Hi. I did a thing. I think you'll like what I did.

I present to you, my lovely Capitol citizens Scotty Nelson, Gray Hager, and the most notable Krumr Strongthews. You might want to keep your eyes on these three; they're ready for a fight to the death, and not in the Hunger Games.

So my next SYOT is the last Games that I'm going to do, and I'm going to try to explore a new style or something else new to make it a bit more interesting. However, there will be, after that, a last fic in the series, though it won't involve the Games. So there you go! I hope you enjoy the final chapter of I Will Rise as we come closer to I Will Not Fall.

I would also like to give a gigantic thanks to everyone who submitted to this, reviewed this, read this, favorited it, or alerted it. You guys are why I've written this, and you're the reason that I'm writing my own novel. You all inspire me to keep going and keep working at being a better writer.

I WILL NOT FALL, THE SEQUEL, WILL BE PUBLISHED ON THURSDAY.

Here we go then!

D5- 18- (Scotty Nelson)

I won the Games two years ago in a blaze of glory. My victory was a "fluke," a miraculous stroke of luck that sent that vicious Career Luko Storm home. I've served my time as a mentor and have gone through the Victory Tour. I am the survivor of the One Hundred Fiftieth Hunger Games, and I am the richest thing known to District Five, my home.

It may sound nothing short of brilliant, but I lost so much. My family is dead, my friends are distant, and my boyfriend from the Games is long, long gone. He died forever ago. All that's left for me is one person: Orthio Detser, something of a legend here in District Five. He's a victor. He's beautiful, he's brilliant, and he's totally supposed to be mine. I know that's what the Capitol wants but it's not what I want. They killed everyone I loved, didn't they? So what's the use in continuing to try and get me with Orthio? I'm done with it. I am so, so done with it.

D9- 19- (Gray Hager)

My tributes are dead—what's left to watch for? I watch for the winner though, hanging on the edge of my seat. There's something going around, spreading through the districts like wildfire: unrest. People constantly on the edge of their seats, uneasy, unable to stay quiet and take it like they have for the full of their lives. What is it? What's made them want to stand up? It's the little things that float around the victors and the tributes that make the rest of us want to stand up and shout at the Capitol. It's that boy from Twelve's yelling at the sky and flipping off the Capitol. It's Scotty Nelson, my friend and close fellow victor, and her refusal to fall in love with the Capitol favorite from non-Career districts Orthio Detser. It's my laughter in the face of being told what to do. The recent victors have produced the strongest unrest. That's why the country can't afford for the victor to be a Career. We need that boy from Seven or one of the tributes from Twelve.

So I hang off the edge of my seat and wait, a bottle of beer in hand.

Girl from Two—out. I drink to celebrate. Nice job, Seven.

Girl from One—out. Another drink.

When the last Career hits the ground I finish off the bottle and sit back, relaxed. I have become such a monster, wishing for these children to die. Ryan was once that girl from Two, the first one to die from the final six. Ryan was killed quickly and no one could protect him. And yet I beg for others to be killed while I still cry and get myself wasted for my dead little ally.

The girl from Twelve falls. That hits me hard: out of the three of them, she has the strongest voice. The Seven doesn't see the unjustness. He doesn't look for reasons to hate the Capitol and show it, though I'm sure he does hate the Capitol. The boy from Twelve is too loud and too hateful. The girl is perfect, even if she does have the strong tethers to her family. She is calm and beautiful with a voice of rebellion to last for miles.

The boy from Seven is down.

And the boy form Twelve wins.

Slowly I stand up, not believing it. They let him win? They let Krumr Strongthews win?

His screaming is the light at the end of the tunnel.

I can't wait to work with you, Mr. Strongthews, I think with a grin as I fumble for more liquor but I've drank it all up. I slam a glass bottle down and stagger away from the Capitol television. You, me, and Scotty—we'll make a good team.

D12- 18- (Krumr Strongthews)

I didn't just survive; I won.

I am the winner, the victor, the finalist out of all the finalists. I am what is left of these Games, the only one that wasn't taken home in a coffin. I am alive and so, so pissed the hell off.

I don't hide it in the victor's interview.

I don't hide it when I arrive at home.

I don't hide it when I take one step into my new home and trash it, then stomp back to my old raggedy home with my old mining clothes and the traces of my time in the mines and the woods, the traces of what kept me alive before I was thrown into the arena. I won't hesitate to admit that it was an exceptional way to spend my time, and now I can do whatever the hell I want, but that doesn't stop me from seething with rage. I should be yelling at Carlyn, not sitting alone in my house with nothing to do but go into the woods. I should be doing anything, but I sit at home and I do nothing but scream and yell like I'm drunk. On Parcel Day, parents don't let their children around me. Why should they?

I'm a monster and I like it that way.

Carlyn's family tries to be nice to me when they see me, but when I only return the gesture with a wicked smile and a She hated you, you know, deep down, they stop. Why shouldn't they?

I let their daughter die and I didn't even cry.

I didn't love Carlyn. I don't think I'm capable of something as gentle and patient as love. I respected her for what she was and what she believed in, what she strived for. I wanted to meet more people like her. I wanted her to love me, because I am capable of something as selfish as reveling in the admiration from people I respect. People I don't respect, however—I want nothing to do with their pathetic admiration. I don't want to have qualities in me worth their admiration. Why should I?

They killed her.

I think I'll make them pay for it.