Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men or The Hunger Games.
Note: And I'm back from family vacation. Since I was in a hurry last time, I didn't say it, but make sure to keep an eye out for allies as we're meeting the contestants, and let me know if you see a good fit. As usual, I may not be able to accommodate every request, but suggestions are always welcome.
Thank you to bobothebear, So hard to choose usernames, when-is-winter-coming, and MornieGalad Baggins for Austin, Jayden, Cameron, and Verona, respectively, and to Skydork, flintlightning, District11-Olive, and SpaceAgeDino for Hadley, Victoria, Akil, and Cassidy. (Since I forgot y'all last time.)
Part of It
Dr. Alvin Mendelson, 60
March 15th, 10:33 CST
He had been running late even before he had gotten lost.
Alvin glanced at his watch twice before remembering it was still three hours off. Between all the hustle and bustle, he hadn't had time to think about changing it. He had spent most of the time since his meeting with the three coaches tracking down the supplies they had asked for, in between helping Francine work out a few of the kinks in the cameras and ironing out a few remaining details of the arena with Lillian.
Then came an eight-hour overnight flight to Omaha, of all places, and a few hours at a somewhat suspicious-looking motel before a text message from Nicholas to remind him that he had to get moving. Nicholas, of course, had already collected three of his contestants.
So get moving he had, but it was slow going. He'd left the plane – and the Sentinels – in Omaha, and had been trying to navigate Bellevue's streets. He'd asked for directions – twice – but seemed no closer to his destination than when he had begun. He could ask the Sentinels for more exact directions, of course, but the sight of the robots would alarm people more than necessary. And, more pressingly, there was no way he was going to resort to asking for directions from a machine.
He was already cranky enough.
Alvin shook his head, glancing at the nearest street sign. Cornhusker Road. Of course. He was relatively sure that was exactly where he had started, except the wind was stronger now. Alvin pulled his jacket tighter as he turned to an older woman who looked perfectly comfortable sitting on a park bench despite the gusting wind. Shivering a little, he managed a smile. "Pardon me, ma'am. Do you know how I might get to Amerado Boulevard?"
Third time's the charm.
Austin Venley, 13
Bellevue, NE
11:56 CST
Something was wrong.
Austin leapt up from the dining room table as the knock came a second time. He glanced up at his mother, whose panicked expression mirrored his own. They hadn't invited anyone over. Who would be knocking? Anders always called before coming over. And the knocking was louder, more rhythmic, than he would expect from his friend.
As soon as his mother opened the door, he knew something was very wrong. He didn't know the man on the other side – tall and lanky, with dark, wrinkled pants, a well-worn jacket, and thick glasses – but Austin knew why he had come. There was only one reason. They had come for him. They wanted him for … what? Experiments? Tests? Execution?
Before the man could say anything, Austin darted to his room – and then silently cursed his stupidity. If the man hadn't known about his mutation before, he knew now. In his panic, he had raced to his room far faster than was humanly possible. But he couldn't have made it much farther. His power only took hold for a heartbeat at a time, and, right now, his heart was racing like mad.
What did they want with him?
He could hear his mother in the other room – trying to stay calm, at first, but finally pleading. "Please. Please don't take him. He's just a boy. He's never hurt anyone."
That was certainly true. Ever since discovering his mutation, Austin and his mother had done their best to hide it. She had immediately begun homeschooling him, and now he rarely left the house. When he did, he was careful. Very careful. So how had the government found out?
The man obviously worked for the government, of course. There was no other explanation. Who else would want him? Certainly not the police. He hadn't caused any trouble. He hadn't done anything.
He never did anything.
After a moment, amid pleas from his mother, there was another knock on the door. His door. Austin took a deep breath, then slowly opened the door. Maybe he could make a break for it. He could certainly get past the man. He'd had enough time to rest. Five seconds – that was all it usually took. Five seconds to … recharge? That made him sound like a machine, but he couldn't think of a better word.
"Please don't run." It was the 'please' that caught his attention, and stopped him from sprinting on the spot. "It's already been a long morning; I don't want any trouble. If you run, I'll still catch you. Or, more likely, the Sentinels will. And they won't be as gentle. So you can come with me now, quietly, or you can go with them later. It's your choice."
There was no choice. Not really. Austin glanced at his mother, who shook her head, tears shining in her eyes. Austin bit his lip and stepped out of his room.
"Where are we going?"
Cameron Mercer, 14
Sundown, TX
16:33 CST
Come back now.
Cameron stared at the text message, a bit surprised, then checked the time, just to make sure he wasn't late. Sure enough, he still had twenty-seven minutes left before he had to be back. He wasn't late. He was never late.
Well, not never. He had been late almost two years ago, when he and his sister Abigail had been out on the ranch. He had been bitten by a rattlesnake, and although the bite on his ankle had made it painful, he had walked back home under his own power – much to Abigail's surprise.
When he had continued to be unaffected by the poison, his parents and uncle Chester had been equally shocked, deeming it a miracle. And maybe it was – of sorts. Sure, he had survived because of his mutation, but maybe that in itself was a blessing.
His parents had bought him a cell phone after that, and insisted that he keep it with him at all times, but that wasn't so bad. How many parents wanted their children to have 24-hour access to their phones? As far as he was concerned, he was lucky.
"We need to head back," Cameron called to Trent, who shrugged and followed him back to Uncle Chester's house. Once they got close, he could tell something was definitely out of the ordinary. A small plane sat in a clearing a little ways away from the house. "Maybe you should go home," Cameron suggested. Trent could drive back to town, of course. He was fifteen – old enough for his learner's permit. But Trent simply shook his head as the pair headed for the house.
Cameron's parents, Abigail, and Uncle Chester sat in the living room, along with a man Cameron didn't know. As Cameron and Trent entered, the man stood and offered his hand. "Alvin Mendelson. I'm with the Mutant Affairs Advisory Board."
Cameron shook Alvin's hand as Trent took a seat. Everyone in the room already knew he was a mutant. He hadn't exactly tried to keep it a secret. It had taken his friends a little while to warm up to the idea, but they had come around. After all, his mutation wasn't anything dangerous. It wasn't as if was going to hurt them.
So when Vice President Nolan had identified himself as a mutant, Cameron had done the same, immediately registering himself. Maybe that was why Alvin had come. Maybe he simply needed to renew his registration every so often – like a driver's licence. There had been rumors, of course, that the government was targeting mutants. Apprehending them. But only the dangerous ones.
He wasn't dangerous.
Cameron's mother poured another cup of ice water. "Alvin was just telling us that he needs you to go with him for an experiment. Something to do with your abilities."
Cameron glanced at the stranger, who nodded. His father smiled. Ever since he'd discovered his mutation, they'd told him that God had made him special for a reason. That it was his responsibility to use his gift to help others. He had suggested, when he had registered, that maybe his blood could hold the key to finding antidotes. Maybe this was his chance. Cameron took a seat beside his mother, smiling up at Alvin.
"Would you like to stay for dinner first?"
Jayden Parker, 13
Torrey, UT
18:02 MST
Strange man.
Jayden heard Hiro's thoughts before she saw the man herself. Even before the doorbell rang, Hiro had smelled him and started barking. Her aunt Katrina hurried to the door, signaling to Jayden to hide. Jayden ducked behind the couch, but Hiro wouldn't stop barking.
He was afraid. Or maybe she was afraid. Maybe there was no difference. Her thoughts, the dog's thoughts – sometimes she had trouble telling them apart. Sometimes it was too hard to separate her own thoughts from the other voices in her head. But she was learning. Slowly, now that her parents were gone, she was learning.
They hadn't taken it well when she had told them that she heard voices. On her first day of first grade, she had freed the class gerbil, telling the teacher it had asked her to. On the way home, at her father's butcher's shop, the voices had overwhelmed her. Terrified. Pleading. Begging for freedom. For help.
Her parents had taken her to one doctor, and then another. Schizophrenia, they had said. But medication hadn't helped. Therapy hadn't helped. At their wits' end, her parents had taken her to a priest. When his exorcism had no effect, he had declared her the spawn of Satan. A mutant. The two were interchangeable to him – and to her parents, who spent the next few years moving from place to place, evading the authorities and trying to cure her, before finally deciding it was hopeless. She couldn't be cured, so she had to be cleansed. They had tied her hands and feet and cast her into the ocean.
A stray dog had saved her life, diving in to rescue her, and had stayed by her side until help came. Katrina had adopted both her and the dog, which she named Hiro, and her parents had been taken away. Things had been getting better. But now…
"Katrina Parker?" She could barely hear the man's voice over Hiro's barking and frantic thoughts. "Is there a Jayden Parker home?"
"I'm sorry, sir. I think you have the wrong address." An obvious lie. Their town wasn't exactly large.
"It wouldn't be the first time today," the man admitted. "But I'm afraid this is the right place. Jayden needs to come with me for—"
That was as far as he got, because, in that moment, Hiro sprang from Jayden's side and lunged at the man, knocking him backwards and sinking his teeth deep into the man's arm. The man gave a shout, and immediately the door was gone. Not open, Jayden realized – gone. Swept away by a giant arm.
Hiro released the stranger and immediately lunged at the Sentinel, which raised its arm. Jayden screamed and raced towards Hiro, but the man was already on his feet, his injured arm tucked against his chest but the other raised towards the Sentinel. "Stand down! That's an order!"
"Your life was in danger," the Sentinel droned.
"And now it's not. Stand down." He turned to Jayden, whose arms were wrapped tightly around Hiro. "You need to come with me. And you need to do it now, before things get ugly."
Jayden clutched Hiro tightly, shaking, as Katrina stepped between them. "What do you want with her? Hasn't she been through enough?"
"Yes," the man answered simply, clutching his arm. "And I'm sorry, Jayden. But you need to come with me, and you need to do it now, or more people will get hurt." When she didn't budge, he shook his head desperately. "You can bring the dog."
Jayden peered past Hiro's fur, past Katrina, eyeing the stranger frantically. "Do you promise not to hurt him?"
The man smiled a little, his voice oddly calm as he removed his jacket and wrapped it around his injured arm, blood dripping onto the carpet.
"I promise."
Verona Diaz-Kamden, 13
Boyle Heights, CA
19:49 PST
"¡Guárdate de los idus de marzo!"
Verona glanced around frantically as the man outside the door continued, spouting nonsense about how Brutus was an honorable man. He had come for her – of that much, she was certain. But she couldn't let her parents know that. Couldn't let them take her. And as long as she kept confusing his words…
But how long could she keep it up? She could hear his voice growing more and more tense, frustrated by being unable to speak his own words. She still couldn't see him – her parents knew better than to open the door for a stranger – but she could hear him. And that was enough.
But for how long?
She had never tried to use her power for this long before. Usually, she didn't even try. For the last few months, it had been happening accidentally when she was distracted or bored. A teacher's math lesson would turn into a speech about that day's lunch. Her parents' lectures about safety would become a sonnet. When the man had arrived, knocking on the door and calling her name, she had been reading Julius Caesar, so her mind had chosen that as the most accessible replacement for his words.
"La parte de tiranía que sufro puedo sacudirme cuando—Damn it, just listen to me! I'm trying—"
Before he could finish his sentence, however, something swept through the living room. A giant hand reached down and grabbed her. Distracted, her hold on the man wavered, but, to her surprise, he shouted the word she would have chosen herself. "Stop!"
The robot froze, with Verona still clutched tightly in its grasp. A man stepped forward into the room – tall and thin, with rumpled clothes and a bandaged arm. He turned to Verona's parents. "Sorry about the roof. I'll see it's paid for. But I need to talk to Verona." He turned to Verona, who was still wriggling in the robot's grasp. "This was the noblest Roman of—" He took a few steps closer. "Please. Please, just listen."
Verona hesitated, but then nodded a little. The man closed his eyes, breathing hard. "Look. I've had a long day. And it's not going to get any better from here. I could make you stop." He held up a thin metal collar. "But I'd really rather not. What you do – it's fascinating. Truly, it is. And that's why I need you to come with me."
Verona shook her head. She couldn't. She couldn't let them do that to her family. She had to stay. But the man took a step closer. "You seem like a smart girl. There's nowhere for you to run once the Sentinel lets you go. If you try to confuse my orders to them, I just have to push a button, and they'll apprehend you regardless of what I say. This is a fight you can't win. Do you understand?"
Verona nodded silently. It wasn't fair. But if they were going to take her either way, it would be better if she came quietly. Better for her family, certainly – and maybe even better for her. The stranger nodded slightly, then turned to the Sentinel. "Let her go."
"Command not accepted."
"Stupid machine," the stranger mumbled. "Override Mendelson dash J seven nine…" He glanced at some sort of note scribbled on his hand. "Four. Let her go."
Immediately, the Sentinel's grip loosened, and Verona dropped to the floor. Quickly, she scrambled to her feet, wrapping her family in a hug. After a moment, however, she felt a hand on her shoulder. "It'll be easier if you go quickly." Verona took a deep breath and followed the stranger out the door.
But she couldn't help looking back.
Dr. Alvin Mendelson, 60
20:26 PST
He couldn't help looking back.
Alvin adjusted the bandage on his left arm, trying to ignore the voices coming from the cabin behind him. He hadn't anticipated the dog. Stupid. Of course a girl who could read animals' thoughts would feel more comfortable with one or two around. Perhaps he should have brought a dog himself.
It was too late for that, of course. Too late to make empty gestures in an effort to win their trust. In the end, he didn't need their trust. He already had what he needed.
He had them.
Alvin leaned back in his seat, silently wondering why Nicholas had assigned him four of the youngest mutants. Had he anticipated Alvin's reluctance to use force, and chosen the easier assignments accordingly? Or was it something else?
Was it a test?
He had been one of only two, after all, to vote against the Games. But he hadn't exactly kept his reasons a secret. He'd been perfectly clear about his calculations, about what would happen if the Games went forward. He had nothing to hide and no poker face; Nicholas knew that as well as anyone else.
Maybe it wasn't a plot to test his intentions. Maybe it was something simpler than that. Maybe Nicholas had assigned him the younger mutants because he knew he would be gentle with them. Maybe he was being kind. Maybe he was being cruel.
Maybe it didn't matter.
In the end, it didn't really matter what any of them did. Their course had been decided once they had voted to go forward with the Games. The details were insignificant. The consequences had already been determined.
Alvin sighed as he headed for the cabin. Watching the four of them, the details didn't seem insignificant. And they certainly didn't feel insignificant. The oldest, Cameron, nodded to the empty seat between him and Verona, and Jayden stroked her dog's neck as Alvin took a seat. Finally, Austin asked the question that was surely brimming in everyone's minds. "Where are we going?"
"Alaska," Alvin answered vaguely. Clearly, the four children wanted more of an answer than that, but Alvin wasn't ready to give it. Wasn't ready to destroy whatever hope they had that this might be a quick, painless experiment. "I'll tell you more when we get there. For now, you should try to get some sleep, if you can." He leaned back a little. "So should I. Merciful powers, restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature gives way to in repose."
Verona glanced up, surprised. "I didn't do that."
"No, you didn't." He wrapped his good arm around her shoulders. "Now sleep." He smiled a little.
"Happy Ides of March."
"I used to think it was gonna be you and me against the world. But no matter how bad the world gets, you don't want to be against it, do you. You want to be part of it."
