7. Poison

As Lucario looked at his wound, he was shocked by just how bad it had gotten.

For an hour, he had kept looking for something to bandage it with that wouldn't result in anything dirty entering the wound. Eventually, though, he found a tree with just flat leaves. Not pine needles. Just normal leaves.

But that wasn't that bad. It was going to get much worse. Much worse. As he pulled away his fur from the gash, he saw white pus all around it. It was so disgusting, and he knew, using his aura abilities, that the wound was infected. He only had a day or two if he didn't get it treated. He'd need a sponsor to send it to him. Sonic had been given an IV of fluids from Monsieur Beauregard in Paris, but that was very expensive. This could be even more vital, and this would come twelve hours later as opposed to Sonic's gift. So, he'd have to hope that there were a ton of fans willing to contribute.

At that very moment, it was about 3:11 PM in Rockefeller Square in New York City. The sounds of the city were all around them, and that wasn't all. A furry convention was taking place, with over 21,000 attendees. Some of these were wearing Lucario suits, so they might be willing to contribute.

"There is some news, guys," the leader of this furry convention said.

"In the Super Smash Bros. Hunger Games, Lucario is in trouble. He has an infected wound from getting bitten by a ladybug muttation. He needs very advanced medicine from a sponsor. But this is really expensive. It costs fifty million dollars in order to cure him. A payment of $2,380.96 would be required from each of you. And you know that eighty percent of Lucario mains are furries.

"As you know, you were required to show us your credit cards. This allowed us access to your personal accounts. Using this, that lump sum of $2,380.96 was drained from all of your bank accounts. There will be no refunds."

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!, came a massive scream from the crowd.

As a gargantuan crowd of people in fursuits were cheated out of thousands of dollars apiece, Lucario was also feeling the burn from his wound. It was absolutely disgusting, and he was fully unable to dress it. There was only one thing that could save him now, and that was a sponsor gift.

And immediately, a silver parachute descended from hundreds of feet above him. As soon as it landed, Lucario willed his aura-sensing organs to sense what was inside the package. It was medicine for his wound. This was absolutely invaluable. His life had practically been saved by this one guy. He hadn't known just how many people had gotten scammed by this furry convention. In fact, he hadn't even known that there had been a furry convention in Rockefeller Square. All he knew was that he was happier than he had ever been in these Games.

In this package was a single hypodermic needle that he would have to inject himself with. He had to plunge it into the middle of his wound.

So he did it. It hurt so bad. It hurt more than anything he had ever experienced in his life, and that included getting fifteen kidney stones on one side of his body at one time. But there was another sensation of it being drawn out. He then put the bandages that were in the package on his wound. Then, he sat up on the side of a gargantuan pine tree and fought to catch his breath.

As Lucario was recovering from his leg wound, Pit was walking around their campsite, seeing if anyone would attempt to attack the Careers. According to the digital clock hovering high above the Cornucopia, it was 15:43:56, Day 2. Twenty-seven hours had passed since the Games had begun. On average, Hunger Games competitions could last anywhere from four days to three weeks. One time, the 49th Hunger Games, the Games had lasted for three months. The victor had literally lost half of her body weight. It was absolutely awful. And Pit knew that the Capitol audience would not be happy if the Games lasted that long. He should be proud that he had lasted this long, so far. That was better than ten of his peers could say.

As a member of the plurality alliance, Pit's odds were probably better than most. He knew that he didn't have more than a 25% chance, but he hoped that he'd have at least a 15% chance of living to see the Victor's Village back in Skyworld. It wasn't going to be easy, but nothing worth doing ever is.

At that very moment, betting was a thing in the real world. In Boston, there was a betting office set up next to the New England Aquarium in the North End. People from across the state had been polled on who they thought would win. The results were thus:

Pit 23%

Meta Knight 19%

Fox 13%

Falco 9%

Lucario 8%

Kirby 7%

Jigglypuff 7%

Mr. Game & Watch 5%

Ness 3%

Snake 3%

Captain Falcon 1%

Sonic 1%

Not a single person polled thought that Toon Link would win, and only three people had thought that the other one would win. The betting odds were formulated thus. There was a slight house advantage, but not too much.

Nick Dunkirk, a thirty-year-old businessman, dropped off a hundred-dollar bet on Falco. If Falco won the Games, Dunkirk would receive a sum of $1,111.11.

The ladybugs were also in another location. It had been another hour or two after Lucario had injected himself with the antidote for the ladybug's venom when Captain Falcon was walking through, looking for anyone he could give a good Falcon Punch to. It didn't take long until he became hopelessly lost. But that was okay, since others were likely to be lost as well. But that might only increase his odds of meeting an unwanted tribute.

When it was 17:17:17, Day 2, Falcon was surrounded by the two-foot ladybugs. There were about fifteen ladybugs within a thirty-foot radius of him. He needed to get away. It didn't look as though it was going to be easy, however. There were too many of them.

He had to run like he did in Event Match 33 from Melee. That was the only way that he would survive this. He could tell, based on the green goo coming from their mouths, that it would not be good for his health if he was bitten. He had to try to escape.

It wasn't long, though, until he felt a nip at his leg. It brought him to his knees, and the pain was severe. He limped out of the clearing. His eyes were beginning to water, and his muscles burned. This wasn't good, because he had to get out of there before he got bitten again.

Too late, though. He felt another bite, but this wound felt much juicier than the previous one. He walked about three hundred meters before he collapsed into a pile of ferns.

The next thing that happened was that he began to feel dizzy and nauseous. He threw up, and the worst part was that it was green. It was so disgusting that it caused him to throw up again. He then lost consciousness.

It would be another two minutes, his heart fighting against the poison, before the cannon sounded. Captain Falcon was dead. There were now thirteen Smashers still left. Unlike Lucario, Falcon had had no rich sponsors to send him medicine to help against the poison. He just died.

Fox heard a cannon. He wondered who had died, and who, if anyone, had killed them. This would be good for him or Falco.

But no, it wouldn't. He again remembered that only five more Smashers would die before he would leave Falco, never to see him again alive. Maybe there was some kind of afterlife, but again, he couldn't worry about this at this time.

Falco asked him, "Who do you think this cannon was for?"

Fox had no answer for that. All he was thinking about was the upcoming bad news…

"I mean, Fox, this could directly affect how the game goes. If it was one of the Careers, then there are likely to be more deaths soon. If not, that gives the plurality alliance more power. There's four Careers, the two of us, and then maybe a third, if whoever got the note for the feast tomorrow is still alive. Maybe we could attempt to align with them?"

"My guess," Fox said, "is that it might have been Sonic. I heard him running while shitting diarrhea. He's probably very weak by now, if he's still alive. We'll try not to worry that much about it. It's just about us."

Lucario was startled by the cannon. He readied an aura sphere, just in case there was an attacker nearby. He held it for five minutes, and, convinced there was no one near him, then decided to retract it. He was safe for now. His wound was, by now, nearly gone. The only thing left was the injection site, which was still a little purple. It hurt a bit, and it was hard to run. He would have to find some way to camouflage.

There was a feast in the morning. He would meet whoever else had been invited to the feast, and he would attempt to align with them. The split would then be 4-3-1-1-1-1-1-1, as far as he knew. There were now eleven Smashers dead. Thirteen left to play the game. He just hoped that he wouldn't end up on the bottom of his new alliance. Maybe he could push his way to the top. But that could mean he would either be fifth or seventh, assuming that it worked like it did on Survivor. But it didn't. It obviously didn't. And there was still no evidence that anyone else was in an alliance right now. So he would try to relax for now.

Ness heard the cannon as well. Because he was severely dehydrated, the boom caused a horrendous headache. Worse than he had ever had, even when he had been sick with the flu back in Onett. Not even when he had had sunstroke in Scaraba. He had only been dizzier on one occasion, in the Lost Underworld, during the war against Giygas.

He thought back to what that had been like. After falling through the hole in Lumine Hall, at the end of that dark purple corridor, he'd been in freefall for what felt like years. Eventually, he plopped down on a patch of chartreuse grass. For a minute, he thought that he was dead. He might have been unconscious for part of the time he fell. Maybe that was why it felt like years. He might have kept passing out.

He was surrounded by palm trees and saw a blue geyser in the distance, perhaps five miles away. This was a massive landscape, and, despite there being no visible sun, it was brutally hot. He was on top of a hill, and the sky, which was a bright white color, was a few thousand feet up. And he could see the whole landscape, perhaps thirty miles across. Based on the shock from the size of the massive landscape, he felt like he might faint again. It took a look from a giant purple dinosaur to shock him into action.

And he ended up in battle again. But that was another story.

But in any case, he had made it to at least 13th place. But he might not make it beyond thirteenth if he didn't find water, and soon.

Like Katniss Everdeen before him, Ness had to accept the reality that the only cure for what ailed him required searching on foot. And this would only become more difficult the longer he waited.

Ness, this young boy from Onett, had to keep going. He had to find a source of water.

It was about an hour and a half before Ness found his salvation. This might not have been what would save him eternally, but he did find water. There was only one problem.

It was dirty, disgusting brown water. And he had nothing to purify it with. There was one thing, though, that just might be able to clean it…

He had no choice. Ness spat into the water, creating bubbles. He waited an agonizing half-hour before taking the first sips. It was heavenly on his dry throat and cracked lips. It wouldn't take long for him to start feeling better.

Now, there was nothing to do except wait for the daily death recap. It was, according to the Cornucopia clock, 19:56:11, Day 2. In just over an hour, he would find out which two tributes were no longer in the running.

Lucario's wound was almost gone. As stated above, the only trace of his wound was the injection site, still a two-inch purple stain on his normally cerulean fur. It wouldn't be too long until he gained more information about who was still alive. And then, in the morning, the feast.