A/N: I know I'm not the first to invent this crossover, but I'm not trying to copy anyone. After all, Marvel did it first in Ultimate Spiderman #91-4!
No previous Marvel knowledge needed!
Disclaimer: Many of the names and powers used in this story are based on Marvel Comics, but are not intended to represent the canon characters, and are only references to the original work. I do not own Marvel, or the Hunger Games.
THE HUNGER GAMES: GENERATION X
Chapter One
My hands are stuffed deep into my pockets as I trudge through the rain toward the town square. The chill of winter still clings to the April air, and a cold breeze bites through my jacket.
Of course, the bad weather only fuels the growing dread everyone feels on Reaping day. Families huddle together under umbrellas, stealing the last precious moments together before they reach the square. Tears stain the face of the girl hiding behind the dumpsters, terrified of going in for the first time. Cameras are perched on every rooftop, and peacekeepers line the streets.
I glare at them mutinously, knowing they can't do anything about it today, and I'm gratified to feel them flinch under my gaze. These peacekeepers were sent from the Capitol, so most of them have never been this close to a mutant before in their life. And, as usual, they're afraid. Well, good.
I'm shivering by the time I reach the square to sign in. I feel a prick in my finger, and then I'm herded into a roped-off area with other girls my age. Even now, the peacekeepers are keeping their distance.
No-one speaks. There's nothing for us to say. We can only wait in the freezing rain for what feels like hours, until the mayor finally steps onto the stage and his voice tones in over the loud-speakers.
He tells the history of Panem, the country that is now all that remains of what was once called North America. He tells about the race of mutants that came out of humanity, and about Magnus, the most powerful of them all, who rose up against the humans and declared that his people should be worshipped as gods. Those were the Dark Days. Terrible war raged across the land, and although it seemed an easy victory for mutantkind, the humans overpowered them with their genetically engineered mutts and advanced weaponry. Magnus was killed, and the mutants surrendered. But that was not enough for the humans.
They built a strong Capitol for themselves, and banished all mutants to the surrounding districts, to work like slaves and provide for the humans in the Capitol. "Peacekeepers" were sent to make sure that no mutant ever arose with the power to spark another war, and, to make sure that the mutant population never got out of hand again, the Capitol created the Hunger Games.
The rules of the Hunger Games are simple. In punishment for their uprising, each of the twelve districts must provide one girl and one boy, called tributes. The twenty-four tributes are imprisoned in a vast outdoor arena, and over a period of several weeks, they must fight to the death. The last tribute standing wins.
This "Victor" receives a life of ease back home, and their district is showered with prizes, largely consisting of food. They are even treated like a celebrity in the Capitol. But everyone knows that the humans will never really love us. No matter what we do. No matter what games we play. They will always hate mutants.
My attention returns to the Reaping when the mayor introduces District Eight's escort, Nikia Aether.
"Happy Hunger Games," her voice echoes over the loud-speakers, ghostly as ever. "And may the odds be ever in your favor."
She doesn't waste any time giving a speech, and turns directly to the glass bowls that hold the names of every eligible child in the district. One for the boys, and one for the girls.
As usual, she reaches into the boys' first. She digs her hand deep into the bowl, and pulls out one slip of paper. The crowd draws in a collective breath as she crosses back to the podium, smooths the slip of paper, and reads in a cold, clear voice: "Warren Worthington."
Every head turns to watch a tall, golden-haired boy make his way to the stage. The creamy wings that rise from his back are so large that they nearly drag on the ground behind him.
Warren Worthington. I know him. We've never actually spoken, but we're in the same year at school. He's nice. And now he's standing next to Nikia Aether like an angel sentenced to death.
Something about that image makes me so angry that I want to cry - and I almost do - but not before Nikia draws another slip of paper and I hear my name booming over the loud-speakers.
"Valeria Franklin."
I blink. Everyone's staring at me. One of the girls next to me gasps. But none of it connects in my mind.
"Valeria?" repeats Nikia, scanning the crowd for me. Someone shoves me forward, and I stumble out onto the path. I can feel the eyes of everyone in the square looking at me. And it's not just them. Everyone in Panem is watching me right now.
Shakily, I step forward, and steeling my nerve, I climb the steps up to the stage.
Nikia Aether's voice is startlingly close to me as she announces, "District Eight, your tributes!"
Warren Worthington extends his hand to me, and we shake. Then a group of peacekeepers marches us through the front door of the Justice Building, and I'm conducted to a room and left alone.
I sit down on a cushioned sofa, and let the events of the past five minutes wash over me.
For at least twenty seconds, it's all I can do to keep from running out the door. Once that passes, I collapse onto the velvet pillows and will myself into oblivion.
I don't know how much later, but eventually a peacekeeper wakes me, and I am taken through the back door to a waiting car.
I've never been in a car before, but there's no time to enjoy it because we're at the station in a couple of minutes.
As I get out, I catch sight of my own face on the big screen above the railway. It's live coverage of my arrival, and besides looking a little bedraggled from standing out in the rain, I don't actually look too bad.
Warren hasn't been crying, but there is so much emotion in his eyes that I'm sure some of the Capitol women are. He looks so desperate, so lost. For a moment, I can't help but feel sorry for him. But then I remember that it's probably just part of his strategy, and I try to forget about it.
We are forced to stand in the doorway of the train for several minutes while reporters crowd around us, and their insect-like cameras capture every detail of our faces.
When we're finally allowed inside, the doors close automatically behind us, and the train begins to move at once.
We glance at each other, unsure of what to do now. This is a part of the process that we never see at home, and I have no idea what comes next.
That is, until Nikia Aether emerges from a doorway on the other side of the car. She shows us to our rooms immediately, and tells us we can do whatever we like until dinner's ready.
I peel off my wet clothes as soon as I am alone, and rummage through the huge dresser until I find something that looks comfortable.
Once I've dressed in a soft white blouse and black pants, I set to untangling my mess of red curls. It takes a while, but eventually I get it all brushed out. And now I'm faced with the thoughts I've been pushing away since I left the Justice Building.
I sink down onto my thick mattress and draw my knees up to my chin. Tears threaten to form in my eyes, but I resolve against that, for now.
At least I'm not leaving a family behind, like Warren is. My parents died when I was a kid, and I never had any brothers or sisters. I guess that turned out to be a good thing in the end.
But I did have friends. A future. I might have even gotten married, someday. But now I'll never know, because the Capitol hates mutants, and they're going to kill me just for being one. Actually, they're going to make other mutants do it for them. Which is so much worse.