Written for one of those "30 Day Fandom Challenges" - for the final day, the challenge was to 'create something mulifandom'. I took it upon myself to insert characters from six different fandoms into the Brantsteele Hunger Games generator. I used all the generated events verbatim and wrote paragraphs for every one in my attempt to both get back to writing and write/finish a HG AU. One-hundred percent not to be taken too seriously and two-hundred percent for fun! No ties with any canon - just a generic Games, total AU. Hope you enjoy. :)
The Bloodbath
As the tributes stand on their podiums, the horn sounds.
Pepper snatches a bottle of alcohol and a rag.
The horn sounded and off Pepper ran. She had no clue as to what she should do or where she should head, but she knew enough to get off the podium before the landmines forced her off for inactivity. She dodged between tributes running every which way. Her spine straightened. A backpack! Her eyes caught sight of the black sack's straps, and her feet quickened to catch it. Before she came to it, something collided with her shoulder. For a few seconds, she couldn't tell what was up or down of sideways. All she knew: the grass was cold and damp. Pepper blinked and lifted her head in time to see some Career bearing down on her. No time to rest! She rolled out of the way, grabbed the first item she spied (without even checking), and dashed for the treeline. She didn't bother looking behind her to see where the Career was in relation to her. She pushed on. She pushed harder.
Survive.
x- X -x
Leta and Kara fight for a bag. Kara gives up and retreats.
Kara sprinted for the bag. There was no way she would head into the Cornucopia, as that was almost a guaranteed, instant death. She wrapped her fingers around a backpack strap several yards away from the structure, hardly breaking stride in her run. Ten metres… nine metres… eight metres… she almost made it to the forest's edge. Her arm was ripped backwards. She struggled forward, but the force was too strong, holding the backpack in place and, therefore, keeping Kara from advancing any closer to the treeline. Kara whirled around and tugged thrice against the elder girl's hold. The girl didn't budge. "Let. Go!" Kara commanded. The girl responded by tugging back. A game of tug-of-war befell them. Kara struggled to keep her grip on the straps, when an idea occurred to her. "Listen, you're that girl from Nine, right?" she asked, remembering the wavy, brown hair and quietly mischievous habits from training. "What if we were allies? We team up, we help each other survive. Maybe we can take down a Career or two?"
Leta shook her head. "It's better to go alone," she said, displaying one last attempt to rip the bag's strap free from Kara's hand. In a moment of weakness, Kara's fingers unfurled from the bag and the bag swung towards Leta with new found momentum. Startled and admittedly scared now that her one idea for a resource was gone, Kara turned and fled for the trees.
Hazel runs away from the Cornucopia.
The Cornucopia is a waste of time, her mentor's voice rang in Hazel's head. Survive based off your skills, not off who can get the most advantageous supplies. Hazel heeded the warning, reading between the lines; it's a trap. All the blood and carnage spilled, it could easily be avoided if one was smart. Hazel didn't consider herself particularly gifted in the area of intelligence, but she knew enough to be practical. In training, she had focused on the wilderness survival stations. She knew how to find food and water, how to stay hidden but not stagnant, and how to make a weapon from sticks and stones. She wasn't confident, but she had a determination now. With a goal in mind, Hazel plunged into the forest.
Mordred runs away from the Cornucopia.
Everyone was taller than him, Mordred, the twelve-year-old child from District Nine. He wasn't deaf, he heard what nearly everyone had said behind his back (and in front, for that matter, whenever the Careers were concerned). He was young and generally inexperienced. He was peaceful and didn't want to take a life. He wouldn't last a day passed the Bloodbath! tributes and Capitolites alike jeered. Mordred was intent to prove them wrong. He could make it! However, standing on the podium, blue eyes scanning the twenty-three others, he realised the fear fluttering in his stomach like a frantic butterfly. When the horn sounded, little Mordred burst in the opposite way of all the others. Not dying today.
Leo runs away from the Cornucopia.
Leo scanned the supplies flowing out of the Cornucopia. He sized up each item's usefulness, easily discarding the seemingly useless ones. What he needed was a hammer of some sort; he was good with those. The countdown ended with a horn blast, and Leo shot himself forward. A weapon, any weapon. He spied the love of his life – aka the hammer of his dreams – and tweaked his trajectory. At the last second, he ran into the girl from District Four. The pair of them tumbled to the ground. Snapped out of his tunnel vision, Leo's eyes widened. He scrambled to his feet, backing away slowly. It dawned on him that this tribute hailed from a Career district. Fight or flight. There was no way he could fight a Career! So, he turned and fled, hammer forgotten.
Freya grabs a shovel.
Freya was by no means a Career, despite hailing from the fourth district. Her mother had died shortly after she was born, so she was told, and her father had been a lowly fisherman. They had no money to spare for the training, and her father had no will to see his only daughter live to become one thing: a warrior. Four had more non-volunteers for the Games than any of the three Career Districts, so when Freya was reaped, it wasn't unusual that she hadn't been spared from her fate. She hated it, but there was little she could do to change it now. She could only survive. She thought she could do it! She sprinted for the supplies of the Cornucopia, as maybe her District status would help her a degree in the Bloodbath. Just as she reached out for a bag, a boy with a '12' on his jacket sleeve crashed into her and sent both bodies to the ground. Pinned to the grass, she struggled to breath. She brought a leg up to kick him from behind, but he shifted off of her before it collided. When his frame receded into the trees, Freya picked herself back up and grabbed the shovel lying partially obscured in the grass.
Piper grabs a jar of fishing bait while Prim gets fishing gear.
Piper had a gift of appealing to the younger tributes. In training, she had gotten along with Rue and Mordred, the kids from Eleven, and made the promise of temporary alliance with the least noticed girl, Primrose Everdeen. They made a pact, sworn into permanency through the means of pinky promise, to work together for Bloodbath supplies. The rules they laid out: stay to the outskirts, do not engage physically, and leave before the last twelve tributes. Piper nodded to Prim from her platform. As their podiums were almost directly opposite one another, the nod wasn't too obvious in indicating that the pair were allies. It was only natural to look ahead; Piper used that to her advantage. The horn blasted. Piper charged for the closest item. She shoved her shoulder into the tribute running beside her before scooping up the glass jar. Eugh, she wrinkled her nose, looking at the fishing bait inside. Trying not to squirm uncomfortably, she ran for Prim on the other side. Being thin, she had the upper hand when it came to weaving between the chaos, unscathed save for a small knife nicking her arm. She glanced over her shoulder, spying a white '8' on the boy's shoulder before she righted herself. "Have something? Anything?" she huffed, halting before Prim. The little girl nodded, showing the wooden fishing pole she had managed. Piper continued, "Perfect! Let's run!" Together, they ran for the safety of the leafy, green canopies.
Morgana runs away from the Cornucopia.
"Where do you think you're going?" Morgana snarled at the redhead sprawled across the ground. "Think you can live? I'm tempted to let you run, just to see how long you'd last." Morgana had no plans to let this girl run away, however. She raised her sword, prepared to stab downwards. At the last second, the redhead rolled to the side and scrambled to her feet. Without a pause, she darted away, and Morgana spun on her heel to track her movements. No one escaped her!
"HEY!" a male shouted from behind her. Pain blossomed in her shoulder. Green eyes flicked away from the receding red-haired girl and fell instead upon the silver knife sprouting from her scapula. She glanced up, enraged.
"The boy from Five," she drawled, "protecting your District partner? Cute." She launched herself at him. Pain and anger made her reckless. The boy dodged and yanked the knife from her shoulder. She howled and slashed her sword. He ducked underneath the arc of imminent death, rolled against the ground, sprung up in a surge of adrenaline, and then ran. Flat-out ran. Ran for the last place he had seen his partner. Morgana growled before turning away from the sight. She'd bide her time. She'd wait to have her revenge. For now, her wound needed attending to.
Tony snatches a pair of sais.
"HEY!" Tony shouted. No way in Hell was he going to let that Career kill Pepper. He flung one of his newfound sais – twin knives that had been lying, undisturbed, in the grass – at the District Two girl. A huff in relief escaped him, maybe even a slight twitch upwards of his lips, as the knife caught its target: her shoulder. His shoulders dropped as he watched Pepper evade the sword point and dash into the woods. He made a mental note of where she disappeared before charging towards Morgana with a newfound determination. He dodged her arm and yanked the knife from her shoulder blade. She slashed her sword, but Tony ducked underneath it's destructive arch and rolled across the ground. He bounced back up unscathed.
"You want something?" he taunted, unable to help himself. "Better aim? A cheeseburger?" When she growled his way, preparing for a lunged attack, he leapt backwards. "That's my cue." He swished around and pelted for the place Pepper had last been seen. Almost at the edge of the clearing, Tony spotted the boy from Six and reached out to grab his arm. If he were to survive, alliances were a must. Without breaking stride, he steered the Six away from the clearing.
Jace accidentally steps on a landmine.
A technicality? Was that really how the famous warrior, trained since essentially birth, feared and respected by the Career Districts alike, the one and only Jace Herondale was going to die? The countdown rang over the clearing, echoed back by the mountains towering over the forestry, echoed back by the gap in the trees caused by the white-rapids river. It was lovely. Real lovely. Jace could imagine it in some days time. Even when the sun would sink on decimated landscape, strewn with the blood of this year's tributes, it would be a lovely landscape – swaying trees, vivid green grass, purple mountain majesty in the distance. Beautiful. Jace would see the arena through until that day. Jace would watch the sun set on a liberated world. Jace would find his way back home – back to District Two.
"Three!" announced the countdown.
"Two!" Jace deserved that. Jace would earn that. Jace had the- "One!" He sprinted off the podium. The horn came next, and its sound intermingled with the sound of an explosion and the air pressure suddenly stripping his ears. He flew into the air… and all turned black.
Arthur runs away from the Cornucopia.
Arthur always took that Jace to be a fool, wrinkling his nose at the thought of forming a Career alliance with the boy from Two. The explosion rang in his ears, mingling with the signalling horn, as he barrelled for the Cornucopia. Surprising? Arthur shook his head with a smirk. Not at all. He reached the metal structure first and grabbed the first broadsword he spotted. He spun it experimentally before diving into the action. Through the chaos hurtling every which way, Arthur spied his sister caught in a struggle with the (surprisingly capable) boy from District Five. Shoving the tribute he was currently hassling aside, Arthur hustled for that scene on the outskirts. By the time he reached the spot, Morgana was peeling off from the Bloodbath, galloping rather lopsidedly as if she were in severe pain. Arthur charged after her, leaving carnage to the rest of the tributes.
Steve runs away from the Cornucopia.
Steve pelted into the soon-to-be mess. Out of nowhere, a boy jumped before him and wrestled Steve to the ground, maliciousness glinting in his eyes. The disorientation faded, Steve pushed the boy off of him, and he rolled out from underneath. He slingshotted the boy around and took off the other way. He nearly made it to the clearing when another boy, one with a '5' on his sleeve and the one he met during training, pulled him aside. Steve's defenses rose, but it became clear that Tony meant not to kill Steve but to drag him along. Steve fell in step beside him. Alliances could be good, he figured. Chasing what, he didn't know, yet for now he cared not. As long as it was away from the Bloodbath.
Theseus runs into the cornucopia and hides.
Worried for her safety, Theseus tried scanning the chaos for Leta. She wasn't to be seen. Swallowing his fear of the worst, he slowed the closer he became to the Cornucopia. The Careers were all occupied with themselves or other matters, and Theseus used the distractions as cover to sneak his way into the structure himself. Among the boxes, he found a crevice which would be concealed; only someone who knew Theseus was there would spot the hiding place and sense something as being off. He crawled into the space and make sure he was covered by the surrounding boxes. He may be brave, but as much as he hated something as cowardly and laughable as hiding, the other option was to partake in useless war: slaying twenty-three others for no other reason than to entertain the rich and lazy. Theseus would not be a part of that system. He had a younger brother back home for which to set a better example. If he were to win, it would be without needless slaughter. In his hidden space, Theseus waited, ears straining to detect any gradual decline of battle noises.
Clary finds a bag full of explosives.
Clary heard an explosion, but she thought nothing on it until she had a bag of explosives over one shoulder and a short sword grasped in the other hand. She turned every which way to find her one true ally, Jace of District Two, yet when she couldn't spy him, her mind immediately jumped to the worst conclusion. "No, no," she muttered, double and triple checking every tribute. He wasn't standing. He wasn't fighting. He should be fighting! Where was he!? Her eyes caught the sight of a body in a heap on the ground and... her breath caught in her throat. That… That couldn't be him…
Rue severely slices Gwen with a sword.
Rue's feet responded to the explosion by slapping the grass clearing harder. She knew she couldn't fight, so she would run like hell instead. At least, until she found something to climb. An aerial view was preferred, as she liked having a broader scope of the arena. (Plus, it reminded her of her duties back home.) She came to the Cornucopia, having dodged the tributes crossing her path without so much as a confrontation, and contemplated climbing the metal. There were some hand and footholds. She reckoned she could. Someone was behind her though, obvious by the way their feet hurried through the grass – an undeniable shushing. Taken by a shot of adrenaline, Rue grabbed the first weapon she could find - a sword - and brandished it as she spun. It was terribly heavy, but it managed its one true job. The steel cut deeply into the girl's abdomen. Shocked by the dense liquid now soaking the tribute girl's t-shirt, Rue dropped the blade. She had just– that she had done– this girl was probably going to– was she dying? Dead? Dead. Rue had managed to kill someone?! Horror laced the thought. On the whim of mere fright, the youngin from Eleven fled the scene if the crime. To the comfort of the trees, it was!
Merlin grabs a shield leaning on the cornucopia.
Merlin watched in shock as Gwen collapsed. The little girl standing small victor seemed just as shocked as he. He froze, wanting to retaliate yet not wanting to harm a little girl. His morals conflicted, Merlin stood an obvious target for the District One boy. A sword swung down for his head, but Merlin shook himself away at the last second. He grabbed a shield leaning against the exterior of the Cornucopia wall and brought it up over his head. The sword struck with an ear-shattering clang, but Merlin kept his stance with only a scrunch of his nose in response. The blond Career made to attack him again, when something so obviously caught his attention. The Career peeled away, chasing after his injured District mate and leaving Merlin to blink at the surprising turn of events.
Jonathan runs away from the Cornucopia.
Jonathan leapt at the unsuspecting boy of muscle. Who knew tributes from Six could be so strong and well-toned, as the same observation of muscle could have gone for his District partner, Kara. He threw a punch, but his fist was stopped by Six. He threw another, but that was blocked as well, this time by a forearm. At that moment, rage clouded his eyes. He reeled back, intent on seeing this boy end, when a hand caught his ribs. He was thrown back, dragged around in a circle, and then slingshotted towards the forest. Jonathan stumbled. His feet clattered forward, unable to halt his momentum without seriously risking a complete fall. By the time he felt as if he could stand still without falling, his feet were at the edge of the forest, far removed from the chaos within the circle. My, the kid from Six was strong. Heading back in would be suicide.
Peter severely slices Magnus with a sword.
Hiding wouldn't work, although his small frame would certainly be an advantage. Running wouldn't work, as his meager lungs would be severely constricted within seconds. Following the horn and explosion, Peter jumped off the pedestal and circled the outside of the starting ring at a jog. He nervously glanced at the inner-circle chaos when steel glinted in the corner of his eye. No one was anywhere near it... Peter raced towards it, ignoring the flare of pain in his chest. He scooped up the leather handle, spinning around with it flailing in his right hand. He was not expert in weapon handling. The sickle caught in the side of a tribute backing towards him, and with Peter's momentum, ripped across the tribute's back. Peter stumbled back, fists clenching – appalled – of what he never intended to do. His breathing, already laboured from the running, rattled inside an empty chest. Panic pressed in like night against the windows of his and his aunt's cabin back home. So shocked was he that he didn't see the knife go in his side until it was too late. As the boy Peter attacked slumped against the ground, head first, Peter spun on the spot and dashed away. With his hand pressing hard against the flow of blood, the fourteen-year-old boy dashed away, doing his best to keep the limp from affecting his progress.
Lena finds a backpack full of camping equipment.
Everything was closing in on her. She thought she could make it if she ran through it all, paid no attention to the others, and grabbed something – anything – laying on the ground. She wasn't picky, she could adapt to whatever bag she grabbed. (She hoped.) She did not account for the chaos pressing in on her like the humidity during a thunderstorm. Lena froze, halfway between her podium and the bag of her desire. A boy took opportunity from her paralysation, shoved her to the ground, and raced for the backpack. No, Lena thought, that's mine. She rolled to her feet and lunged for the boy, dragging him back by the ankles. As he fell, she stood up. As soon as she had the back over her shoulder, Lena darted for the leafy green canopies, metal clanging and whacking her in the back with every step she took
Percy takes a sickle from inside the cornucopia.
Percy hated the Games. He would never kill anyone in a thousand years; if he had to outlast them, so be it. All he knew, he was going to make it back to his mother in Four. He raced for one of the bags on the floor. Upon noticing that someone else was charging for the same bag, Percy poured on his speed. Weirdly, she froze in spot – her face radiated paralysing fear. A glimmer of instinct urged him to kill her, to take advantage of her weakness and ensure he wouldn't be the last to die. "No!" he muttered under his breath, appalled by the urge. Instead, he shoved her to the side and continued for the bag. No killing. Just survival. He spurred on speed, but something – fingers – wrapped around his ankle. He collapsed on the ground. Pain sprouted in his chin; a whistle-like shrill pierced his ears on impact. Groaning, he slowly picked himself up. Great… the backpack was taken. Percy scored the rusted sickle laying a few feet away and grasped the worn hilt. It wasn't perfect, but it would do. Now? It was time to survive.
Hope you enjoyed my Brantsteele generated madness! I tried my best to keep everything as in-character as I could, but - obviously - with some of the prompts, I had to tweak some things for everything to be fulfilled. This is me, Lilly, peacing out – and don't forget a review. ;)