Author's Note

I do not own The Hunger Games.

Two Years Ago

District Nine

Wren Willows, 16

"Surely you don't actually live out here."

"There's nothing out here."

"What do you think you are, the monsters in the wood?"

"I bet that creepy old man touches you every night, doesn't he?"

"Wanna feel the touch of a better man?"

"Are you ignoring us?"

"Willows?"

"Hey, Willows!"

"Don't be like that, c'mon!"

"Hey!"

"Hey!"

"Hey! Fucking bitch, are you even listening?"

Wren drowned the pestering out with thoughts of watching these two boys burn and continued her walk home. Wolf should have been with her, but he'd been sick in the morning so stayed home in their den. Not their grandfather's house. Never there.

"Willows!" One of the boys grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her violently. "C'mon! Not so brave without your creep of a brother, are you?"

"Shove off," she muttered, pushing him away.

"C'moooon, we just wanna see where you live."

"Yeah!" agreed the second boy, a stupid grin plastered across his face.

"I don't like you. You're annoying. Go away."

Fire would have cleansed his face of that annoying smirk.

"And you're a little bitch, you know that?" The older of the two brothers grabbed her arm and shoved her against one of the trees. "You flaunt about letting everyone know you want it, but you never give it."

Wren kneed him in the balls.

He roared and doubled over before falling to the ground. She kicked him in the face for good measure.

His brother lunged at her– "You fucking bitch–" He wrapped his hands around her neck–

A click, a thud, a scream, and he fell back, a feathered bolt buried deep in his shoulder.

Wren gasped for air, rubbing her neck as she turned to her brother. "You'll have to hide that before the peacekeepers come."

District Ten,

Callum Tanner, 15

Eighteen months later…

The broadcast had come across all screens in the District, with no way of stopping it or playing something else.

Capitol children playing the Hunger Games.

Capitol children dying in the Hunger Games.

Capitol children being hunted down by rebel scum in the Hunger Games, with no hope of fighting back.

The Games passed quickly, speeding through some parts of the days when nothing would happen, but always ensuring they slowed down and showed each occasion of a Capitol child dying.

Callum watched as two players, barely his age, fell from a cliff and died from the impact.

And the people of his so-called District cheered.

Callum watched as a boy was torn apart by zombies and another corrupted to the point she tried to kill her sister. He watched a little girl calmly blow herself to pieces rather than facing her fate at the hands of rebel scum.

These were Capitolites. They could be his blood. His great-grandmother had never named his grandmother's father. Any one of those children could be a relative, a cousin, a nephew, a niece. He replayed the scene of that young girl blowing herself apart in his head at night. If he'd lived in the Capitol, they might have been as close as siblings.

With every child that died, Callum hated the rebels a little more for taking away the family he might never have had chance to meet.

District Five

Rusudan Murtov, 13

The Capitol girl screamed as the axe sank into her skull, her blood splattering the ground.

How many District kids had died that way over the years? How many had suffered the way that girl had suffered? They deserved to feel even a little of the pain that the Districts had endured over what was almost the last century. Let them feel the fear the Districts felt; let them lose their children!

District Five was filled with screens, and every single one of them was doing nothing except streaming the hacked Capitol game.

Because of course they'd turned the Hunger Games into some kind of game for kids.

Assholes.

Rusudan whooped as the District kids cut down another Capitol brat. They went down so quickly now it was them on the firing line.

"I'm as happy as you are, kid, but I'd be careful who you let see you celebrating," said an older man as she passed.

Rusudan shrugged. "It's about time they suffered! How many of ours have they put to death in the arena?"

"Not saying it ain't a good thing. Just to watch your back."

Rusudan laughed and brushed him off, watching the Capitol Games as they continued to play on the screens as she headed out towards the base.

Six Months Later

Wren Willows, 18

The mutters and eyes followed them as they packed their new clothing away in their basket. They rarely came into town these days. Too many people. Too many whispers. Willow hated everything about all of it.

Wolf hated people too. Sometimes Wren wondered if Wolf hated people because she hated people. It didn't matter. Wolf would always take care of her.

"You two should be ashamed of yourself," hissed an older woman as they passed. Wren didn't know her, so she ignored her.

"Monsters," muttered another man.

"Murderers," said a younger woman.

They hadn't murdered either of the boys. They'd been alive when Wren and Wolf left them.

They ignored the whispers as they left the town. Wren glanced back at it. "I want to burn it to the ground one day."

Wolf smiled. "One day."

District Ten

Callum Tanner, 15

Callum's feet pounded against the soft dirt of the track as he ran. The sun beat down from overhead. This area of the District was always quiet. Ever since the Ripleys died three years ago in the Ninety Fourth Games, there had been whispers about this area being haunted. All the cattle kept on it died, and all those that ventured onto it suffered bad luck.

It was all bullshit. The only odd thing Callum had seen out here was a few dying foxes.

He wasn't the only one to think so, because at the end of the dirt track leading down to the Ripleys' old cottage was a young girl with dark hair. As Callum approached, she raised her head and looked up at him with pale eyes. "How are you finding the weather?"

"Huh?" he grunted.

"You should be careful." She stood, smoothing down her skirt. "There's a storm coming."

Callum looked up on some instinct. When he turned back to the girl, it was to find she had already left, drifting away down the path towards the ruins of the cottage.

He shook the encounter from his head and continued on his way. One more crazy pauper in this District filled with them.

District Five

Rusudan Murtov, 13

'DOXN WIV CAPITAL SKUM.'

Rusudan sprayed the message across the wall of the bridge in large led lettering, the pain seeping down the brick and leaving red teardrops under each letter. She grinned.

The lesson the Capitol had learned from the simulation hacking was, sadly, to crack down harder on the Districts. But the success of the hacking had also spread something else across Panem.

Hope.

The Capitol wasn't infallible. They could stand against it. They could damage it. Perhaps one day, they could destroy it.

"This again?" Vidhut was annoyed. Rusudan knew it by the sound of her voice. "You can't keep doing this."

Rusudan shrugged, stuffing the can away inside her jacket. "No one saw me."

Vidhut caught her arm. "That's not the point! One day, someone will. You don't want that kind of trouble."

"Someone needs to stand up against them! They've got away with all this for too long!"

"I know. And their time is coming." Vidhut glanced at her, and there was a strange look in her pale eyes. "The time for all of us is coming."