Hello again everyone, Paradigm of Writing here with one of the last chapters of Capitol's Strike. This is it my friends, the last day of torture in the 1st Hunger Games. We are down to two tributes, Cranston Ervack of District 8 and Jake Quipp of District 10. I always expected Jake to be one of the last, but, Cranston I never imagined would be the other. Originally, I was wanting Rust, Flint, Pablo, Eve, or Mako to be dueling the sword wielding monster of District 10, but as my thoughts took flight, Cranston sprouted in that place instead. It's time to end this... it's time. I've been biting my nails the whole way through which is funny, considering this is my OWN story and I'm nervous for my characters. It's been 24 long and grueling chapters down to this pinnacle chapter. Next chapter, #26, well it's the finale! Someone has to win, and someone will. Have you all been forgetting something though? It was mentioned last chapter, and I created it back in Chapter 4-6, when the beginning was spawning out. If you do remember what I'm talking about, then you're probably confused on why there will be only victor, hence the title. Let's see, shall we? Enjoy Chapter 26 of Capitol's Strike, The First Victor.

*P.S* This chapter will probably not be as long as the last one. I am horrible at action, and especially when it comes to finales in any action story, so don't be too blown away by this. The last chapter, #26 will be MUCH longer than this one, much lengthier. Also... this chapter contains some of Cranston's usual nightmares. This is probably the scariest and most visual part of the story, so be careful when reading them if you have a weak stomach.

President Ammadeus Snow P.O.V

Ammadeus wasn't really feeling coffee this morning. On any other given day, he wouldn't hesitate to make a steaming cup of joe and drink it right up. Something about only having two tributes out of 24 left in the arena didn't feel right with his stomach. He felt that if he even tried to eat or drink a morsel of anything, he'd vomit it back up; no one would want to see the president of Panem ever lose his lunch.

He was surprised to see Jerald already up, reading the biographies of the two tributes still in the arena. Jerald was reading the biography of the District 8 male, Cranston Ervack. The biography of the male from 10, Jake Quipp, lay in a scatter across the viewing room. Ammadeus lifted an eyebrow in curiosity. Either the Head Gamemaker let his hand slip, and the papers scattered... or he was having one of his emotional fits. When Jerald was having one of his fits, as Ammadeus deemed them, the event was quite eventful, and discomforting to watch.

"I'm surprised to already see you up, Jerald. It's only nine in the morning. On any other given day, you'd still be in bed. Normally wake up time for you is somewhere around noon." Ammadeus commented from the railing, setting his shoulders on the piece of metal.

"Can't sleep." Jerald said from below, flipping a page over and reading the back of it.

"Oh, you can't," the president of Panem questioned. "Why not?"

The Head Gamemaker spun around in his chair, his eyes a cold gray. The energy in his blood dulled down to a boring and plaid slate. "Because there are only two teenagers left alive in our dome. We witnessed 22 innocent lives be killed for someone's entertainment... and we did nothing to stop it. There's nothing we can do actually! Our populace has become a bloodthirsty bunch of fools, who only get pleasure in death."

Ammadeus nodded. "That's true. I don't know what my citizens are looking for... they're just an endless mystery that has no answers; only questions. Why I even decided to become president, I really can't recall what crazy drug I must've been on to even have accepted this position."

Jerald frowned from his chair. "I truthfully don't know sir. We both thought these games were a good idea from the get go. Things obviously have changed," he paused, then adding an extra penny for his thoughts. "What I really want to know is why Jake and Cranston both have not won already. Shouldn't the populace have decided we have our victors? I mean, Jake and Cranston are still in an alliance with each other, and there's the alliance rule."

Ammadeus froze, and he slowly turned back to face the Head Gamemaker. "We won't have two winners Jerald, only one. Only one of those males will escape the arena. The other will have to die."

The Head Gamemaker stood up from his seat, and faced his superior, tears threatening to spill down his face. "Sir... why do you say that?"

Ammadeus sighed heavily, and rubbed his forehead. "I forgot to say this to you yesterday, and after you were already a wreck from Diamond, Ryder, Mako, and Nydia's deaths, I didn't want to add insult to the injury. At... at the conference meeting yesterday, the citizens wanted me to make an official rule change to the alliance rule. Although the rule still stands, it has been altered."

"Altered," Jerald repeated the word, it felt foreign on his tongue. "How so?"

"If a member of an alliance kills another member in the same group, that member is excluded from having the rule even applying to him. That means, if that alliance kills every other member that was previously outside of it before the death, the one that did the killing is now placed with the outsiders. This happens to the person that even makes a by accidental kill, like Cranston and Birch with the misfired arrow."

"How does this apply to the tributes in the arena?"

The president closed his eyes, breathing through his nostrils. "The people wanted the rule to stretch all the way since day one of the games, at the cornucopia. I'd have to include every death in that arena since the gong rang out. It means that Birch's death applies to this new term within the rule. It was said in words that Birch was a part of the Lone Hunters since the beginning. He died by Cranston firing an arrow at Flint, who then reflected it so the arrow would hit Birch instead. Everyone besides us ruled his death as being done by Cranston's hand since he was the one who fired the bow in the first place. Then you can't forget that fact that Cranston killed Rye, even though he was forced to."

Jerald let the news sink into his brain for a moment, his mouth opening slightly as Ammadeus's words made sense. "The poor boy never even had a chance, did he? Oh God... we can't let them both win or we'd have a riot on our hands."

"You can't forget the fact that Mako and Jake broke off from the alliance two days ago, on the same day that Opal killed herself. They said it themselves, and shook hands on it," Ammadeus said, looking down at his bare feet. "Both of them broke the rule inexplicitly as it is, so neither of them stood a chance."

Jerald sunk to his knees, lone tears sliding down his face. "Dammit! Why can't we ever win," he screamed into the floor, rocking back and forth. "Every time a glimpse of hope happens, someone comes in and f****** destroys it!"

"I know, I know," Ammadeus whispered. "Clearly our citizens want this to happen again. We'll just make sure that next time the same thing does not happen and we do bring home more people than one. That's what gave the tributes hope in the first place, the fact that less of them would have to die."

"We have to tell them the rule change don't we?" Jerald asked somberly, looking up from his state of distress.

Ammadeus nodded "I'm afraid so."

Jerald stood, and climbed the stairs so he was standing next to the intercom that allowed he and Ammadeus to talk into the arena, to relay information to the tributes. He pressed the button that initiated the process so he could start speaking. He turned his head towards Ammadeus, tears streaming down his face. "Let's do this, shall we?"

Cranston Ervack: District 8 Male P.O.V

Nightmares plagued my mind the entire night... and I couldn't shake them. After seeing a good half of the 22 tributes that died in the arena die in my front of my own eyes, well it'll do a number on you. My first nightmare to start off the entire lovely session I was about to encounter was about Rye and I. Of course it was. Life never likes to give me a break, even when I ask for one in the nicest way possible. So, this dream started out fairly simple; we were just walking through my district admiring the birds of a nearby cedar tree. The next thing you know, a nuclear warhead comes and demolishes the eastern side of district eight, where the justice building and town square is. That means my father just got roasted alive along with another half a million people. The dust cloud shoots out in all directions, destroying everything in its path.

I'm clutching onto Rye for dear life, my face snuggled into his neck while he sooths me. The rampaging tidal wave of debris and dirt hits our area, the downtown side of my district. Instead of being blasted to bits and turned to ash, the dust cloud passes over us. Rye and I are hit with it, I know that... but we aren't killed. Everyone around us did indeed get destroyed, for nothing was left standing that once stood. Bodies lined the streets, each body for some reason glowing an odd mute yellow. Rye touched one of the dead people lying near us, and it was as if electricity zapped his body. One moment he was standing just fine, the next he was in a seizure on the ground, frothing and foaming at the mouth. All I could do in my terrified state was scream, scream as high as my voice would let me till it would give out. Rye went still after a few moments of complete loss of control, and then snapped to his feet. His sudden jolt caused me to recoil back in fright when Rye turned to me. His eyes were now a strange eggplant color, his features all distorted. With a snarl, the beast form of Rye leapt into the air and landed on me.

After crying out in total surprise and horror, I had fallen back against the cobblestone road. Rye's eyes were glowing ferociously, a feral glint taking over all other emotions. When he opened his mouth, his teeth had been replaced by fangs, each razor sharp tooth probably measuring as long as my pinkie. He hissed, spit spraying all over me. Then he tore into me neck.

I immediately woke up in a cold sweat and grabbed my neck to make sure it was still there, that I wasn't dead. No blood seeped through my fingers, the grass wasn't tainted an awful crimson; I was okay. Thinking nothing was wrong, I fell back asleep. How I wish I truly didn't now that I honestly think about it.

The second nightmare had Velvet, Violet, and Eve in this dream. We were all in the Capitol, having dinner. Velvet and I had our hands linked together, wedding rings on our fingers. We must've been married. Eve sat across from us, alongside Violet. Eve's hair was a solid black, an edgy ebony, similar to Opal's hair. Her eyes were a solid gold, instead of the normal light sky color. Violet's entire left arm was missing, it ended in a stump at her shoulder. It wouldn't make anyone feel better to know that blood was gushing out of the wound, tainting her plate with splashes of human life. I tried getting Velvet's attention about it when the door to our room busted down.

Gunmen flooded into the room, the shooter taking the lead sending a bullet into Violet's brain. As the projectile exited the backside of her head, she slumped forward to the ground, a matching leaflet of blood connecting with the one from her arm. I was the only one who reacted, by scooting away from the table and vomiting on the spot. Velvet and Eve continued to eat. A third person entered the room and it was Jerald, who was dressed all in black, a wicked knife in his hands. He quietly went up to Eve who was preoccupying herself with a salad. Before I could even give a cry of warning, a bright cherry smile grew on Eve's neck, Jerald's blood slick knife stuck into her skin. She face planted into her salad, and slid back from the table.

Jerald locked eyes with me, and menacingly strode towards us. He grabbed my wrist, and pulled it outward. Velvet still stayed as lifeless as a statue, not even glancing over at what was about to happen to her husband. I was too mystified and horrified by the events that just happened to not notice that my left hand was completely chopped off, the body part flapping aimlessly on the ground. Looking down, I felt the bile threatening to make a reappearance when Jerald slammed me against the wall. Velvet never even moved as watched her head be blown cleanly off by a ninja star thrown by the same person who killed Violet. A low guttural scream emitted from my throat before Jerald punched my face in with his fist, the knife he used to kill Eve with being the main object. The blade embedded into my skull.

For the second time that evening, I burst awake.

The moon was still shining, the arena was at a comfortable temperature of 70 degrees Fahrenheit, and here I was, Cranston Ervack scared shitless. Good title to have huh? For the past hour and a half, while just waiting for the sun to rise I've been sitting against the cornucopia in a ball rocking back and forth, whispering to myself. Jake was asleep, and he had fallen quiet after the anthem yesterday. I haven't heard his voice since he asked me to kill Mako. I don't blame him though, for what we've both been through... it's horrifying to even have to come to the terms of doing it again.

It's just Jake and I now, we only have each other for company. Before I dozed off into wonderland and nightmare ville, I had taken the moment to do a quick memoir for each tribute that would never get to exit this place. Ammadeus and Jerald weren't the ones to be angry at, I knew that from day one. Although their positions meant they had to oversee the operations of the Hunger Games did not exactly mean they both enjoyed, let alone wanted to participate in this sick event. The Capitol population is a very influential group of people, albeit how silly they always looked. When these people didn't get what they wanted, riots exploded all over the city streets. Capitolites, the word the districts name a person of the Capitol... all they want is entertainment to fulfill their deadly boring lives. What better way to express their boredom by having people kill each other in an arena for the entire nation to see? That idea sounded quite great to them, and with such a large group of people... about fifteen million are supposed to live in the Capitol; well you know the rest.

The Hunger Games were born.

Sunlight came crawling into view at around 9:30 in the morning, which was followed by the ringing of trumpets and loud booming. Jake woke up in an instant, almost like a spring rebounding from a wall. It was almost comical, had I not fully known why such a sound would cause disruption to our minds. Jake looked at me, the happy, intoxicating light in his eyes gone.

"What was that?" he asked, unraveling his sleeping bag, and stretching.

I shrugged. "Don't know. The sun literally just appeared a moment ago, and as soon as it did, the sounds came on."

Jake opened his mouth to reply when his voice was cut off by Jerald's. Weirdly, our Head Gamemaker's voice seemed to be on the verge of cracking, as if he was in complete distress.

"Greetings tributes, Cranston Ervack and Jake Quipp of the first annual Hunger Games. I am your Head Gamemaker Jerald speaking, and I have some news to bring to your attention. You all know about the old alliance rule Ammadeus created during training. Well... we've had a rule change." Jerald said from the intercom on the dome of the arena.

"Rule change?" I repeated nervously, furrowing my eyebrows. I glanced at Jake, his eyes slitting.

"Previously the rule stated that if you were in an alliance, and that group killed everyone that was not a part of it, the entire alliance won. That particular Hunger Games would have more than one victor. The Capitol citizens requested to tweak this rule, and we've graciously done so. Now the rule stands as this- if you are in an alliance and you kill another member of the same alliance, the rule now excludes you. That means, if that alliance kills every other member that was previously outside of it before the death, the one that did the killing is now placed with the outsiders. They'd have to kill the killer of their fallen ally, and then the group could win."

"And this applies to us how?" Jake shouted up at the dome. I didn't need Jerald to reply back... I knew exactly why this rule change has just been brought up. They're talking about Rye's death.

"That'll be all." Jerald said, and then his voice vanished.

Silence enveloped Jake and I, and we both looked at each other tersely. His eyes were full of confusion, mine full of understanding.

"Umm..." I trailed off, not sure of how to bring Rye's death up to Jake.

"Why would they tell us that," Jake repeated again. "That rule does not apply to you and I."

I rubbed the back of my neck, laughing weakly. "About that... it kinda does."

My ally furrowed his eyebrows together, looking at me confusingly. "How?"

"Rye." I stated simply.

"What about him?"

"His death."

"What about his death?" Jake prodded on, his eyes starting to widen.

"I... I uh killed him." I said, backing up.

The information sank into his brain, before he gasped and leaned against the side of the cornucopia. "You... you did what now?"

"Rye's death wasn't a suicide," I started babbling, fumbling with my arena uniform. "He asked me to come with him three days ago, back to our old camp location. He didn't tell me why. When we reached the little stream that run through the valley, he placed one of Ryder's axes in my hands and asked me to throw it into his chest. I obviously refused, which he then proceeded to tell me that if I was to not throw the axe, he'd kill me with it, then off himself immediately afterward. We'd both be dead by then. I... I didn't want him killing me, but I didn't want him killing himself. I had no other choice!" I screamed, throwing my hands up in frustration, sinking to my knees in the grass.

Jake didn't speak for a moment, and I almost thought he had either fainted from the truth, or didn't care, but that was when he started laughing. He laughed manically, his face turned a puffy red violet. He slung his sword back into the sheath around his back and faced me, a wide grin spread across his face. "I knew you did something to him! It was always sitting on the back of my brain, a little whisper telling me something was off about you since day one. I can't believe I was right! All this time, you Cranston Ervack were planning on sabotaging the rest of us. We were never good enough for you, huh? Mako and Ryder were telling the truth, I just didn't want to bring it up around you in case my assumptions were incorrect. But, I was always right..."

I backed up on my hands, ignoring the pain of the stinging needle on my hands. "You... you knew?"

"Of course I did," Jake yelled triumphantly. "I'm Jake Monroe Quipp! Nothing gets by me, ever. I'd imagine this must be hard for you to know, but Mako and I broke off from the Lone Hunters two days ago. We haven't been a group since Opal's death. Mako was going to convince Nydia to join us, and then Mako and I would overpower both of you. You and Ryder would've died, and the three of us would go back home. Then Mako went and got all insane and stuff. Yeah, that ruined my plan entirely, I just wanted to win so bad. But, you've been through so much shit over the past couple of weeks, I don't think you can even do a thing."

"What are we going to do now?" I asked nervously, still sitting in the grass.

Jake unsheathed his sword, the five foot long metallic weapon gleaming impressively off the blazing sun. "I don't know about you, but I have a district to return to. A family is waiting for me. My father died in the rebellion, he fought to protect was right. All you do is fight to protect yourself. The love you had for Rye was disgusting, I was in euphoria when I heard the little bugger died." Then, my maniacal not-really-an-ally from District 10 swung his sword down at me.

A yelp leapt from my lips, and I dived forward, forgetting about the little stabs puncturing my body. Jake's sword hit the dirt, my body no longer there. I stood to my feet, and instinctively ducked as his sword came swinging back around. Moving my head back to it's original position, I grabbed my bow and quiver. I slung the quiver onto my back, and reached for an arrow. I had only four left, so these shots had to count for all the marbles.

Jake's grin widened, sweat glistening off of his forehead. The sword came down on me in a wide arc, and I sidestepped. Seeing a free opening, I lunged forward and punched Jake in the gut. He dropped the sword in surprise, and stumbled to his knees. Grabbing the back of his head, I rammed it into the dirt. He screamed in agony as the grass bit at his face. Releasing my grip, I notched an arrow, about to release it into his back when his legs shot out from underneath him, hitting me in the stomach.

I fell onto my back, the sharp pain causing me to whimper. The sun shadowed out of my vision, as Jake towered over me, the sword a mere five inches from entering my chest. Using my own foot, I brought my foot back and pushed it forward to wallop him in the nose. I heard a satisfying crack as his nose broke from my impact. Jake, in anger, grabbed my foot tight. I tried breaking from his grasp, he flung me over his back, my own face slamming into the ground. I rolled myself out of the way, Jake's sword entering the grass where my body was. I leapt to my feet and started running.

I was faster than Jake, I knew that much. He, however had much more stamina than I did. So, even if outran him, he'd catch up slowly, but steady. I turned back and fired three arrows at him in succession, but I didn't allow myself to much time to aim. My arrows missed Jake by a mile, he sidestepped them all. He could see me fire them at him after all. By the time I reached the outskirts of the jungle, I was exhausted. My breath felt very labored, and sweat trickled down my face like water on rock. Surely, he was still running after me.

It was just a game of cat and mouse, the hunter and the hunted. I will eventually out tire completely, there won't be any energy left in me to move. Jake will probably still be running behind me the entire time, and he wasn't going to stop. It took a lot to run him down, to wear his confidence and determination down to nothing took a very long time. I reached into my quiver, my limbs aching. I notched the arrow, my fingers fumbling.

I could just make out Jake in the hazy sunlight, my eyes starting to be obscured from seeing what was actually there. This was my last arrow, it had count. If I missed, I might as well let him kill me. I let the arrow fire, it was aiming for his neck; an undeniable kill should it hit. As soon as it fired, I dropped to my knees, my breathing very shallow. I face planted the grass, and let my own darkness take me. It wasn't before too long I heard a cannon, it must be me dying from exhaustion. Then the anthem came on, and Ammadeus's erroneously happy voice came through the speaker.

"Jake Quipp, District 10 Male. Place: 2nd, killed by Cranston Ervack," he said. "Ladies and gentleman, we have a victor of the very 1st Hunger Games, Mr. Cranston Ervack!" Ammadeus's voice rang out, the announcement signifying that the games were over.

Oh, look at that.

I won.

Tribute List (Boy then Girl)

District 8: Cranston Ervack (Crans-ton Err-vack)

Victor of the 1st Hunger Games is Cranston Ervack

2nd-6th: Jake Quipp, Mako Narcis, Ryder Cole, Nydia Jones, Diamond Zrae

7th-10th: Opal Swener, Rye Henderson, Eve Gladius, Ford Messing

11th-14th: Velvet Reque, Violet Knie, Flint Terio, Birch Lido

15th-18th: Rose Blersa, Wake Pladto/Pearl Art, Angelina Xoe

19th-20th: Marie Floss, Pablo Woed

21st-24th: Culliver Vaniz, Rust Idel, Lilianna Yi, Ellen Dosse

There you have it guys, Chapter 26- The First Victor. Are you surprised at how the ending turned out? Was it satisfying, or would like more? Remember, action is nowhere near my strong point, so this is all I can produce for now. Ugh, it's been a long and grueling journey since I started this, hasn't it?

Jake Quipp: The very first tribute to ever speak in the first chapter of Capitol's Strike. He was mentioned all the time, for I never could get enough of Mr. Jake Quipp from District 10. You all fell in love with him, you all saw how brute yet caring he was since the beginning. Jake was always the forerunner of all the tributes, his flaws seemed very hidden while his strengths were always highlighted. You readers took notice of that. It was surprising to most of you when he received an 11, instead of a twelve on his training score, and then even more shocked when he killed Ellen, Lilianna, and Marie. All of those deaths were by accident of course, but it created a completely different character than what I started with. I started to make you guys think he was much more than just the brute killer from 10, the man without a soul or heart. He faded into the background, and then started to reappear. I knew I had to reveal his true colors, flip the story right on its head. I will always remember Jake Quipp.

That's all for now guys. I've got quite the finale chapter to write, and it's gonna be a doozy. I'm hoping for about 10,000 words for the finale. Now, on the idea of Jake v. Cranston... are you guys happy Cranston is the victor... or would you have preferred Jake instead? Why or why not?

Please review/follow or favorite! I'd love to hear your comments on the closing off of this story! Officially, Capitol's Strike is the longest story I've ever written, now capping 100,000 words! I'm so excited to have broken my word cap of 96,000 with Cross Examined. Thank you all for being here since the beginning, I love you all! See you for the Finale, Chapter 27: And So Another One Goes...

~ Paradigm