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

Note: Here's prologue number two, and a little bit more background on what's been happening in the government since the last Games. The third and final prologue will be up along with the tribute list sometime after submissions close, and will focus on our four coaches. (I promise I haven't forgotten about them; I just want a fuller roster so I can include some of that in their chapter.

Keep those submissions coming!

Prologue
Creating

Senator Carlos Kinsinger
Garrison, ND

March 2nd, 13:32 EST
Washington, D.C.

President Burke certainly wasn't wasting any time.

Carlos shook his head as the MAAB continued their presentation. It had been less than two months since the inauguration, less than two months since the newly elected senators and representatives had taken office. The election had brought a wave of emboldened anti-mutant activists, including their new president, who had been quick to push for Congress to consider any and all legislation regarding mutants their number one priority. And Congress was now almost completely on board with the new anti-mutant wave.

They never called themselves anti-mutant, of course – not in public, at least. They were pro-safety. Pro-regulation. Pro-human. People were scared, especially since the "incident" the year before. That was how they referred to it in public. An unfortunate incident. An accident. How many people really knew, he wondered, that President McKenna had signed off on it?

There were rumors, of course. Fringe conspiracy theorists. But they were dismissed as mutant sympathizers. Carlos shook his head. He could go public with what he knew, but they would dismiss him just as easily. There were already rumors going around that he was a mutant himself, or that someone in his family must be, because he had been one of a few to vote against several "precautionary" measures that had already come before the Senate.

Those votes would cost him his seat in two years; he'd already accepted that. Until then, he wanted to make sure that at least someone objected. That someone stood up and said no – at least for a little while.

It was all he could do, really. He was one of only a few in Congress who still opposed what seemed to him like a dangerous step in the wrong direction. There had been a few more before the election, but they had been voted out in favor of people who would "get something done." People were scared. And the more afraid people were, the more they would tolerate in the name of security.

"As all of you know, the Mutant Registration Act was instituted almost two years ago," continued Mack Urban, one of the younger representatives from Texas and a member of the MAAB. "Since then, thousands of mutants have been entered into our database. What we're proposing is that we use this information to begin to consolidate the mutant population in designated areas."

"You want to relocate them?" one of the younger senators asked.

Mack nodded. "That's essentially correct, yes. The more isolated they are from the human population, the less of a danger they'll be. These areas on the map represent the proposed locations of these mutant colonies."

A map appeared on the screen, and Carlos barely held back a snort. The proposed locations seemed to be clustered around the more sparsely populated states. There were a few in Alaska, as well as Wyoming, Montana, Kansas, Nebraska, South Dakota, and his own home state of North Dakota. There was one in Oklahoma, as well as a few in Texas.

"You may be wondering why these particular sites were chosen," Mack cut in before anyone could ask the obvious question. "Simply put, we wanted to select areas with a generous amount of open land that is currently uninhabited. We don't want to displace the general human population unless absolutely necessary. In addition, the low population density in these areas mean that if something unfortunate does happen, human casualties will be minimal."

There were a few vocal objections, largely from Carlos' fellow senators from more rural states. Carlos shook his head. It had been a smart move on Mack's part. Instead of focusing on whether or not these colonies should be built at all, the senators would spend hours squabbling about where they should be built. It was already a given that they would be built somewhere. The only question was where, and when.

And that was clearly negotiable. Mack had already eased a few ruffled feathers by pointing out that three of the proposed colonies were in his own home state of Texas. Every possible precaution would be taken to ensure that there were no incidents that would affect the nearby human population. And compensation would be offered to any humans who did have to vacate their homes in order to build the colonies.

Finally, once the commotion had died down, Carlos spoke up. "And then what?"

Mack turned to him, forcing a smile. "Pardon?"

"Once the mutants have been sent to these camps—"

Mack cut him off. "Colonies. Settlements. Districts, perhaps. 'Camps' makes them sound so primitive. They'll have all the necessities. We'll set up housing, schools, hospitals, and so on. They won't be out there in the wilderness, Carlos."

Carlos winced at the familiarity. "I understand that, Mack. But once they've been relocated to these camps, then what? What do you plan to do with them once they're there?"

"Contain them – for their own good, as well as for ours. The more dangerous ones will be provided with inhibitor collars to keep their abilities in check. And a more organized setting will allow for more research to be done, which I think we can all agree is badly needed."

He was right about that, at least. Research into mutations was something that was rare, because test subjects were hard to come by. Despite the Mutant Registration Act, many mutants were reluctant to reveal themselves, and he couldn't particularly blame them for that. But there were rumors that Mack had another proposal in the works – one that would require hospitals to test for the mutant gene at birth and report mutant births to the government. If that happened…

If that happened, there would be no more hiding. Within a generation, every mutant would be registered at birth. For their own good, the government would say. After all, knowing about a mutant's powers earlier could help the parents prepare to raise them, help the schools learn to cope with them. It sounded like a good idea. Maybe parts of it even were a good idea.

That was what made it so dangerous. That was how they would sell it to the general public. Desperate for any reassurance that the mutant 'problem' could be solved, people would embrace the idea. Who wouldn't want to know if their child was a mutant? And registering mutants at birth would allow them to be placed in these proposed colonies even sooner, avoiding the drama of pulling them away from their 'normal' lives. There would be no normal lives – not for mutants, at least.

But he couldn't shake the feeling that it wouldn't stop there.

"After this long a lifetime, I have no fear of [death], and no desire to live in the kind of world you're creating."