The Stars

by Takai No Hibiki

Series of oneshots. In District 3 there is a nameless group of people whose crimes go unpunished because their interests coincide with that of the Peacekeepers. They were thieves, hired hands who sometimes killed, but they were the closest thing to a family Pyro had. When one of them is sent to the Games, the rest are forced to come to terms with the nature of their job.

1. Introduction

The Stars

Title: Introduction

Characters: Pyro, Cuan, Syarnark, Sche, Matiy, Faiz, Penka, Haakon

Word Count: 766

Warnings: None, except for mild violence. The timeline becomes a bit hazy after this chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games and the inspiration for these characters comes from another series entirely.

Notes: Just a series of one-shots based on the characters from District 3 that I created for my other story, Song of the Dying. I'm following a list of 100 Themes that I found on deviantart. Also, I'm still working on Song of the Dying - this is just an extra.

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In a quiet corner of District 3, the small boy first asked him, "People say the stars are real. Is that true?"

And he responded, "Scientifically, yes. Although it is impossible to see through the smog in this District, we can assume that they are indeed visible in the others and are not simply holograms produced by the Capitol."

And the boy, thin and scruffy like the other miscreants of his age, stared up at the man with wide green eyes and asked to hear more.

001: Introduction

Meeting the group was nothing like he expected.

These people were infamous in District 3 to the point of legend. No one was quite sure if they even existed at all or if they were simply the villains in a tale spun to keep children off the streets at night. They had many names, none consistent, and yet most could recognize the stories of their deeds in an instant.

Seeing them now, they were disappointingly plain people, little more than average citizens. There was nothing flashy or grandiose about any of them. Of course he understood that this was a necessary precaution, but it still conflicted with that imposing, larger-than-life image he had subconsciously built up in his mind.

They really did have no name, no identity, and yet when he gazed out upon the lot of them scattered across heaps of rubble and debris in the junkyard, he saw a sense of togetherness surrounding the six that had nothing to do with familial ties. Each belonged to his or her spot, from the tall man in the distance to the absentminded girl poking through a tattered newspaper to the child hardly any older than he.

He wondered (and not for the last time) how such drastically different people could exist and fit together so perfectly, the furthest thing from a family and yet somehow more connected than any he had ever known.

The tall man next to him, the one with an angel's devastatingly deceitful face and a voice that never requested or commanded, clasped one large hand over his shoulder. He shrugged off the touch as soon as he felt it, perhaps even before then, and shot him a glare for his audacity.

"This is Pyro, our newest addition," the man introduced him. "Say hello."

Everyone looked up.

And just like that, they accepted him.

Without qualm or hesitation they simply nodded or grunted and returned to whatever activities they had been engaged in before the interruption. No one questioned why he had chosen Pyro, what he could contribute to their group, nothing. They ignored him and continued to go about their business.

All except for the brunet about his age, that was.

The boy - taller than Pyro but then again most of his peers were - picked his way through the trash heaps with the practiced ease and fluidity of one who had never known solid ground before. He landed before the smaller blond with a sweet, friendly smile on his pale lips and a spark in his eyes that had nothing to do with the light of dawn over District 3.

Pyro took a quick step back, only to run into a large hand pressed against his back. Glancing up, he was met with another smiling face and was reminded of the deception this man was capable of once more.

"I'm Syarnark," the brunet said, extending an eager hand. "Nice to meet you."

He nodded.

"I'll introduce you to the rest, c'mon."

Before Pyro had a chance to protest, the older boy had seized him by the hand and taken off with him in tow, chattering like the never ending morse code of the factory workers.

He pointed out the tall man in the back and the disgruntled and sharp woman sitting on a dilapidated bench. There was the air-headed girl, a short man in dark garb lingering in the shadow of a battered doorway, and the blonde woman who was walking up to speak with the leader.

It was too much information all at once. Syarnark's incessant, feverish chatter continued to unravel story after story with no regard for Pyro's protests.

"Let me go," he implored with a growl that he tried in vain to suppress. No response, just another tangent regarding computers, of all things. He wondered how the boy even knew so much about the devices, given that only adults were allowed to use computers and solely for their work in the factories.

He yanked, growing more annoyed by the second, and caught the leader's dark eyed gaze filled with an almost childish amusement at his predicament.

Pyro, on the other hand, was far from amused.

He lunged forward with a snarl, catching the other boy off guard in a momentary lapse of balance, and bit.

Everyone stopped to stare at the two boys, one yelping and wincing in pain as he clutched his bleeding arm. The other was skittering backwards in a wary, arched stance with defiance glaring out from his eyes, and they had all of their answers without having to ask a single question.