why he is going to win over the Capital. He is going to kill his last opponent. He is going to look every family he encounters on the Victory Tour in the eyes and tell them he killed their son. Then he will go home, hug his mother, and he'll be done with the Games until next year.

And there's nothing anyone can do about it.

Notes:

Wow. That was a lot of words and some long paragraphs. If you actually took the time to read this, I thank you.

I know the 'World Games' is kinda lame, but I couldn't think of anything else. I will accept suggestions though ..

Don't be afraid to ask questions or voice your concerns. I appreciate ALL feedback, especially constructive criticism. I'm still kind of working out some of the kinks as I write.

Anyways, thank you for showing interests in my unusual mixing of people. I know its odd, but I've always written about odd things.

Thank you.