Hey guys! Today I made a double update, so you get both this final chapter before the Games and then the Bloodbath! Hooray!
The Fave Tribute Contest is officially closed, and here are the winners!
In first place, with a whopping SIX votes, is Seren Alyona!
In second place and with four votes, Lysemet C. Sprintyarrow!
And in third place, with three votes, is Fang!
Thanks so much to everyone who voted! Now onward, to the final chapter before the Games...
Mela Servitore paced in the darkness of her room anxiously; nervous beyond belief but not tired enough to shut her eyes. It would be a good idea if I got some rest, she reminded herself, but somehow couldn't bring herself to consider it. How am I supposed to sleep when tomorrow's my death date? She thought to herself anxiously. Well; not necessarily tomorrow; but the point here is that I'm going to die in these Games. The chance that I'll live is so slim that I don't even want to think about it.
She sighed and sat down on the edge of her bed, pinching the bridge of her nose. It was a habit she had carried over from her worries in District Three, but worrying about her and her mother's strained relationship paled in comparison to worrying about whether or not she was going to die in the next twenty-four hours. I am going to be so happy if I make it to this time tomorrow, she thought to herself. That would be a miracle.
She had a strategy all worked out, of course. She wasn't going to head into the Bloodbath; not for a second. She doubted that anyone would target her specifically; she'd played her part as an idiot to perfection. She could tell that Caesar Flickerman had thought her a complete and utter fool, and she'd managed to interact enough in Training to spread the word that she was not to be taken seriously. Added to the fact that she'd only gotten a three in training; a record low, no one was going to think twice about Mela Servitore. Everyone would be… well, quite surprised when they discovered that Mela was no fool; in fact she was probably smarter than many of her opponents.
Anyway; she really just wasn't up for the Bloodbath. She was much better at long-range combat than fighting hand-to-hand. She had a bad feeling that if she ventured into the Bloodbath, she'd be leaving the arena in a box. And a box was not something Mela had any desire to be trapped in. She didn't know how she was going to get any weapons if she didn't check out the Cornucopia sooner or later, but she didn't need much. A sharp piece of rock and a good opening were all she needed. Mela had a talent for throwing things; strange as it sounded, and she knew that if she managed to get her hands on a knife, for example, she would be a force to be reckoned with.
For a moment she considered when it would be wise to reveal the fact that she was dangerous. It would be great if she could make it far enough in the Games that it would be obvious that she was one of the killers, but statistically it didn't seem likely. Mela was pretty weak in hand-to-hand combat, and she was clumsy. It was unfortunate; but if someone was chasing her, there was a pretty big chance that she would fall on her face, and then they would have ample time to finish her. Mela did not want to be finished any more than she wanted to leave the arena in a box.
She brushed a hand through her now short brown hair. It came to her chin now, curving slightly to meet the sharp point of said chin. She missed her beautiful, flowing brown locks, but her stylist had recommended they come off, and Mela had to agree. It wouldn't be wise to have such long hair in the Games. Someone could grab it in a chase if she hadn't already tripped, and then she'd die. She did miss the way she had used to look, but if she won the Games for having short hair she'd be eternally grateful. Hell, she'd shave off all of her hair and go bald! That's it, she thought to herself, closing her warm brown eyes. If I win the Hunger Games, I promise to shave off all of my hair. Now I'm going to have to win!
She got to her feet again and began to pace, arms clasped behind her back. Hell, I'm nervous, she thought to herself. She could feel her heart pumping at a clipped rate in her throat, carrying life-giving blood to her limbs and organs. Perhaps that blood of hers would be staining the ground of an arena in the next twenty-four hours; who could tell?
That last thought was too much for Mela, and she ground to a halt in the center of the room. One dry sob wracked her body, and she fell to her knees in the plush carpet, fingers digging into her arms. I'm only sixteen; I had a whole life ahead of me! But now; now… Slowly, her eyes opened and she got up, her hands clenched in fists. No; I can't think like that. If I think like a pessimist I'll die. I have to think positive. It's the only way to keep me motivated.
"I need some fresh air," she said, heading for the doors. She knew that the Training Center had a roof; she'd been up there once or twice when nerves had gotten hold of her. She tapped her foot impatiently as the elevator climbed to the top, and as soon as the doors opened she stepped out into the cool night with a relieved sigh, arms spread wide and fingers splayed. She was here; and now she was going to enjoy the last natural night she'd ever see, most likely. I can't help it, she thought. I just have to think logically; and the logical outcome here is that I'm going to die. Probably not tomorrow, but eventually.
The wind was soft that night; just a gentle breeze that blew Mela's short hair out of her eyes. She sighed, enjoying the cool tickle on her cheek. It was so calm up here; so safe. She wished that she could stay forever, but she knew eventually it would be time to go. Her stylist would escort her to this roof again, only this time it would be so that she could board a hovercraft and make the journey to the arena. The dangerous, deadly arena. The place where she was, on all likelihood, going to meet her demise.
Mela, wandering over to a flowerbox filled with azaleas, wondered what it would be idly. She stroked one of the azalea's petals as she considered being tortured to death by Careers. Perhaps she'd by torn to shreds by mutts, or squashed by a landslide. Maybe she'd lose her life to a tribute she trusted, or maybe she'd lose her life to a Gamemaker. She hoped that it wouldn't be too bad, but these were the Hunger Games. The whole point was pretty much to make things as bad as they could possibly be.
"I suppose that there is a sort of twisted logic in that," Mela said, tickling the azalea's green stalk. She had a fondness for flowers; her parents had owned a fairly well-off flower shop in District Three, and she knew the names of a ton of flowers now. "Besides," she added, leaning over the flowers until they brushed her cheek. "I am one of the smartest people in the arena. Nobody's going to think I'm anybody until I… What's that?" She whipped around to see a boy standing behind her, staring at her guiltily. She flushed. "Were you spying on me?"
The boy shook his head immediately. "No, no; well, I guess I was but I honestly wasn't trying to!"
"Go on," Mela said coolly, tapping one foot. The boy looked at the foot and swallowed hard.
"I just came up here to calm myself down, and I heard you talking. So, I wanted to hear what you were saying." He smiled tentatively. "I'm Matt; Matt Grove."
"Mela Servitore," Mela said, and he cocked his head.
"Wait, you're Mela Servitore?"
"That's what I just said, is it not?"
"But… I mean, I heard that you… Well, clearly the people saying that were wrong; you're not… You're obviously really smart…!" Mela went cold. No, no, NO! This boy had stumbled up here and ruined the image she'd spent so long perfecting. Now he'd go running back to his allies and warn them about how Mela Servitore was only pretending to be an idiot, and then people would try to kill her specifically. To her horror, tears welled up in her eyes, and she blinked furiously, looking up at the stars. Unfortunately, Matt noticed her distress.
"Hey, what's the matter?" He asked, stepping forward a few paces. Mela sighed. I might as well just tell the truth; he knows I'm not an idiot now.
"People told you that I was an idiot, right?" She asked. Matt turned bright red.
"Well; I… I don't really… Why do you ask…?" He stammered. She rolled her eyes.
"Did they?"
"Yes…"
"Right," she sighed, looking at the ground. "You see, that was all an act." The realization dawned immediately in Matt's eyes, and he nodded.
"Alright, then," he said, business-like. "Does anybody else know about this?" Mela shook her head, and he smiled warmly at her. "Don't worry," he said, coming and standing next to her. He put a hand on her shoulder, and she felt a faint blush scorch across her cheeks. "I won't give away your secret."
"You- you won't?" Mela gasped, relief flooding through her. She put a hand to her heart and breathed heavily. "Really? But what about your allies?"
"I don't have any allies, actually," Matt admitted. "I was going to go into the arena alone." He blinked. "That is, unless you want to be allies with me."
Mela stared at him. "Are you serious?" She asked. He looked hurt, and started to open his mouth, but she beat him to it. "That would be amazing!" She exclaimed happily. Matt smiled at her.
"Alright, then," he said, offering her his hand. She took it gently, and in unison they shook. Mela released him with a sigh and slid down the wall she was leaning against, putting her knees to her chest.
"Do you want to talk strategy?" She asked. "I'm still not tired…"
Matt sat down next to her and nodded. "What were you planning to do during the Bloodbath?" He asked, the breeze blowing his brown hair faintly. "I thought that I would avoid the Bloodbath," he admitted. "I don't think I'm ready for it."
"That's what I was going to do!" Mela exclaimed. She frowned. "Of course, meeting up will be hard if we can't go through the Bloodbath to meet each other."
"Here's an idea," Matt suggested. "We've got sixty seconds before we have to leave our plate at the beginning of the Games, right? So, we'll find each other with our eyes and then motion in what direction we want to go. Simple, right?"
"Alright," Mela said. "But who decides?"
"Oh, you can do it," Matt said. "Unless you'd rather…"
"It's fine," Mela said. "I'll do it. So, we just run in that direction and meet up with each other?"
"Yeah," Matt said. "We can work on supplies and stuff later; the most important thing is avoiding the Bloodbath."
"Then it's a plan." Tentatively, they both smiled at each other. Mela looked into Matt's eyes. "Are you afraid?" She asked.
He laughed. "Terrified," he admitted, moving closer to her. "Why else would I be out here? What about you?"
"Petrified," Mela replied. She shivered as there was a gust of wind a lot greater than the little breezes of before; of course she hadn't thought to bring a jacket.
"Cold?" Matt asked.
"A little," Mela admitted.
Matt opened his arms. "Do you want to, you know…?" Mela didn't need a second invitation. She rested her head on his chest and sighed as his warmth leaked into her body. Normally she'd be embarrassed about being this close to a boy, but nothing was normal on the night before the Hunger Games began.
"I think I'm going to play out the simpleminded thing for as long as I can, okay?" She informed Matt. "So maybe when other people are around you can pretend that I'm an idiot."
"Sure," Matt said. For a while, the conversation winked out of existence as they stared at the stars. They're so beautiful, Mela thought, a tiny smile on her face. She sighed; for the first time since the reapings she was perfectly content. She wasn't worried in the slightest; she was comfortable against Matt's chest, and safe…
"You're so warm," she mumbled, snuggling closer to him. She felt him moving a lock of hair out of her face.
"Bedtime, I think," he told her. "I'm going to take you back to your room now."
"Alright," Mela murmured sleepily, and sighed as he scooped her up. Her last thought before she really fell asleep was, I think I really like him…
Garnet Painite was not having a good sleep.
She'd tossed and turned most of the night, and now, once she'd finally fallen asleep, she'd gotten stuck inside this stupid nightmare. Come on! She called, raising her fists. Come fight me! I'll take all of you one by one! The white expanse of nothingness before her did nothing but ripple hazily, ignoring her completely. And Garnet hated being ignored.
COME ON! She screeched, throwing herself to the ground and tearing at it for all she was worth. Nothing happened to the strange whiteness, but soon her fingernails were broken and bleeding, blood running in rivulets down her wrists. She gave a sob and slumped onto the ground. Come on, somebody. Anybody; please come find me. Please? There was nothing.
Garnet gave a howl of pure fury and staggered to her feet. Now she was broken and bruised all over, blood streaming from her nose. Her green eyes were puffy, and her long black hair was snarled and torn. She was just as beautiful as she was in real life in this dream; she was considered the most beautiful girl in her district, after all. But the maddening perfect whiteness didn't seem to give a damn how pretty she was.
SCREW YOU! She ranted, stomping her foot. She blinked as the stomp traveled outwards in a strange ripple, the fabric of the white expanse spreading out, becoming bigger. As she watched the ripples arced higher and higher, until they slammed into a roof that hadn't been there before and-!
Nothing.
And then she was in an arena; sweat moist on her brow. She was standing on a quiet carpet of leaves, surrounded by a bunch of very boring trees. She found herself peeling a sliver of bark off one of the boring trees and tasting it, although in real life she sucked at edible plants and would never do something so stupid. It's probably oak, she said, turning to a hideous monstrosity seated behind her. It was red and had dripping, melting skin, with a mouth hole covered in strands of its gloppy flesh. The real Garnet had to stifle a scream at the humanoid thing, but the dream Garnet just looked at it confidently. What do you think? The creature moaned once, and dream-Garnet nodded. You're right, she exclaimed, sticking the soggy piece of bark back on the tree. Pine.
She looked up as a band of tributes came howling through the trees, weapons at the ready. She recognized them; Rylla Stevens, Fang and Rosie Fullmoon were pounding towards her. Each of them held a bloodstained weapon in their hand, and each of them was screaming for her blood. She found herself readying her spear and pulling it out in front of her. The three tributes stopped when they made it to her.
You've been worrying us for too long, Painite! Rylla said, stroking the edge of her trident.
We hunted you down, Fang said, a sadistic grin on his face. And now we're going to end you.
Prepare to go down, bitch! Rosie laughed. Real-Garnet had to reflect on that for a moment, because Real-Rosie didn't seem like she'd ever be so rude.
She started to aim her spear, but before she could her monstrous companion jumped and lunged to Rylla. One minute her head was attached to her shoulders, and the next it was inside the creature's strange maw. She kicked, screamed and wriggled but it quickly absorbed her. Rosie and Fang looked at each and other and ran like hell.
Nice talking with ya! Dream-Garnet called derisively, turning to her companion. Good work. It didn't answer. Hello? I said good work! Slowly, the creature turned and Garnet could see Rylla's face peering out of its mouth. It lunged at her suddenly and knocked her to the ground, sitting on her chest and pinning her to the ground.
Game over, both Rylla and the creature said, and she woke up.
Garnet growled and extricated herself from the messed-up covers; she must have been kicking like crazy last night. She got to her feet and went immediately to her closet, going through the many outfits they'd left for her. Eventually she decided on a simple white blouse and black leggings, as well as soft beige boots. She wouldn't need this outfit for long; just until they made it to the Launch Room. Then someone would bring a new outfit for her, the outfit that everyone would be wearing into the Games, and then, of course, the Games would actually start.
Garnet wouldn't say that she was extremely nervous, but nerves were definitely playing a factor in her stress level right now. It would be helpful if I had any allies, but that bitch Rylla didn't want me, and by the time I started looking again all the good alliances were filled up. Well, whatever. I can do it alone. It's not like I need anyone; besides, when I win the Games, it'll look even better that I was alone.
She peered out her window and sighed; the sky was a grey color that alerted her to the fact that it was still quite early outside. Well, I'm not going back to sleep, she thought. Besides, they might be coming for me soon anyway. She sat down on the edge of her bed and crossed her legs, fingers drumming a tattoo on her thigh.
She couldn't help it; she was going to go over her strategy one last time. It actually wasn't much of a strategy. All she was going to do was run into the Bloodbath and kill whoever got too close. It was pretty simple and something most people would be surprised at, seeing as Garnet was fairly short, incredibly beautiful, and from the livestock district. She didn't know how long she'd be staying at the Bloodbath, but she planned for it to be quite a while, at least until everybody cleared out. Then she'd pick up some good supplies and find a place to spend the night. She didn't know about the Games as a whole, but she knew that she was going to survive the Bloodbath. Only losers didn't survive the Bloodbath, and Garnet was no loser.
There was a knock on her door, and Garnet got up resignedly. She opened it to find Root, her stylist, waiting. Root was pretty much constantly silent, which was fine with Garnet. With his chocolate-brown eyes and messy hairstyle, she doubted that he had anything even remotely interesting to say.
"Right, let's go," she commanded, and he nodded. Even though he'd been the one coming to collect her, ordering him to leave made Garnet feel in control. Seeing as her life had been spiraling out of control lately, this small gesture filled Garnet with confidence. She felt more ready for the Games than she had only a few short minutes ago.
She and Root took the elevator up to the roof, where Garnet looked up to see a hovercraft waiting for her with a ladder extended. She walked up to the ladder and placed her hands on one of the rungs and froze as an electric current ravaged her body. What? Is this supposed to happen? The ladder began to rise to the belly of the hovercraft, where Garnet spotted a young man with a needle. Oh right, he's going to inject me with a tracking device. Mom told me about that ages ago. Garnet's mother had been a tribute a while back; that's why she'd shoved down the girl who had tried to volunteer for her. She was going to bring glory to the Painite family name again.
The Capitol man explained the necessity of the tracker. Blah, blah, blah, Garnet thought, bored. Just get on with it already.
Eventually the man did place the tracker under the skin of her left forearm. It hurt, but Garnet relished the pain. If I can't take this, I'm nothing. I bet some kids are actually hurt by this. Hah!
The ladder released her and Garnet strode to a table in the middle of a spacious room filled with windows. She sat down gingerly, not really caring whether Root would turn up. She heard him entering the hovercraft but wasn't surprised when he didn't come to sit with her. I never liked him anyway.
The hovercraft took off fluidly, floating them in the direction of the arena. Garnet mostly sat at her little table and thought, although she did get up and pace a couple of times. The hovercraft ride was long and very boring; no one had thought to offer Garnet anything to keep herself occupied, and she didn't really feel like snooping around too much. At one point someone provided her with a hearty breakfast, which she thankfully devoured, but other than that she did absolutely nothing.
She was staring out one of the windows when it blacked out, leaving her looking at nothing. We must be getting close, she thought. That took forever. A thought occurred to her, and she giggled. What if the arena this year is so boring we're all bored to death! Hahaha! It wasn't really all that funny, but she needed something to think about that wasn't about death. She'd thought quite enough about death in the past couple of days.
Root appeared eventually, and they mounted the ladder together. This time, instead of daylight, they passed through a dark tube and came out in the Launch Room. My new home for the next hour or so, Garnet thought. Hooray.
She went to the showers first. She programmed a massage jet into the device and sighed in pleasure as the water drummed against her spine. She was going to take every measure right now to get herself as ready for the Games as she possibly could be, and having the tension released from her back seemed like a good idea.
Eventually she exited the shower, using the box on the wall to comb out her tangled hair. She brushed her teeth too, just so her breath wouldn't smell in the arena (who wanted bad breath?) and left the little bathroom, coming back to where Root was sitting in the center of the Launch Room. She ignored him and went to the food panel, ordering the largest breakfast she could think of: eggs, toast, bacon and a buttered bagel. She'd already had a remarkably large breakfast, but having as much food as she could now could save her from starvation later in the arena. She added two glasses of water and a glass of orange juice to the feast and took it all to the little table. Root watched her eat with no expression on his face. He didn't say a word, but Garnet knew she was doing the right thing. This is what her mother had done in her Games, and if her mother had won doing this, well, so would Garnet.
She finished her breakfast and laid back just as the clothes arrived. Garnet was in no mood to try on clothing, but she got up and looked over her arena outfit. It was fairly simple; a pair of long flexible brown pants and a white form fitting tee-shirt, as well as sturdy undergarments and a black jacket with fur on the inside. The boots looked tough and good for running, not that Garnet would be running much today. No; she'd be fighting instead, and she'd be winning.
"Anything about these I should know?" She asked Root. He shrugged.
"The jacket is meant for severe cold, but the rest of the outfit isn't. Some parts of the arena are going to be brutally cold; others should be temperate. If you wear that jacket in a temperate spot, you'll overheat."
"Okay," Garnet said. She stepped into the bathroom and changed into her arena outfit, tying the jacket around her waist. She doubted that the Gamemakers would throw them in the freezing spot right away, and if they did, the Bloodbath would keep her warm enough. If she put on the jacket and it was warm out there, she wouldn't have time to take it off during the Bloodbath, and then it was very possible she'd die.
She stepped outside and Root looked her over before nodding her approval. She took a seat and waited, downing another roll and two more glasses of water. Hydration was key.
When the pleasant female voice announcing launch came on over the loudspeakers, both Garnet and Root jumped. Garnet quietly walked over to the circular launch plate and waited. Soon, a cylinder slid down from the ceiling, separating her from Root completely. He nodded at her, and she nodded back as the plate began to rise.
It rose in the darkness for about fifteen seconds, and suddenly came out into open air. Garnet couldn't help but gasp at the sight of the arena. Okay, now the outfit makes sense, she thought to herself. Good luck, other tributes, because Garnet Painite is ready to go.
"Ladies and gentleman, may the 54th Hunger Games… begin!"
