Here is the first chapter, with a lot of emotion (I think). I still don't have a story title. If you have one, I'll be glad to use it. I don't know how the Team act in real, it's is mostly considering how they react on the situations I give them. I do not own Team Starkid or their productions. Enjoy!

-Vuraangreg

The way home wasn't that good. ST and Joey didn't say any word to each other, and Richard and Vanessa stayed quiet as well. the two could feel the tension between their father and youngest brother, and knew they'd better not talk. They'd better didn't say anything, because if they did, ST and Joey would start to fight – their maniest fight since the beginning of ST's time at Gordon.

At the moment, ST hated his life. He hated Vanessa, but he did that already, he hated Richard for choosing Dad's side, he hated Uncle Brian for giving his team the lowest grades (it was a C+, but still the lowest). But he hated his father the most.

Ever since the beginning of this year they were fighting about grades and hanging around with friends and some stuff teenagers struggle with. But also about other things, like Joey's job and the influence of it on ST.

It's been three years since their newest production: a musical of the Hunger Games. It was a three-in-one production, which means they put the trilogy into one musical. This became their first success since the Very Potter 3D of 2023. And because it was all Richard's idea, the children could play the other tributes who were going to be killed anyway. Meredith got Katniss, while Walker was Peeta, and Brant and Aj worked together to play Finnick; Lauren got Rue.

When they arrived at home, their apartment in Chicago, Vanessa and Richard went to their sleeping rooms – ST wanted too, but Joey wanted to talk to him. St sat down in the cough, in front of his father, who was sitting in the armchair. "Make it quick, will you?" ST asked. He didn't want to talk to the person he hated the most. But he didn't have a choice either.

"ST, I know this is not what you want to do, but I want an explanation. Why was you wearing my headband?" They were arguing this ever since Richard was a freshman at Gordon. The headband was apparently already many years in the Richter-family, before the two World Wars, and it was always given to the oldest kid in the family. And since ST didn't like the idea it was going to be Richard's, he was whining for it when he found out Joey wasn't choosing his side. He always chose Richard's; he never chose ST's.

"Dad, we've been over this already one hundred and sixty-three times. And yes, I've counted," he added when he saw the look of surprise in his father's eyes.

"ST, it's not like I don't…" "Dad, it was just one time, please don't punish me for taking it, I just got it to school just in cased and see what happened!" "ST, listen to me." ST looked at his father, but didn't argue.

"You stole it and I saw you. There were witnesses: all of your classmates and Brian can tell you wore it, though your friends can't understand this."

"Can't understand what? That you've been overprotective when your headband is mentioned? Dad, headbands are for the younger people and sportsmen, not for parents. And I only want you to understand me at once." Joey sighed.

"Then tell me what you want, but you don't get an iPod 5; you have to buy that yourself." "You know what I want, and I've been telling you already three years." Joey sighed again. "You want an own production, don't you?"

"Yes." "ST, it isn't that easy. Do you really think Matt and Nick wrote it in one day? And, at least, you can't be really that serious. You have to find many people who can help you, and the last time I counted, you were having trouble finding people and only found the Richters, Walkers and Crisses. It isn't done in one week – it costs weeks, maybe months of preparing and rehearsals."

"But, Dad…" "No, ST, it's too much, even for the summer holidays. Maybe we can invite Maurice over in the summer, but not more than that. Even we have our limits." ST shrieked up.

"I hate you," he said, and went to his sleeping room. "ST, wait…" he heard his father say, but he already closed the door.

He couldn't believe it. he couldn't believe it! the last Richard asked for an own production with his friends, they ended up making a short movie about the accident with Uncle Brant, Uncle AJ and Jim. They had success, almost ten million views. And we're only speaking about America! And when he asks for that, he doesn't get it. After all, when ST thought about it, he couldn't decide who he hated the most: Richard or his father.

In his head, he began plotting. He begun to sort the ideas in his head, to make his father proud, making something behind his b ack. Maybe he could ask for Maurice and some others over the summer, every Friday. Maybe he could get Richard's camera and, when they found it, get it from one of his Uncles or Aunts. And with some luck, his friends and the Walkers, Crisses, Saunders and more could come to help him. But Joey can't know. Joey may not help or know about it.

Someone knocked on his door. "Who's there?" "It's me, Richard." "Sorry, I'm not in here. Maybe you can find me in the kitchen." It was stupid and childish to say, but he didn't want to talk to his brother. He couldn't.

"Can I come on now?" "No, I don't wanna talk to you or see you for the rest of my life." Alright, that was a bit mean, but at the moment he didn't want anything else. Despite this, Richard came in.

"ST, don't be such a stick in the mud. I just wanna know what you were talking about with Joey." It was difficult to understand who Joey was, but after a while ST got that Joey was his Dad's name. There it was – the closer they grow, the more they use their names. And with Richard happened the same thing – he already called Dad 'Joey'. Not the greatest name in the world, if you asked him.

"School," ST said, not bothering Richard. He avoided Richard's gaze, and couldn't see his brother's fear to lose his brother's attention. "ST, I know Jo… Dad wouldn't talk with you about school. What about the headband?" ST looked at his brother.

"Have you been eavesdropping?" Richard smiled. "No, not at all. But if Joey wants to talk to you, it's mostly about his headband." ST hesitated some moments to tell something. He promised himself not to tell any Richter about it, but he just couldn't keep it for himself anymore.

"How did you get such freedom in his profession?" "You mean acting? Oh, I didn't got it." Okay, that was new. Richard didn't got the freedom.

"You took it?" "No, my friends and I took it. And Dad didn't agree. It got me half a year to shoot 'the Accident'. When he found out when we were half past shooting, he forbid me to go further on it,. I don't know, he was secretive, but I was secretive, too. Then, in a surprise, when I finished it, I got the permission to go on with it. Do you remember the look on his face?" ST grinned when he thought of Joey's face. It had surprised him to hear his father that loud.

"I remember vaguely you were grounded for two months…" he said, and Richard nodded. "It was a hard sanction, but it was so worth it." ST smiled – in those small minutes his older sibling was there, he earned ST's trust.

"Hey, gotta go, dinner's ready," Richard said. St groaned – he was hungry, yes, but he didn't want to go to the same room as his behated father. He doesn't even know 'behated' is a word – and he wouldn't get to know it, either.

After half an hour, Vanessa entered their bedroom – why did ST keep forgetting his chamber was also Vanessa's.

"ST! you missed dinner!" she said. ST shrugged – he didn't care.

"Could you do me a pleasure?" he asked his sister. "What is it?" "Could you ask them to get my food into this room, because I'm never leaving this room ever again!"

Vanessa raised an eyebrow. "You can't stay here forever." "Well, as I can say, it worked very well for Ron when he was sad about Hermione and Batman when he was crying about him being lonely. So why can't I stay in my room?"

"You have to! There is school, and Dad doesn't want you to quit that, and also friends – by the way, you can ask one friend to come with you to our vacation in the forest of…" Vanessa wanted to say something, but ST interrupted her.

"Wait a minute – we're celebrating vacation to go to a forest? Why don't I know that?" "Because Dad told everybody during dinner, and he wanted to tell you after you shouted you hate him," she said. She almost sounded a bit afraid after his sharp reaction. Fine. He didn't like her anyway.

She walked away, leaving her brother behind, who was laying on the bed again. This time, he actually planned to go to sleep.

Vanessa. Richard. Bruce Walker. His sister Jay. Iris Criss. Her younger siblings Luke and Olive. Little Delia Holden. Thirteen-year-old Clark Stewart, son of Jaime Lynn Beatty. ST shouts all their names when he lost them during a walk through a forest they don't know. After some time, he reaches a place where all of his friends are tied with branches to the trees around them. In the middle of that circle of trees, there is a great cauldron, the one witches and wizards use.

As his friends and siblings scream for help, ST only walks backwards away from them – afraid of what can happen, though he doesn't know what actually can happen. And he was also confused. It can't be true, his friends and family can't be captured. Can they? He feels a tree in his back, and sees how branches tie him against the tree. He struggles, but it doesn't help to free himself.

A hooded figure appears, and walks toward Clark, the only one of them who keeps struggling to get free somehow. As the unknown man comes closer, Clark's branches untie him, which causes him to fall over. The man grabs his arm and leads the struggling young boy to the cauldron. ST looks at the scene before him. He knows what can happen, and doesn't really like it.

The man was going to cook Clark!

In a sudden, a voice ST determines as his own, shouts: "Stop". All eyes look in his direction, and he finishes the things he doesn't want to say out. "Who are you to take a young boy to end his life? Doesn't take that little boy, but me! Take me instead!" After realizing what he just said, the branches untie themselves and ST stumbles forward.

Clark just runs away without looking back. ST wanted to shout at him he has to come with help, but his voice doesn't want to work anymore. He tries it several times, but he can't even groan or moan. It is horrible not to make any noise! This can only mean one thing.

He can't speak anymore, like Uncle Brant!

When he catches his reflection while he walks to the hooded person, and sees he changed a lot. Not a lot – he is turned into Uncle Brant! Or, the younger version of his so-called Uncle. He comes closer the person, who seems to have lost his 'hood'. He now looks into the back of the man, and when he turns, ST can see the face of his father, and also that Joey is holding a small cup.

The cup comes closer to ST mouth, and he can smell a strange smell. Whatever in that cup is, it is poisoned…

The Richters but Joey, the two Walker-kids, Delia Holden, Clark Stewart and the Crisses but Darren belong to me. So, to clarify, the last part is one of ST's most recent dreams. I'm certainly no going to poison the protagonist. So... whaddya think about it? Please review; it motivates me to go on with the story. Must warn you, I'm a slow updater. I don't have much time to write you see...