𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 (𝑇𝐵𝑃)

Prologue

I want the Capitol to burn.

I don't just want it to burn- I want it to explode. I want to watch every single one of those affluent, privileged, asshole motherfuckers to roast over a slow flame and burn to death. I want to watch every stupid, weirdly constructed building with stupidly overcomplicated architecture burn to the ground. I want to watch President Steel get tied to a fucking stake and have a slow, painful death as he burns to a crisp.

No, I don't want to just watch it- I want to do it myself. I want to be the one that lights the match, the one that starts the fire.

It'd just be so much more satisfying to be the one that does it, wouldn't it? Be able to have a front-row seat to the destruction of the capital, watching James Steel's tough façade fade away as he screams for mercy.

"You scare me sometimes."

I blink, looking over to Gwen. "Only sometimes?"

She laughs quietly, picking at some of the grass near her leg. "When you glare so hard at the birds that it looks like you're trying to kill them just by glaring at them, yes," She says with a gentle roll of her eyes.

"I don't need my eyes to kill birds," I grumble, rolling my eyes in return.

There's a chirp of birds in return to my statement, and I resist the urge to throw the small stone that I've been fiddling with between my fingers at one of them.

I listen more. Besides the chirping of the birds, I can hear the rustling of the leaves in the breeze. The faint noise of rushing water from the river that's a fair distance ahead of me.

"Our last year, huh," Gwen muses softly. "Who would've thought we'd make it."

I huff. "With all those extra rations I took last year, I thought for sure I'd be picked."

"Luke thinks it's a conspiracy," She says.

"Of course he does."

"No, I'm serious! You know. They say that for every year you're eligible, you get more entries, right? But it feels like the twelve and thirteen year old kids are in it as often as our age bracket."

She's got a point. "You know, you'd think that they want the oldies in the games," I say, tossing the pebble down the hill.

"We're not old," Gwen says with a laugh. "We're twenty."

"Oldest eligible for the games," I clarify with a roll of my eyes. "Because, you know. At our physical prime or whatever those stupid announcers say. We give better fights."

"You trying to jinx it?" She teases.

"No," I argue, kicking her shoe. She kicks me back. "Just- well, you know. I think Steel has a thing for watching minors die."

Gwen laughs, which turns into a cough. "You can't say that."

"Why not?" I reply, shrugging. I fall onto my back, the grass squishing underneath my jacket. "No one can hear us out here."

I'm right, of course. Sneaking out past the fence that surrounds District 12 is the only true way to get some peace and quiet, away from my nosy neighbours, away from the Peacekeepers that patrol the streets, away from the Capitol cameras. I do it often: mostly to hunt, sometimes to set traps, sometimes just to nap in the sun. It's worth the risk, every single time.

I like it out here. I like how my heart rate picks up every single time I duck under the broken part of the fence, and how I can hear the muffled steps of animals running away when they hear me.

"Do me a favour."

I tip my head, looking at Gwen, who's also fallen on her back into the grass next to me. "What?" I ask, frowning.