Rise

Prologue

"How could you accept such an offer?" Diana Wilder demands.

Her husband, Marcus, sighs. "Diana, I had no choice."

"No choice?" she hisses. "There's always a choice, Marcus. And you're choosing to work for an establishment that kills children for sport."

"I was approached directly by President Snow. What did you expect me to say?"

"No," Diana emphasizes. "I expected you to tell that horrible man no. I mean, God, Marcus. You've heard the rumors. You know what type of man he is."

"Exactly, Diana. I know exactly what type of a man he is and what he is capable of. What do you think he would have done if I had said no? Who do you think he would have hurt?"

Diana pauses, her hand resting on her stomach.

"We don't just have ourselves to think about anymore," Marcus continues, stepping closer, his hand resting over hers.

"And what sort of example are we setting for our daughter in supporting a tradition that makes sport out of the death of other children? What sort of future are we designing for her? One where she sees the districts as beneath her? Where she delights in the death and fear of innocent children?"

"We're giving her a chance just to have a future!" Marcus shouts. "Do you think Snow would just overlook my denying him? That he wouldn't take insult and then action? His first target would be you, and consequently, our daughter. I cannot allow that. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you and our child safe. Even if that means going against the things I believe."

"I can't support this, Marcus," Diana finally says. "I won't. The Hunger Games are the single most horrific decision our country has ever made. I can't stand by while you support them. I can't be with someone who designs creatures meant to kill innocent children."

"Diana," Marcus says, his voice cracking as his eyes search hers. "I have no choice."

"Yes you do," she reponds, turning away from him. "You're just choosing the wrong one."

Six Months Later

Marcus Wilder stares solemnly across the room, as the new Victor of the 2nd Quarter Quell stumbles to the open bar and grabs another drink, before moving over to a table and collapsing in a chair. He is mostly ignored by the crowd of Capitol citizens around him, who lost interest in the boy after several hours of trying to gain his favor, only to be rebuked quite rudely.

Marcus's lip curls in disgust at the ignorance of the partygoers in the room. They've all but forgotten the handsome young boy now that he's shown he has no interest in continuing to play the game now that he's won. They'll be disappointed for a few weeks, months perhaps, until the next batch of children are carted through the streets of the Capitol and led to an arena to fight to the death until one of them wins. Though, Marcus thinks to himself that no one ever truly wins the Games. He thinks Haymitch Abernathy won't ever recover.

"He's quite a distasteful boy, isn't he?" President Snow says, as he comes to stand next to Marcus, his gaze riveted to the intoxicated Victor.

Marcus fights the tension threatening to spread through his body. "He's not an ideal, Victor," he agrees.

"No. No he is not," Snow murmurs. "I've handled the situation accordingly."

Marcus freezes. "Is that so?"

Snow turns to face Marcus. "Any act of rebellion can make us look weak. We are not weak, are we, Marcus?"

"No, sir, we are not."