The Billionaire Next Door

I do not own the Hunger Games

Chapter 1: Madness

Gale

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

As far as he knows, three shots rang, and with three shots meant three bullets, and with three bullets meant three times the danger. From behind his wooden crate barricade, he slowly starts to lift his head up, attempting to sneak a peek at the mad shooter until—

Bang!

Luckily, he ducks just on time to avoid the bullet that was to be shot directly at him. Soon enough, Merchant Market became a full-blown war zone between the Townies and the Selums. Civilians (most likely to be Merchants) then start to break out into silent weeps, angry prayers, or anxiety attacks. Though, there he was, doing his best to pent up his stress and slight anger.

Who were the Townies and Selums? Well, let's just put them as the only two "major" gangs in the whole area of District Twelve. The two of them often clash into each other and no matter where they were—whether it is a children's park, bar, or in this case market—there's always time to brawl. For the Townies, they originate in the wealthier part of the district while the Selums originate from the slums. All in all, nothing matters more in the world than beating the opposite gang.

With all the gang madness, three main weapons are staples: guns/revolvers, bombs/firecrackers, and, without a doubt, their body. Where they got those things? Well, Gale can't help but try to remain oblivious to the matter. Though, signs pointed to stealing, inventing, and using each other as person al punching bags. How he ever thought of that is something he doesn't seem to want to talk about.

Then, another shot rings out and soon a sound—most likely a thump—went to his ears. He took another look at the fight from the crate and saw a Townie with his gun pointing right beside Gale's place. Quickly, he pulls himself down, only to catch the sight of crimson blood oozing out of the dead flesh of a Seam man. His hand slowly starts for the dead man. From second to second, he hesitates, but then finds his pointer finger about a centimeter from the red pool.

Suddenly, a rough hand catches Gale's wrist and drags him from his barricade. Despite his actions to break free from the grip, the gun man twists him over, causing him to loudly wince in pain. He thrashes and hopes that the Townie would let him free, but there's no such luck. Instead, the Townie forces him to his knee and swiftly ties his hands and feet with rope.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Gale protests as the Townie loads his gun once more. There really is no use to struggle. It is bluntly obvious that he's going to die at the ring of the gun.

"You little Selums think you could outsmart us? I mean us? We're far too superior for you to handle, and people like you shouldn't be able to breathe the same air as people like me!" he growls as Gale starts to search the ground with his tied hands.

To the corner of his eye, Gale watches as another Townie begins to maim a Selum with his meaty, bloody fists. Out of luck, he gets the grasp of a sharp shard of glass and begins to sloppily cut the ropes. The Townie in front of him seems to be far too oblivious of Gale's actions, giving him extra time. Then, as the ropes start to loosen up, the Townie rests his index finger on the trigger and asks, "Any last words, Selum?"

Gale smirks and replies, "I'm not a Selum." With that, he gets up on his feet, the ropes dropping heavily on the dusty ground, and harshly grabs the gun. The Townie takes a step back and falls to his knees, begging for mercy: "Don't shoot me! Please! I have so much to live for!"

Everything went silent. From the Selums to the Townies, to the Merchants and to the Seam dwellers, everything went still. That's when Gale looks up from the beggar to meet the eyes of gray, blue, brown, and green. His hand was still up, gun at the grip.

Before he could do anything else, the sounds of sirens went blaring through his ears. Alarms ring and people shout. "Drop the gun! Drop it!" the bullhorn blares. He calmly drops it and places his arms over his chest. The black and white cars surround him and the Townie.

"Put your hands where I can see them!" the horn screeches.

Honestly, he has no idea whether they are talking about him or the fellow crouching on the ground. He hears it again, only to figure out that they are speaking of none other than him, Gale Hawthorne. So, he complies and does what he is told—reluctantly—for that matter.

The sirens stop. The police come. The handcuffs come out. There only happens to be one problem:

They are on him.

"You have the right to remain silent," one of the officers say as Gale interrupts. "Wh-what do you mean? I did nothing! He killed someone and threatened to kill me! I didn't do anything!"

They roll their eyes as the Townie smirks with victory. "That's what they all say, kid," the one behind him—Officer Thread—snarls.

Soon, they lead him off, leaving a satisfying smile on all of the Townies faces as they continue the Rights:

"If you give up the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…"

"How many times do I have to say that I never did anything?"

"But you did."

"No I didn't!"

"Humph…Seam trash. They're all liars."

He grunts in frustration, leaning back into the plastic folding chair. It didn't make any sense at all. He was being accused for murder? A crime he didn't commit? How thoughtless of those scumbags! It's because he's from the slums, isn't it? They always have to assume that it's the poor kid's fault. After all, they're too denial to think that their "own kind" would do such of a thing.

"I'm telling you the truth, dumbfuck!" Gale rages as the officer narrows his eyes at him. What else could he say? He's innocent and insults with his…killer vocabulary.

As of result, the officer flashes his taser as a warning to the victim. He leans forward and whispers in Gale's ear, "Say something like that again, boy, and let's just say we'll be filing another missing person on our list."

He didn't flinch and only blinked at the officer. The blank expression turned up his lips into a smirk as he got up from his chair. One step after another, he walks the perimeter of the table, as if preying on the officer like a piece of fish waiting to get eaten. Then, he finally speaks, "You don't know what it's like to be accused of a crime you didn't commit. You don't know what it's like to eat only once—and maybe if you're lucky three times—every week. You don't know what it's like to lose," The officer raises his eyebrow and glares.

That's when Gale continues, "Wanna know why? Well, people like you have it all: bread on the table, a home without a crumbling foundation, all of your family, and in this case, people like you don't have to worry about being sentence to prison!"

With that, Officer Thread cracks his knuckles and (surprisingly) calms down to his saying, "Are you implying that you choose to go to prison, Hawthorne?"

He stops and rambles quickly, "No, I'm just trying to make a point here!"

"How gullible are you exactly? The nearest prison is in Eleven, sadly. Either way, we could ship you off."

"I was trying to make a damn point."

"That's what they all say."

In defeat, Gale sits back down in his chair and sighs with his hands cupping over his face. Never in his entire eighteen years has he ever had anyone counter his remarks. Somehow, it feels as if he's softening u—

No. He is not giving up. He will never let any of those people get to him. It's a proven fact; Gale Hawthorne is made of steel.

"But, you know, let's just say that your little punishment is going to cost, well, a lot," Thread starts, breaking off the silence between them.

"What do you mean by 'a lot'?" Gale asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Tell me, how do you feel about being a servant?"

"Free labor? No pay? That's fucked up!"

"It's either that or you pay the fifty grand."

That silences him. He has no penny to his name, so how could he even afford his bail? That's the thing: he can't get out of this shit load called a mess.

"So, how about it?" the officer asks again with a smug smirk on his wrinkly face.

"Who's it gonna be?" Gale questions until the room's door creaks open.

Then, a man clad in his completely crinkle-free Prada suit steps in with his matching loafers and a golden tie. He steps in front of the table where the two sit and smiles. For Gale, the well-polished man has a bald head, baby blue eyes, and one of those rare smiles that you could only witness once or maybe twice in your lifetime. No, he didn't seem too old, but if he had to guess, the man was probably in either his late forties or early fifties.

"That would be me, Mr. Hawthorne," the man states, looking at the infuriated eighteen-year-old. Gale looks away from his gaze at the moment he heard the tenderness of the wealthy man's voice. Tender. Merchants aren't exactly known for their tenderness. Then again, he isn't any other merchant. No, definitely not merchant for he finally recognizes the older man standing.

This right here is Mr. Conal Undersee, famed entrepreneur, the man with the B-Listed millionaire acquaintances, the billionaire next door.

Did you guys almost see the Gatsby reference? I mean, I didn't actually quote it since I would actually be stealing a thing that isn't exactly mine to keep. Though, I couldn't help but put it in. Somehow, I feel like Mr. Undersee is like Jay Gatsby. I mean, you know, in my opinion.

Remember when I said that this was going to start off with a bang? Yep, I like to take things literally. Now, this is a rally lousy chapter to me since it's all…jumbled up and almost nothing makes sense and there's no Madge.

Then again, this story is mainly Gale-centric and Madge will be introduced in chapter…three? Four? Five? I haven't really decided yet. But you know, if you really squint carefully at what Gale said about Mr. Undersee with all of his wealth, he doesn't mention him having any spouse or children. So, that's just a little hint since I like hints.

Other than that, reviews are welcomed with open arms!