Author's Note: Sorry for the short first chapter.

Alternate Ending II: What if Gil chose Veta?

Everything is the same until chapter 38 of Brutal. The POV of Thew Canda is the same as it was in the original story.

Gil Prus, District 10

My shoulder hurts. Like, seriously, freaking hurts.

But it's not even there.

That's what pisses me off. Not only have I somehow gotten my arm chopped off, it still hurts. How unawesome is that?

Well, at least I haven't bled out. Have enough sponsors still to keep me alive. Not to mention my pure awesomeness. That's definitely keeping me alive, too.

But I've had enough of lounging around on the rocks. It's time to go out and win this thing already.

So, knife in hand, I push myself up, and, a little off-balance, start climbing.

There's no way I'm going to climb straight up the side of this thing with one arm, so I'm more circumnavigating, but still. I make progress.

Soon enough, I've made it to a crater wall. I toss my knife over and pull myself above the ridge—not easy, but anyone less awesome wouldn't be able to do this at all.

Landing and regaining my grip on the blade, I look around. I've landed in some sort of forest or jungle or something, looks like.

Well. Let's go find somebody to kill.

I push my way through the trees silently, only reacting once when the bandaged surface of my former shoulder bumps up against a tree trunk. At first I get the feeling all this hurting and searching is for naught, but then I hear something. Someone. I pause, listening carefully, before stalking toward the sound. It gets louder. Some sort of conversation.

"…anything for breakfast?"

"No, nothing."

Excited, I quicken my pace, bumping into a couple more branches, but I don't care about that. I'm this close to other tributes! Finally! A chance to show my sponsors my awesomeness!

…And then maybe I'll get some breakfast.

"Well, we're in the middle of a forest," the first voice, one that sounds feminine, continues. "There's probably something edible running around here."

I turn a corner and get a glimpse between the trees of two seated figures.

"True. Should I go out and try to find some edible plants?"

I come closer, pushing away moss until only one strand of the stuff separates me and the tributes. Tributes I finally recognise as that stupid couple from 8.

Ha! Of all the people to come across, I find the ones who've pissed me off from the first interview. This is freaking awesome!

"Yeah. I'll come with. If we find some vine or something, I could probably make a snare…"

Fingering my knife excitedly, I watch the two Eights stand.

Which one should I go for?

I think for a second, decide the girl's more annoying than the guy, and charge.

The girl takes a step back before she notices me, but it doesn't throw me off. I rocket toward her, knife ready, and she barely starts to get out a frying pan before I slash her throat open.

With a choked sound of pain, she drops the pan to clang loudly against the rocks and grass. As the blood continues to pour, coating her shirt as well as entering her throat, her balance falters, and she collapses onto the ground.

I whip around to face her district partner. He only just registers I killed his cuddle bunny before I put a gash through his neck, too. He joins her on the ground, and within a minute, they're both staring lifelessly at the clouds. The cannons fire in quick succession.

I nudge the guy's corpse with a short laugh.

"Stupid lovebirds."

Wiping some of the blood on my pants, I move along.

Thew Canda, District 3

Sleep interrupted by a cannon, I woke up.

And I really wish I hadn't.

Because my headache is back. Although it's less than when I first came to consciousness after Alf had incurred it... It's still nothing to laugh at, for sure.

I flop over on my side in an attempt to keep my eyes away from the suddenly-blinding sun. Even in the boughs of the swamp crater trees, there don't seem to be enough leaves to temper it.

But that also means there's plenty of space to get a donation parachute through to me.

So where is it?

I stretch my neck to glance at the sky again, but I don't see any cloth billowing down toward me. I let my gaze drop back down to the rest of the bog.

I guess I'm not really in that convenient a place for donations. One little breeze, and the parachute'd probably just fall into the swamp mud.

So do I need to get out of here? I really don't feel like moving…

With a sigh, I start to shift my position in the hammock of branches. It doesn't help my headache, and I'm pretty sore from crouching over a bunch of wood all night, but I eventually have a foot on the next branch down. From there, I shuffle down carefully, finally putting a shoe on the ground with a muddy splat. I put my other foot down, trying to ignore the discomfort of the mud slinking back into my boots, and start to trudge to the outside of the crater.

The going seems awfully slow for such a short distance, but it's probably so because of my headache.

But, headache or not, I eventually make it to the crater's edge, and, with a grunt, just manage to pull myself over onto the rocks. I flop down immediately, repeatedly cursing Alf for the headache.

All right, sponsors, I'm available. In pain, but available. So, food, pain meds, whatever'll help, I'm ready.

And finally, a parachute comes floating down.

I roll over to pluck the cloth away once it lands, revealing the donation.

A small plate of apple slices topped with a tiny pill. I think it's the same kind of pill they gave me before. But whatever it is, it's definitely not the good stuff.

What happened? Did my sponsors suddenly pull out? I don't see why they would do that.

Well, I know prices go up as the Games go on, but… I don't think it's been going on that long… Of course, I have no idea how long I was knocked out, but…

I look back down at the plate and take an apple slice.

Maybe I've been draining the sponsors dry by having them send me food. I mean, it's the safest thing to do, since you never know what could be poisoned in the arena.

But then again, the Capitol doesn't want me to be safe, does it?

I pick up the pill and twirl it in my fingers.

I guess this is sort of a message from my mentor. If we keep sending food, you're not going to get the drugs you want. Well, fine. Don't have much of a choice, do I?

With a sigh, I choke down the pill and start on the apples. Once the drug starts to work, I'll be off to get some food, I guess.

Here's hoping that goes well.