A/N
Written for District 14's Monthly Oneshot Challenge; numbness. And I'm nervous. And I also realize that my genre is a little awkward.
I do not own The Hunger Games trilogy.
"Gamemaker Crane!"
Seneca Crane whips around. "What?"
You can't even rest for a moment when you're the Head Gamemaker. You have to be watching, constantly watching the tributes, making sure you give the audience the show you want them to see. And those tributes could get so damn rebellious...
"The earthquake. It seems that it damaged the dam - the the second one, west of the Cornucopia. The bolts cracked."
Cursing, Crane glares at the screen of his computer, showing the strain that threatens to tear the partly-broken iron bolts off.
"What will happen if those bolts break completely?" Gamemaker Crane asks the obvious.
"The whole arena will flood. It'll be deep, especially going towards the middle, because the land slopes downwards there."
Crane growls deep in his throat as he watches the sliding-door of the dam slide forward a bit and water splashes to the ground.
"What can we do?"
"Nothing. The arena will flood, but we can't do anything about it."
And suddenly, the bolts give way in quick succession and the tons of water held behind the concrete walls is released. Crane watches numbly. If this flood kills all of the tributes...then...then, his life would be worthless.
The first of the water comes in one great tide, shortly followed by lacy little rivulets and fierce streams and a steady pour.
When it comes, the tributes gawk at the water, oblivious to the death that threatens them. Most of them haven't seen that much water in their lives; with a trimmed mustache of bubbly foam, tinted with blues and greens and yellows. When it comes, they don't run until the last moment.
The girl with wild dark hair and green eyes that look too bright is a different story. She turns her face towards the huge wave and her stony face twitches, mimicking a smile. She stretches out her scarred arms, seemingly embracing the water, inviting it to run over her.
And it does, too, as it does to everyone else.
Seera D'Aria's mind is racing, like her legs as she desperately tries to run - where to, she doesn't know. The wave scares her as it scoops the Careers up in its watery arms - two bodies and one exhausted figure - and ripping them apart.
The water frightens her, as it always did. Blind terror fills the girl from District Five's head as she bolts from the wave, only to get her foot caught in a root and slam to the ground, the air punched out of her lungs.
And then it's like she's been pushed, and she tumbles through the grass which is now solid water, opening her mouth and swallowing a huge mouthful of water.
The water terrifies the girl, and, brave and daring as she is, she gives in to that thing that overcomes her, the sinking feeling in her gut and the instinctive, primal thing that she thinks it's fear - but no, it's a thousand times worse -
Seera, who's never cried in her life, squeezes her eyes shut not to see the water swirling around her. Uncontrollable seizures rip through her body, and she doesn't even know that she's wailing like a newborn baby - and every time she tries to breathe, all she gets is that horrible water -
With a last, gurgled sob, Seera D'Aria sinks into the rushing depths of the arena that had formally been prairie, and feels the numbness settle in her heart.
Velvet Tlaire's emerald eyes are huge as she looks down at her dead District partner. Then they narrow, showing a sadistic glint.
"Junes." She hisses. "You just did the most stupid thing in your life."
Caius Junes, District Two male tribute and the one whom most Capitolians have betted on. His pale eyes betray a hint of fear, but he offers Velvet a cocky smile.
"I've done a lot of stupid things. Things you don't - "
The female Career lunges forward, but Caius is ready. He throws himself to the ground, letting Velvet whoosh past above him. Rolling to his feet, he grins in the way that irritates Velvet so much.
"That all?" He asks jokingly, even as Velvet jumps forward. He darts out of the way, but the girl from District One is fueled with fury and somehow, she whips around and brings her hand crashing down.
The boy manages a choked cry as he slides to the ground. This wasn't possible. He was the fastest one in District Two. He was faster than any, quicker to duck away and engage others in the dance of death. And yet...here was her jeweled dagger stuck in him, rattling his breath, his blood coating her hand, his chest that feels numb, his mind that can't process that that he was just...killed.
The canon booms his death and Velvet falls to the ground, stunned with the fact that she'd reacted even before she'd seen Caius feint right. Then there's a rushing, slushing sound. She turns her head. And water swallows her.
"No!"
Into the belly of the current. The girl gasps for air, her lungs fast filling with the freezing, mind-numbing water all around her. It's not a proper end for Miss Tlaire, who has been training with daggers since kindergarten. But...
Velvet's no longer the ruthless Career they've seen; her masks are stripped away in the water, and she raises her arms, kicks out with cramped legs, trying to push herself up.
She's helpless as the strong currents force her down. The water closes in, like the walls Velvet's always been so afraid of, and she chokes on her own fear and stops swimming, and she sinks even deeper.
The Career wants a just another moment of open air, she wants the crisp cool wind in her lungs. She wants freedom from this watery hell.
Just as she raises her face the light of the sky above is blotted out.
Arik Haidar is dressing his wounds when the water hits. His leg is broken; he would've died anyway. He wasn't such an idiot not to know that. His leg was broken; he couldn't run. But he tried to. Because he had to try.
He knows it's hopeless, that he definitely won't be the one to go home this time, but he has to try. For the star.
"Try, Arik, try! I betcha you can get back home if you try. Just kill 'em tributes!"
Oh, Star. With her ridiculous District-One name that Arik teased her so much about. He knew, of course without evidence, that she'd stayed glued to the TV set, watching his moves. Watching how he killed that small boy from District Three. Watching how the boy from District One threw his hammer at Arik, shattering the bones in his leg.
But now he can't survive this, no matter how he struggles. The water's just to strong. Too great. A force of nature, as Star would've put it.
A force of nature. Star.
And he, being the one with perseverance, has to see the stars one last time. He knows that the stars are particularly beautiful in this arena; larger, brighter, clustered together. To the point where the stars are almost as bright as the moon.
As the boy from District Ten thrashes his arms and flails his legs, he has to acknowledge some thing. The water's just too strong. Why can't they let the water out so the tributes can swim? Why? If so, they could swim up and live...or even just look at the stars for the final time.
But he doesn't make it, for the luxury of a last star is not one the Gamemakers are willing to give him.
So many shades.
Lea Tartan has been organizing, categorizing bolts of cotton since she was eight, for half of her short life. As she stares in awe at the water pouring from a ragged hatch in the walls her mind automatically identifies the many shades.
Alice blue, baby blue, celeste. Columbia blue, electric blue, steel blue. Powder blue, tiffany blue, maya blue.
Her mind wanders to the textile factories of District Eight, little Nara looking wide-eyed at the stacks of vibrant colors. Herself laughing and showing her the scraps of cloth she would collect then sew into blankets. Her sister trying it out - crying because she keeps messing everything up, but Mel comes and helped Nara, and then everything's all right, because Mel will always help her.
Lea doesn't even know that her mind is going blurry, hard to remember the shades of the strips of cotton - oh, but cotton here is soft, so much more colder. So cold that her whole body's numbing over, so cold it makes her shiver 'cause she can't breathe anymore.
Hazily, as the girl from District Eight floats almost calmly through the water, she again looks at the bright part, as she's done all her life and she's doing moment before her death. It's painless, really. It's better than the gruesome death Caius's been promising her since Lea's arrow pierced the heart of his district partner.
After all, what can she do about this? She knows that this situation is beyond her control - she can't swim, she's not even trying now. Even though she loves Nara and Mel, she can't help them now, she can't. They'll have to manage, sweet Nara and matter-of-fact Mel.
And the girl from District Eight closes her eyes, ready for death.
Annie Cresta, the mad girl with the green eyes, loves the water more than anything. She's glad to see it in the arena, her friend, the water. It thunders toward her, happy to see her, too.
But as the wave catches the girl, throws her backward, grabs her again and plunges her into the depths of the numbing currents, she knows that something is wrong. This water, these waves, are driving her beneath. It's so cold, the freezing water soaking into her clothes and numbing her hands and feet. Her eyes widen as she realizes that this water doesn't want to play.
Instinct acts without sanity. The girl's strong arms push through the water, sweeping it behind her and propelling the girl forward.
It's hard. The water fights against her, tries to keep her down. The chill of it crawls into her body, straight in her heart, numbing it. But through all that she knows that she has to get to the surface.
When, with a final, savage kick, she bursts through the churning surface of the water, she's shocked to see the water all around her, wolfing everything up. Only the spike of the Cornucopia is visible now. Her friend the water isn't like this. Maybe it's that fact that it's not salty. If it were, it would be her friend, right?
The survivor hears something, and looks up. Some kind of instrument, she's sure. And now somebody's shouting, his voice bouncing everywhere and hurting her ears.
"Ladies and gentleman, I now present the victor of the 70th Hunger Games - Annie Cresta of District Four!"
Finnick Odair watches the metal claws of the hovercraft reach its stumpy fingers and fish his tribute from the water. Insignificantly. A little fish, indeed.
But she's alive, that's what matters. And with the relief the numbing pins-and-needles sensation flees from his fingers.
All in all, I'm not pleased at all with this fic. I drifted away from the topic. And it still took a fair two weeks to write it. Unbelievable.
Constructive Criticism is appreciated, as well as Flames. Thank you.