Docker Henderson-18(D4M)
If there's one good thing that's come out of the shit storm that's been the last day and a half of my life it's that I'm finally free to do things the way I know they should have been done from the beginning. I should have killed Augustus at the first hint of betrayal, I should have killed Kerensa when she stumbled up half dead with a damn near clinically dead Cassia on her shoulders, and I should have killed Claro back on the boat when he showed a reluctance to kill Ruby, especially since the whole point of hunting other tributes was so we could freaking kill them.
But my biggest mistake, and the only one that's not possible for me to correct at this point, was listening to the shitty advice I got from my mentors. After all, it was Joyce and Allure that convinced me that it was in my best interest not to make myself a bigger target than my size and skills already made me. And despite my better judgment, and knowing full well that their plan was an absolutely horrible one from the get-go, I decided to heed their advice and let my allies dictate the pace and direction of the alliance. And all that earned me was one massive stab in the back from the one ally I thought I had been able to accurately read and the chance to watch all the supplies I was counting on to win burn to a crisp.
And to make matters worse, if you can classify a lateral move from one shit heap to another as 'getting worse', I have to hunt down that double-crossing little shit that did it in the middle of a god damned typhoon. And for some miraculous reason, which I can only assume is due either to Augustus's massive stupidity, or possibly his unmatched genius, tracking him has been the single easiest thing I've done in the games so far. That's not to say tracking someone during a typhoon is ease, because it's not, but the simple fact that I get to be myself for the first time in what feels like an eternity makes hunting in a typhoon seem like a very reasonable price to pay.
That being said, I can't help but feel that something about this is a little off. It's nothing serious, at least nothing serious enough to give someone like me a reason to pause, but that doesn't change the fact that something just isn't quite right. But there's nothing I can do about it, at least not as long as I don't know for sure what it is, and that means there's no reason for me to worry about it. I mean, there's really no point in worrying about an unseen problem when there are plenty of very visible and pressing ones to deal with.
And besides, even if this strange and slightly unsettling feeling is rooted in a subconscious realization that I'm being followed, and I honestly can't think of anyone left in the arena that's actually stupid enough to follow me, I'm more than capable of dispatching any and every remaining tribute in the arena with little to no actual effort. And if by some miracle it's a mutt, and I say miracle based solely on the fact that I haven't seen anything remotely mutt like in the four days I've been in the arena, I just hope it puts up a decent fight.
With that in mind, along with a running list of which of the remaining tributes might be desperate enough to shadow me, I turn my attention back to the trail I've been following since I left the temple last night. And unsurprisingly, the trail is just as fresh and noticeable as it was when I stopped to rest a few minutes ago. This is one of the major reasons I'm leaning towards thinking that Augustus is trying to make it as easy as possible for me to follow him; I mean the chances of anyone leaving a trail that's this easily identified and followed, especially in such incredibly shitty weather, are slim to none.
But the sad thing is, even though I'm almost positive that this is a trap, there's nothing I can do but walk into it. With both eyes open of course. I mean, I guess I could try to turn the trap around, lead the trapper into a trap of my own so to speak. And it would be an enjoyable and oh so fitting way to end his miserable life, and I'm sure the look of pure disbelief on his face as he realizes that all he's managed to do is trap himself would be one of the biggest highlights of the games. I just need to think of the perfect way to turn this obvious trap of his into an ingeniously disguised trap of my own.
Fortunately, I still have plenty of time to think of inventive ways to do just that, considering that I still have to find him before I can do anything let alone decide on and start implementing a successful counter trap. But at the very least, I do have the general outline of a wildly successful counter in place.
With that in mind, I find a genuine smile returning to my face for the first time since the bloodbath as I scoop up my anchor and forge off into the unyielding torrent of wind and rain. But despite all that I find myself damn near skipping as my mood quickly shifts from its previously brooding and sour state to one of uncharacteristic, and slightly out-of-place, happiness and joy. And even though I'm sure it's going to raise a few eyebrows back in the Capitol, and require my mentors to do a little 'he's not losing his grip on sanity' damage control, I decide not to hide my happiness and allow myself to take a little skip before strolling off into the tempest in search of Augustus.
Keyna Rane-18(D6F)
I'm not sure which is harder for me to believe, that I've been following Docker for over an hour and he hasn't seen me or that I'm almost positive that I just saw the muscle-bound brute skip. Not a little hop or a jump but an honest to god SKIP! I mean, I've seen some pretty strange and unusual things in my life, the vast majority of them in just the last week or so that I've been in the Capitol, but I never thought I'd see someone like Docker skipping.
Of course just because it's completely out of character, and just a little bit on the disturbing side, doesn't mean it's not every bit as funny as you'd expect it to be. After all, it's not every day that you see someone that's gone out of his way to come off as menacing and excessively brutal skipping in the rain like a child. The fact that he seems to be making a concerted effort to splash in every puddle he can as he goes only makes it that much funnier a sight to see. I mean seriously, who would have thought, especially at this late point in the games, that anyone could possibly find a way to have legitimate fun like this?
And if he's going to continue to be this entertaining, not to mention incredibly easy to follow; I can't think of a reason, good or bad, for me not to keep doing just that. And those are just the superficial slash personal reasons for me to follow him, when you add in the tactical and intelligent reasons for doing it, specifically the fact that following him allows me to stay within striking distance of a major player, thereby increasing my potential opportunities to eliminate the odds on favorite to win the games.
Not to mention that trailing him should protect me from becoming the target of a random mutt while also helping to make me look like I have an actual plan moving forward. And considering that I haven't done a damn thing since my attack of Kerensa and Cassia, I could probably use the insulation and security that provides. And when you consider that the gamemakers are significantly less likely to interfere, both directly and indirectly, with anything involving such a highly visible tribute like Docker, I should have relatively free rein to stalk and eventually kill him at my leisure.
And with that in mind, I allow Docker to put a little distance between the two of us before slipping out the window of the building I'd been hiding in before slipping into the darkness of a nearby alley. I carefully peek around the edge, doing my best to get a clear and unobstructed view of the street while also staying hidden enough that if Docker did hear me and turn around he shouldn't be able to see me. But my caution is unnecessary as Docker continues to stroll down the street completely oblivious to my presence, in fact, I might have been a tad bit too cautious because he's gotten just a tad too far in front of me for comfort. Unfortunately, that means I have to run in order to catch up, hell at one point I'm forced to damn near sprint just to keep him in my line of sight.
But that's about as adventurous as things get and within seconds of my returning to a more comfortable following distance I'm back to crouching behind walls and hiding in corners as Docker continues on at his methodically slow pace from earlier. And while I'm more than happy to take this opportunity to catch my breath, as well as take a small drink of water, I can't help but wonder why he's been moving so slow. I mean, the way he's constantly looking down at the ground makes it seem like he's looking for something, not that I have even the slightest idea what it might be or why he's looking for it, let alone how he's hoping to find anything with how hard it's been raining.
I guess I could probably just chalk it up to him slowly losing his mind in the arena, I mean I'm starting to go a little kooky at times so I can only imagine what's going on inside his statuesque head. But I'm not sure it's really as simple as him going crazy. Well, whatever it is, I guess I'll have more than enough time to figure it out while I'm following him, or at the very least I'll have a chance to develop a whole mess of increasingly wild and unlikely theories. And even if I never do figure out what the hell's going on with him, the challenge of finding out or coming up with a theory wild enough to top the previous one, should keep me entertained during the serious stretched that always seem to bookend one of Dockers more playful spurts.
I just hope this doesn't end up being as big a mistake as the one I made with Kerensa and Cassia. Because even if I manage to survive yet another highly embarrassing ass whooping, I'm not sure my pride would recover. And what's the use in being a victor if everyone is going to remember you as the victor that pulled a victory out of her ass despite spending the majority of the games getting her ass kicked left, right and sideways?
Paxx Carthage-15(D3F)
I knew it was a bad idea for me to spend this much time alone with just my thoughts to keep me company. And I obviously knew there was no possible way anything good could possibly come of it, but for some stupid reason, I decided to do it anyway. And now not only am I an emotional wreck, which is honestly nothing new for me, but I've also wasted any opportunity I might have had to prove myself worthy of any kind of support. And that effectively ends any slim chance I might have had at coming out of this mess alive; or at the very least being remembered as anything other than the sad little girl from District Three that died in the One Hundred and Fourth Hunger Games.
And as if all of that wasn't bad enough, and it's seems almost impossible that I'm actually about to say this, but I don't think I've ever felt this isolated and alone in my entire life. And while that may not seem all that wild or outlandish a thing for someone that's been alone in the arena for as long as I have, it becomes far more worrying when you consider that I've been socially awkward and almost completely friendless for the vast majority of my life. You know, when I think about it like that, it kind of seems like an accomplishment.
Unfortunately, it's not the kind of accomplishment I was hoping to achieve during my time in the arena. I wanted to do something memorable, something that would make my mom and step-dad proud of me for the first time in my life, but I couldn't even do that right. Instead, I've spent most of my time lurching from one dumb decision to the next or running for my life. And during the incredibly rare moment where I wasn't doing either of those, I was almost assuredly curled up in the fetal position crying my eyes out. Hell, it's almost like I'm allergic to doing something even remotely impressive and memorable, you know, the kind of things that might make my district, or at the very least my mom and step-dad, proud of me.
But I guess I shouldn't be all that surprised that I've screwed this up, after all, screwing things up is just about the only thing I've ever been consistently good at. And as soul-crushing as it is for me to admit, it's probably a good thing that I've been the same screw up in the arena that I was back at home. So at the very least my performance, or rather my lack thereof, shouldn't degrade my worth any more than it already was. Although to be completely honest, I could have crapped myself on my starting pedestal and run around in a circle screaming like a crazy person and I'd still be just as worthless in my families eyes as I am now.
After all, it's hard to get more worthless than completely and totally, or was it absolutely and unequivocally?
Regardless it's all but impossible for me to sink any lower in their esteem and regard, so I should be safe on that point. Although, I'm not sure if they'll be happy about what I'm about to do, or if the Capitol will decide to take revenge on them because they won't be able to take it on me. After all, the Capitol tends to take threats against the stability and security of Panem pretty seriously, and while I can't imagine the emotionally charged actions of an unstable teenage girl could be seen in an inflammatory and provocative light, I can't discount the possibility that they could.
I spend the next few minutes standing there, my heart waging an internal battle with my brain over the course of action I've decided to take. Back and forth the argument goes as my heart screams about the unintended fallout my family could face if the Capitol does decide to view it as an intentionally inflammatory act while my brain tries to beat those concerns into submission with a barrage of cold and calculating logic. And for the first little bit, I'm honestly not sure which side is going to come out on top, but the longer the battle rages, the more I start to side with my brain. Eventually, my heart just gives up and accepts that my brain has won, and more importantly, that I'm probably going to go through with this no matter what it does to try to stop me.
With that issue resolved I reach down and wrap my trembling fingers around the handle of the blood stained cleaver I picked up during my second flight from the cornucopia before staring down at the gory remains of its previous victim. And as I stare down at the last remnants of another tribute, another person, I can't help but wonder who it was that met their end on the edge of this cleaver. I can't help but wonder what was going through their mind in those last moments as their life ebbed out of the wound the cleaver created: but most of all, I can't help but wonder if dying hurt.
Those questions and a million other are racing through my mind as I quickly and decisively place the shaking blade in the middle of my own neck and hold it there for a second before slowly but firmly pressing it into my waiting throat. The next several seconds are indeed the most painful and gut-wrenching of my life as my body screams out in pain and blood seeps out and covers my fingers as I continue to push the cleaver deeper and deeper into my neck. Tears explode out of my eyes and stream down my face where they quickly mix with the blood seeping out of my neck to create a runny, blood-colored mess. But despite all that, and a massively painful burning sensation coursing through the site, I never stop pushing it in.
And then, as if by magic, the pain vanishes and it feels like I'm floating. My hand slips off the handle but the cleaver stays firmly embedded in my throat as the feeling in my arms and legs disappears as the world around me starts to dim. But none of that matters, because for the first time in a good long time I'm truly happy. And just before the sweet embrace of death swallows me whole I'm met with the wonderful sight of a much younger and happier me giggling as my father, my real father, tosses me up into the air and catches me while my mother watches from the bench we used to have in our old backyard. And in that moment I know I made the right choice, because the pain and loneliness of my old life is gone for good, and at long last, I finally get to go home….
~BOOM~
Mazie Vernon-14(D10F)
"I'm not sure it's safe for you to be up and walking around yet Javon. Didn't you say something about dizziness and nausea being side effects of your medicine?"
"Those are just possible side effects of the shots, but there's just as good a chance that I'll be completely unaffected as there is that I'll have a major reaction."
"That doesn't mean you should push your luck any more than you have too."
"I've spent the last two-plus days in a damn near coma and you want me to 'take it easy'?"
"I never said you had to take it easy, I said it's not a good idea to press your luck any more than you have too."
"And I suppose you'd classify going outside and taking a little stroll in the rain as 'pressing my luck'?"
"Of course it….Why would you even ask….Seriously?"
"Mazie, I was just kidding. Obviously, it's not a good idea to go out and walk around in the rain."
"I'm glad you've finally come to your senses."
"Oh come on Mazie, even I know it's not a good idea for us to go outside. I mean the wind would probably do a real number on my hair."
"For the sake of my sanity I'm going to pretend that you're taking this seriously…."
"Mazie I'm just kidding around and you need to lighten up a little. Because if you don't you're going to yourself an ulcer."
"If I can walk out of the arena alive with an ulcer I'd do it in a heartbeat and call it a bargain."
"Fair enough, but wouldn't you rather walk out of the arena without an ulcer instead?"
"Is that supposed to be a serious question?"
I can tell by the cheesy grin on his face that it wasn't, and despite the fact that I really don't think it's a good idea to let my guard down, I can't stop myself from smiling back. And as soon as I smile it only takes a few more seconds for my composure to shatter completely and before I know it I'm giggling playfully as Javon continues to stare down at me while making increasingly outlandish faces.
"Look I appreciate your concern for my health Mazie, I really do, but we're at a point in the games where I can't afford to keep sitting around and hoping the gamemakers ignore my inaction. And since you're my new ally, my concerns are now your concerns."
"I guess you're right, but I still don't think it's a good idea for you to go outside yet. At the very least we should wait until we see what side effects your last anti-venom injection has."
"And I'm willing to concede that point to you, as long as you're willing to hear me out on a compromise."
"What kind of compromise?"
"It's pretty straightforward, you let me stretch my legs by walking around and exploring the complex we're already in, and in return, I agree to stop and turn back at the first sign of trouble. So, do we have a deal?"
This goes against my better judgment, but at least I've talked him out of the idea of going outside and looking around. And it's not like the two of us can get into too much trouble walking around inside of a building complex that I've already explored the majority of.
"I guess that's as good a deal as I have any right to hope for."
The smile on his face says volumes about how excited he is that I've agreed to let him walk around, and if I was in his shoes I'd probably feel the same way. After all, he did spend the better part of two days lying in a room covered in vomit and shit and even when I forced him to change rooms last night we only went as far as the nearest empty room before I forced him to sit back down and relax.
But even though I understand his desire to get up and walk around, I still don't agree with it, not completely anyway. Because on top of the zillion things that could possibly go wrong with him, like being hit by a sudden bout of dizziness, fainting, and cracking his head on the way down while leaving me to drag him all the way back here by myself, I also have a generally bad feeling about this. Unfortunately, Javon doesn't seem to be in the mood to take my concerns seriously, at least not as seriously as I'd like him to take them, and is dead set on doing this.
So I give in and force myself to let him, and while there are a few minor bumps along the way, like his very vocal insistence on bringing his battle-ax along for the ride, everything seems to be going relatively well. And before I know it I'm doing my best impression of a Capitol escort, not a very competent or knowledgeable escort, but an escort none the less, as I take Javon and myself on a mock tour of the building that he insists is called a gymnasium.
We spend the next few minutes wandering around and exploring the plethora of massive and incredibly open rooms and Javon even makes an effort to teach me what some of the things are used for. It's a futile gesture as even if I do survive this unholy ordeal I'm going to do everything I can to block out the specifics of anything I did or saw, specifically the memories related to death of friends and acquaintances, I'm not sure I can classify Javon as a friend yet, but it's still a nice gesture. Everything seems to be going relatively well until a cannon blast rips through the arena and reminds me that I'm still very much in the middle of a life and death struggle, not to mention that the person I'm currently bonding with is also standing between me and escaping this hell alive.
"Who do you think the cannon belonged too?"
"If it's all the same to you Javon, I'd really rather not think or talk about it."
I can tell he has questions, whether they're about the cannon or my desire not to talk about it is anyone's guess, but he has question none the less. Fortunately for me, he decides that my wishes are more important than his curiosity and he decides to drop the subject. Unfortunately, the cannon did more than enough damage and the once happy and playful atmosphere has been replaced by one of significant sadness and soberness. And even though Javon does makes a few attempts to lighten the mood it's no use and before long he resigns himself to continuing our walk in silence.
And that uncomfortable silence continues, totally unabated, until we finally run across one of the rooms that opens up into the central courtyard.
"Well, this looks like as good a spot as any to take a break. Would you like something to eat or drink while we're stopped, Mazie?"
I can't bring myself to give him a verbal answer, but I do manage to shake my head enough that he gets the message before unslinging our supply pack and plopping down on one of the mats laid out in the middle of the room. And while he rummages through the bag for something to eat I decide to get a little extra air by making my way out onto the covered part of the courtyard and watching the raindrops splash down into the soggy ground.
I spend the next few minutes sitting in silence and enjoying the sound of the rain as Javon devours a bag of dried apple slices and drains a full canteen of water before shoving the empty containers back inside the bag and sprawling out on the mat to relax. And within minutes I can hear the faint but unmistakable sounds of snoring coming from him as he finally gives in and allows his exhaustion to overtake him.
I find myself smiling as I remember his earlier claims that he wasn't the least bit tired and that he had recovered more than enough that he didn't need me to nag him to take a nap. AS a matter of fact, he went so far as to say I was treating him like a little kid, a fact that I'm willing to concede, and that he didn't need someone to baby him. And because of that one hilariously unintentional misstep, the image of Javon dressed up like a massive baby is the only thing I can think about. In fact, I'm so enamored with the hilarious way I'm imagining all of this playing out, I fail to notice the small crablike mutt scuttling across the courtyard towards me.
It's only when the mutt is literally right in front of my face that I finally notice it and even though my brain is screaming at me to be afraid I can't help but marvel at its complexed beauty. The shell looks almost exactly like the pictures I've seen of crabs and has an enchanting reddish-black hue to it. Add in the six, long and highly glossed looking legs and the small but deadly looking pincers and this is very much a crab, until you look up a bit more that is. Because sticking up out of the center of the torso, in the general area of where you'd expect to find the head, is an alabaster colored and very human looking torso that ends at the top with a cherub-like face. Hell, about the only thing on the entire second torso that's not human looking is the crab shell armor covering its arms.
"What in the hell are you supposed to be?"
I don't know if it's my voice that shocked the mutt or what but as soon as the last syllable leaves my mouth it opens up and lets out a blood-curdling screech. And the sound it's making is so loud and high-pitched that within seconds I'm pressing my hands to my ears as hard as I can and screaming myself in an effort to drown enough of the noise out that my ears don't start bleeding. Finally, I jump back to my feet and kick the mutt as hard as I can and send it sailing back across the courtyard to land in the mud with a surprisingly audible plop. It's only after the mutt lands sideways in the mud that the screeching stops and by that time Javon is standing next to me with his ax at the ready and a very confused and agitated look in his eyes.
"What in god's name was that?"
I point in the general direction of the mutt I'd just kicked, but by this point, there are a dozen or so more exploding out of the muddy earth below and coming to the rescue of the first. And as if that wasn't bad enough, a few seconds later a massive one that's easily the size of Javon if not bigger comes scuttling out from one of the other buildings and searching for the smaller ones.
"Mazie….Mazie….MAZIE!"
"WHAT?!"
"RUN!"
Wren Roxen (District 10 Mentor)
I don't know which one of my tributes is in more trouble, the little girl who's trying to help her still injured ally barricade an incredibly flimsy looking door against a dozen dozen crab-people mutts while the big one scuttles down the hall to join its offspring, with nothing but rolled up mats and medicine balls; or the boy who killed another tribute in self-defense only to have her district partner and ally swear a blood oath to kill him for doing it? And while the answer is pretty obvious in the short term, Mazie is in considerably more danger at this very moment than James is, in the long run, it's honestly a toss-up, as long as the gamemakers don't decide to ratchet up the pressure on Mazie and Javon that is.
After all, I'm almost positive that the gamemakers expected these mutts to be the hot topic of the day, and considering how perfectly they managed to nail the mixture of sexy and fearsome in the mutts I can't say I blame them. Unfortunately for them, and maybe for Mazie and Javon, the only thing anyone is talking about right now is how the little girl from three killed herself.
"We've got a problem Wren."
The serious but surprisingly quiet voice catches me off-guard, and it takes everything I have not to jump like a frightened mouse as my partner Paige slides into the seat across from me with her drink while Javon's mentor Violetta slides me the one they'd picked up for me before settling into the seat next to her.
"We've got significantly more than one problem Paige."
"I understand that, but as far as James is concerned there's not a whole lot we can do for him outside of keeping his sponsors from jumping ship. Mazie however, is in very real and immediate danger and we need to figure out a way to help her and Javon before it's too late."
"We don't have the money to send her another gift and I highly doubt they'll allow us to mail ourselves in as reinforcements. So how in the hell are we supposed to help them?"
My question prompts the two of them quickly share the single most uncomfortable look I've seen two people share in my life before quietly motioning for the other to tell me what they have in mind. Now the sight of two of my mentoring colleges acting like frightened children that are too afraid of getting in trouble to tell their mom who broke a lamp is downright comical, and in any other situation I'd be more than happy to watch them trade arm gestures and pleading glances until one of them grows a backbone and speaks up. But time is a luxury we don't possess, at least not at THIS particular moment, and it doesn't take long for my last nerve to snap and for me to lash out at them for their immaturity.
"For the love of god will you two just stop! One of you needs to grow a pair and answer my question before I have to beat it out of you."
I'm not sure if it's shame or remorse that's plastered on their faces and at this point, I honestly don't care. What I do care about is getting an answer to my question, and it looks like my outburst managed to coax just enough backbone out of the two of them for me to get one. And to my utter shock, it's Violetta that finally relents, though it does require a little extra motivation from the rich brown liquor in her glass, and a gentle nudge from Paige before she finally blurts out an answer.
"We were wondering if you'd be open to the idea of asking a few of James's sponsors to support Mazie instead."
"You want me to use James's money to send Mazie another gift?!"
"I told you she wouldn't go for it, Violetta. I told you this was a stupid idea and that we should even bother asking her let alone trying to convince her that it's a good idea."
"Of course it was a waste of time to ask me, because you know damn well I'm not going to do it. There's nothing worse than throwing sponsor money away trying to save a tribute that's already doomed. And as much as I hate to say this out loud, we both know Mazie is already dead.
"And since all three of us know that there's no reason for you to have asked such a stupid question. But I am curious as to what gift we could possibly send that the two of you think could help them get out of this mess alive?"
I can tell by the look in their eyes neither one of them has an answer to that question, at least not a viable one. Fortunately for them, they'll probably never have to answer the question anyways, because no sooner has the last word slipped past my lips than ever view screen in the bar flips back to the arena as the larger mutt finally arrives at the door before rearing back and obliterating the flimsy wood with one final swing of its mighty claw. After that it nonchalantly moves out of the way as it's off offspring swarm over, under and around her in an effort to be the first one to spill into Mazie and Javon's last refuge.
A/N: Hey everyone, I'm sorry that this update took a little longer to post than I'd been hoping, but I had an incredibly hard time with Paxx's POV. I've written a lot of really uncomfortable stuff in the course of my stories, but this was by far the most difficult thing I've ever written. In the end, I hope that no one is offended by how I wrote it or that I decided to touch upon an incredibly difficult and emotional subject.
That's all I really have, outside of telling everyone that the crab-people mutts were based on an interpretation of the Greek sea monster goddess Ceto/Keto. Also, she's not the big mutt the gamemakers were talking about in the last chapter, that one still hasn't been revealed.
Death Order/Cause/Place
24-D5M- Barrett Martinez- Decapitated by D2F- Cassia Maximus
23-D8F- Twyla Monroe- Face grinded off on a pedestal by D4M- Docker Henderson
22-D9M- Hudson Levanten- Neck snapped by D4M- Docker Henderson
21-D12M- Frazier Von Haren- Skull split open by D7M- Bryden Maier
20-D5F- Tesla Brite- Speared while trying to escape by D4F- Deverin Aldous
19-D11F- Tepary Plantae- Throat slit by D2F- Cassia Maximus
18-D3M- William "Will" Java III- Chest caved in by D4M- Docker Henderson
17-D4F- Deverin Aldous- Stabbed in the forehead by D2F- Cassia Maximus
16-D9F- Briar Sycamore- Shot in the back of the head by D2M-Augustus Rowkin
15-D8M- Inigo Cambric- Shot in the chest by D2M-Augustus Rowkin
14-D12F- Ruby Magnus- Strangled by D1M- Claro Alabaster
13-D2F- Cassia Decima Maximus- Mercy killing by D1F- Kerensa Oddette
12-D7F- Larkin Lindell- Stabbed in the skull by D10M- James Wild
11-D1M- Claro Alabaster- Beaten and strangled by D4M- Docker Henderson
10-D1F- Kerensa Oddette- Decapitated by D4M- Docker Henderson
09-D3F- Paxx Carthage- Suicide
Kill Total
5- Docker
2- Augustus
1- James
1- Bryden
3- Cassia
1-Deverin
1- Kerensa
1- Claro
1- Paxx