Song: Do You Hear The People Sing? from Les Misérables
***
Ally straightened Mitchell's tie, and he swatted her hand away. "It's not straight!" she hissed, and Mitchell rolled his eyes. Ally blew her now shoulder length, mostly blonde, hair away from her face, patting it gently.
The pair approached the podium, grinning at the crowd of people before them, humbled that it was because of them that this many people had come to know the truth. Humbled to know that they had saved so many lives.
Mitchell tapped the microphone to check that it was working. Ally gave him a nervous grin as he cleared his throat, and he began.
"Hunter. Hunted. Dasher. Protected. In this day and this society, everybody's given a title. If you're a Hunter, your job is to hunt down the sick, weak, and poor. If you're a Hunted, you are the sick, weak, and poor. If you're a Dasher, you're a Hunted who's learned exactly what you are - prey. And if you're Protected, you're probably family to a Hunter. All different titles, all different meanings.
"I was a Hunter. Ally was a Hunted turned Dasher. My sister Eleanor was a Protected. And yet, impossibly, we're all related.
"That just goes to show you that the government screws up. A lot." The crowd chuckled, and Mitchell smiled. "But how does it feel to have a title? How does it feel to know that you were either considered weak or strong?
"Our goal is to do away with those titles, those ways of segregation. How do we do that, you ask? By raising awareness! By telling people that Hunters exist, and what the Hunter Mission is. And that if they didn't know what it is, then they're probably a target.
"We tell the people that the government went behind their backs to mass slaughter them, after promising to protect them! We tell them the truth!
"Ally and I were just trying to survive. We ran. We hid. We made it out alive. And we're just ordinary teenagers. If we can do it, so can anyone else. There's hope for everyone in this. Hope for survival, hope for a new life!"
The crowd roared. Cameras flashed. The eighteen year old behind the podium took deep breaths, not smiling for any camera. This was not a happy moment. This was a rebellion.
Ally stepped up to the podium next, looking quite stunning in her peach pink dress and silver earrings. "My father was the man who created this, out of pure spite. He tried to kill people he once called family and friends because he was simply jealous. He tried to have me, the daughter he loved and raised, killed. We can't let the Hunter Mission continue. There is no good in it, only pain and suffering, whether you're the Hunter or the Hunted.
"This isn't right. People are dying because a man's childish late night vent session was considered a mature, excellent way to curb overpopulation.
"These are people. Not cattle on a farm or apples on a tree. Real, living people with whole lives ahead of them.
"We, here with the HDU, want the leaders of every nation to know one thing. Our group is growing, we're bigger than you could possibly imagine. And we're everywhere. And we won't stop, not a single one of us, until the Hunter Mission is completely eradicated. We'll cause mayhem forever, we'll raise awareness forever. The ball is in your court, all you have to do is stop killing innocent people for no reason!" Once again, the crowd roared enthusiastically.
"And if we have to, we'll march in and destroy the Hunter Mission ratification papers ourselves."
Ally stepped down from the podium, and she and Mitchell made their way off the stage as General Watson took his place.
Ally and Mitchell stepped backstage, seating themselves on a comfortable, plush couch, thinking about where they were just one short year ago.
As they sat in front of a large window, Mitchell smiled at Ally. "Look at us," he said. "Just a year ago we were fearing for our lives, hiding out in the woods. And now? We're saving lives."
Ally smiled, the setting sun peeking through the window and turning her face a warm amber. "It feels good. I could get used to this whole rebel thing."
Mitchell sighed in relaxation, watching as the sun painted the sky in bright oranges, reds, and purples. Ally leaned her head over, resting it on her step-brother's shoulder.
Everything was going so well. The Hunter-Dasher Union gained more people every day. The rate of murders was down dramatically. They were winning.
Peace was coming. And they both knew it.
***
