A Vivid Note: I have a very... peculiar idea of how things came to be in the Hunger Games world. Everything I write seems to be very 'Alternate Universe' if I had to admit it- because I have no idea what our dear Collins intends to say in her third and final book- but I certainly know what I think.
-this will be a short, standalone piece, but I think if this is interesting enough for you- perhaps I will write the actual course of events.
Kiss-Kiss,
Vivid.
The Rebels' Little Game
...
Soldiers...
...it was a group of twelve soldiers... my squad.
They were out there in the woods outside District 13 staking out what they believed to be a fresh surge of rebel recruitments. Just for a few weeks. Their job was to stop them from heading out beyond the forest- where the rebel base was rumoured to be hidden.
I can remember seeing them leave. They were all best friends- as close as brothers even. I remember two of them having an arm around one another- singing about 'finally getting a piece of the action'.
I just laughed at them. It was nice to see such high spirits in Capitol soldiers- especially after how heavy the losses had been as of late. It was only recently we were starting to tip the odds back in our favour.
"Balbus... we have something to tell you... about your squad."
I didn't know what the General would want to say to me. I followed him to the room, where he quietly locked the door and pulled out a folder.
Inside the folder were photos. Of my squad... only, they were no longer themselves.
...
Corpses...
...it was littering of twelve corpses... my squad.
They were scattered about the woods outside District 13, suggesting that there was no rebels involved. The report said that sometime during that week, it was likely that there was some reason or another for them to suspect one another.
Suspect one another of having the intent to kill one another.
"S-Suspect?"
The word was no more than a breath. I couldn't grasp how. I couldn't grasp why. There was no way my men could do this to one another. No silly suspicion could drive them so insane.
...
Four had been burned alive on the bonfire.
Three had been stabbed to death far away from the campsite.
Two had been skewered to trees by their own lances.
One had been shot in the head.
...
-And... the last two... committed suicide...
...
That was two months ago. A week ago the General came back to me, to my house, saying they have more information on my squads' case.
I didn't want to open the door. I didn't want to know anymore. I didn't want to see anymore.
-but the General showed me what the forensics had discovered.
They discovered there weren't twelve corpses.
There were thirteen.
...
A rebel, a monstrous little rebel had drawn one of my men away, killed him, buried him- and disguised himself as one of my squad. He planted the ideas, the suspicions in my men's heads. They began to kill one another out of fear- fear of being the only ones left alive.
...but when it came down to the last two... they had not been able to turn on their brethren... so they... killed themselves... instead...
My squad had been killed in cold, villainous- cowardly blood. Yes, the imposter had been burned alive along with his disastrous plot- but there had to have been more... more rebels involved.
...
A week ago the General said that they found a surviving rebel who knew of the plot to kill my men. It was one of the recruits- a clever one- who had come up with the idea.
He was proud of what they had created. I listened to him testify, boasting of how their idea was to starve my crew of all morality, of all trust and humanity- and let them finish themselves off.
The bastard rebel said so coolly, so smarmily-
"They were part of our little game."
For the first time, I was glad to watch the execution. But I felt no justice as I watched the vermin's eyes fade to white. So many others had gotten away with it. With my squad's lives.
I wanted justice.
...
We went to tell the President of what happened yesterday, the General and I. Of the Rebel's game against my men- and how we needed to fight back harder. We needed to make them pay for what these barbarians have done to us.
We needed justice.
...
Today the President met with me personally and apologised for the pain I must have felt losing my squad. I asked him what he was going to do, how he was going to make them pay for what they did to our soldiers, to our friends, our brothers.
The President smiled at me, and explained we'd do exactly what they did. When I said I didn't understand, he simply said-
...
"-the Hunger Games."
End.