A/N- Welcome to the story. It will be told from multiple POVs, one POV per chapter. This is a "What if" story. I don't own the Hunger Games. Thanks and enjoy!
Chapter One: Cato's POV
Leaves crunched beneath my feet as I run towards the smoke in the distance with only one intention: to kill. All I can hope for is that the sound of the six of us doesn't scare off the prey.
"We get this one and that makes twelve," my district-mate, Clove snickers beside me.
"You got that right," I smirk. After this kill I will only have eleven more nuisances to go before I am back in the comfort of home with all the money and riches I could ever want.
We run in dead silence as we approach the victim, using the moon- and night vision goggles, as our guiding light.
My mind swirls with plans for the next target. I allowed Nikka from District 4 to take the last tribute, but not this time. This sucker is all mine.
My eyes wander to the sky in time to see the seal flash over head. Claudius Templesmith's familiar voice booms in welcome, bringing my group and I to a sudden halt.
"Congratulations on making it the entire first day!" Claudius praises, "But now I have a small proposal for the thirteen of you remaining. The tributes this year are very extraordinary and many predict this to be an excellent Games. In order to show the power of the Capitol, we have devised a small rule change for this year's Games."
A sense of shock spreads through my body.
"Rule change? What rules are there?" That boy, Peeta laughs nervously, voicing everyone's thoughts. I shoot him a look as if to say, "shut up." I want to hear everything about this change and besides, I have never been fond of that…loverboy. If I had my choice, his face would have already been shown in the sky, but the others convinced me that keeping him around was our best shot at finding that good for nothing district-mate of his. It still kills me to not know how she got that stupid eleven. The only tribute in these Games that deserves an eleven is me and I am ready to prove it.
"This year," Templesmith continues, "there can be two victors. But only if those particular two are from the same District."
He pauses, knowing we aren't all understanding, and then repeats the news. By the time it sinks in I have my hand tightly gripped around my spear, eyes fixed on Peeta, anticipating him to run and look for his girlfriend. He doesn't though, to my disappointment. He just stands in shocked silence, staring aimlessly at the now empty sky.
Only then do I realize that the smoke is gone and our prey must have escaped.
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