A/N: Welp, am I really doing this? GAH! I dunno Okay so I've read the Hunger Games, all three books and lemme say...WOW. Not THE best written books and there's a little few editing problems but damn those books are amazing. I was so captured and of course...this came to mind. I feel foolish cos even though I write for a fandom, I don't usually do things like this.

For those of you who haven't read the hunger games but wanna read this, here's a brief backstory :)

An apocolyptic war basically wipped out mankind leaving only a few to survive in North America. They built the country of Panem. It contained a city called the Capitol and 13 districts. The Capitol was rich and wealthy and filled with fat cats and each district was responsible for like...different things to provide the Capitol with. Weapons, clothes, electronics, coal etc. But they were poor [well most] and rose up against the Capitol in a rebellion. They lost however which resulted in District 13 being destroyed. As punishment, the people in the Capitol came up with something known as the Hunger Games. Where two tributes, a boy and a girl between the ages of 12-18 from each district would be trained and placed in an arena where they would have to fight to the death until only one survived. It was televised and people place bets and everything. That's basically the gist.

This is set during the 73rd Hunger Games, a year before the books start and includes some of our most loved Glee characters x3 I hope you all enjoy, it's not my usual style of writing, it's...not as emotionally indept as I'd try but this is just for fun. I promise an update of SHS soon and my beta for PMA is busy at the minute so please be patient.

Speaking of-thank you to Charlotte for her amazing work betaing this. She's seriously fantastic *claps*

Anyhoo enough of me, please enjoy :D

...

The scene smells of blood and the young brunette's heart is racing in his chest. He gazes around him, the cornucopia glistening in the intense heat. Sand is gathered beneath his bare feet. He gave up on his shoes when the damn sandworms almost took off his foot, tearing off the soul of his right boot. His ankle is bleeding due to the small, circular bites delivered by the small muttations. That is the least of Kurt Hummel's problems.

His stomach has a gash so bad that he is certain if he removes his hand from it, his guts will spill out. The hovercrafts appear over his head, scooping up the four bodies that didn't survive the bloodbath. He staggers, spear still in his hand as he rests against the golden cornucopia. Everything is blurry, the artificial Savanna's air is hot and there is no wind, so the blood smells strongly. He cannot breathe but he hears gasping, spluttering.

"Kurt..." The blonde girl whispers, her body shivering. He says nothing and instead slides down to the ground, pulls his knees to his chest and cries, his spear still in his grasp. He hears her call his name again. "Kurt...save me..."

Quinn is laying on the ground, twitching. Her skin is practically pealed off due to a tribute from District 8 named Jeff getting carried away with his knife. She is unrecognizable. Her once beautiful face is a meaty mess. Kurt is sure that if he looks, pieces of her will fall off and yet she lives. She fights. Most would beg for death but she...she begs for health.

They are the only two left.

The cannon is still ringing in his ears.

Four times.

"Tick tock...t-tick tock...said the grandfather clock..." He begins to sing in a shivering voice. "With four little b-birdies on top..." He takes in some shaky breaths. "Four fell off but three flew away...one wouldn't live to see another day...t-tick tock, tick tock said the grandfather clock...with three...little..."

The boy cries, reciting the morbid song which reminds him so much of his mother. He shivers, crying, and he hears her again.

"Save me.."

Kurt is only thirteen, which is far too young to be in the Hunger Games. He had come in believing he would die and yet now only he and his ally, Quinn, once the prettiest girl in district 3, are left. Both will die soon. If he kills her...he will live. But the people back home will hate him forever.

"Kurt.."

He opens his eyes, seeing her mangled, meaty face. The only thing resembling her are her eyes, one of which is all but falling from the socket. He clutches onto his spear in fright, screams at her closeness and moments later she's skewered to the ground by a wooden spear and a cannon rings.

...

Kurt Hummel woke up in his bed, screaming, his voice raw and pained. His heart thundered in his chest and, instantly, he rested his face in his hands. He was shaking all over, feeling sick. He could remember those eyes...that...face, if it could be called that. She had been so beautiful, so kind. He could still remember arriving home as the youngest victor of the Hunger Games, all stitched up and new. He had been fresh faced, rather on the chubby side and with only a 2 as his score in the Capitol. It was no wonder he had been the least favorite to win. But he had, against all odds, he had.

The now seventeen years old boy shivered, closing his eyes. He was glad he could wake up before the dream continued. Before, he could remember Quinn's family glaring at him. Before, he could recall how the entire district could hardly look at him. How someone had screamed at him from the crowd on how he had turned his back on her. He had been thirteen and could only break down in his father's arms, sobbing, trying to explain how it was the Capitol. He didn't kill her...it was all the Capitol.

But people said it was his spear, they had seen it. It felt like so long ago that he could possibly be wrong. Had he killed her? He could still see her body speared to the ground but...had it really been his doing as everyone had said?

Minutes after he woke up with his scream, his father burst into the room. Kurt was shivering, his eyes wet and teary as Burt Hummel rushed over and pulled the blanket away. He pulled his boy close, stroking his back. Kurt would usually be able to brush his tears away and insist he was okay, but right now he could do no such thing. Not today, of all days. It had been so long since the dreams had been that vivid. Like he was back in the barren arena, fleeing from his life, from people who had been trained when all he knew to do was wire some very basic technology they used in the Capitol.

"It's okay son." His father kissed his forehead. "It's okay." He shivered, clinging to his papa. It had been a year since the dreams had been so bad, since the last reaping when he had to mentor that poor fourteen years old girl named Harmony who had been the first to die in the arena. He could still remember the lifeless look that the camera caught when the huge boy from District 1 broke her neck.

"I can't do it...I cannot do it." He whispered, shivering all over and holding onto his father. How was he to prepare another kid to go into that arena. How could he prepare them to die? He knew he should be more optimistic, but honestly, he envied those who died in the arena. It somehow seemed so much safer than the alternative, living every day, knowing how those families were without children while he lived.

His father remained by his side, comforting him until he calmed down. Eventually, they found themselves in the kitchen, having a small breakfast as Kurt really could not eat anything, knowing what was to happen today. Burt set out some sweet bread rolls and jam, but he merely took one bite before someone knocked on the door.

It was Carole Hudson, the kind lady from the house next to theirs. She had been the last victor for District 3 before Kurt. It had been 22 years before the boy himself had been in the arena. She had been sixteen years old. He didn't know the details of her time in the Hunger Games. Only that the arena she had been in had been primarily water and she had won by simply shoving her final opponent into a pool filled with piranhas.

She was such a wonderful woman, her husband had died eighteen years ago while she was pregnant with her son Finn, one of the few people that Kurt could call his friend. He had died in a similar accident that Kurt's mother had died in nine years ago. A problem in the factories with their electricity. It seemed to happen more than what was considered normal. At least to Kurt.

He could see the woman was distressed. She was like this every year since he was eleven, in other words since her son was old enough to be entered into the games. Carole was a victor, but that did not excuse her offspring from being entered into the games. Thankfully because of her status and the money she had due to winning, Finn's name only had to be entered as little as possible. They never had need for a tessera, when some of the poorer families in districts were able to enter their names multiple times for the Hunger Games in exchange for provisions like oil and grain.

'The joys of being a victor' Kurt thought silently to himself.

"Carole, come in, come in." Burt allowed her inside and she simply smiled, her expression terrified. She came here every morning when it was time for the reaping. She didn't wish to show her emotions in front of Finn, so she would find her way to where someone knew her terror. Kurt's father would make her some tea and she would cry. Kurt had to admit he could understand her. He would never have children, for fear they'd be placed in the games. However, he never had to fear having children for...other reasons.

"Carole, it's okay. It's alright. Finn's name is in it seven times. There are kids whose name's are in there over twenty...forty times even." The woman cried, knuckling her tears as Kurt made the tea and brought it over to her. It was peppermint tea, a luxury that most of the Districts couldn't afford. District 3 was by no means as poor as most districts, in fact they were very well off, dealing directly with the Capitol, providing them with all the latest gadgets that they craved so much.

Carole remained in their house for some time, crying in Burt's grasp until she was calmed enough to pull back, stroking the tears from her eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Burt. Thank you." She smiled gently and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He simply smiled as Kurt put away the food, no one was particularly hungry in any Districts this day. The woman stood to go home and get ready, but before she did she turned back to Kurt. "I heard you practising last night, Kurt. It was beautiful. You will knock them de-" Her words faded and she bit down upon her lip to stop herself. "T-they will love it in the Capitol."

"Thank you, Carole." Kurt replied politely, smiling gently to her as she left. He then excused himself to his room to get dressed.

Minutes later, he was standing in front of his mirror in only his underwears, looking at himself.

Kurt Hummel, the youngest victor of the Hunger Games in history. It had gone down so well in the Capitol. The boy who had no hope. No one had known his name, the only bets placed on him were that he would die first. Then, when he came out, they adored him in the Capitol but despised him in his hometown.

He had lost his only true friend and Finn Hudson took on the role. The boy knew from his mother that the Hunger Games did something to people. He didn't judge Kurt for what the TV's showed him. He was a scared boy who wanted to survive. Finn accepted him, the rest of the people he knew shunning him.

How his life had changed in the last few years...unwillingly he found himself reflecting upon the last four years as he chose his outfit for the reaping.

The boy who left the games had been the boy who entered. At least according to the Capitol. Even though he had lost considerable weight in the arena, he was still the fresh faced, young lad that the people had grown to adore for his quick wit and will to stay alive.

Over the years, he had changed a lot. He had grown so much stronger, not only emotionally and mentally, but physically, too. No one would guess that the utterly gorgeous boy in front of the mirror was the same thirteen years old who had won the Hunger Games. His hair was a little longer and, thanks to some products from the Capitol, he was able to style it as he wished. His body was more sculpted and he was much taller. His features were sharper and he appeared more weary. Almost everything had changed, except for his eyes.

The boy with the electric eyes. Somewhat fitting considering the District he came from. His blue eyes were practically famous. They were not washed out or watery. Electric was truly the word. A bright, dazzling blue with streaks of amber. Dazzling, that's how the people at the Capitol described them. He had heard of people getting alterations to dye their eye colour to match his, but none had their intensity. He could remember reaching the Capitol on his victory tour and there had been banners of simply his hues. They were so distinguishable that people only had to glance and know they were his.

Even now, when he preformed a concert at the Capitol, there would be images that were hundreds of feet high along the side of buildings. Mainly of his face, but always highlighting his eyes. Probably with the aid of some eyeliner.

Victors always seemed to discover some form of talent once they were out of the arena. Kurt's had been easy to pursue, considering it was something he was interested in since he was a child.

Kurt could still remember his mother singing him to sleep, her soft voice and how sweet it would sound. Music had always meant so much to him. When in school, he would often drift off from his History of Technology class, humming to himself only for his teacher to remind him how he had no future in music. The closest he could hope to get was creating and advancing the music chips for the Capitol. He almost smiled thinking of how wrong his teacher had been, if only he could have gotten his dreams a different way rather than gaining attention through the Hunger Games.

He sighed gently but gazed to his clothing. The young man was dressed rather elegantly. His clothes were all sent from the Capitol,but he had quite a hand in choosing and occasionally designing his outfits. While singing was the talent he was following, he still dabbled in other talents of his. Right now he was dressed in rather tight, blue trousers with a silver belt buckle. His boots reached half way from his ankles to his knees and were equally as tight against his legs. They were made of leather made from some cows from District 10 that were genetically altered, so their hide was easier to make into clothing. The leather was different from the usual kind. It had the same brown colour, but there was something sleeker about it, and it didn't wear as easily as most leather...or at all.

His jacket was a silver that matched his belt buckle. It reached down to his hips and his sleeves extended to his wrists. The collar was wide with blue lining along it. There was some patterns of a matching blue colour along the jacket, almost like bolts extending the coat. The fabric was Kurt's favorite part of the outfit. It shimmered like it was static as he moved in the light.

He may as well have something to be happy about today.

"Kurt?" His father knocked on the door and the young man sighed. It was time to go and find out who he would be aiding in their death.