Day Ten

Tobias Harte, Head Gamemaker POV:

Stress was a horrible thing.

They said stress was a catalyst for other, worse things like sickness or depression. I couldn't help but feel that whoever had come up with that theory was wrong. The Final Eight 'twist' had been invented, and it was going to be the biggest Hunger Games shock since the 191st Games (because Quells didn't count) and at that very moment- just as plans were being made- Aurora Nellington had dropped dead. It was sad, really; she was a nice girl. She was young and she had her whole life ahead of her, and it was weird that she was dead.

Strawberries, the coroner had said not long after she had been proclaimed dead. She had eaten strawberries and she had a bad allergic reaction. I still had my doubts, because Aurora was a smart girl... Why would she eat something she knew she was allergic too? You can't just forget what's capable of killing you.

Jynx Blackthorne controlled the climate of the arena now. The President apparently ordered her firm control until precious Jynx had found a suitable replacement. The thought of what Jynx found a 'suitable replacement' wasn't worth thinking about. I seriously hoped that there was no-one else in the Gamemaker department who was allergic to strawberries, otherwise I'd be stuck with a load of Jynx Blackthorne clones. I hated how Jynx stormed around the place like she owned it. Right now she practically did own it, and there was nothing more irksome than feeling your crown slip. Why did the President have this attachment to Jynx anyway? He always preached how much he hated the citizens of the District whilst putting one in a high position of power.

And she obviously had it in for the Gamemakers. Who wouldn't hate the very people who had once tried to kill you?

I took a small sip from a cup of 'purified energy' (which everybody knew was really 'liquified sugar') and contemplated over what would happen in the Games. The District Four girl was dead. It felt strange, tearing the crisp paper that held a photograph of a dead girl off my office wall. Looking around at me in all directions, all holding smiles, were the Nine tributes that were alive. Every one pinned to my office wall, and every single one of them had stacks of information. Information to use against them.

Knowledge was power.

After sitting down at my office and doing nothing for about two hours I sat up and walked towards Ruth's office. My deputy had been acting strangely ever since her daughter really wasn't found, but like any other mother she still clung onto hope- she spent most of her time in the office trying to find any information that could lead to her finding her daughter.

There she was, still at the computer. Her eyes were dilated and intently fixed upon the computer screen. Even though I had entered the room I knocked quietly on the door to be polite. Ruth jolted up and spun on her chair so that she had turned to face me.

"You scared the living daylights out of me," she gasped.

"Sorry." I paused and glanced to the computer, seeing small CCTV images flash by. "I had gotten a bit worried. The amount of time you spend clammed up in this room makes me think you've died or something."

"If you're trying to go for a black comedy angle, it really isn't funny." Ruth said serenely, her lips puckering.

"No- I-" This wasn't going to look good. I smiled (probably creepily) and tried to think of something redeeming. "I didn't mean to refer to Aurora. That was horrible... poor girl, dying at such a young age. I suppose when things like that happen you realise just how tragic the world is. I suppose that though she's gone it's best we respect her memory by continuing instead of moping ... the show must go on."

"It wasn't a tragedy," Ruth muttered, turning back to the computer and pausing CCTV images. For a nothing there was no sound, discarding furious typing on the computer. "Tragedies tend to be horrific accidents. Brutal coincidences. This was much worse... Tobias, I suspect foul play. I suspect murder."

"The paramedics, witnesses, and CCTV images suggest otherwise." I informed her seriously.

"That's exactly what I thought," Ruth said, before signalling for me to come closer. I stepped forward tentatively to get a better view of the CCTV screen. "So I decided to see the CCTV image for myself. And I noticed some very odd things- can you see that CCTV image? Look at the shadows... they're out of place. Aurora is speaking casually in this, yet her lips are moving in other directions. And the colours are-"

"You're over-anaylsing the coincidences," I snapped harshly, spinning her chair so that I could look directly into her eyes. "Don't you see? There are very suspicious things going on in the Capitol- if you haven't noticed them you're not a bright person at all. But we are not in the position to question what happens. When you investigate too thoroughly, you're going to get in trouble. You are not in the place to question the President."

"You didn't see what happened!" Ruth screamed back, standing up and prodding me harshly in the chest. "I was the one who had to send my condolences to that girl's poor mother- she was devastated. You don't know what it's like to lose a child, so don't tell me what to do until you know exactly how it feels!"

There was no noise, apart from the sound of our angry breaths. Ruth's brown eyes dug into me furiously, and she turned around as I mumbled quietly. "This is about Olga, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?" Ruth scowled, obviously offended.

"It all adds up," I muttered with disgust. "You act strong and tough, but that isn't the case. You've let the past rule over who you are, and it's affecting your work. Now I gave you a file of paperwork. I need those statistics back by the end of the day, otherwise you're losing your job."

The faintest trace of tears lurked in Ruth's eyes as I turned to walk out of the room. "You know that Harrius was killed by the President. Aurora was too."

Maximotus Leprenzo, District 1 POV:

"Does this dress look too bright?" Liane asked as she twirled around in a frilly orange dress that shimmied down to her legs.

I grumbled something purposely incoherant and turned to look at the scrolls in my hands. The thought of killing my allies had always been a pleasing one, but Liane was being particuarly vexatious. Soon she had gotten bored of the junk food she was being sponsored and she turned to her sponsors for the most pretty dresses they could afford. This bothered me greatly. At this point in the Games food and water alone was difficult to afford and she wanted dresses? The Capitol perverts always managed to find the cash to give her more, and I knew what they really wanted- though Liane's current dress covered skin it was somewhat translucent.

Another package fell at Liane's feet and Liane didn't hesitate opening it up and watching a silky black dress roll down. "Oh my sponsors do treat me!"

"You're repaying the favour," I chided when she tore her dress off and threw it with the discarded pile of clothes she wasn't particuarly fond of.

"And what does that mean?" Liane said while she investigated a pair of midnight black heels that was included with her package. For a second my gaze turned from the scrolls in my hand to Liane's almost naked chest. One of the perks of having Liane was that she wasn't bad on the eyes. It was such a shame that she was so atrocious on the ears.

"You're stripping for the Capitol," I hissed.

"And?" Liane grinned corrosively. "I figured that since I approved of people seeing me potentially die on television showing much flesh couldn't hurt."

"But still," I mumbled whilst glancing to the parchment in my hands, ultimately feeling defeated.

"What are you doing anyway?" Liane inquired.

"A load of parchment written in hieroglyphics." I explained. "There's another sheet here full of translations. The Gamemakers must have wrote something beneficial in them."

Though I had told the truth there were lots of things I didn't tell Liane out of fear- fear of losing my reputation as the number one antagonist of the Games. Epic myths and fascinating legends were the cryptic words on the parchment. Though I'd never admit it I always found stories about fearsome warriors or legendary gods interesting, it was almost as good as killing. Still, if Liane knew I was only reading ancient fairytales whatever respect she had for me would dissolve instantaneously. Not that I cared- Selena had died last night, and that kind of symbolised that the Career pack were on the verge of splitting.

"Found anything?" Liane asked expectantly. The black dress she had changed into clung onto her skin and complimented her figure. I noted that this dress was her most revealing yet; there was cleavage on show and a slit ran up her leg so more flesh was on display.

"Not really."

"You see, I am doing something useful." Liane nagged. "I'm snagging shallow sponsors. Who else are they going to root for? Katie is a prude, the Eleven and Five girls are practically kids, the Ten girl is no supermodel and Selena is-"

The sound of the door opening made us both turn to face the intruder- or Krindle, who looked tired and a little bit angsty.

Liane didn't continue her sentence.

"Have I just walked in on a funeral?" Krindle cracked a small smile, but I could see through his concocted demeanor. He was actually upset about his ally dying. I wanted to lecture him about how forming close bonds with other tributes was a very stupid thing.

"Oh Krindle, I'm so sorry about Selene," Liane consoled whilst checking her reflection in a blade. She didn't actually sound interested. "Such a shame."

Hurt flashed in Krindle's eyes. "It's Selena."

I looked back to the parchment, disguising my chuckle as a cough. There was a particuarly interesting story regarding magical gems, and it snatched my interest. Magic gems like the one on my wrist or the ring that Lyla had worn on her finger...

"Yeah, yeah." Liane said whilst raising her dress to reveal her slender legs. She had strapped some kind of belt around her leg, and she slid one of her blades into the belt experimentally. Once she was satisfied she grinned widely and glanced to to Krindle. "So fish boy, how about you forget your troubles with a little hunt? I'm desperate to get into action."

"Action? In high heels?" I smirked. "You're so practical Liane."

Liane stood up proudly. "You'd be surprised Maximotus. I have perfect balance and the finest etiquette. Never underestimate a woman... We have the ability to walk, dance, run and kill pathetic children in high heels."

"I'm shaking in my much more practical shoes," I laughed. "Anyway, I'll stay behind and look after the supplies just in case Rayann makes a reappearance. And if she does she doesn't get to leave the room alive."

Liane didn't say anything, she just grabbed Krindle's arm and dragged him out of the room. She wasn't lying when she made that feminist speech about high heels; though she was practically teetering in them she walked with such grace and versatility I couldn't help but admire her slightly, though I knew when she'd come back it would be the Final Eight, and then I'd have to kill her, if no massive Gamaker twist didn't get to her first.

I let out a chuckle and glanced to the last scroll which I had only just recently read, and this information wasn't going to be disclosed with anybody else. The information was very valuable. I glanced to the ancient symbols, and the translation in English I had managed to scribble down:

'When twenty-four warriors dwindle down to the last eight standing, the beast of the pyramid will rise from its aquatic tomb and seek its revenge.'

Once again it seemed like I had a head start.

Rayann Grace Carter, District 5 POV:

The corridors surrounding me seemed a lot more bleak without an ally. There was no more Bethuny to chat to, no more Lyla to argue with. There were only nine other children that were probably looking for me. They were probably ready to kill me. If that's the case so be it. I found myself not caring if I lived or died anymore... What was the purpose of living anyway? To just bring children into an oppressive country? To live the same day over and over again?

Whether I tried or not there was always the harsh truth looming over me like a ghastly spirit; I was probably going to die whether I fought or not. In all honesty though I was well equipped with food stolen from the Careers and I was one of the stronger tributes left fighting I still knew luck was probably looking down on me, plotting my demise right now. Although that was a silly concept, destiny didn't exist. The Games had multiple factors that determined the end result- the Victor.

I took a bite from a chunk of bread that was in my backpack, chewing on it slowly in the hope of savouring its non-existant taste. I barely ate anymore, I had to constantly remind myself that I needed to eat. The arena had provided me with so much hunger that I didn't even feel hunger anymore. I barely felt anything. They should rename the Games the 'make you so hungry you won't feel it Games.' That was much more suitable.

Although I'd be lying if I said you got used to the pain. You never did. The wounds around my body still let off sharp stings and agonising stabs of pain that made you want to cry- they also bore emotional pain. With each nasty jolt of pain I got I was reminded of the torture I had endured in ten days. I was covered in various cuts and bruises with a complimentary (but very nasty) burn on my chest and a load of horrific memories to boost.

When the pain, the memories and the tiredness had gotten too much to handle I just dropped my spear and slumped to the ground. I had internally given up long ago, but now I wanted to display it for all to see. With a frown I muttered:

"What's the point? May as well kill me now."

"That's a very unwise thing to say- the Gamemakers might even take it as a request." That voice was familiar. Hauntingly familiar. I froze and glanced up to see a petite girl with red hair that fell down her hair in fiery waves. Her eyes glistened like emeralds and her skin resembled that of a porcelain dolls. It was Bethuny...

Only it wasn't. This thing was much too perfect to be Bethuny. She looked almost angelic, and the angelic image was backed up with her wearing a white gown. She looked so happy, and there wasn't the slightest speck of dirt or even the most shallow scratch on her body. She looked so unblemished and perfect.

Definitely a mutt, I decided whilst gripping my spear.

Beth smirked. "No use doing that, I'm just a figment of your imagination. A ghost of what was."

"Are you implying that I'm insane?" I asked, still holding my spear for good measure.

"No..." A sad expression sunk into her eyes. "Sometimes, when we hope for the best, we all resort to different things. You've been in denial for too long, and now you're seeing illusions of what you wish had happened. You don't admit it, but you never let go."

"That's because letting go is so hard," I admitted, avoiding any eye contact with the spectre. "When you grow so close to somebody and they get in so deep you just can't let go, especially when you rarely get close to people in the first place."

Beth gave that reassuring smile that I missed so much. "Aah, makes sense... Though everything gets better. All humans can rehabilitate... With ice-cream to aid you what could possibly go wrong?"

"No ice cream here," I muttered, and then I surprised myself when I asked something I never thought I'd ask a figment of my imagination. "How is Lyla? I mean... If..."

Beth grimaced. "She's fine... She's just in a lot of shock, and she's not happy that she's not going to see her family again. I'm trying to make sure she recovers... I mean with the whole being dead thing... It's a lot to take in."

"So there is an afterlife?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Hmm... Well, only if you believe there is." Beth said mysteriously. "It's not like fluffy clouds with a god in it, though. It's kind of like earth... Only more peaceful, and the people there seem more warm. I had a chat with my grandmother earlier-"

"Sounds better than reality," I huffed. "I may as well finish life now."

"You will not." Beth stood up and before I could blink her eyes bore into mine. "What happens when you die is a mystery, don't believe in it all. Suicide would send you into a dark hole of uncertaincy, and how old are you... Fourteen? You have a whole real life ahead of you, and wasting it would be foolish." She paused again and shining tears swam in her eyes. "Anyway, you promised me you'd win, you are going to do that, right?"

I hesitated. Promises were like rules- made to be broken. "I'll try my best."

"Good," Bethuny chirped, and then her hand was holding mine. It was amazing her her hand felt so solid and real, and drowsiness had hit me. My eyelids felt heavy and my vision blurred. "And if you don't believe I'm real, remember that everything is a possibility."

And then she was gone again, in the blink for an eye. And as I slumped to the floor a smile crossed my face. I may have only been imagining Beth's spirit, but she still existed deep inside me. Even if there was no afterlife- which I believed there wasn't- there could still be the essence of somebody long left behind, right? And with those last thoughts circulating through my head I knew the tributes better watch out. Rayann-Grace Carter was back in action.

Well this was a nice change, less death and destruction and more fluff/humour please!

Final Eight next chapter! Yaaaay! Who's excited?

I really have nothing more to say... But there is a lot of foreshadowing in this chapter...

~Toxic

Question: Who do you think will miss out on the Final Eight?