SneverusSnapers OneShort Challenge! Prompt #51 Once A Victor, Always A Victor!
Hatred. Fury. Joy. Anger. Passion.
As I look around me, seeing the bloodbath unfolding, I see all the emotions that should never be combined.
Hatred towards each other; to the people who turned murders so many years ago, to themselves for becoming the people they despised.
Fury at those who made this happen; who turned them into killers, who forced them to become what they are today.
Joy in those who enjoy the blood, the pain, the suffering they see in their victims eyes when they slit their throat.
Anger from the few that care about their companions, who are infuriated by the simple fact that one human being can kill another.
Passion, the most deadly of all, in the most skilled; the ones who enjoy what they do, who trained all of their lives for that one moment they truly became themselves, overjoyed by the fact that they get to do what they truly love again.
In one moment, 24 survivors, winners, victors, are turned against each other in what can only be described as blood lust, pure madness as what they know, what they breathe, has finally become available, they can now succeed in what they have dreamed of doing since that night. Their first kill.
When I say they, I mean we. I am one of the many driven to insanity by the thrill of the kill, the adrenaline rush you thrive upon when in battle, the one you will do anything for to achieve again. The only real replica close to that of the first kill in the arena is when you go back in; something unheard of before now, The Quarter Quell, but the anxiety isn't there, the doubtful thoughts are gone, your mind only searching for the right move, the perfect way to kill someone.
The way only a victor can, with precise movements and planned steps; making the battle a beautiful dance of weaves and ducks, stabs and blows, piercing screams filling the air like a stunning melody; one a monster kills for.
I blink back to reality, turn to my right just in time to pierce a younger victor through the heart with my knife; smiling mercilessly as that relief floods through me, the younger girl believed she could ambush me. Foolish. Obviously not the cold hearted killer real victors are.
Running towards the cornucopia I begin to relive my glory days, engaging in battle as soon as I catch eyes with someone, anyone. After all how can I win without a few lives being lost? It wouldn't be any fun then.
After all, Once a Victor, Always a Victor.