A/N: Now that we have reached the Games each chapter will be from the single POV of a character. To tie this back to RvB (and Halo) in as many ways as possible, my arena is based on the Forge World map. Therefore this week's quote choice is from Reach and not RvB. Song choice is also from the Halo Reach soundtrack, the Tip of the Spear campaign level.
Have I mentioned I actually suck at playing Halo? ;)
"Emile, go with her. It's a ground game now."
"It's been an honor, sir."
"Likewise."
-Carter and Emile (discussing Noble Six); Halo: Reach
When she woke up in the morning she was still in her interview dress, though it was wrinkled in several places. The flower hair clip was gone, and her head pounded a little. She sat up, wiggling her toes, and looked out the window—it couldn't have been past five am. The sky was streaked with shades of purples and pinks, and if she hadn't been so tired and achy she would have smiled.
There was a polite knock at the door, and she put her hands to her head. Even the smallest of sounds felt like a drum against her throbbing temples.
"Carolina, honey, are you in there?"
Donut. Of course. The knowledge that he was close brought Carolina a small shred of comfort, and she rushed to the door.
He took her in his arms instantly, and even though her stomach roiled at the scent of whatever he had eaten for breakfast, she clung to him. He, however, noticed her discomfort and pulled away as gently as he could.
"You're looking a bit green there." He handed her a small bottle of water. "Drink." And then we have to get you all saddled up and out of here, okay?"
"All right," she whispered, and took a few sips of the water while Donut unwrapped a brown package, containing a simple, white cotton shift. Her proper arena clothes would be given to her in the underground catacombs there, before the Games began. She dressed as quickly as she could, though everything felt off kilter, angled to the right. She couldn't tell if it was a result of extreme anxiety, or the wine she had been given last night, or both, but she left the room without a second glance, only pausing to grab her mockingjay toy.
She forced herself not to look behind her when the door shut with a barely audible click. She was tired of goodbyes, and walking away was the easiest thing to do.
"Now, hold still." Carolina grimaced as a far-too-cheery woman readied a syringe with a dangerous looking needle.
"Why?" She hoped the woman couldn't hear the fear in her voice, but the shadow of a smile on the woman's face indicated to Carolina that she enjoyed her job just a little too much.
"I have to put in the tracker, so everyone knows where you are in the arena. The more you hold still, the less it will hurt."
Carolina gritted her teeth as the tracker was inserted—if holding still meant less pain she couldn't even begin to imagine what it would feel like had she been moving around. When the woman was finished the hovercraft carrying Carolina and her prep team to the arena began to descend. The windows were covered so she couldn't get a glance of the environment she was about to spend the next few weeks in, the only light rushing in once the doors were open, and she was in the underground catacomb known as the "Launch Room". Donut fussed with her hair, tying it up and tucking it beneath the olive green cap she received in the package of clothes each tribute was required to wear. He helped her dress in the rest of it—fatigue style pants in the same shade of green as the cap, a simple grey t-shirt, and a brown blazer-type jacket that was just a tad too big for her in the sleeves.
He tried pushing more food on her, water, anything, but Carolina wasn't hungry. In fact, she didn't feel anything at all as Donut wrapped his arms around her, and whispered "Good luck, honey." The numbness, much like pins and needles, traveled up her feet, spread out across her arms and torso and finally her head, leaving her scalp tingling. She stepped onto the metal plate that would take her into the arena, a glass tube covering it so that she was trapped inside.
There was no getting out now, no running away. Carolina reminded herself to keep breathing as the plate began to rise, and she could hear the voice of Claudius Templesmith, announcer for the Games, through a loudspeaker.
"Ladies and Gentleman, let the 77th Hunger Games begin!"
The first thing that brought Carolina out of her stupor was the immensity of the place. It stretched as far as she could see and she was certain it went beyond that, too. The sky was a cerulean blue, soft and tamed, and in the corner a silver Halo shone in the sunlight. Carolina could hear the pounding sound of a waterfall somewhere, though she couldn't see it within the vicinity.
The terrain was a cross between green and mountainous, with cliffs covering most of the arena, atop which perched a forest that appeared to have no end. In one of these rocky outcroppings, a good 50 yards away from her, stood the Cornucopia, a golden horn at least twenty feet high, the mouth of which was piled high with any supplies the tributes would need for surviving in this wilderness. The most valuable items were in the heart of it, with less valuable ones scattered on the outskirts. It was common for tributes to fight to the death in this initial foraging for supplies, a bloodbath so immense that the cannon used to sound a tribute's death wasn't activated until hours later, once the chaos died down and blood stopped flying.
The tributes only had sixty seconds to ready themselves before they were allowed to step off their metal plates and sprint towards the Cornucopia; any less than that and they would be blown to pieces by the landmines activated underneath the plates. Time was ticking away, however, and Carolina readied herself to run—not to the Cornucopia; far from it. She knew she could get overwhelmed easily by the Careers if she tried to get supplies. Best to follow her ears and run towards the sound of that waterfall, wherever it was. She looked to her right, scanning the line of tributes for Maine. And sure enough, there he was, a few people down, confident and smiling as always.
The gong sounded, and instantly the tributes took off. Carolina could only hear the pounding of her own heart as she turned in the opposite direction, trying to block out anything but the waterfall.
It can't be that far…
The terrain was rougher under her boots than she expected, and she had to struggle to keep her balance as the rocks jutted beneath her. One misstep and at the very least she was looking at a twisted ankle, a death trap here so close to the Cornucopia.
One foot in front of the other. Right, left, right, left, rig—
She didn't see the flash of blonde hair until it was too late. There was a sudden, blinding pain in the back of her head, and she cried out, watching as her blood spattered across the ground.
And then, nothing at all.
Sizzling.
That was what it felt like when she opened her eyes, and she squirmed a little. A rough, callused hand covered her mouth.
"Don't. Move."
She must have squeaked some sort of reply, because the figure hissed in her ear, their breath burning on the back of her neck.
"Be quiet. You're dead, okay? Now don't move." The figure retreated, their footsteps near silent.
She did as she was told, and in her haze she could hear voices, two or three.
"Pity," said one, though the speaker didn't sound sad at all. "Seems someone already got to her before us. She may have been useful for something."
"Like what?" Someone else asked. Definitely a girl, judging by the pitch of their voice.
"Distraction. Bait," replied the first voice. "Her stupid partner, for sure. He's protective of her, the idiot. Or, of course, we could always use you. He's been making cow eyes at you ever since the parade."
"Shut it, Tenn." The girl again. "She wasn't hurting anyone. And leave Maine out of this."
"Did I hurt a nerve, Mass?"
"My. Name. Is. Not. Mass."
"Touchy, touchy, Massa. What, can't stand the thought of your precious boyfriend feeling the tip of my spear?"
"Maine is not my boyfriend. He's just…he's…"
"Cat got your tongue, Mass? Maybe Tex could fix that. She's proved her worth around here."
An irritable sigh. "Tenn, just pay attention instead of talking. You want to guard the supplies so bad? Well go and—"
The sound of a cannon cut off the rest of Massa's words, and Carolina winced as the sound reverberated through her body.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.
The bloodbath at the Cornucopia must be over now, and any minute hovercrafts would show up and take away the dead. Carolina willed herself not to move a muscle, to keep completely silent, but the pain in the back of her head was getting too intense to ignore, and there was a throbbing in her right ankle that indicated she may have twisted it when she fell.
"Come on," said Tenn. "Let's get outta here before the hovercrafts show up. Besides, if we don't watch over Rhode he'll probably eat our entire stash. Remind me again why we decided to team up with District 1 again?"
"Because you couldn't keep your eyes off of Jersey's boobs," Massa muttered under her breath, her footsteps getting quieter as the pair retreated.
For a few minutes, there was only silence, but Carolina didn't dare get up, or even open her eyes.
Count to three. And then go.
One.
Two.
Three.
She opened her eyes, and the sunlight reflecting off the silver Halo in the distance instantly blinded her. She squeezed her eyes shut again and very slowly sat up, listening for the sounds of people.
"Didn't I tell you to stay down?"
Carolina opened her eyes and found herself face to face with the boy from District 12. Carolina scrambled backwards, her hands instantly assaulted by the branches and pebbles on the ground.
"What…what…do you want?" She couldn't keep her voice from trembling, as much as she wanted to.
"To help you," he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"But…why?" Carolina shrunk back from the hand he held out to her.
"I have five younger sisters," he said simply. "Coast is clear now. Think you can stand on that ankle?"
She would have nodded, but any movement of her head caused a pain so intense that it sucked the breath out of her lungs. "Y-yeah. Maybe." She struggled to her feet, but as soon as she put any weight on her ankle, hurt shot up her calf. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from crying, and the District 12 boy shook his head.
"None of that," he said, and before she could protest he scooped her into his arms and carried her the way a storybook knight would.
It was strange, how safe she felt when he was holding her, and she found herself smiling a little. He walked as fast as he could, and soon seeing the greenery at an accelerated pace made her feel too dizzy to continue paying attention to her surroundings. She could feel her eyelids getting heavier with the constant thrum of her head, and she gave in to sleep. From somewhere far away she could hear her voice, faint and raspy, asking the boy what his name was.
"York," he replied, and she remembered nothing more.
