Taking Flight - Prologue

If you tell me it was all for nothing then I'll tell you what,
 yeah, we're gonna start a ruckus - The Young International

Alana Ryker; Peacekeeper.

We move through the District quickly, jabbing our guns at any citizens who come near us. With no hesitation, we climb over the fence that corrals the people of District Eleven within its borders. The woods are empty, but the three of us remain close together, as if invisible walls are squishing us together.

Juniper, with her aqua colored hair and peach skin, holds her hand out for me to stop walking. I come to a halt, and she throws herself down on a tree stump. "I hate District Eleven. Remind me again why we're here?" She pouts, raising the goggles around her neck to rest on the top of her head. Juniper flicks a blue curl from her face, sighing.

It's times like these I wonder how the woman sitting before me could possibly be from District Two. How could Juniper, born and raised in Two; taught to be ruthless, cruel, and bloodthirsty, become such a Capitolite with dyed features and an obnoxious personality? It confuses me every time I think about it. However, at the end of the day, no matter what her hair color or personality is; Juniper is from home.

"There's been signs of rebellion in the District. We were sent to look around, then report anything suspicious we see to President Lark." Vallick explains, leaning against a nearby blossom-filled tree.

After a few minutes of silence, Juniper scoffs in disgust. "I haven't seen anything except a bunch of kids picking a bunch of fruit. Nothing suspicious, unless you count the old man that came up, begging for food." She makes a tsk, tsk, sound.

I purse my lips and shake my head, "President Lark is going to be sending in the bombs if we, or anyone else, reports rebellious behavior. Take this seriously for once, June."

Juniper stands up, flattening her crisp white pants with her hands. "Fine, fine. If we have to be serious," she shoots a glance at me, "let's find some people idiotic enough to rebel and let 'em bomb this crap of a District." Without waiting for our responses, she walks ahead, purposely stepping on any leaf or twig she comes across.

"It wasn't exactly a rebellion, y'know. They just got mad 'cause of the whole Games fiasco of last year." Vallick points out, marching in stiff movements like we do in training camp.

I bob my head in agreement, "Vallick has a point. All of the Districts are upset after Ingrid from District Two tortured the poor girl from Seven in the Games. Not really a rebellion."

She waves a dismissive hand in the air, rolling her eyes for the hundredth time this hour. "It's not a rebellion yet, but it will be soon." Then she stops in her tracks, pointing over to the left. "See what's over there? There's a big shack - smoke coming out of the chimney. Probably rebels in there, I'd bet."

Vallick looks at me like, 'Can you believe this?'. He clears his throat and stares at Juniper, "Or it could just be an innocent family."

Juniper aims her gun at the shack, an amused smile appearing on her lips as though she's been dying to get a chance to use her weapon, "In the middle of the woods? As if."

Vallick opens his mouth to respond, but she cuts him off, "We'd better walk around and go the back way, don't want to scare who ever is in there off, do we?"

With all the noise we've been making, it's really no use. I want to say, If there's rebels in there, they've probably already seen us - or heard us.

The three of us start putting the years of training we had to endure to be able to don these white suits and fancy weaponry to use, moving silently on our tip toes, using hand signals to communicate; two out of three of us doing so hesitantly. We stop every few minutes to press our backs against a tree, holding our breaths as we look for any animals or citizens.

Once we arrive at the hut, the tension is floating in the air like a thick cloud of smoke. Juniper mouths 'On three' and Vallick and I nod, narrowing our eyes and focusing on the door. Juniper begins counting silently to three, holding up her fingers as she goes along.

Juniper shouts, "Three!", and we raise our legs, place our feet on the door, and kick the wooden door down. All of us get down on our knees and aim our guns, but we're only pointing at the air. No one is in the shack.

I stomp my foot down onto the bamboo floor, "I knew it! This is probably just some poor man's house. Waste of ti-"

She cuts me off and slams her hand over my mouth, "Probably hiding from us, Alana. We're Peacekeepers with guns, they're weak rebels. They're probably scared, just as they should be."

Juniper kicks over one of the stools that sit at the round kitchen table, and then all hell breaks loose.

A hand covers my mouth, yanking me back against the owner's chest as I struggle against the tight grip. I can hear Juniper screaming in agony as the clatter of a gun dropping to the ground echoes in my ears.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Vallick pinned to the floor, kicking his feet and flailing his arms wildly while his gun sits a few inches from his body.

I manage to pull the trigger of my own weapon, firing randomly around the room. My captor's grip remains tight, regardless of the bullets that are being shot wildly.

I swing my leg backwards, hope that my enemy is a man, and kick my capturer's crotch. A grunt fills my ear, and I sink my teeth into the hand covering my mouth. Another grunt as the grip is released.

Looking over my shoulder, I can see that Juniper has escaped her own captor, inched herself over to her gun, and is now firing around randomly. A man with cocoa brown skin and a bald head comes barreling towards me, but I sidestep, grabbing his left arm and putting it behind him, grabbing his right and holding them together tightly with one hand.

With my other hand, I slam the man's head against a sharp corner of the wall. He falls to the ground, a moaning mess in a pool of his own blood.

It all happens so fast. Juniper and I press our backs together, firing at our attackers with deadly accuracy. As one falls to the ground, more replace the empty spot. Vallick has long forgotten his gun, using pure force to take them down.

Someone gets a grip of my light brown hair and yanks it down, slamming the back of my head against the floor. A woman with dirty blonde hair gets on top of me, pressing her knees against my throat as she keeps me pinned to the floor. The blonde grabs the top of my hair and keeps slamming my head against the floor until everything goes black, and the last thing I hear is Juniper screaming in pain.

When my eyesight comes back to me, dots still framing my vision, I'm tied to a chair in a dark room with no windows. Craning my neck, I can see Juniper is in the same position as me, a piece of white fabric tied around her eyes. Vallick is nowhere to be found.

"They're Peacekeepers, sent from the Capitol. We should kill them now, Spud." The woman with dirty blonde hair stands in front of me, her hands behind her back as she shoots daggers at me with dark brown eyes.

Next to her, a man with a mop of brown curls and green eyes is standing, clearly the one in charge as he stands with his back straight, eyebrows knitted together in curiosity as he studies Juniper and I.

"Patience, Willow," His voice is calm as he stands firm. "after all, they could be very useful to us."

Willow laughs dryly, "Useful? These two are utterly useless without their precious weapons. We'd do them a favor by killing them now, save them the pain and torture that would come to them if we spared their lives."

Spud steps closer to me and gets on his knees. He cups my chin and stares into my eyes. "Tell me, love. Will you answer our questions, or will you be difficult with us?"

I jerk my head to the side, growling as I avoid his gaze. "I won't tell you jack shit, you monsters."

He smiles sadly, a disappointed look in his eyes. "Am I really the monster? You allow children to fight to the death in an arena, and consider yourself sane. You allowed a seventeen year old to torture a twelve year old to death for your own entertainment. How the hell could you think you're the slightest bit sane?"

My eyes widen as it comes to me. "You're the rebels Lark told us about, aren't you? You're trying to start a rebellion!"

Spud shakes his head. "We aren't trying, my dear. It's already started."

I narrow my eyes at him, anger boiling in me as I kick my legs and flail my arms, thought it's useless against the bonds that hold me to the chair. "President Lark knows where we are. She'll send a rescue team for us, and kill all of you. She'll bomb the District, too."

The brown-eyed man only stands up and walks back to Perrie, standing in the same formal position as she is. "Kill the one with blue hair. Spare the brunette. I think she could be-" He pauses as the corners of his lips twitch upwards into a smile, "- useful to us."

In a matter of thirty seconds, Perrie has grabbed Juniper by the ear, dragging her in front of me. "Pretend it's like the Games you two love so much. We're all tributes, and I suppose the odds weren't in this one's favor this time." Juniper is releasing one ear-piercing scream after the other, desperately trying to take down Perrie.

Perrie reaches towards her own belt and unsheathes a knife from a holster. She places the blade against Juniper's peach-colored throat, grinning the entire time. Perrie jerks her hand to the side, applying pressure against Juniper's throat, and everything turns red as Juniper's body falls to the floor and Perrie lets out a cackle.

A/N:

Sorry for a long and crappy prologue. I took a prologue from a deleted story from my old account and edited it a great deal, so it's probably not the best. I just wanted to get the point across that, "Hey, there's a new rebellion starting."

There's no information in this chapter in regards to the Arena, but I will be writing another chapter(s?) with some hints.

This a SYOT; Submit Your Own Tribute.

I'm sure you all know what kind of tributes I'm expecting; interesting, detailed, non-Mary Sues/Gary Stus. Right?

Most stories have a 'deadline' for submitting, and don't accept/decline any tributes 'till that date. So, yeah, I'll be jumping onto that bandwagon.

The deadline for submitting will be December 14th, which is a Saturday. If I don't have enough tributes by that date, I'll go ahead and expand the deadline.

The rest of the information including the form and rules will be on my profile. Happy submitting, and may the odds be ever in your favor . (: