Authors Note: I won't be doing long authors notes in each chapter so I thought I'd just say a few things from the start.

This will not be a 'submit your own tribute' story. That genre is very well filled out. I am writing this to tell a story, to get words out of my head and on paper, which is something that has not happened since my Writing 101 teacher managed to kill any desire I had to write. So if you just want to read a story and go wherever the writer decides to take you then come along. If you want to be in the driver's seat and dictate the pace, characters, and action then this may not be the story for you. This will not be a sequence of prescribed events that follow the book's lain out schedule. It is an alternative universe tale, which will take its own route and time to get where it is going. I hope you will enjoy the journey.

Also, as I am a college student taking a quite heavy course load this may not be the most quickly updated story from time to time. I will endeavor to get it updated in as timely a fashion as my classes and, let's face it, life will allow.

Oh and just a note about reviews. I took the time to write it and fight with uploading it for your pleasure. You took the time to read it either to your pleasure or displeasure. How much more time does it really take to click the button and tell me your thoughts? If you have questions feel free to ask, if answering them will not spoil anything future story line I will be happy to reply via FF message.

Disclamer: Obviously I did not write, nor publish, The Hunger Games. I am just playing with pawns in Collin's world.

Emergence

"Ollie Ollie oxen free" the eerily childish cry in a man's voice bounces off the walls of the school yard. From a distance one would assume they were watching nothing more than a simple game of hide and go seek; from a distance one could not see the gleam in the teen's eye as he scanned the sparse playground for his classmates.

The shifting of the sun coming out from behind the cottony cloud temporarily casting a ray of sunlight down upon the playground created a glinting reflection off the lenses of a small, hidden boy's glasses. It was all the seeker needed, just enough movement to catch his eye and set him stalking down the smaller boy's path. Tiny twigs scattered through the grass protested and cracked under the teen's heavy plodding feet, he whistled a cold slow song letting the one he sought after know he was near. The boy smirked, his thick upper lip revealing slightly yellowed and crooked teeth as he clenched his fist repeatedly. The thick leaves of the berry bush brushed against his calves as he stood in front of the small boy's hiding place.

"Peter," the teen chanted low and menacingly, "Oh little Peter, don't you want to come out and play. Why do you hide?"

The teen leaned forward shaking the narrow tree trunk as he smashed his weight against it leaning over the bush and trapping the younger child. He laughed as the small boy looked up at him with widened terrified eyes while trying to crawl under the bushes to escape. The larger boy closed his eyes in triumph breathing in deeply as if he could smell the younger boy's fear. With his eyes shut he could not see the brief smile on the child's face, nor the light in his eyes. Knowing he had but seconds the younger boy pushed up fast putting all the strength of his small legs into the movement, he lifted an inch long metal blade as he rose thrusting it into the muscle corded neck of his tormentor.

A loud howl of agony and anger followed the younger boy as he sprinted away from the tree desperately seeking a new hiding spot as blood gushed between the teen's fingers which desperately clutched his throat as he ran after the child. Birds lifted from electrical wires flocking away in mass as a loud siren sounded and children's heads popped out from their hiding place as they all obediently lined up along a single white painted line facing heavy steel doors atop a dozen cracking concrete stairs.

The small boy still holding his tiny knife tightly in his blood stained hand squeezed between two taller girls with identical curly red hair tied back in soft navy blue ribbon. In unison they reached for his shoulders cocking their heads to the left and glaring at the mammoth teen bearing down upon the small boy. With a visible shudder the teen, nearly a man, stopped cold still glaring at the child.

"You're mine," the teen growled never letting his eyes leave those of the younger boy's as the muscles in his neck began to spasm sending fresh waves of thick red blood down his arm to drip on the tarmac.

A small chime rang and the spark of amusement in the smaller boy's eyes faded to a dull grey. His feet clad in dingy grey and blue sneakers shuffled to face the doors once more. The twins released their comforting hold on his shoulders as the eerily bright blue of their eyes dimmed and they took their gaze from the larger boy as if they had never had reason to look his way. In unison each of the children in line took a step forward marching in perfect order. The last child entered the doors of Emergence Academy, school for disadvantaged youth.

Dread sank into the teen's heart as the steel doors clanged shut. The sun retreated to its hiding place behind progressively darkening clouds. His heart beat frantically as the muscle spasms spread from his neck down his right arm. As his stomach muscles clenched and he bent forward to heave onto the black swirling tarmac his eyes caught sight of the shadowy figure watching from the large plate glass window above the intricately scrolled pledge "A better future, through the hands of our children".

The ancient man, a legend turned to ghost story watched emotionless as the large boy collapsed to the ground. The birds launched into flight by the clanging of the siren settled upon the boy. Beaks tore into flesh, serrated edge cut though tendon and bone as if through bread. Within moments only two tattered sneakers and a handful of scraps that had once been a school uniform littered the walkway.

Turning his back to the now abandoned play yard the man turned to his desk and pushed a blue button. The office filled with a static for only seconds before a feminine voice filled the air. "What may I do for you Mr. Snow?"

"Send in Caliper and Thorsidge," the old man rasped grasping the arm of his chair and the silver bird shaped handle of his cane so tightly his knuckles paled as he sat with knees creaking into the plush comfort of leather. "And send someone to clean the mess up front."

"Yes sir." The woman answered, her voice almost conveying an audial salute.