The Warbler Games

Part One || The Tributes

Chapter One

After a morning of hunting in the woods, Kurt Hummel washed the dirt off of his smooth, pale skin and dressed in his best clothes. Though decent fabric was hard to come by in District Twelve, Kurt made every effort to look his best, and thus he donned a simple blue shirt and black pants with a tailored white jacket.

His hulking stepbrother Finn did not share the same ideas, and so Kurt sat on the kitchen counter an hour before the reaping stitching the frayed cuff of Finn's sleeve. He cut the spare thread with his teeth when he finished and proudly said, "Good as new. You're finally somewhat presentable for the reaping. You wouldn't want to disappoint the people watching in the Capitol."

"Don't say stuff like that," Finn groaned, turning a little green. "I don't want to think about it at all."

Kurt nodded sympathetically, knowing that Finn's name and his own had been entered in the reaping over twenty times each. Growing up in District Twelve, neither of them had very much, and so as soon as they were of age, they both opted to enter their named additional times in exchange for tesserae, a small ration of oil and grain. Those rations had kept Kurt and his father alive after his mother's death and during his father's illness, but right now, Kurt wondered what the cost was if he was only going to die in the Games anyway. However, he and Finn were better off than some of the other boys in District Twelve. He knew for a fact that Noah Puckerman's name was entered upwards of forty times.

"The odds are in our favor, Finn," Kurt said, trying to keep his demeanor as sunny as possible. After the year he'd had, he felt that things would have to start looking up for him eventually. He smoothed down the collar of Finn's shirt and continued, "We're a family now, Finn. Nothing is going to ruin what we have. I won't let it."

"Thanks, little bro," Finn said, giving him a forced grin, which Kurt appreciated.

As one o'clock drew closer, the Hummel-Hudson brothers trekked out to the square near the Justice Building. On most days, children ran through the green, but during the reaping, the space was filled with melancholy families all praying to a nonexistent god not to take away their children for the Warbler Games. On the fringes of the square, groups of older men huddled together, taking bets on who they think will be selected as a tribute, but Kurt ignored their muttering as he sauntered past. Finn peered over the growing crowd, grabbing Kurt's sleeve and pulling him toward their parents. Even on the day of the reaping, a day of "celebration", their parents had work to attend to to keep food on the table, and so they met here instead.

Carole immediately pulled her sons into a fierce hug and kissed them each on the cheek. "You both look so handsome," she said, wiping away a smudge of dirt on Finn's cheek. "Good luck, boys."

Burt squeezed Finn's shoulder then turned to Kurt. "Only two more of these to go, and then you're done."

"Yes, then the only thing I'll have to worry about is getting the coal stains out of my clothes or suffocating to death in the mines," Kurt said with a wry smile.

His father sarcastically quipped back, "That's the spirit."

With a last smile to their parents, Finn and Kurt joined the crowd of seventeen-year-old boys, most of whom were fidgeting uncomfortably in their best clothes and sweating in anticipation and fear. Kurt was squished between Finn and Puck, who towered over him, but made Kurt feel very safe on such a terrifying day.

Each year, the twelve remaining districts of Panem selected two young men to compete in the Warbler Games, a punishment for the legendary uprising against the Capitol nearly a hundred years ago. Back then, the Warblers had been a group of rebels set on destroying the harmony created by the Capitol, and they operated in the now obliterated District Thirteen. As a constant reminder of its power, the Capitol called for the blood of each district's sons each year to compete in the Warbler Games.

The televised games took the twenty-four tributes and locked them in an arena, ranging anywhere from a rich rainforest to an Arctic wasteland, and had them fight to the death. Though the victor gained fame and money and glory for both himself and his district, it could not have been worth the deaths of his twenty-three fellows.

Your name is just one in thousands, Kurt reassured himself as the clock hit the hour and the mayor stepped up to the podium. There is no way you'll be chosen.

"It is both a time for repentance and thanks," Mayor Figgins said with no emotion in his voice. He then read through a brief history of Panem, culminating the list of victors from District Twelve. Although most districts boast at least a handful of living victors, their list starts and ends with Jesse St. James, the winner of the Warbler Games only three years ago. Jesse sat on the platform behind the mayor, haughty and handsome, looking bored as April Rhodes, the haggard and inebriated escort from the Capitol, stumbled up to the podium.

"Happy Warbler Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!" April screeches, as always too enthused for such a dim affair. "Let's kick off this shindig!"

Mayor Figgins rubbed his temples in distress. As though District Twelve was not already the joke of Panem, April's drunken shenanigans being televised across the nation would do nothing to help their image. Kurt almost laughed when April nearly knocked over the glass ball of names to choose a slip, but his grin felt punched off his face when she proclaimed the first tribute's name.

"Finn Hudson!"

At first, Kurt could not feel anything except for his fingernails digging into Finn's sweaty palm, desperately clinging to him and just holding on while he still could. Since Burt and Carole got together over a year ago, Finn had been more than just a brother to him. He worked while Burt was still recovering from his heart attack, helped Kurt hunt large game to keep them from starving, and was an all-around good guy. Their family needed Finn.

A choked sob in the crowd broke Kurt out of his trance. He turned to see Rachel Berry, Finn's girlfriend, breaking down completely, collapsing against Quinn and Mercedes. He could not even bear to turn around to look at Carole, no doubt silently crying as his father pulled her against his chest and stroked her hair. Kurt swallowed the lump of fear in his throat and looked up at Finn. His sturdy older brother was shaking with fear and tears streaming down his face, too terrified to move.

Without thinking for a moment longer, Kurt released Finn's hand and bounded up to the podium. "I volunteer!" he shouted, joining April on the platform. "I volunteer to be a tribute."

It didn't even sound like his voice, for it was so assured despite the fact that Kurt knew coming from District Twelve, being a tribute meant certain death. Fine struggled in the crowd against Mike and Puck, shouting helplessly, "Kurt, no! Don't do this! Kurt!" But Kurt gave him a small, accepting smile.

"Ooh, a volunteer!" April exclaimed, the delight in her voice not stirring the crowd in the slightest. She slung an arm around Kurt's shoulders. "What's your name, cutie pie?"

His voice caught in his throat, but he choked out, "Kurt Hummel."

"How about a round of applause for your tribute?" April shouted, trying to rile up the crowd, but no one moves. Tears began to well up in Kurt's eyes, because though he was never popular in District Twelve, especially not with his classmates, no one wished such a horrific fate on anyone. He made no attempt to look for his few friends of his family in the silent, shocked faces. Kurt just stood stoically on the platform, a quiet acceptance of his fate.

April leaned close to Kurt and mumbled through a cloud of alcohol, "Tough crowd."

Kurt nodded mutely.

April sauntered over to the glass ball again, fishing around for another slip of paper. Kurt took a deep breath, knowing that the name on that slip would not be his fellow District Twelve tribute, but rather his opponent in the arena.

"Blaine Anderson!"

The color drained from Kurt's face and his limbs went numb. Even if he ever remotely thought he had a chance in hell in winning the Warbler Games, he would never be able to kill Blaine Anderson.

Kurt never thought he would have to enter in the arena and slaughter the boy he loves.

Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of my first Glee crossover fic. Please review!