Alinta Fintan, D12

This was both the best and worst Arena for someone like me. Such a small space meant I was always close to the Careers, but it wasn't just any small space. It was a mansion. Mansions had a million nooks and crannies for someone my size to hide it. It was going to drive the Careers crazy looking in every giant urn and under every bed for me.

I wasn't somewhere stupid like under a bed, either. I was scrunched into a bedside chest of drawers, behind a quilt. Even if Chrome or Jayden thought I was inside a random drawer maybe a fourteen inches tall and two feet deep, if they pulled on the handle, they'd see the edge of a quilt and close it right back up. It was stuffy and cramped, but I was set for weeks.

The only problem was water. The first night I could do without, but it didn't matter. I would need it eventually. I passed a bathroom on the way to my hiding spot, but I couldn't bring any water back, because I was afraid I would leave a trail. I'd been waiting for a good time to venture out. Night was too obvious, so I waited until almost morning. "The witching hour", as my grandma used to call it.

There was another problem this small Arena carried with it, one the Gamemakers probably didn't even consider. Whatever the Arena, people still had to... use the bathroom. Therein lay the problem. I couldn't flush. The sound would bring the Careers. I couldn't not flush. The Careers would be patrolling, and they would check. Not to mention the fact that I would die of both embarrassment and violence if the Careers found me because they smelled my poop. Luckily, my time in my blankety coffin had been well spent- I had a plan. Number one went in the bathtub drain. Number two... also went in the bathtub drain. It would just need a little help. From my feet.

I didn't hear anything as I pushed the drawer open and unfolded myself. I held a pillow out the doorway before I went, and nothing happened. I stuck out a hand, and then my face. There was no one in the hall, and the bathroom was twenty feet away. I stepped into the hall, and that was when Jayden's head popped out around the corner at the end of the hall. Her hands popped out too, leveling her gun at me.

Oh come on...


Jayden Chadsey, D1

Chrome would have been furious if she knew I wasted a bullet on Alinta. We only had six, minus the one we used on Ember. I could have run Alinta down no problem and killed her half a dozen ways without breaking a sweat. But unlike Chrome, I didn't have the heart. If I had to run down a little girl and break her face to win, I would have. I had a gun, though, and I had the option to make it quicker and spare her the terror of being chased through the halls by a boogeyman with brass knuckles. So I pulled the trigger, and what Chrome didn't know wouldn't hurt her. She would no doubt hear the literal gunshot ringing out in a house-sized Arena, but I'd make up a story. I'd tell her I missed, and I was aiming at someone strong. Floki or something.


Shinju Matsushita, D3

I lay in a claw-footed marble bathtub, trying to hold in my guts as Lyte pushed a chair under the bathroom door handle. Then he climbed up on the toilet.

"Why are we in the bathroom?" Of all the questions, that was the first that came out.

"This," he said as he pulled at the mirror. It swung out on a hinge, revealing a cabinet. Lyte rifled through bottles and jars, knocking some into the sink. He picked out a bottle and a metal tin.

"This is gonna sting," he said as he opened the jar. I knew he was trying to poison me, but he had another think coming. Antiseptic didn't kill vampires.

"Ow!" It still stung them though. I swatted him away and tried to curl up further into the bathroom until I had time to regenerate.

"Hold still. You're going to bleed out," Lyte said. He opened the tin. It held a tiny spool of thread and a packet of needles. For whatever reason, rich people kept sewing kits in their bathrooms.

"You better get out while you still can," I warned him. He seemed to be trying to help, so I'd give him a chance. If he ran away now, I'd kill him last.

"Or what, you'll bite me? I've seen worse," he said. I wasn't expecting an answer like that. He didn't seem scared of me at all. Something was wrong with him.

"What do you think you're doing?" I asked as Lyte threaded a needle.

"Helping you," he said.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because you're worth it," he said.


Vera Busattil, D4

There were three floors in the mansion. More likely four- I didn't see the attic, but why have three floors when four is more expensive? I, of course, ended up in the basement. I was aware of the philosophical implications of my immediate inclination to move downward, but the practical side of the matter was just that most people instinctively move upward when threatened. There would probably be fewer people in the basement, and that meant I didn't have to find out how far down I'd gone. Metaphorically, not literally. I was starting to get the two confused.

It seemed Snow was somewhat of a history buff. Martial history, anyway, which made sense. He didn't start the gladiatorial matches, but he sure didn't end them. So it made sense he had a giant room full of suits of armor and fully decked-out mannequins. It was cool to look at, but it meant something more for me. It was like a fully stocked shopping mall, and I was the only customer.

All of history lay before me, but most wasn't ideal. Most of the mannequins were male, and the proportions of the armor was all wrong. The samurai stuff was totally awesome, but I couldn't run around with a twenty-pound helmet with a three-foot horn span. As I was still looking, I heard a footstep in the doorway. I darted behind an armored mannequin and peered out from it at the intruder.

"Hey. Room for one more? I don't think we're the same size," Floki said. I waved him in. We were District partners, which didn't mean anything in the end, but I'd seen him around. He wasn't the type to pick a fight- just the type to end one.

"Viking stuff's there," I said, pointing at a mannequin decked out in chain mail. It was the real deal, too. Nose guards and metal, not horns and feathers. I gave him a hand with the heavy pieces.

"Thanks," he said when we were finished. "Let's find something for you."

It was Floki who found the perfect match. The mannequin was smaller than me, but not so much the armor didn't fit. Whoever wore it must have been a very slender woman, which meant the armor was light and wouldn't hinder my movement. I didn't take it all, either. I just picked the chest piece and the leg gauntlets. I had chicken legs, and my chest held some pretty important stuff. Floki turned to leave after we were done.

"Hey. Good luck," I said.

"You too," he said. I would have asked him to ally, but neither of us wanted to go there. The beginning would be good, but we didn't want to see the end.


8th place: Alinta Fintan- Shot by Jayden

Alinta was another one who will shine more in the upcoming Resurrection Games. She's a spitfire and a contender, but this time she was another placeholder. On the bright side, she got shot before she had to do the waffle stomp. We'll be seeing more of her, so worry not.

For photo reference, Vera is wearing armor modeled after Joan of Arc's. Joan was a very small woman, so it's lighter armor.