Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the 63rd Hunger Games! The POVs don't happen one after the other, many go back a bit in time to cover what all the tributes see.
D1,Carnelia, 18.
Odd.
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The seconds of the countdown were ringing in her ears. She stretched, yawning contentedly and baring her teeth at the nearest camera, a thumb-sized glint in the grass.
To her left Twelve, his eyes locked on the Cornucopia, his legs flexed, ready to bolt.
To her right Six, turning on himself to process their surroundings, his hands twitching from stress.
Very odd.
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There were two hundred yards of hilly grass between Carnelia and the Cornucopia.
The glint of steel caught her eyes. She licked her lips, letting a laugh build in her chest. The whip was deep inside the familiar-looking structure. Small backpacks near the edges, larger ones inside. Knives and axes readily accessible; swords and lances less so. A few boxes and other weapons littered the middle ground.
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Loathing filled District Twelve's eyes. "Dash, little boy, dash fast," Carnelia hollered in a sing-song voice, adrenaline fueling the cruel mirth in her eyes. Every scrap of attention from the Capitol could make the difference between life and death.
Nothing special. So odd.
Grass mounds all around the cornucopia, hugged by tall dark cliffs pierced by thin paths. A mountain setting maybe? Anything could be behind the rocky barrier.
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It was predictable.
But the arena this year was supposed to be all but predictable. Carnelia's heartbeat thundered in her ears. She swept the ground for displaced earth, her eyes hard and her hungry grin grim.
No suspicious patches of grass nor tripwire. Nothing moving, yet. A trap on the way to the Cornucopia would be unheard of. But not impossible.
A shudder ran up Carnelia's spine and she arched her back, filling her lungs and letting an impatient growl out of her mouth.
She winked at District Twelve. He tore his eyes off her too late, his face an open book. Hate, fear, disgust, she was the enemy.
Enemies didn't die first. The Gamemakers kept them safe until all their potential had been exhausted. Carnelia's grin broadened. Enobaria hadn't smiled. Cashmere hadn't shouted or growled. She'd be unique and all they wanted.
She'd win.
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Carnelia shifted her balance, ready to bolt. She focused on the whip.
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The world went black.
D5, "Mouse", 17
Night.
Her eyes adapted instantly. A nervous smile tugged her lips and her footfalls didn't slow. The others had faltered, even stopped in shock when the lights had gone out. They were squinting, disorientated.
But Mouse could see. For the first time in days, a needle of hope pierced through her frantic despair.
She suddenly spun. A flicker. Nothing. Another. Green, dancing at the edge of her vision, barely strong enough to cast light on their surroundings.
The Cornucopia's walls and crates glowed faintly, shimmering like moonlight. Mouse cast a look around. She was first, but not by much. He was darker than the night, the magician. He was with Victor. Victor waved briefly at her. Allies, they were allies. She breathed in.
She rushed forward, keeping her back to the walls. Her trembling fingers wrapped around the nearest supply bag.
Laughter. Evil, throaty laughter, closer and closer. Flashes of Carnelia and her whip of steal filled the night around her. Footfalls, closer and closer. She dropped to the ground, hugging her bag in a fetal position, hoping to vanish while the rational part of her brain screamed run! Her muscles wouldn't obey, she had to-
She jumped to the side as something flashed near her. Green, twisting, just... light.
A threat? Were they just messing with them? Shadows, eerie will-o-the-wisps, appeared by the dozens. Translucent, flickering, appearing all around them, casting greenish lights on the ground and the cornucopia walls. Random flickering. False shadows. She squinted. They ruined her vision, creating movement where there was none, hiding the real threats.
Real threats. She'd stayed idle much too long.
She bolted. A trident. Faster she had to -. The trident was following her! Her scream died in her throat. Orvis. She met his eyes and suddenly the trident didn't look so terrifying. Orvis had been kind to her. He wouldn't kill her. She inhaled, of course not, they were allies. Stupid tension making her forget everything.
They shared a nervous grin.
Orvis' grin died. He lowered his trident. Three jagged glinting tips pointed straight at her. Mouse screamed in terror. But Orvis turned, and he fell, the trident flying out of his hands. Orvis was on the ground. Mouse couldn't move as a leg stomped on her ally. He broke with a sickening crunch.
Mouse screamed. She kept screaming. Corsair from Two, too tall, too strong, too fast. He towered over her, a shadow of malevolent green flames and darkness.
She threw her pack at him. He wasn't leaving. He was blocking her. She could taste blood, she couldn't breathe. He was blocking her! Her hands balled into fists and she dashed to the side. He was there. The other side. He was there.
Her eyes fell on the broken body behind her. Orvis. A boy. He'd been kind. Her brothers were his age.
Helpless rage and horror tore another scream out of her chest. Her vision swam. She couldn't faint! He was still there, blocking her.
That monster.
Mouse pounced, her arms and legs wrapping around Corsair. She screamed louder when her nails dug in the soft skin of his neck.
Indescribable pain filled her. Then she couldn't feel anything. The monster had broken her too.
D11,Mesmer, 15
Inside the Cornucopia, a pint of fire oil lay on the ground. A lighter was strapped to it. Mesmer's eyes glittered. The gamemakers wanted him to play with fire? Oh, he'd play.
Orvis was nearly out of the Cornucopia. Victor had rushed to the deepest part of the horn, letting Mesmer cover him with his newly acquired knives. Lucky the pampered idiot had started next to him, or Victor would have lost his wits in the artificial night. Clever idea, the dark. They had been the first to reach the supplies, after the mousy girl from Five.
Chaos ruled, wrapped in Carnelia's cruel laughter. The green lights concealed more than they revealed. Mesmer thrived on chaos. He smiled, his eyes still on Orvis. The oblivious fool had his back to District Two. When he noticed, it was too late.
Mesmer left the soft boy to his fate. Orvis had never mattered.
"Kill, Two!" Victor had heard Orvis' spine crack. Sentimental fool.
"We need to get out! Hurry!" Mouse screamed and screamed and Mesmer tipped his head to her for being such a helpful ally. Corsair was too distracted to stop them.
Mesmer still lost precious seconds making sure his ally followed. The fire bomb was heavy in his arms. He was an easy target. He had to use it now.
The screams stopped.
"Damn it, Mouse," Victor croaked, his voice tight.
Mesmer's knife had already left his hand. Straight for Corsair's heart. A bag intercepted it. Aurora flashed Mesmer a grin, at her district partner's side in a blink.
"Let's do this another day," she said amiably, deadly blades glinting in her hands.
Mesmer nodded once. Attacking the Careers now was unthinkable. "Deal." He spared a small bow for the cameras. His fickle audience.
Aurora had wanted him in the Career alliance, he'd kill her quickly and make a tearful speech, the others who would pay.
He and Victor ran out of the horn. Mesmer still clutched the fire-oil bomb with his arm and searched for a target.
When Victor stopped, Mesmer cursed.
"Nice of you to wait for me, boys." It was Carnelia from One, her whip slick with blood. The Twos weren't far behind.
What were Aurora's orders to the girl who'd chosen to be mad? He struck the lighter and threw with all his might.
The jug exploded mid-air in a wonderful ball of fire.
D8, Georgie, 14
How does one walk to her death calmly? Georgie's eyes were on Apple's serene features. The dark-skinned girl wasn't even trying to hide.
"Hold this," Tesu said, his eyes riveted on something behind Apple.
He looked half mad, Georgie felt her blood go cold. Don't leave me alone! Georgie wanted to scream. It was too dark, yet all she wished for was real darkness. She wanted the ghost lights gone.
Too many shadows, and her heart would explode if it raced any faster. Less than five yards away, a shadow moved, human-like. It took shape. District One, with her whip. Right behind Apple, as if wondering how to kill her. Georgie's mind rebelled when she understood Tesu's intent. Of all the ways to be noble!
"No," she whispered.
His back to the her, Tesu drove his knife into Apple's neck, keeping her still with his free arm. Apple had tensed but she didn't struggle.
Carnelia's snarl of rage reminded Georgie to move. Survival instincts took over. Batiste needed her. Georgie dropped everything she was holding and ran from the Cornucopia.
A strangled scream and a hateful laugh told her more than she wanted to know about Tesu's fate. "You stole my toy, Eight, I'm not forgetting you."
Toy, toy, toy, the word echoed between Georgie's ears, powering her legs. Eight. She was District Eight too.
A clang almost had her trip. She had to look. Gamina, taking axes, at least Georgie fiercely hoped it was. Shadows, more green shadows. A louder clang echoed in the darkness. Georgie started, a small scream escaping her lips. It was just the weapon's rack, fallen to the floor. She forced a burning breath into her tight lungs. Her head was spinning, she couldn't do this.
Run, just stare at your feet and run!
Her head struck a side of the Cornucopia in the darkness. Georgie ignored the pain. She ran, breathing deeply, but it wasn't enough. She collided with something hard and warm. She gasped, unable to see.
A curse reached her ears.
Her vision blurred, her head hurt. Was it Victor? Everything was so confusing. She felt so heavy. "Batiste needs me," she mumbled. Satin, her precious baby Satin.
Georgie fell.
Something flared behind her closed eyelids. Fire? She thought weakly. Something was moving her. She couldn't struggle.
She slipped into unconsciousness.
D4, Paloma, 18
What a tragic mess. The darkness helped the untrained tributes, something for which she was grateful even if she knew that the swiftest deaths would be delivered here.
Orvis. Paloma stared at his dimly lit face, tears in her eyes. A flickering light had elected to reside on his innocent features. She closed his shocked eyes, her other hand clenched over her newly acquired rapier.
She inhaled deeply. Cold. She had to be cold. It was a mercy, to die quickly at the beginning of the Games. Paloma started at Carnelia's angry snarl. The taller girl's weapon snaked in the air, drawing a fountain of blood from Tesu's back and pushing him to his knees. Paloma swiftly averted her stinging eyes. The boy had just wanted to save his sister. And he was one of the lucky ones. His sister was saved. His death had not been in vain.
Instead of finishing Tesu, Carnelia promised him she'd be back. Paloma swallowed back bile. Angle, but at what price?
From her vantage point, Paloma could see Dash leaving his girl's side before Gamina could grab him. The boy was sprinting back in the Cornucopia, avenging hate etched on his face. Carnelia was his target.
No! You two were safe, stop playing the hero! Get out! Paloma's words of warning never left her throat.
Dash had a only a knife, a knife he wasn't holding properly. It mattered not, he was possessed by something bigger than him, something pure and beautiful. He was in the wrong tale. Good didn't triumph in the Hunger Games. He would wound her and Carnelia would flay every last drop of dignity and life out of him.
Paloma tensed, her rapier balanced in her hand. She could kill Carnelia, join Gamina and Dash, become the leader of an alliance of strong, principled people. She'd protect them, keep them focused. And mourn them like she already did Orvis.
In a blink, she was out of the shadows. She intercepted Dash. Her rapier pierced liver heart and lung before she sliced her way out. He was dead before he hit the floor.
Gamina's muted gasp of pain hurt her more than a knife. Paloma jumped back inside, in case an ax was thrown her way. None came. The muscled brunette had fled into the darkness, leaving Paloma to stare hollowly at the ground.
Carnelia's gray eyes met hers. A flash of suspicious gratitude filled them, and then a laugh. "A bit quick for my tastes," Carnelia said, in a pouty, childish voice.
Paloma wouldn't mourn her. The human was buried too deep behind the angle.
Paloma watched silently Carnelia set her sights on the magician and his allies. She stepped away from the action and back to the agonizing Tesu. "Please," he gasped.
"Your sister is safe," Paloma said with the kindest smile she could muster.
Tesu smiled back, blood bubbling on his lips.
Paloma's rapier darted forward, and the life and pain ebbed out of Tesu's expression.
She didn't move when something exploded, fire. Carnelia screamed in pain, rolling on the ground away from the sudden wall of flames. Mesmer was gone, running with Victor and... a girl. Victor was carrying a girl. Paloma felt detached, drained, empty.
She had had enough.
She went back inside to help Messenger gather the supplies. She grasped his arm. No blood, no wounds, a worried look on his face. Paloma smiled. "You make a handsome beast of burden," she said hoarsely.
Cold, she had to be cold.
The fire from the grenade was catching. Paloma could pretend it was acrid smoke and not grief that filled her eyes with tears as she stepped carefully over Orvis' corpse.
D3, Algor, 15
He'd lost an insane amount of time just figuring out what was happening. Luckily no one seemed to be paying attention to him.
He tip-toed nearer to the Cornucopia. The girl with the 10 on her uniform was running towards him, a small bag and a throwing ax in her hands. She zigzagged as she ran, as if to confuse any pursuer. Maybe he should do that. Even with the oppressive holograms threatening to shatter his control, he knew she was no threat, not so early in the Games.
District Ten stopped abruptly in her tracks. A first knife had narrowly missed her shoulder. The gorgeous blonde Career, armed with supplies, had already come out.
Impossible. How could they have been so fast? Algor froze, his throat clenching. He knew he had lost.
Optima. His sister's face appeared before his eyes as time slowed. He remembered his and Mercury's first conversation. Everyone was watching. They'd not remember him for the science. They'd remember him for today. He could choose how to die. He knew what choice to make.
"You can kill me, but you can't destroy me," he said. He wasn't fast, he wasn't skilled, but this he could do.
He ran, bodily placing himself between the Career and her target.
Pain exploded in his abdomen. Algor curled up, biting his fist, not wanting Optima to see his grimace or the wound. Blood flooded his mouth, silencing his screams.
He hoped the girl he had saved would know to run. Maybe she'd win, and District Ten would talk well of him during the Victory feast and Parcel Days. Maybe one Day a District Ten would save a Three.
D6, Hawk, 18
Where the fuck was Algor!
She dropped her eyes from the butchery going on inside, but not quickly enough to be spared the sight of a whip tearing at Eight's back. The boy with the sister. Poor man. She crouched lower behind her rock, just at the edge of the Cornucopia.
"Nice of you to wait for me, boys."
Hawk's head snapped back up. Carnelia wasn't talking to her, she was talking to the two guys, magic Eleven and posh Five. Five was lifting a small body into his arms.
Why was the whiz magician hesitating? Throw your knife, fart-brain!
She spotted the couple from Two right behind the other Career. Maybe that.
Eleven did something with the pot in his hand.
The landscape exploded in fire. Hawk threw herself to the floor, clutching her head for dear life as a wave of heat crashed into her. A girlish scream pierced through the roar of flame. Carnelia was more puppy than lion right then. Bitch.
Hawk opened one eye. She was alive and unhurt.
Okay, so it had just been some freaking ball of fire in a jar. No biggie.
She had to get away, fast.
Where the fuck was Algor? She couldn't just leave alone! Hawk turned. There he was! Bloody slowpoke!
Who cared about a bit of freakish night? She'd been waiting for him to leave. She just had a small backpack, but going deeper into the Cornucopia was fucking mad. She waved, trying to soundlessly get his attention. Stupid Ten made him look in the wrong direction. Hawk took a deep breath, preparing herself to shout and run. She froze.
District Two. The ball of fire hadn't made her flee. Fuck! Hawk gaped as Algor jumped and crumpled to the ground, a knife in his gut.
But... He'd been her ally. Her only ally.
A rush of adrenaline spiked her fury. She'd break that bitch. She barreled towards Aurora, her breaths coming out in frenzied gasps. "He was no threat, you bitch!"
Her fist collided against hard muscle as the now empty-handed blonde spun round to face her. The Career grunted in pain. Hawk tasted blood when she tried to breathe. A blade was sticking out of her chest.
D1, Armagnac, 17
"It's just us now. We should leave, before something happens," Armagnac said, his hands trembling.
He'd avoided the action and didn't regret it one whit. Carnelia was singing softly, but also holding her burnt side. The others' wounds were minor but their faces were grim. Armagnac hoped the whole of the Games would not take place in this hair-rising darkness.
"You killed my toy," Carnelia told Paloma, her eyes flashing.
"I spared you the pain of being knifed by Dash from Twelve," Paloma said in flat tones. "It's worth the kill point."
"It's not the kill point, it's the screams. It's about sending a message. Those outliers think they can attack us, they think they have a chance," Carnelia said with an incredulous smile. "They need to be taught better."
"They'll never learn. I didn't attack a single one," Corsair said, rubbing a thumb on his bleeding neck. "They assaulted me, her like a beast, claws and teeth out. Mouse indeed. I always thought the peacekeeper veterans exaggerated the stories of barbarism."
Armagnac blinked. He couldn't believe Corsair had the gall to make this political. Handsome, honorable, Capitol poster-boy. A shudder ran up his spine. Corsair wasn't just a cunning weapons-master. He was intelligent.
"Do you have everything?" Paloma asked Messenger.
The boy nodded briskly, keeping his eyes down.
Paloma squeezed his arm, maybe the only genuine gesture Armagnac had seen from his allies tonight. He liked Paloma.
"Who didn't we see?" Paloma said.
"I counted. I'll give you the list once we're out," Armagnac said, squaring his jaw. The sight of blood and corpses, the stink of it, was making him ill.
"You didn't exert yourself to much, Armagnac?" Carnelia teased.
Armagnac smirked, feeling dirtier with every second. "I was being gallant, sweetheart. You'll see."
He'd rather be a coward than a murderer. It had all seemed so much less... real behind a TV screen.
"Besides, watching you all was inspiring. I'll have the Capitol's first song ready by tomorrow I think. Now, to make a drum out of all this," he mused. He'd already noticed a suitable crate.
"Would human skin make a nice sound? I can help."
Armagnac paused, pretending to be considering it rather than struggling not to gag. It's angle and dark humor. But he couldn't appreciate the humor with the stench of blood filling his nose and mouth.
"It'd be disrespectful. A bit of class, Carnelia," he chided as soon as he'd found his proper angle-voice. "Let's go to the cliffs and let the hovercrafts land."
The cliffs were a little over two hundred yards away, circling them completely. Three openings, the sole openings in the rock, burned with green flames.
What madness lurked behind?
The day isn't over yet. *ominous music*
Confirmed deaths:
D3: Algor, 15
D4: Orvis, 15
D5: Mouse, 17
D6: Hawk, 18
D8: Tesu, 17
D11: Apple, 18
D12: Dash, 16
A more 'sophisticated' list of wounded, dead and living will appear in the next chapter.