A/N: Hi everyone! This is my second Hunger Games fanfic, so I thought I'd tackle a topic that has been bothering me since I first read the Hunger Games: The Rebellion and the very first Games. So yeah, as it says in the summary, this fic is "OC-centric", which means that this story will be focused on original characters that I created. I couldn't really use actual HG characters anyways because this takes place about 74-75ish years before the first book.

Anyways, thanks for clicking on the link to this story and I hope you enjoy it!

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS: cussing, death

Preface

"Sorry, but I can't let you live." I say the words as I lock the door, making sure I hear the click of the tumblers before turning back to the man who used to be known as General Casca.

"W-Why? What have I ever-?" Casca pales when he sees me pull out my knife from its sheath at my hip.

I twirl the knife around in my hands lazily, pretending for a second that I don't care that this man caused my mother and three sisters to die. Then I change my mind and speak, letting my anger leak into my words. "Don't play dumb. You know perfectly well what you did. You sold Base 68 out to the Capitol forces, you filthy bastard!"

"I-I had no choice! They threatened-" He stumbles over his own words, backing up as far away from me as this small room will allow. I can see the fear in his face and I relish it, imagining for a fleeting moment that my mother and my sisters would be proud of me for what am about to do, even though I know otherwise.

"I don't care what they threatened to do! What you did was inexcusable! You caused fifty of our men to die! Traitors like you shouldn't be allowed to live!" I use the deaths of the other forty-six people of Base 68 as another excuse for my actions, even though I could care less about avenging their deaths.

"No-No, please! Please don't-" He might as well be talking to a deaf person for all the effect his words have on me. I raise the knife, and he screams.

"You should have thought about this before you gave that information to the Capitol." I make sure to look straight into Casca's eyes as I shove the knife into his forehead, watching the fear and pain cloud his vision as he dies. I keep my eyes trained on his, my grey ones locked on to the cloudy blue of his, branding his face into my memory.

It is when his eyes lose something deep in their depths that I know to yank the knife back out and shove the body away from me. That traitor isn't the first man that I've killed, and I can almost guarantee that he won't be the last.

"Serves you right." I speak to the corpse without thinking, and instead of stopping myself, I continue with my little apostrophe. "You sold them out to the Capitol. You betrayed them-you betrayed us all without so much as a second thought. We trusted you, Casca." I scream and punch his face, large droplets of blood spurting out of his nose, mouth, and eyes. "I trusted you! My mother trusted you! And you just let her die, you bastard!" I stop my tirade before I can cry, pulling my hands away from him. "Casca…"

I kick his face without putting my force into the movement. There is no point in sparing any further emotion towards the empty container. It's almost funny how easily our lives are extinguished despite how hard we try to keep ourselves alive. At least, it would be funny if only I could get the images of my mother and my sisters out of my head.

Their memories haunt me, and I know they haunt my father too. It hurts to think about them, and I know that they wouldn't want me to be sad because of them. My mother would be ashamed of me of crying over their deaths. They knew the risks of this Rebellion when it first started, and they all knew that anything they did could be the last thing they ever did.

"Antony." My father's voice startles me, and I drop my spoon, splashing hot soup onto my face and the table.

"Father!" I hastily wipe up the spilled soup, throwing the napkin into a trashcan behind me. "Do you want something?"

He nods and sits down in the seat across from me, causing a few other table's other occupants to shift uneasily in their seats. "Antony, did you kill General Casca?"

I flinch instinctively. I hadn't expected him to be so blunt. "I…Sorry Father. I didn't mean to."

He shakes his head gruffly at me, his eyes admonishing my words. "Of course you meant to. No one ever kills without meaning to. There's always been a bit of maliciousness inside of you, Antony, but I hand't thought you capable of killing someone."

I bit my bottom lip before answering. If I say the wrong words, I could be punished. "I couldn't just sit by and not do anything, Father. He told the Capitol the location of Base 68!" A few people in the cafeteria look up at the mention of the fallen Base, their anguish clear on their faces.

My father shakes his head at me. "Calm down, boy. No need to get so defensive. I understand your motives, but we could have handled the General ourselves. The execution squad was fully prepared to deliver his sentence."

"But-"

"But nothing." My father stands, his eyes focused on some place above my own. He has never, in all the fifteen years I have been alive, looked me in the face. "You only killed him for some petty shot at revenge. If you ever pull something like that again, Antony, I will personally see to it that you are punished just like any murderer would be."

I gulp. To be tried as a murderer by my own father…especially at a time of devastation like this…it is a fate that I can't afford. "Yes, Father. I'm sorry I disappointed you. I'll try to control my emotions better next time."

"For your sake I hope you do." He marches away, leaving a silent cafeteria in his wake.

My father is the (current) head of the Rebellion Against the Capitol. The old leader of this Rebellion was a woman in District Thirteen, but ever since that District got annihilated, my father has lead our forces against the Capitol. However, I've heard a few rumors that District Thirteen didn't actually get destroyed, that they made some sort of bargain with the Capitol for their own safety, and abandoned us other Districts.

The thing is, I wouldn't be surprised if those rumors turned out to be true. The people of Thirteen were pretty scary people, and the majority of them were obsessed with self-perseverance. It would have been very smart of them to play it safe and just leave us to our own devices.

But I'm worried. Without the support and resources that Thirteen had provided, it will be difficult for us to win this fight against the Capitol. We may have the upper hand when it comes to numbers and resources, but the people of the Capitol are resourceful and they have superior technology. They are constantly coming up with muttations for us to fight against, and between the Tracker Jackers and the JabberJays, going outside our military bases has become exceedingly difficult.

Our commanding officers have gotten desperate enough to enlist kids like me in the military, and I've seen some children as young as ten years old carrying bazookas and machine guns out onto the battlefield. It disgusts me to think that these kids are already experiencing the horrors of their first kill and their dying comrades. It just shows how far the Capitol has pushed us.

It just shows how far these men are willing to go to defy the Capitol.