So, so, one day I was on tumblr and there was this pic of Korra as Katniss, and I thought, hey, why not? In other words, another random idea I had and thought I would put into motion. It's gonna be mostly first person pov, alternating between Korra and Asami, but there'll be some third here and there. Anyway, enjoy, and leave a review or something if you want more I guess?
Chapter One: Enter Korra, the Rebel from Twelve
Blue electricity crackles, breaking the stillness in the air. It slices through the darkness of the room, and a man sighs in relief, his face breaking out into a tired smile as he hunches slightly. His latest invention is working properly, and just in time for President Amon's inspection.
The current president of Panem is a mysterious, intimidating man. He wears a mask as he stands in front of the inventor.
"And this is it?" President Amon asks, his voice low and threatening. "There's nothing else you need to add to it, is there, Hiroshi?"
Hiroshi Sato shakes his head feebly. "No, sir."
President Amon is silent, and Hiroshi thinks Amon is satisfied with the results. However, Hiroshi soon discovers just how wrong he is.
"Then I have no more use for you," President Amon concludes, drawing out a gun and aiming it at the cowering inventor.
"But, President Amon," Hiroshi stutters, his eyes flickering around for an escape. Though he may be cowardly, Hiroshi is no dumb coward. He knows how to turn situations like these in his favor. He's not just an inventor; he's also a businessman.
"Surely, you'll still need me for upgrades and further inventions," Hiroshi bargains. There's a tool behind him that he can use, and Hiroshi slowly inches himself towards it. "This is just the first model I've built. I can build more, and make improvements—"
"All of which I can have Baatar do," President Amon interrupts.
Hiroshi frowns angrily, his pride wounded. "Beifong? What does Baatar Beifong know about my inventions? He's an architect, not an engineer!"
President Amon cocks the gun, clearly unimpressed with Hiroshi's futile attempt at saving his life. "He learns quickly. He'll figure it out. Besides, he's been much more loyal than you have."
"But I've served you my whole life!" Hiroshi argues. His hands reach for something cool and metallic. "I've been faithful to you, have I not? I've dedicated my whole life to building you these inventions of mine!"
"I know," President Amon says calmly. His gun does not waver. "Just like how I also know how you've been secretly taking money behind my back."
Hiroshi visibly flinches, and he knows there's no way out for him. He can tell the president had meant to kill him as soon as he entered the lab, and Hiroshi knows President Amon will have plenty of Peacekeepers surrounding the area. The president doesn't do half-assed jobs, after all.
However, Hiroshi refuses to back down, not without a fight, at least. He opens his mouth, to try to persuade Amon again, but the masked figure beats him to it.
"But you are right," President Amon says slowly. "You have been one of my most devoted servants, and it would be a shame to kill you for a mistake like this."
"Yes," Hiroshi agrees quickly. "It was just a mistake. I'll never do it again!"
"I will still need to punish you," President Amon continues, and Hiroshi freezes, dreading what his president will say next.
The president lowers his gun and stares right at Hiroshi. His mask seems to smile. "You have a daughter, do you not?"
...
The thuds of fists pounding harshly against wood and straw echo loudly through the small area, and sweat trickles down the side of my face as I bring my fists up once more.
"Isn't this enough for today?" the person across from me asks, his green eyes weary. He's a stocky younger kid, built for brawn more than brain, but he's got a personality that makes almost everyone love him.
I shake my head at him.
"Come on, Bolin," I taunt. "I need to keep in shape."
"You already are," Bolin whines, but obediently resumes his stance. In each hand, he holds a piece of wood, sloppily wrapped in straw, and the impromptu targets are being beat rather fiercely as I mercilessly rain punch after punch on them.
"Take a break, Bo," a new voice speaks up after a few more minutes pass. The newcomer is a serious-faced eighteen year-old—just a year older than me, but he acts like it makes all the difference in the world—with weird shark-like eyebrows and spiky black hair.
Bolin looks at his older brother gratefully as Mako exchanges his mining axe for Bolin's handheld targets.
I wordlessly continue my assault, acknowledging the switch with a mere nod of my head. It doesn't really matter to me who holds the targets, though Mako makes a harder target than his younger brother as he expertly ducks and weaves around my fists.
After another dodge, Mako goes on the offensive, swinging his hand and connecting with my shoulder—a move I hadn't anticipated but should have. I grunt as his punch hits home, taking the hit in stride as I retaliate with a punch of my own.
The two of us are an even match, and soon both of us are equally worn out, our chests heaving with exertion, sweat sliding down our faces. Without thinking, I use the back of my hand to wipe the sweat, tasting sweat and dirt as I accidently brush some against my mouth.
"Break time!" A voice booms out.
Mako and I halt our sparring as the leader of our group of miners, Tenzin, announces the beginning of break. Tenzin's this tall, bald guy with this arrow tattoo on his head who doesn't appreciate slackers or my sense of humor. He's in charge of my training, as well as overseeing the mining in this cave.
I immediately undo the bandages around my hands, wincing at how sore I am. Briefly, I wonder if I should have taken it a bit easier, but then shrug the thought away. As I told Bolin earlier, I need to be in top condition for the upcoming game soon.
"You're doing good, Korra," Tenzin says as he walks over. His eyes momentarily rest on Mako.
"I thought it was Bolin's turn to keep you company today," the bald man remarks, his eyes back on me.
"We switched halfway," Mako tells him. "I figured he would enjoy mining more."
At his statement, we look over to the cave walls, where Bolin is happily digging away at the dirt, humming an odd tune to himself. As if sensing our gazes, he looks up.
"What?" Bolin asks defensively as he sets down his axe. "Did I do something?"
I shake my head, grinning a little at his pouty expression. "No. It's just funny how you're one of the few people who enjoy this line of work."
"What can I say?" Bolin says, flexing his arms. "I'm a muscle kind of guy."
Mako rolls his eyes, clearly unimpressed, which is no surprise. Mako's got a nice set of arms himself. Not that I would personally know. "Sparring also requires muscle."
"Yeah, but I'm not the one going in," Bolin points out. "Korra is, so she needs to practice, and let's face it, you're the better sparring partner between the two of us."
The mood is suddenly somber as we're all reminded of our reason for being in district twelve, in the dust-filled caves rather than in the familiar clean halls of thirteen.
Mako, Bolin, Tenzin, and I were raised in the secret District Thirteen, the district that none but the elite few in the government knew still existed. Unfortunately, among the elite few, our current president, President Amon, is one of them.
For decades, District Thirteen has hidden away a resistance focused on demolishing the current corrupt government—a tyranny, really—and they've tried attempt after attempt in assassinating the president. However, President Amon has gotten away unscathed each time, and now it's up to the latest assassin to complete the job: me.
According to Tenzin and Lin, who is this strict military officer back in Thirteen who likes to act like my mother sometimes—but, like, a bossy, super cranky one—I was rescued by some resistance members when I was a few months old. I was originally born in District Four and my parents, Tonraq and Senna, were undercover resistance members working there. However, they were discovered and betrayed by my uncle, Unalaq, who turned them in before they had a chance to do anything. He was assisted by a government agent from District Three, a wealthy inventor named Hiroshi Sato. Let's just say I've got a personal reason for wanting to join the hunger games this year.
"Korra," Tenzin calls my name, snapping me out of thoughts.
"Yeah?" I look at my trainer expectantly. Tenzin isn't one to call my name without reason. He's the type who's always careful with his words, choosing to speak only when necessary. He would be a wise master; that is, if he didn't also tend to lose his temper around me. Not that I can really blame him though. I'm not the best pupil out there.
"That's enough training for today," Tenzin says. "You need to rest before the big day tomorrow."
I roll my eyes. "Why though? All they're going to do is pretend to pick a slip of paper, and then just take out the one with my name already on it. I don't even have to volunteer."
Tenzin sighs loudly, closing his eyes in what I know is an attempt to resist himself from strangling me. It seems the stress is getting to him. I know it's getting to all of us.
"Just listen to him, Korra," Mako tells me, picking up a spare mining axe as he and Bolin return to mining.
Even though we're technically citizens of District Thirteen, the four of us have been living in Twelve for the last few years, disguising ourselves as residents here. Bolin, Mako, and I are posing as the children of Tenzin, and we're all working as miners, just like every other citizen here. It's a tedious job, but we're not too bad at it. It helps build up our muscle and stamina, and like Bolin mentioned, I'll be the one who'll need those the most.
Most of the time Mako and Bolin mine, while Tenzin trains me. We occupy an underground cave that belongs to the resistance. Rebels swarm the place, all of us posing as simple, poor miners from Twelve. However, all that changes this year. This year is the year I turn eighteen, and the last year I'm eligible to enter the games. We won't need to keep up pretenses anymore if all goes according to plan. And I'm going to make sure everything does go according to plan. The Careers from One, Two, and Four won't be able to hold me back. I've been trained by the toughest fighters out there, from Lin Beifong, daughter of Toph Beifong who won her game at the age of twelve; to Tenzin, who is the youngest son of Aang and Katara, the past victors from Twelve; to Zuko, the former president of Thirteen.
In fact, it was Toph, Zuko, Aang, Katara and Katara's brother Sokka who originally started the rebellion, under Zuko and Aang's leadership. However, they never made it as far as the Capitol, and on one attempt, Aang and Sokka were forced to retreat to District Four, where they met my parents, who were quick to join their cause. So, yeah, this mission of mine is definitely personal. I'm going to make President Amon pay, and he'll be paying with more than just his life.
.
The day is over, and night falls fast in District Twelve, not that it makes much of a difference to us since we're underground all the time anyway. Mako, Bolin, and I clean up our equipment and follow the other miners back up to the surface.
We eat a quiet dinner, and I can tell everyone is tense. Tenzin keeps sighing to himself, while Bolin is more talkative than usual. Mako just sits there, poking at his food.
"I'll be fine, guys," I say, trying to reassure them, but it seems to be the wrong thing to say.
"Fine?" Mako snaps, as if he had been waiting for his cue to talk. He slams his spoon down. "How is going into that bloodbath fine? There's a very high probability that you'll die, Korra!"
And, here we go again. Mako and I don't really see eye to eye on everything, especially when it comes to my participation in the Hunger Games. He thinks it's his job to protect me or something, but I'm perfectly capable of doing that myself. Why else did I train my entire life for this, if I'm just going to sit around and do nothing?
"Mako, we've been over this," I growl, also putting down my spoon with more force than Tenzin would like.
Tenzin mutters something and excuses himself. Bolin laughs nervously, looking back and forth between us.
"Come on, Mako," Bolin pleads. "We know Korra's got this. She'll be totally fine. Lin will be watching her, right? And, like, the other Beifongs, too!"
Mako ignores his younger brother, focusing on me only. "You know anything can happen in there, and we won't be able to help you. You should back out. No one will blame you for doing so. We can always wait for someone else."
"There won't be someone else!" I yell, standing up and knocking over my chair. "Every year Amon is president, thousands die from lack of food, or medicine, or water, or whatever! Or, they're killed simply for existing! Amon has his own, twisted agenda, and he'll kill people every single year just to make a statement!"
"Yeah, but it shouldn't be your responsibility to kill him!" Mako shouts back, also standing up. Bolin seems to shrink into himself as he opens and closes his mouth, debating whether to interfere.
"If not mine, then whose?" I challenge Mako. "Who else will step up and take on this role? There isn't anyone else, and you know that! There's no one more prepared for this! You can't sit in the shadows forever, waiting for someone to do something when you yourself won't even do it!"
"Then I'll do it!" Mako slams his hand onto the table, causing Bolin to jump. "I'll go in your place! It's not too late to do that! You can stay here and help Tenzin, and I'll enter the games! I'll volunteer myself tomorrow—"
"I won't allow that!" Tenzin interrupts fiercely. Mako and I stare at him in surprise, wondering when he came back. Tenzin glowers at us.
"There's no point in changing our plan this far out. The Reaping is tomorrow, and it's too late to try and bribe people to replace the boy's glass bowl with slips with Mako's name. Besides, it's like Korra has said. She's trained her whole life for this. You haven't, Mako."
"But still," Mako says. "Korra could get killed—"
"And I won't let that happen!" Tenzin snaps. "Do you think Lin and I will just sit about idly and let that happen? If you're all finished with dinner, then get some rest, especially you, Korra. You have a big day tomorrow."
Mako and I glare at each other, but we don't say anything.
Tenzin nods to himself, giving us his last directions for the night. "Mako, you are not going to do anything reckless, understand? And Bolin, get out from under the table. And Korra—" Tenzin's eyes soften as he turns to me. "Please be careful out there."
I nod. "I will, Tenzin."
.
As confident as I was last night, I'm not so keen today. All the anger from yesterday has been replaced by raw nerves and I rock slightly as I stand next to all the other eighteen-year-old girls in Twelve. The Reaping goes over quickly. The escort for District Twelve this year is none other than Lin herself, and she's as grumpy as ever.
"Korra," she greets me stiffly as she ushers me and the sixteen-year-old boy tribute onto the train.
Lin and Katara go over the basics of the games and our roles and what we should expect, and I'm only half paying attention since they've already drilled all this into me before. The boy looks about fearfully, but if he expects any sympathy or pity from me, he's going to be waiting a long time. Fortunately for him, Katara is much more caring than Lin and I. She leans forward and whispers something to him. It seems to calm him down somewhat as he nods glumly, though he still trembles in his seat.
"Well, anyway, that's about it," Lin says gruffly. She dismisses us to our rooms and the boy immediately flees, looking like he's going to throw up or cry. Katara goes after him, leaving me alone with the one and only grouchy Lin Beifong.
"I feel bad for him," I say after he leaves.
Lin shrugs. "That's why you should make sure you get your job done, kid. Once Amon is gone, we can take over and get rid of these games once and for all."
Lin is right, of course. I know I won't be able to protect everyone in the Arena. The only way to make sure no one must die pointlessly in these brutal games is to stop the games from happening in the first place.
"Get some rest, Korra," Lin says, patting me on the back as she walks by. I wonder if she knows it's the same thing Tenzin said to me last night.
.
Though the smart thing to do is get some sleep, I can't seem to be able to fall asleep as I lay in bed, staring at the scenery flashing outside. The train will arrive at the Capitol tomorrow, and I'll have to be on my best behavior. My hands curl into fists as I think about facing President Amon later.
There's a rustling sound and someone slips a piece of paper under my door. I grab it and open it up. It's a list with all the tributes from each district. Lin must have somehow gotten the information from her brother-in-law.
Deciding that I'm not going to sleep any time soon, I take the paper and scan it, trying to memorize names and potential allies.
The Careers from District One and Two seem like the usual: tough, deadly fighters who won't spare me a second thought before they kill me. However, the last two Careers, from Four, catch my attention. I read their names over and over in my head.
Eska and Desna.
Also known as my cousins.
I'd be lying to say I'm not surprised to see their names here. After their father—my uncle—turned in my parents, Unalaq was given a high position in Four, and he's been working closely with Amon ever since. Or that's what Tenzin told me.
And yet, somehow Unalaq's children found themselves as tributes for the game. I can't imagine them deciding to volunteer. But then again, I can. They're probably as heartless as their father, though I've never met them in person. Thankfully, they don't know who I am, so they won't purposely interfere in my mission.
I continue down the list, the names blurring in my mind. No one else catches my attention, and I take a deep breath, mentally preparing myself to kill people in a couple weeks.
My eyes snap open, and I look at the paper again, my eyes moving up the page until it reaches District Three, one of the poorer districts.
I close my eyes and open them again, and it's still there, the name I had ignored the first time, around.
The male tribute from District Three is some guy named Tahno, but that isn't what I'm paying attention to. No, it's the other name, on the female tribute side. It's a name I know only way too well.
Her last name is Sato, the same as Hiroshi Sato.
It seems revenge will come sooner than I expected.