A/N: Thanks to Kiliflower, PrincessLyoka, Clato Kentwell, Klicker'andKash, mangesboy01, Mercoorio, coolcattime, Jemmie and Ways for reviewing! As ever, the support is appreciated :)
The Fourth Quarter Quell is finally upon us, and I'd just like to thank everyone who submitted themselves to be a part of what I've been informally calling The Authors' Games, and as such there will be no song used as inspiration for this chapter.
For those of you who haven't been aware of the development for the Quell, the Games have been set up with all the authors involved with this community project (and several others) providing avatars of themselves as the tributes in the Quell. I've chosen the victor for this chapter based on what I believe to be the most real-life potential, and I've made sure that every tribute/author/avatar/whatever sent in gets a place in the chapter, which has been quite a struggle. Including the avatar for myself, there's twelve...
But anyway, I hope that you all like the chapter for the first Quarter Quell in 75 Games: After the Mockingjay.
So, without further ado, I give you the Fourth Quarter Quell.
"As a reminder that nobody was ever completely safe during the two rebellions that ravaged our nation, the tributes for this year's Hunger Games will be both chosen from one reaping bowl, with the names of all eligible young men and women in it, and no young man or woman - even if they are eligible - will be allowed to volunteer to take the place of the reaped tribute."
- President Coriolanus Snow, the year of the 100th Annual Hunger Games.
The 100th Annual Hunger Games (The Fourth Quarter Quell)
Randall Hadenberg (18), District 2 Male
The first thing that I thought about when I heard President Snow announce the stipulation for this year's Quarter Quell was that I was in more danger than I ever thought I would be.
Firstly, there are no volunteers. There's no cop-outs this time around. If your name is pulled, you're in the arena. Secondly, there's just one reaping bowl. If your name isn't chosen in other years, then another boy (or girl) has taken the place that you would have had. This year, if you're not chosen for the Games, there's a second chance. As it stands, five of this year's districts have two tributes of the same gender; Two, Five, Eight, Nine and Fourteen. Three have female pairings, my own district and Fourteen with two boys. Thanks to Snow's ruling eradicating this year's Career Alliance due to a ban on volunteers, I find myself as the only trained tribute in this year's arena. Aside from the usual couple of strong young men reaped in the later ages of eligibility (the young man from Ten, Ulises, seems to be a distinct threat this year) the only real opposition lie in the tributes of District 14. Whereas those trained for the Games are pampered in the Career Districts, everyone in Fourteen is given all they desire, even all these years after its creation. Now every tribute to compete from that district will have been born there; its formation was nineteen years ago. As such, although neither of the sixteen-year-old boys from District 14 were trained, they are both fit and well-fed and capable of probably twice what they would be if they had been born in Six or Nine, for example. As usual, I'm sure one or two others will emerge as threats during the Games - my district parnter Cameron, perhaps. Who knows? Only time will tell.
My thoughts turn from the tributes to the arena itself as I burst out into the light at the start of the Games, sixty seconds remaining before the initial showdown. I take the time to look around the arena, and I'm instantly stunned at what I see.
The first thing that I notice as I gaze around the arena is that we are inside a large, open hangar - presumably used for storing hovercraft, although it is empty now - fifty yards wide and possibly a hundred long. Sunlight streams in from skylights fifteen metres above us, and the air feels warm like summer all around me. The next thing that I immediately notice about the arena is that there is no cornucopia in sight. Instead, all twenty-four of us are lined up in a straight row halfway along the hangar's length, roughly fifty metres from whatever lies in wait in the rest of the arena. All I can see when I look out at the opening is cloudless blue sky, revealing nothing of the landscape beneath it. At the other end of the hangar I can see a row of what I believe to be hand gliders leant against the wall, their blue fabric standing out blatantly against the metal walls of the hangar. Our ticket down to the arena below the hangar . I'm sure of it. Looking at them lined up, I can tell that there aren't enough for one per tribute. Sixteen, maybe eighteen perhaps. The Gamemakers are hoping to weed out a few of us before the Games even really begin.
I realise how warm the arena actually is and take off the dark green hoodie I've been wearing, leaving me in a white t-shirt and camouflaged combats. I tie the hoodie around my waist. It'll come in handy later.
Looking along the line of tributes, I can see a handful of tributes doing the same, the line becoming a mix of green and white. I notice that I'm near the end of the line, which is either the left or the right, depending on which way you look at it. When facing the gliders, the tribute on my left is Cora, one of the two smaller girls from District 5. Aged fourteen, smaller than most, but decently built (if a little thin) and looks to be a decent runner. She might keep the pace in the sprint when the gong sounds. She's already got her feet positioned and ready to run to the gliders. I take her lead and do the same, readying myself for the imminent dash through the hangar. On the other side of me is Reuben from District 7, a fifteen-year-old who could pass as an adult. The only thing I really remember about him from training is that he's strong. Not in terms of carrying things for long times, but in terms of sheer lifting power. He's probably an inch of two shy of six feet tall, but he doesn't let that put him down. I can only assume that his running is confined to small, powerful bursts like his lifting ability. Here at the start of the Games, though, that's a real concern for me. I consider looking further down the line for other tributes to watch out for, but find it difficult to look down the row to identify anyone in particular. I realise that it doesn't particularly matter who I can find, as I know who I'm up against, anyway.
Then, before I can think any more into the matter, the gong rings out over the arena and the Fourth Quarter Quell begins.
The first sprint to the gliders is easy; exactly the sort of forty-metre length I've been conditioned to run. Still, I'm the third to arrive at the gliders, falling only behind Reuben and Ulises from Ten. Reach one of the gliders alone and consider strapping myself into it early, but realise that I don't have time, opting instead to sling it over my shoulder and turn to run. However, I turn too sharply and clatter straight into Lust, the boy from District 1, and we're both thrown to the floor. In other years, I'd stay and help the boy with short blond hair and brown eyes, but this is the Quarter Quell, and there is no Career Alliance. I considered him as potential ally material, but found him overconfident, too cocky. Instead, I've opted to operate alone, which sounds like more of a plan that it actually is. Basically, I'm relying on myself for everything, and trusting no-one. If I win the Games, I'll win them my way.
I'm on my feet before Lust, scrambling towards the entrance of the hangar once more. Glancing back, I can see Lust's allies, Dorothea and Misty helping him to his feet, two gliders between them. Even though there are no Careers among them, they seem to be forming a Career Pack of their own, pretending to be the young men and women of the Training Centres who should be here in their place. Needless to say, Cameron and I decided against playing a part in such foolishness.
As I try to run back towards the other end of the hangar, I find my advantage being worn away before I reach the pedestals once more. Maybe it's that I never practiced sprinting more than a hundred metres - and this distance is almost a hundred and fifty - or maybe it's that the cumbersome shape of the glider on my back is slowing me down, but either way at least eight tributes are ahead of me in the race to escape the hangar. At the front of the pack are Reuben and my district partner Cameron; debatably the two most athletic of all of us. From almost thirty metres behind, I watch as they reach the edge of the platform on which the hangar is situated, pause for just a moment, then dive off the edge strapped into their gliders, disappearing from view. I realise that I haven't bothered to strap myself in yet, and from watching the others taking flight, it looks like I need to.
Struggling to attach the glider to myself (which is harder work than it looks - it's difficult enough to carry the bloody thing as it is) I watch two young girls reach the edge together, a glider between them. It's one of the girls from Eight being closely pursued by Saidah, the older of the two girls from District 5. She's neither tall nor strong, but certainly more than a match for the twelve-year-old from District 8, and Saidah tackles her to the ground, wrestling the glider from her and launching herself from the platform's edge. The girl from Eight makes an attempt to grab another glider from somewhere, but the nearest girl to her, Lora from Seven, kicks her down before soaring over the edge in her own glider.
Caught up in watching events unfold around me, I don't realise I'm at the edge of the platform until I can see the arena spread out before me. We're at the top of a steep woodland valley, filled with dense woods, mostly populated with deciduous trees. The hangar and its platform sit fifty feet above the top of these steep slopes, a fall that would almost certainly prove to be fatal without the gliders. It looks like some of us are being left behind up here, after all. Looking down to the base of the valley around five miles away, I can see a clear blue lake that will no doubt be an important water source throughout the Games, and just above it in a clearing, glinting in the summer sun, is the golden horn of the cornucopia, presumably filled with the supplies and weapons that have been missing from the Games so far. Where the real bloodbath will take place in just a few minutes' time.
I'm brought back to my senses as a streak of blue hurls itself from the platform. Its the taller and stronger of the two boys from District 14, whose name I can't quite grasp. I just know that he's a serious threat, and the sight of him gliding towards the cornucopia is enough to remind me of what I'm supposed to be doing. I'm struggling to fumble on my glider as the b from District 11 - Wezi, I think - dives past me, a whirlwind of green, white and blue as he soars after the other dark shapes riding the wind towards the cornucopia.
More urgent than before, I try to strap myself into the glider, but no sooner than I have one arm into the harness do I feel a punching force on my back, knocking the wind out of me and carrying myself over the edge.
There's a brief moment of panic as I only have one hand on the steering bar, the glider veering to the right as the ground rushes towards me. I feel a weight beneath me, the weight of my assailant; two legs wrapped around one of mine, an arm reaching around my back. I see the other small hand reach up for the steering bar, pulling the glider straight again, just ten feet above the verdant ground. We soar out together over the arena, the slopes of the valley disappearing beneath us. For the first time, I look down to see the face of my assailant, and I'm surprised at what I see.
To be honest, I don't really know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't who I find.
"Happy Hunger Games," he laughs as he sees the shock on my face. It's Dan, the shorter of the boys from District 14. Debatably the more dangerous one. Whatever skills he has past being well-fed, they're less obvious than those of his district partner.
"Oh," I say, recognising him as he struggles into a safe position, hanging onto both myself and the glider, upside down. "It's you."
"I was hoping to hitch a ride with Lawrence," Daniel adds, attempting what I believe was meant to be a shrug. I imagine it would be difficult to perform such a gesture when hanging upside down, gripping onto a glider for dear life. "But I suppose you'll suffice."
Lawrence, I think. So that's what the other boy from Fourteen is called.
"What do you want?" I ask him. For the moment, neither of us have anywhere to go, anything to do. We just have to soar on the strong winds from behind us and hold the glider straight as it pushes us towards the lake and, most importantly, the cornucopia.
"The same thing as you," Daniel smiles, a devious grin on his face. "Get to the cornucopia, raise hell, get out again alive."
"Sounds like my sort of plan," I say, and Daniel laughs again.
"Yeah," he chuckles, a glint in his blue eyes. "But first, I'll need your glider."
It all happens so quickly; a kick in the gut, a punch, a twist, and I'm hanging on by one arm, twenty feet above the canopy. My weight pulling on one side is more than equal to Daniel's on the other side, and the glider flips, the angle of the wings that once provided lift now driving us into the ground.
We're going down.
It's less than ten seconds before the impact comes. The canopy tears me from the glider, cutting and scratching me as I crash through the foliage. The branches shelter my fall somewhat before I fall the final ten feet to the ground beneath the trees, crashing into the floor.
The wind is knocked out of me for the second time in as many minutes, and I find myself struggling to sit up. Lying on my back in the mud beneath the canopy, I look up to see the tattered remnants of the glider, the boy from Fourteen dangling beneath it, holding on with one arm.
"Hey," he calls down to me. "Fancy giving me a hand?"
I ponder on this for a moment, unsure of what to do as I struggle to get to my feet. We're both miles from the cornucopia, where the bloodbath will surely have already begun, without weapons and without supplies. For now, it might be worthwhile to have another tribute to watch my back.
"Yeah, sure," I tell Daniel. "I'll help you."
At the start of the Fourth Quarter Quell, there were only sixteen gliders in the hangar where the tributes began, and as two gliders were shared at the beginning of the Games, six tributes never made it out of the hangar. The most prepared of these six lasted four days without supplies in the hangar, when they decided to risk the jump down to the rest of the arena, but they died from the fall.
Of the sixteen gliders that launched from the hangar, thirteen made it to the cornucopia, as two had fatal crashes along the way and Randall and Daniel never made it down the valley either. Of the fourteen tributes who arrived at the cornucopia, four died during the bloodbath and there were twelve tributes alive at the end of the first day.
In an arena where dense woodland made it difficult to spot other tributes, kills were rare, and there were still eleven tributes alive when Randall and Daniel arrived at the cornucopia on the fourth day having survived off of the land for the last three nights. There, they armed themselves with the spears and knives left behind by other tributes and parted company.
It was day seven when the other alliance in the arena broke down, the one consisting of the 'fake' Careers, the two tributes of District 1 and Dorothea, the young girl from District 4. When the alliance fell apart, only one tribute survived the fallout; Lust, who remained well-stocked with supplies into the second week of the Games.
By the eleventh day of the Games, seven tributes remained alive; Lust from District 1, both from Two, Saidah from District 5, Reuben and Ulises, and Daniel from Fourteen. That evening, a feast was held by the cornucopia, offering medical supplies for all, as most had had a run-in with either the night-time predators or other tributes since arriving in the arena. By the end of the feast, Lust, Ulises and Daniel were dead, taking the numbers down to four.
It was two days later when Randall hunted out his district partner Cameron, killing him after ambushing him in the expansive woods and slitting his throat with a knife. Just three tributes remained.
Three days later, and the Gamemakers set fire to the woods, forcing the three surviving tributes back down the hill to the clearing by the lake. Saidah succumbed to the flames, and it was twilight by the time that Reuben and Randall had both arrived at the clearing. Both tributes had their preferred weapon by this stage in the Games - an axe for Reuben, throwing knives for Randall - and the battle that evening among the embers of the arena was long and hard-fought, with Randall eventually emerging as the victor of the Fourth Quarter Quell.
A/N: Well, this chapter was difficult to write... Still, I hope that you all enjoyed it, and I think that I managed to include everyone in the chapter in some way, albeit minor roles for most... Still, as ever, I'll be welcoming any and all feedback via review, and I'll probably be coming back to this at some point to make improvements to it, as it's an important chapter in the story.
But anyway, thanks again to everyone who took the time to be a part of this, and I hope you all enjoyed the finished product.
P.S. Normal service will be resumed with the next chapter :)