Title: The Hunger Games - Broken Arrows
Author: ohmyklaine
Chapter: 2/?
Summary: A The Hunger Games/Glee crossover. Following the destruction of modern society, a terrifying reality TV Show is taking place. 24 teenagers are sent to an arena in a Gladiator-style survival Game. There is only one rule: Kill or be killed. It's the 25th Hunger Games, marking this the 1st Quarter Quell, and a cruel twist shakes the nation of Panem to the core.
Ships: Brittana, Klaine, Faberry, Neff.
Main Characters: Brittany, Santana, Nick, Jeff, Kurt, Blaine, Puck, Finn, Rachel, Quinn.
Do I Need To Have Read The Hunger Games To Understand?: No.

Author's Note: Thank you so much for the comments and subs, it means an awful lot to me. I didn't expect this story to get any atention whatsoever, I write it purely because I'm a sadistic type of writer who pairs angst and fluff to break the hearts of my characters (and y'know, me.) Also, Chapters will get longer, I just don't really want to drag them out too much, especially when this is just setting up characters and relationships and goals.

Two

District 6:
Blaine.

Just because it's the day of the Reaping, doesn't mean the work stops for my family. Our District is in charge of Medicine (amongst other drugs), and people don't just miraculously recover for this event. Although some must wish they would, I think. After all, if they had to choose who was going into the arena, wouldn't they be more likely to go for the sick? No hard feelings, you were gonna die anyway? I'm terribly bitter, I realize, and smirk to myself. Who wouldn't be?

There's a very slim chance of me being chosen for the games this year. There's an epidemic of some string of pneumonia in the area, and I'm a valued medical apprentice. My Dad does surgery and pharmaceuticals, whilst Mom flits between nursing, being a carer, writing health pamphlets, and a counsellor. Why she would choose to listen to the whole of District Six's problems alludes me, but since she couldn't save my brother from his 'sadness'… whatever helps her sleep at night.

But all in all, we aren't too worried about this afternoon. Even my younger sister just received a coveted nursing apprenticeship, the District wouldn't dream of volunteering a girl with a skill like she has.

The only thing that makes me slightly uncomfortable is the fact that… well, our community is very tight-knit. We're surely going to have figured out a random system.

May the odds be ever in your favour.

District 8:
Kurt.

"Dad… no, stop it, Dad, that looks ridiculous," I sigh at my ever-fashion-resistant father and shove a crisp, white shirt at him. "Corduroy is out, how many times do I have to tell you that?"

Honestly, you'd think living in a District that was responsible for textiles would have taught him something over the years. It's like talking to a brick wall. But, secretly, I'm kind of glad he's so clueless, because a clothing related rant is definitely something - possibly the only thing - that will take my mind off the reaping.

In previous years, I was able to get by with comforting thoughts of mathematics and the odds of me being chosen - a knowledge of probability really helped to calm my nerves. But this was different. This was the Quarter Quell. This year, the Districts has to choose participants.

And this year, District 8 isn't particularly fond of me.

It's my own fault. I… I came out. I didn't mean to, by any means, I was perfectly happy (maybe that isn't the right word, but let's go with it) keeping my feelings to myself. And when people started suspecting… maybe I didn't try to deny it. I didn't think they'd particularly care, but… then they started shutting me out in school, ignoring me at the markets, making snide remarks on the streets… here, it's not the way it is in the Capitol, or in the Districts closer to it, hell, even five is progressive enough in comparison to here. Hate to see how being gay is handled in twelve. The Peacekeepers would probably publicly execute you.

District 11:
Rachel.

There's not much to say on days like today. The Reaping is in a few short hours. Of course, it's 4am and I should definitely be sleeping, but somehow I can't seem to nod off. Neither can anybody else in the house, but the silence says enough, conversation thrown in would just be piercing.

We're usually nervous, but this year is different. It's the 25th Hunger Games, the first Quarter Quell, which means no ordinary Reaping. Nope. It's going to be far, far worse.

"I hate this," a small voice pipes up from the foot of my bed. I look at my cousin, and it simply breaks my heart to see the little girls eyes full of fear and confusion. Jemma just turned twelve two days ago. In Panem, that is not a birthday one celebrates.

"I hate it, too," is the only response I can muster, because what else is there to say? She knows all about the Games from History lessons at school. All about the destruction of what was once North America, and how it became the Nation of Panem, all about the rebellion and the Dark Days and how The Hunger Games are a punishment.

But no amount of study can begin to explain how on earth this is fair. How this can be allowed. How twenty four teenagers can be sent to the Capitol for the sole purpose of killing each other… for entertainment. Twenty-four teenagers let loose in the wild, murdering each other. For. Entertainment. In my opinion, that is not amusing. That is not entertainment.

Usually, the tributes are chosen at random, but this year, the cruel twist means the District itself has to decide which two kids - male or female, it doesn't matter - to send away to become tributes.

The thought makes me sick to my stomach. I didn't eat last night, giving my cousin my portion, because she really needs her strength, and sat in silence.

Daylight is starting to break. We have to be up in a couple of hours. "Go to bed, Jem. Let's try get some sleep."

Good luck, I add in my mind, grimly.

District 12:
Brittany.

I'm happy when I wake up this morning. The sun is shining down on me from the gap in our thin, grey curtains. "It's going to be such a pretty day!" I announce, as I swing off my bed, let my bare feet touch the ground (although my Mom is always telling me to wear socks around the house, because the floor is dirty - but then my pink ones made me slip in the kitchen, so I don't trust them) and softly pad out into the living area.

"Morning, Brittany," Dad says, wiping his tired looking eyes, plastering a bright smile on his face. He has a day off work today, because of the special event. "Did you sleep well?"

"I was warm. Lord Tubbington was scared, so I let him sleep with me."

I see my parents exchange looks. I think it's concern in their eyes. I don't blame them; I was worried for my cat too. He's lost weight, so I'm going to have to split my goats cheese with him next time. "What time are we going out?"

"Same time as every year, Britt. Noon. You best get ready, we're expecting your friend Finn and his Mom in a while."

"Finn!" I'm delighted when I'm reminded of this. Finn Hudson is one of my best friends in our District. I have other friends, too, but none others from the Seam, which is the area in which I live. We met at school, we were paired up for a History project and became very close. Even Lord Tubbington likes him, because they look alike.

While everyone else worries about the Games, we're just happy being ourselves. Especially this year. Like Finn explained to me, our people choose who goes to the big city because it's a special round. And they're our friends, why would our friends want us to be killed?

Besides, don't tell him I said this, but Finn is really clumsy, and we totally won't win if they send someone who cant even throw his Laundry into the right hole from three metres away.

Finn.

I'm going to be really late. Why does this always happen to me? Ever since the first day of school when I got lost and actually tried to walk into the coal mining station to start math class, ending up being led away by a Peacekeeper and missing half of my lessons, I haven't had a knack for punctuality.

"We're supposed to meet Brittany before the Reaping, and you still aren't dressed!"

My Mom's stressing. I don't blame her. After Dad dying in that coal mining accident, she doesn't need the added scare of me being sent to the arena. Having a dead son isn't on the top of her list.

I know that sounds really insensitive and, well, blunt, but, I'm serious, she actually said that once. This time last year. "Finn, please, having a dead son as well is not on top of my list." I think she may have been tipsy on that strange concoction she sometimes buys from the Hob (the black market where we buy most of our food cheaply) on special occasions. Or sad ones. Like the whole three weeks after Dad died. That was when I met Brittany, actually. I was kinda having a hard time in class paying attention, and she was paying attention but didn't get it, so we just kind of bonded over our academic inefficiencies.

Yeah, Brittany. I really should get to her house. The Reaping is soon. I think I was meant to met her at nine, and now it's 10:30.

My bad.

Next Time on The Hunger Games - Broken Arrows, the Districts assemble in their town centres and find out which teenagers will be sent to the Capitol that day. Tears, nerves, fear, and pride are just some of the sparks flying throughout Panem.