Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men or The Hunger Games.

Note: Just a friendly reminder to keep an eye out for allies while our contestants are being collected, and let me know if you see a good match.

Thank you to Jalen Kun, calebbeers21, Axe Smelling God, and twistedservice for Rory, John, Parker, and Clara, respectively.

Down This Path

Representative Mack Urban, 36

March 15th, 09:26 EST

So it's like a reality show.

Mack couldn't help a small smile as he made his way through the busy Atlanta streets. When he had asked the question a few months ago at one of their board meetings, practically everyone had laughed. And, of course, it wasn't like a reality show at all. Reality shows didn't pose any real danger to the contestants. And they were generally vying for a prize or some money, not their lives. It wasn't like a reality show at all.

But they could sell it as one.

They weren't stupid enough, of course, to air the Games live. They would be able to edit the footage before the audience saw a minute of it. They would control what the public saw, and they could frame it any way they wanted. They had settled on a mix between a reality show and a documentary. See mutants in their native habitat.

Never mind, of course, that mutants' native habitat was the same as humans'. That mutants lived naturally – and some quite peacefully – in the very streets he was walking through right now. Anyone he passed could be a mutant, and he would never know.

The Sentinels would know, of course, but right now, that wasn't their job. They were looking for four very specific mutants. Anything else was, for the moment, completely inconsequential. They couldn't afford to get distracted by every mutant out shopping on a Saturday morning.

Mack glanced up at the Sentinels. So they were lying. Manipulating the public. What else was new? Both the government and the media had been doing that for decades. All they had to do was persuade the public that they had gathered thirty mutants and were placing them under observation for a few weeks. A test to see how they would interact, how they would behave. An experiment.

No one needed to know that the experiment was carefully controlled. No one needed to know that they were going to tell the mutants to kill each other – that fighting and killing was part of the plan. Anything the mutants said about the instructions they had been given could be carefully edited out of the footage. To the audience, it would seem that mutants simply had a natural urge to fight, to kill, to destroy.

It wasn't true, of course – no more than it was true for the rest of humanity. But there was no denying that the abilities they possessed made them especially good at it. And that was the point. After three or four years of watching mutants destroy each other at will, the public would be frightened, certainly, but they would also be intrigued. Once they saw what mutants could do – and once they saw that they could be controlled – the possibilities were endless.

Mack thumbed through his files one more time. From what he'd managed to gather from Colonel Burgess, Project Uppercut had had the right idea. They'd wanted to harness mutant abilities for the good of all. To train them and use them as soldiers, combating threats from both mutants and humans alike. Their only flaw was that they'd try to go behind the president's back. They'd been a secret operation.

This time, the world would know exactly what these mutants could do.

Rory Cunningham, 15
Atlanta, GA

09:32 EST

He knew something was wrong the moment the whistle blew.

Rory glanced over at Coach Gilmore, who was talking to a man in a bright blue suit. The man looked strangely familiar, but Rory couldn't place him. Maybe a college recruiter, but they usually only came to games, not Saturday morning practices. Rory took a drink of water as the whole team watched, catching their breaths. Finally, Gilmore shook his head. "Rory! Come here a moment!"

Rory bounded over, trying to shrug it off. "What's up, Coach?"

It was the man in the suit who answered. "Rory Cunningham? My name is Mack Urban. I'm with the Mutant Affairs Advisory Board."

So that was why he looked familiar. Rory gave what he hoped was a polite nod, trying his best not to take a step away from the man. Over the last year, he'd been all over the news, one of the most vocal proponents of the Mutant Registration Act.

A law he'd been ignoring ever since it had been passed.

Rory flashed his best smile. "How can I help you, sir?"

"I need you to come with me and answer a few questions."

"About what?"

"Your mutation."

The whole team was watching now. His friends were watching. His coach. None of them knew. He hadn't told them. Hadn't had any real reason to tell them. It wasn't as if his power was dangerous. Wasn't as if it were good for anything more than bluffing his way into R-rated movies, getting into bars, and hitting on older girls. It wasn't as if he'd actually hurt anyone. Not as if he could.

Rory forced a laugh. "Sorry, sir, but I think you've got the wrong guy."

"I'm sure I haven't. And I have three Sentinels waiting outside the door to verify that you are a mutant, but I'd rather not cause a scene…"

Shit. Rory's mind raced, but he managed a laugh. "Fine, fine. Have it your way. I'll come – just to prove you've got the wrong guy." He shrugged. "Besides, by the time we get this thing sorted out, maybe they'll be done running laps, right, Coach?"

Coach Gilmore smiled, looking quite reassured that this was all a misunderstanding. If he only knew. "I expect you back for the game this afternoon."

Rory grinned. "Sure thing, Coach." But as he and Mack made their way out of the building, he couldn't help a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "I'm not going to be back in time for that game, am I."

Mack shook his head. "Afraid not."

Rory clenched his fists tightly. "What do you want with me? I didn't hurt anyone. I'm not dangerous. I—"

"I know," Mack nodded, shrugging a little. "That's the point."

John Knox, 21
Dallas, TX

10:47 CST

How long had they been knocking?

John rolled over, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. What had it been? Four hours? Maybe five? He shook his head. He'd occasionally thought about hanging a sign on his door to let people know that he worked nights and that if he was home, he was probably asleep. But how many people in Dallas would actually stop to read the sign?

And how many of them would care?

Not that he was complaining. The city was a good place to hide. Better than most. And a job as a bouncer at one of the local bars – well, that was just about perfect for someone like him. Most folks knew better than to bother him, so he essentially just had to stand there. And if things did get out of hand … well, who was going to listen when a bunch of drunks in a bar claimed they saw a grizzly bear?

Weirder things happened every day in Dallas.

Slowly, John made his way over to the door. "All right, all right already," he grumbled, glancing through the peephole. A man in a suit stood outside, smiling. Of course. Why was everyone always smiling? John shook his head. "What do you want?"

"John Knox?"

"Who's asking?"

"Mack Urban. I'm from the—"

John didn't catch the rest of the sentence. He knew the name. Every mutant in Texas probably knew the name. One of their state's representatives. One of the leading advocates for the Mutant Registration Act.

Definitely not a friend.

Immediately, John raced for the window. He was on the second floor of the apartment building, but that was nothing to a bear. He could feel the glass in his fur as he smashed through the window, but that wasn't important. He could deal with that later. All that mattered now was getting away.

People raced every which way as he tore through the streets. But that didn't matter. They didn't matter. All that mattered was getting away. Because whatever the government wanted with him, it wouldn't be good. For months, they'd been talking about detaining 'dangerous' mutants. For their own safety, or for the public good. And what could be more dangerous than a bear rampaging through the streets of Dallas?

Plenty of things, actually. But apparently, that didn't matter. John turned the corner with a roar, and people continued to scatter out of his way. Just as he rounded a second corner, however, a Sentinel appeared in his path. John glanced back. Another one was behind him, and closing fast. There was only one choice.

With as fearsome a roar as he could manage, John leapt at the Sentinel, digging his teeth into the robot's armor. But it did no good. The other Sentinel fired some sort of blast, and pain shot through his body. John let out a cry as the Sentinel dropped him to the ground and the bear began to fade. Something closed around his neck as everything started to grow dark.

It wasn't fair.

Parker Reyes, 19
Santa Fe, NM

12:08 MST

It wasn't fair.

Parker gripped the door handle tightly as the voices continued to escalate in the other room. Her parents were arguing with the man at the door. She couldn't hear exactly what they were saying, but she knew. She had known for days that something was wrong. Something was about to happen.

But, until now, she hadn't known what. All she'd been able to see was a fuzzy image of her family sitting in the living room without her, crying. She hadn't been able to see her own future. She never could.

And now she didn't really want to.

"There must be some mistake!" Her father's voice, loud and irritated. "Our daughter isn't a mutant!"

"Don't you think we would know about something like that?" her mother insisted.

But, of course, they didn't. Parker closed her eyes, wishing the voices would just stop. They didn't even realize that they were lying. That she was a mutant. How could they know? She'd never been able to work up the courage to tell them. And now…

Calm down. She didn't even realize that she was projecting the thought until the voices in the other room began to soften. Slowly, gradually, everyone's tone grew gentler. Parker slowly turned the door handle. This was her fault. She'd put them in danger.

She hadn't meant to, of course. Hadn't realized that the government knew about her. That, even if they knew, they would consider her a threat. But the vision should have been a hint. They were going to take her. It was inevitable. The only thing she could do was make sure none of them got hurt in the process.

The man at the door smiled a little. "You must be Parker."

Parker nodded, then turned to her parents. Her brother and sister, Eric and Savannah. "I'm sorry. I should have told you." Stay calm. Don't shout. Please.

"Oh, honey, it's all right," her mother crooned. "Please, just tell us what's going on. This man here says you're a—"

"—a mutant," Parker finished. It's okay. Just stay calm. "And he's right. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but … but it's okay. I'll be fine. I just have to go with him for a little while. I'll be fine, and I'll see you soon."

Lies. All lies, she was sure. But they did the job. Her family smothered her with hugs before letting her leave, but, finally, she made it out the door, breathing a sigh of relief and trying to hold back her tears.

Mack waved the Sentinels away as he led her to a nearby car. "Impressive. We could use someone like you in congress."

Parker forced a smile. "I wouldn't mind a promotion."

Mack chuckled a little, but how much of that was actual amusement and how much of that was her influence, she wasn't entirely sure. "I'm sorry, Ms. Reyes. Really, I am. But the government has other plans."

Parker swallowed hard. "When I told my family I would be back soon … I was lying, wasn't I."

Mack nodded. "Probably."

At least he was being honest.

Clara Seville, 19
Maricopa, AZ

14:12 MST

She sometimes wished she could be honest with him.

Clara smiled and gave her brother Aiden a friendly punch as the two headed back home from the kick-boxing studio. He was getting a little better, but it was obvious that he mostly just enjoyed spending time with her. Despite technically being half-siblings, they'd always been close. For a while, she'd wanted to tell him.

Clara shook her head. Not yet. That was what she always told herself. Not today. Maybe she would tell him tomorrow. Or maybe she would just show him. Maybe one of these days, she simply wouldn't be able to stop herself from making him punch himself in the face or something when he got on her nerves. Or maybe…

Maybe it would simply be an instinct, like it had been the day she had discovered her powers. She had only been eight years old; Aiden had been three. He had been toddling his way down the driveway towards the road. There hadn't been any real danger, of course; there had been no cars coming. But she had panicked. She had stopped him – just by thinking it.

She hadn't even understood what she had done at the time – not really. But her mother had known, and finally admitted that her father had been a mutant, too … and that he had disappeared. One day, some men had come for him, and she had never seen him again. Her mother had warned her never to use her powers, insisted that the same thing would happen to her.

She hadn't listened. If they were going to come for her, they would come for her, regardless of what she did. So there was no point in hiding. No reason not to live her life until that day came.

"Clara?" Aiden's voice shook her from her thoughts. He was pointing at something. A man in a blue suit, coming towards them, followed by three giant robots. Sentinels. For a moment, she couldn't help staring. Sentinels weren't exactly something she'd expected to see in Arizona. Weren't they usually in bigger cities, looking for—

Mutants. Looking for mutants. Clara tensed as the man approached. "Clara Seville?"

"Yes?"

"My name is Mack Urban. I'm with the Mutant Affairs Advisory Board. I'm going to have to ask you to come with me."

"Why?"

"Nothing to worry about. We just need to ask you a few questions and—"

Before he could finish his sentence, however, his own fist came flying towards his face. "Run!" Clara called to Aiden, grabbing his hand. But they'd only made it a few feet before a giant hand closed around her.

"Clara!" Aiden called, reaching for her, ready to throw himself at the Sentinel.

"Stop!" Clara shouted, reaching out with her mind, just as she had all those years ago. Aiden froze. But the Sentinel didn't.

And neither did the man in the suit.

Representative Mack Urban, 36

14:53 MST

Most of them weren't dangerous.

Mack leaned back in his seat as the pilot took off. The four mutants were in the back, but he hadn't needed to sedate most of them. John was starting to come around, but the collars were enough to ensure that they wouldn't have a giant grizzly in the back of the plane. And none of the others were immediately dangerous.

There were members of the board who had been a bit uneasy about that – selecting mutants whose powers weren't particularly threatening. But they had come around, in the end – or been outvoted. In fact, the use of non-threatening mutants was even more essential. If they had only included those with more dangerous powers, those with less threatening ones could always claim that they weren't the problem. That they would never behave as the mutants in the arena had.

But now they wouldn't have that excuse. That was the point of the Games. To prove that all mutants were dangerous. That they would all turn on each other. That even the most normal-seeming mutants were a threat.

Mack shook his head as he dialed Nicholas' number and checked in. Humans were just as dangerous, of course. If they were to put thirty humans in an arena and tell them to kill each other, they would eventually turn on each other, as well. But they didn't have to tell the audience that.

They didn't have to tell the audience anything.

Mack closed his eyes as the plane leveled off. It was a shame, really. But it wouldn't take long. It wouldn't be long before the public realized that the Games could be molded and shaped into something better. A boot camp of sorts for mutant supersoldiers. Eventually, they could have more than one winner – three or four, maybe – and those who emerged victorious could take their place in the army, rather than whatever Nicholas currently had planned for the winner.

What, exactly, that was, Nicholas hadn't been entirely clear on – except for the fact that the winner would be allowed to live. And maybe that was enough. But it seemed a shame to simply let them go, when their powers could be put to use for the greater good. Why couldn't they take care of several problems in one fell swoop?

Because most of their powers could be useful in the right circumstances. A spy who could change his age at will. A soldier with the strength of a grizzly. A negotiator who could calm even the roughest waters. An officer who could shout "Freeze!" and be certain that a criminal would actually do so. Their powers could be put to use to serve all of humanity.

But it wasn't his call. He wasn't in charge. Maybe someday. Maybe once Nicholas decided to retire. If the Games lasted that long, of course. Alvin had said...

Mack shook his head. Never mind what Alvin had said. Alvin was paranoid. He was useful, of course, but all of his theories and calculations couldn't actually predict anything. In the end, he had no more idea of what was going to happen than anyone else did. None of them really knew how anyone would react to the Games. All they could do was hope for the best.

But sometimes he wasn't sure what to hope for.

"Are we destined down this path, destined to destroy ourselves like so many species before us?"