Title: The Mutant Project
Summary: After over 100 years since the events of Mockingjay occurred, the Capitol is back in power and has created a new way of keeping citizens in line: The Mutant Project, or as the people know it, beneficial experiments necessary for the progression of Panem. It is the year 85, and Ariadne is reaped, along with 19 other teenagers, into the experiments as a human guinea pig. She is thrown into a world of horror and evil, and all Ariadne knows is that she must escape at any cost.
Rated: T
Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games or anything related to it. That is all :3 Oh, and if you see this story on Booksie (by Allyson Grace) that's also mine :3
Chapter One
I sit atop of the flat, fenced-in roof of my house, watching the sun drown in the distant haze of the ocean. The first stars twinkle above me as the sky darkens, and the setting sun casts long shadows against the many tall buildings of the city. An orange-and-purple-and-blue gradient is what remains in the sky, as night begins to take over.
For once in my life, I feel relaxed, and relieved. I can finally laugh with ease or smile brightly, with the mood I'm in. A warm, salty breeze brushes my hair out of my face, and causes my floral sundress to ripple. It's starting to get cold, but I don't want to leave yet. I want to take in this moment, remember it, because tomorrow, everything could change.
"Ariadne!" My mother's voice calls from inside the house. I sigh, unhappy that I have to go, but the pesky mosquitoes are beginning to come out anyway.
"I'm coming, mom!" I call back, hoping she can hear me through the ceiling. I then get off of my white, wooden beach chair, and hop to my feet. I smooth out my clothes, and shake my hair out of its ponytail. My mother probably wants me to say good-bye to the remaining party guests, and I want to look at least a bit presentable.
Today was my 19th birthday, and it is a huge celebration for anyone living in Panem, especially for those residing in Sectors 1 or 2. I invited my just my close friends, since our house is rather small, and allowed some of my siblings' and parents' friends to come, too. My home has never felt so joyous, as we celebrated the fact that I only had one year left to be eligible for research.
My friends had left at 6 o'clock, an hour ago, due to the minor's curfew. It was a rule for the citizens of Sector 2 that all youth 18 and under must be in their homes by 6:30 during the week, mostly to keep the city organized. I am the oldest of my friends now, and they still have over a year left to live in anxiety.
I stride across the across the roof and open the heavy red door that leads to the staircase. I can hear my mother and father escorting the last guests out the front door. I need to hurry.
I push open another door. This one is red as well, but wooden and lighter. I walk into a long, narrow hallway, with cream walls and white doors on either side of me. They lead to my family's bedrooms.
I scamper across the hardwood, nearly slipping on the slick surface. I bolt through yet another door and down a spiral staircase, and I finally reach the main floor of my house. It's a cozy, rectangular shape, complete with a kitchen, dining table, television, couches, chairs, and other accessories.
My parents are at the front entrance with the door wide open, and our final guests are beginning to step outside into the darkening setting. They are Mr. and Mrs. Bartlett, my parent's closest friends. They are both tall and blonde, but Mrs. Bartlett has freckles splashed across her face. Just before they exit, they notice me at the other side of the room.
"Ari!" Mr. Bartlett booms, beaming at me. "We thought you'd forgotten about us!"
I sigh, and walk carefully, yet briskly, over to the couple. I hope my parents aren't angry with me. I smile respectfully, and stand beside my mother.
"Thank you for coming to my party," I say. Mrs. Bartlett grins, showing her white teeth.
"Of course, Ariadne. This is such a wonderful day for you, we would never miss it," she replies. I can tell by the expression on her face, that her words have a slightly deeper meaning. And I know why.
They have four children total, a large amount for the City of Venice, a smaller, San Franciscan-like state. Their youngest is Ezra, an energetic 11-year-old. They also have Cherry and Viola, twin teenage sisters. They will all be qualified for experimentation for years to come. But the Bartletts had another son, Flynn, who was 15 when he was reaped, taken from his home by the Capitol.
The research that the Capitol conducts yearly is sort of complex. Basically, they annually go to each Sector and randomly choose four subjects (or victims, as we call them up here) on the Summer Solstice from each Sector, a boy and a girl between the ages of 9 and 19 from each subsection, or city. This is called the reaping, similar to the ones conducted over 100 years ago for the Hunger Games.
The subjects are then transported to the Capitol's laboratories, where the research begins. Representatives from the Capitol tell us at the reaping every year, that "You should be honored to be selected as a subject for our research. You are serving Panem, and helping to create a better future for your Sector!"
The citizens of Sectors 3, 4, and 5 - the lower class, uneducated people - believe in this and remain loyalty to the Capitol. Of course not everyone there is so ignorant, but the majority are. Farther north, though, where Sectors 1 and 2 lay, we are not so naive. We can see straight through the Capitol, and we know what they are really trying to do. We also know how perverted and sick this research really is. That is why the Bartletts were devastated when Flynn was selected, and ever since, they sincerely fear and loathe the Capitol.
"I know." That's all I can say, and Mrs. Bartlett squeezes my shoulder. They say farewell to my parents, and then they are gone.
The door clicks shut. Thankfully, my parents don't seem unhappy. My mom, a petite brunette, gives me a warm hug, and my father, tall and dark, smiles broadly.
"You'll only have to go through one more reaping," my mom purrs, letting go of me. "I love you, Ari."
"I love you, too," I say honestly, beaming at my parents. One more reaping. Only one more stressful ceremony, and I will have no more fears. For myself, anyway. My brother, Theo, is 12, and little Serafina is only 8. My family won't be at peace until we're all at least 20 years old.
My mother says she will clean up the kitchen for me, and I am allowed to retire to my bedroom after I give my father a hug. I take a hot shower, carefully cleansing myself, since I will have to dress nice for the reaping. I slip on my silk pajamas, and crawl into my welcoming, soft bed. I turn off my pink lamp, and fall asleep listening to the ocean crashing against the shore.
Little did I know how much luck I actually lack, and how easily my world could turn upside down. Of course, I should have realized that if my 19th year couldn't be better, it could only get worse.