I would have had this out much earlier, but... the flu. And an insane biology teacher who gives us way too much work. Sorry, my vultures!
R&R!
DISTRICT NINE MALE: ALEC RYANS
It's pretty pitiful, the way I must look to the people of Panem. A feeble drunkard, once the most powerful tribute in the arena and one of the most dangerous in his home district, curled up in the corner of a room just begging for death. Mewling in pain and waiting for a weaker tribute to finish him off. Yeah, right, victor. I'm destined to go home in a box. Not that home was anything special, really. The actual quality of living for me has improved in the arena. In any case, I'm not who Cenia thought I was. I'm just another tribute doomed to die, not a survivor.
Death would be better right now. I can't stand up thanks to my nauseous stomach and uncoordinated shaking muscles. My head pounds and I can barely form thoughts, let alone speak. I've hallucinated, seeing my dead district partner and ally all around me and the little grubs that killed her crawling over the floor of the room. There are sounds and scents, too. Mostly the voices of the other street rats in Nine and the smell of liquor and sweat. Good home-sweet-home sort of things. I'd rather have death than this withdrawal and these Games. So many times I narrowly evaded being killed, just for this. The least honorable murder I could be on the receiving end of- a death in the Games.
Not that I really care, of course. I was fooling myself when I agreed to ally with Cenia. I tricked myself. Because when she died I felt no real pain. I felt nothing at all, just the feeling I'm familiar with. I've seen death before and pain and certainly suffering, and it doesn't faze me anymore. It used to, I remember that. When I was real little, just a kid, in my first few years on the streets. Every scream followed me and every corpse etched its image into my brain. When I was seven an older guy gave me the alcohol and it all went away. At the age of seven I was numb to it all and that was the last time anything ever made me care.
At eight, I'm sure I was hooked. At nine I got into my first real fight. I ended up laying in a back alley unconscious with a broken nose that never healed right, but the older guys taught me and less than a month later I found the other kid again and this time I beat him. I got cocky. I took on bigger and bigger street rats.
When I was ten I killed a man. Second-in-command to one of the smaller gangs in the district. After that I went after bigger and bigger prey. It was a game now, my game. Sort of like these Games but not as Capitolesque. Cruder and not for simple entertainment.
Well, most of them weren't for fun. The guys who taught me how to look after myself were the first targets and then I took out most of my competition.
In retrospect, as I lay here almost immobile, none of it matters. The Capitol never recognized any of it, so why should I even be mentioned in the big book of Panemic existence? I'm in the Hunger Games and right here, right now is what matters. I may have been hot stuff in Nine, but here I'm a victim. Nothing more, nothing less. And it's what you die as that people will remember you as. If I died like I was supposed to at home I would have been remembered. I would have been infamous.
Here I'm a name on the list of the dead. Not a rebel, not a victor, not even a person. A corpse. To the district leaders I'll be a pest happily gotten rid of, but never recorded. Oh no, Panem has no problems like that. It's happy and safe in the districts.
My life won't even register a blip on the radar of existence.
The pounding headache wipes away my thoughts with utmost precision, making sure I feel the entire pain of the withdrawal again. Cenia would have been more than a body. She deserves it. She had a life worth living. I would never admit I envy her for it, thought. Cenia deserved to go home and see her family again. She had a family.
The only memory I have of my family is my mom, a copper-skinned woman, singing me a song in a language I know nothing of. Her dark eyes are soft and kind, with laugh lines at the corners. I don't know anything of my father.
I guess it's nice to know that once upon a time I was loved; it can't help me now and that's what is important. I blink away the memories and try to find something to do that might take my mind off everything that's painful. Deep down, though, I know it won't work. The physical pain is so overwhelming I can barely think and the terrible fatigue and confusion in my mind is so hard to deal with it makes my vision cloud over. And Cenia keeps floating up to the top of the mess of thoughts in my head, like she's haunting me.
I thought you were a survivor. Her voice is taunting. Cruel and harsh, it grates in my mind like nails on a chalkboard.
"All right! I admit it! I'm sorry you died!" I howl, clutching my head. The hallucination disappears and I'm left with my nausea and throbbing headache once again in the laboratory. I wouldn't be surprised if someone had heard my cries and is on their way to finish me off right now. I stay as still as I can for a moment, listening for footsteps that never arrive. I don't know if that's good or bad. I mean, I haven't been discovered and therefore won't be murdered yet, but sometimes I think death might be the easiest way out.
DISTRICT SIX MALE: CHANDLER MATHEWS
It's bad enough when you're in a hospital building with a bunch of kids who want to kill you, but when you find out that aforementioned building is going to explode in three days you sort of start panicking. Two days, now. And we continue to panic.
And a girl is now in my alliance. It makes it that much more difficult. Bay is kind and talkative and extremely friendly and I can't even make it five minutes without having to answer one of her questions. And then I stutter and mess up and she just looks at me and I blush and it's this awkward never-ending cycle. Newt has the same issues, I've noticed. I think he's starting to regret taking her in as our ally. I regretted his decision as soon as he made it. Sure, the logic behind it was all well and good, but, you know, the best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry.
"So, Chandler, you told me you had a little sister. What was her name?"
"M-Michelle."
"That's a nice name!" Bay smiles warmly and waits for me to say something else, but I don't and a very awkward silence quickly spreads across the room. I feel like crawling under a rock for a second, until Bay turns her attention to Newt.
"Need any help, Newt?" My original ally shakes his head and remains silent, bent over the exposed wires like he has been for hours now. He woke up in the middle of the night and told me he wanted to try and defuse the bomb. He's been fiddling with the wires forever, and Bay and I can't do anything to help since we haven't learned about the technology of bombs like he has.
"Chandler, come over here." I leap up and the motion makes my sore torso throb again. I have a nice purple bruise- a straight bar across my stomach- where Camilla hit me with her trident. Wheezing, I dash over to Newt and kneel beside him.
"What is it?"
"I think I figured out how to beat the machine on this one."
"Really? That's great!"
"If it works. And it's a two-person job."
"I'll do whatever needs to be done." Bay comes over and looks on the open floor curiously.
"What's going on over here?" Newt and I both clam up pretty quickly.
"We're… um… trying to… er… defuse the bomb," Newt almost whispers.
"That's great! So you finally figured it out, huh? How are you gonna do it?" Bay is fourteen and she has an older boy awkwardized speechless. It would be funny if I got along with her, but I'm just about the same as Newt.
"Just… disconnect those wires," he motions to several of the red cords near the clock that's still ticking down, "And splice them in with those white ones there," he points, "and make some minor adjustments to the network of red wires. It should shut down the detonation sequence for this floor, and we'd have to repeat it on each floor, but it should work." Newt eases into his normal speech pattern slowly.
"Are you sure it would work?" I say, "I mean, fiddling with those wires could result in the arena blowing up sooner."
"I'm sure," my ally says, "I've studied this. In school." I nod and sit back on my heels. I trust Newt.
"And what if something goes wrong?" Bay wants to know, "What if the arena still plans to blow up?" Newt stands up and runs his hand through his hair. He's just taller than Bay, and I'm taller than both of them.
"Then we break out." Bay nods and I smile. That would be pretty cool.
"Let's get started then," I suggest and Newt shoots me a quick grin.
"All right then, Chandler, hold this wire." I carefully take the red wire between my thumb and forefinger as Newt carefully examines the other wires. He selects one other and then slips his knife into the mess of cords. The tension in the room grows steadily as he lays the blade against the wires.
"Get back!" Bay shrieks and hauls both of us away from the hole in the floor just as a crackling sound whizzes through the open floor, leaving a faint scent of ozone hanging in the air.
"How could I have been so dumb?" Newt groans, "Of COURSE the Capitol would have precautions against defusing the bomb!" I sigh. Bay hugs us both, leading to more awkward silence from Newt and me.
"You guys could have died!"
"Thanks, Bay," I manage two words. She smiles briefly and turns expectantly to Newt.
"So now we get to break out?"
"Yeah. We'll have to, because fourteen tributes will not decrease to one in two days." Imminent danger trumps girl problems, I guess.
"So how are we going to do that? If you guys haven't noticed yet, there are sort of bars on all the windows and there are no doors anywhere," I'm starting to worry.
"The bars aren't that thick, we should be able to break through them… eventually." There's a note of fear in Newt's voice. Bay hears it as well.
"Is 'eventually' less than two days?" she asks. Newt considers for a moment and then nods. I walk over to the window in our room, examining the bars. They're flattened and tilted up so we can't see the terrain outside.
"I think we can break these. It'll be slow going though, because it'll be loud and we won't want other people to hear. And there are a bunch of them, and after we break the bars we'll have to shatter the glass. It'll be hard work." Newt nods approvingly and we high-five.
"They'll be weakest in the middle, but we'll need to break them close to the wall so we can fit through the hole."
"Quit talking, Newt, let's get started!"
DISTRICT TEN MALE: BLUE ANSTON
Technically I haven't made it any further than Cordovan yet in the Games, since ten people died in his bloodbath and ten people have died here so far. I have made it longer, though, and that gives me hope. I must win now. I must, for my brother and my family and my district. And to survive, of course. I don't have any food, although I have had water thanks to the freakish poison-water combination sinks. Compared to previous Games we're dying in the lap of luxury. My stomach feels like it's the size and consistency of a walnut, though. Not comfortable at all.
My knees crack as I stand up and stretch. It's getting rather late in the morning, I should definitely get a move on. I always return to this room- the last rubber room on the floor- at night, but during the day I stay on the move so it's harder for people to find me. I can run faster if I'm already nervous, and if I got too used to this place I would relax. So I keep exploring. My feet are really tired when I wake up in the mornings, but it's worth it to still be alive. I'm a pitiful excuse for a human being; I didn't want to live until I got thrown into the arena.
I cautiously step into the corridor and edge past the other doors. I like to hang out on the staircase, where I can hear people coming. Then I just run onto the nearest floor and find a place to hide. There are some pretty good ones- the second room on the right on each of the ward floors has a cabinet that no one ever checks, one of the rubber rooms has an little secret closet- that one's too small to hide in, but if I had supplies I could definitely stash them there.
I fling open the stairwell door and step into the stark platform. The air is a little colder out here and the lights are slightly dimmer. A sudden rumble in my stomach makes me grimace, but there's nothing I can do to help the feeling. I'm not prepared to raid the Career pack.
In the distance, further down the staircase, quiet pattering is suddenly audible. Quick, quiet footsteps, but not quiet enough. Several people, coming up the stairs. I charge up to the door and dive back onto the fifth floor. I need a place to hide, I need a place to hide! Louder, louder, the footsteps sound. Closer and closer. Big people- a threat. I almost groan in fear, but I clench my teeth and slip into a rubber room just as the door to the stairwell creaks open. I hold my breath.
"Nice try." Athena Monroe's voice is cold as she pushes open the door, "Today's a hunting day, a real, good hunting day."
"So we're taking him?" the boy with her says. Alex from Four. Athena sets her jaw and nods; the crack of her knuckles echoes slightly on the padded walls. Nice acoustics.
"C'mon, Blue, your time is up. We can't afford another bloodless day or the Capitol will send us an unpleasant surprise." Well, I have a surprise for these Careers. I don't know if it'll be unpleasant for me or for them. As Athena and Alex reach out for me, I swing out and slug Alex in the jaw. He stumbles back, caught off-guard, but he doesn't seem hurt. Career mindset, Career pain tolerance. I huff out a quick, angry breath, but then adjust my position to a defensive stance. I can't let the same thing happen to me.
"Alex! Protect yourself!" Athena hollers, dropping her longbow. I guess the long-range weapon isn't useful in such close quarters. She doesn't seem to have any knives or swords in close reach, though. Alex has a rapier, though, and that scares me. I've seen him work with a blade in training, and he's good. Really good. However, he doesn't draw it. I lunge for him, but this time he blocks my punch with his forearm. I send a flailing flurry of blows raining down on his shoulders; still he doesn't really react. He keeps up a block and feints every so often towards my gut, making me pull back. Athena stands warily to the side.
"Oof!" Alex doesn't feint and instead goes straight for my sternum. He misses by a few inches, but getting punched in the gut by a Career isn't a walk in the park in any case. I double over and his elbow comes crashing up towards my nose. I hear something in my face crack and I gasp. Blood sprays from my nose and I stumble backwards, bracing myself against the wall.
"Athena! Go!" The older girl runs over and slams a knee into my stomach, sending me all the way to the floor.
"Got him! Grab his arms!" With the girl pinning me to the ground I can't stop Alex from pulling my arms behind my back and painfully hauling me to my feet. I grit my teeth- the combined pain from my torso and face makes it hard to do much of anything.
"Aren't you going to kill me now?" I hiss, trying to twist away from my captors.
"We made a deal. It would mean our deaths if you died right now, buddy. But I promise, you'll wish we had killed you very, very soon." Athena doesn't sound happy about it, but she doesn't loosen her grip on my neck as Alex pulls me to my feet. When I'm standing she grabs my left arm and her ally keeps a hold of my right. I swear loudly, spitting and kicking, as they drag me out of the room, but to no avail. The two Careers keep a firm grip as we head for the staircase.
An animalistic rage swells up in my chest as they force me down the stairs. I jerk my shoulders from side to side, forcing Athena and Alex to stop for a minute and adjust their hold. I was tall at home, but these two monsters can lift me up in the air and march me to my doom. I can only feel fear and anger as they shove me down the stairs. Not a hint of regret or sorrow. Only base emotion. I don't even feel human anymore.
DISTRICT TWO FEMALE: FLAVIA BAXTER
There's too much of a chance that my allies will begin to kill without me today. I don't want them out there, hunting. I don't want to be stuck here guarding our dumb supplies. If I were hunting, there would be no one left to protect the supplies from! Athena is a useless leader. We haven't had a kill at all. It just makes me want to kill that girl even more. And even sooner. There are fourteen tributes left. I need blood.
I run my knife along the rim of the Cornucopia, making a screeching metal-on-metal noise. An angry sound to match my feelings- perfect. I allow a small smile to play across my lips before I rise to my feet and swing on top of the golden horn. A better view for a better kill.
Camilla and my district partner went to the top floor again to search for prey. Alex and our sorry excuse for a leader started a floor beneath that to hunt. And I'm stuck here, waiting for the whole pitiful day for any passing victims. I'll settle for my so-called allies when they come back through to go to the basement. I can make it look like an accident fairly easily. Just say that they surprised me and the knife had left my hand before I recognized the face. Simple revenge.
I'd be doing them a favor. They don't understand the horror of that surgery floor. A shadowy man, waiting silently for his patients to come to him. Standing quiet in the shadows… and stepping out when you get too close. Such a clever trick. Such a close call. I can't die before my target does, though. And I plan to die at home.
Muffled yelling echoes down from the staircase. Someone's coming, and they're fighting. I pull two knives from my belt and poise my hand to throw. I can't afford wounds right now, and they won't see my blades coming. The door bursts open and three scuffling tributes collapse onto the floor. The first face I recognize is Athena, as she jumps out of the fray, and I raise my arm higher, my heart burning with hate. And then I see Blue and I jerk my arm to the side at the last second, sending my knife clattering over the floor.
"You actually followed through with it," I sneer silkily, trying not to sound too thrilled. Athena just glares at me, but Alex shoves the younger boy down again and pins him to the floor before speaking.
"Of course we did, Flavia. We're not that cold-hearted towards you." I consider his statement for a moment, trying to figure out if it is a passive-aggressive insult, but I let it be. They brought me my prey like good little followers. I guess Athena can live for a while longer.
"Bring him here." Alex lets Blue up and the sixteen-year-old staggers in front of me.
"What do you want with me, Flavia?" I snarl.
"I want your blood, boy. Two years ago my little brother was killed by the boy from Ten." I look up at the ceiling, trying to find any cameras. "You hear that, District Ten? THIS IS MY REVENGE!" Blue gapes at me.
"You can't do this! My brother died in the Games, too! It isn't fair, I never hurt your family! Just let me go!" I whirl around and smack him across the face, hard. His head snaps back and he stares at me while a red handprint begins to appear on his cheek. One finger crosses over his eye and he raises a trembling hand to his face. I must have hit him really hard, because he cups his eye gingerly. The crimson marks are beginning to swell.
"This. Is. My. Revenge." My words are quiet now and he finally seems to get it, "Grab him, Alex." I bark just as he turns to run. The tall boy from Four grabs Blue's shoulders. "On your knees, scum." Blue glares at me defiantly, but with one look from me to Alex he's shoved to the floor. He doesn't resist anymore. I go to my personal supplies and grab a few vials of poison. "Welcome to my nightmare."
"Flavia, what are you doing? You have him. Kill him now." Athena tries to command me, but I'm far out of her reach now. Past her influence.
"And now for my revenge." I select a dainty blade and approach my victim. He slumps on the floor in front of the Cornucopia, his dark hair covering his eyes. His face is in shadow, but I can see his clenched fists. He's given up almost all of his hope, but he has yet to break.
So I'll break him. The first slash of the knife gashes his back, making him mewl in pain and arch his back. Crimson flowers bloom on the white shirt. I cross the first line with two others, writing in his skin with scarlet ink. My little brother's name emerges on my flesh canvas, and Alex turns his head away from the scene. I always knew he was weak.
FRAY. The name that caused my family so much pain now causes District Ten even more hurt. I send the knife clattering across the tiles and pull out another, bigger blade. A slow, curving slice down his arms and collarbone forces the boy to sag lower to the ground in agony, but he's tough. Blue does not cry out yet. He refuses to break.
I remove the stopper from the first vial of poison, a light purple concoction that I learned to recognize in training. It splashes through the air and hisses on Blue's back, sinking into the knife marks and dissolving the ragged white fabric. He breaks, rolling his shoulders and screaming. I see the first of the tears splash onto the ground. A dark blue vial drips sluggishly onto the boy's back next, turning the remaining skin a bright red and causing it to blister. Blood blisters. The next, an emerald green liquid, makes the blood flow freely from all the cuts. Blue collapses onto the ground in sheer agony, crying and whimpering and screaming. I lean down and whisper in his ear.
"Don't worry, it won't kill you." The boy struggles to form words through the pain, but he manages.
"Please… please make it stop… Please…" I smile. He's been broken at last. My revenge has been exacted.
"Give me your sword, Alex." The boy fumbles with the sheath but gives me the rapier quickly enough. "And Athena, bring him to his knees, please." She gingerly helps the boy to kneel. Only now in this broken state is an execution a great improvement.
"Off with your head." I bring the sword down and Blue's dead eyes blink once as his head rolls.
BLUE ANSTON: "It needs but one foe to breed a war, and those who have not swords can still die upon them." -J.R.R. Tolkien
CURRENT STANDINGS:
Careers: F1 Athena Monroe, F2 Flavia Baxter, M2 Gray Tanner, F4 Camilla Thyra, M4 Alex Isis
A1: M3 Newt Hillen, M6 Chandler Mathews, F11 Bay Farris
A2: F12 Sara Ross, M12 Luis Thomsen
Loners: F5 Delany Lavis, F7 Laken Marx, M9 Alec Ryans
Goodness, Blue, I'll miss you. I felt absolutely horrible writing your death scene and I thought I was going to cry. Well, we're not even halfway through the tribute pool yet and we're in day five of the arena still. And there are two days left until it all goes BOOM! I don't know how long it will be until the next chapter, but I promise you it will come!
Tell me what you thought!