A/N: 'Remember, you may no longer sponsor tributes, although you may send weapons you have already reserved. If you do try to sponsor you may still be charged. Please do not stop reviewing as I appreciate your input! Now sit back, grab the popcorn and enjoy the closing stages of...'

The Ninety-Fourth Hunger Games

Day Five

Kayton clutches her side as she runs, head down, axe gripped tightly in her hand and trailing behind her, pulling her back with its weight. In front of her runs the tall boy, bent down against the small box which he holds close to his chest. Despite this load, he is still disappearing into the distance, on account of his longer legs and frightening speed. Behind her stumbles Georia Hanel, whimpering and gasping, leaning heavily on her one good leg. The girl is struggling, pale and clammy, her mind, as always, completely fixed on survival. And, at the moment, survival means running, and running as fast as you can!

Behind them the water bubbles and bursts, slashing against the glowing walls of the tunnels and ripping the shinning rocks from their places, smashing them together in a devastating melee. Georia cries out as rocks snap at her heels, slowing her down even further as, up in front, Kayton throws more and more nervous glances over her shoulder and Trent disappears into the distance, turning a corner and being swallowed up by shadows. Kayton rushes behind him but, even before she reaches the turn, the walls shift and slide, obscuring Trent's escape and opening a sharp corner. She kicks against the wall, launching herself down yet another corridor, with Georia stumbling behind her. The sound of drums and cheers grows louder and louder above her as they run, a tidal wave of stone and shrapnel following disturbingly (and increasingly) close behind. They reach a crossroads, Kayton skidding to a halt as she tries to decide which way to go.

Suddenly the girl feels herself pushed to the ground, a large hand pressing on her back as someone launches over her, fleeing in the other direction. She pulls herself back onto her hands and knees as, behind her, Georia catches up and the wall shifts behind them, closing them off from the vicious seas. Kayton gasps in pain as the hand removes itself from her back and the owner of it, the massive Zus Ryaov, flees down the corridor, pursued by an army of small, overly teethed Mutts, which look kind of like a cross between monkeys and fish. They ignore Kayton, trampling her into the dust and pressing Georia against the wall, which is beginning to crack and drip water. It bursts and, as the little Mutts try to scurry over Kayton, they, along with the two girls, are swept away by a gigantic wave. Kayton struggles and twitches as she is slammed, again and again against bits of rock, glowing walls and even the occasional Mutt or Georia Hanel. She just about manages, in the blur of little sharp teeth and shimmering lights, to keep a grip on her large axe, even as her body is bruised and grazed and her clothing ripped by speeding currents. Her legs kick uselessly as she is whipped around, trying to give herself some direction as she is pulled from the water and dunked again and again. She thinks she sees Georia for a second, swept by by a huge wave. She is faring little better than Kayton, possibly worse. She is, infact, completely upside down, her head under the water and her legs flailing uselessly, trying desperately to swim against the current. Kayton is dunked under the water as Georia's left leg,covered in old burns and scars from some injury that is, presumably, not recent, whips out and smacks her under the waves. Kayton hacks and coughs and feels slightly woozy, the world blurs and becomes indistinct and, in an instant, her head collides with a wall. There is a disturbingly loud crack, which doesn't seem to be coming from her, and her body falls limp. Lights float and dance and, in what seems like the far distance, the other girl fades and warps, as though dissolving in the oddly comforting blue of the fiercely frothing water. All thoughts of drowning and danger disperse, despite the gravity of her situation, to be replaced with a sort of comforting confusion. Her body becomes numb, impervious to all the scrapes and scratches of the hard rocks and sharp fangs and claws of the Mutts. Her last thought is of absolute bliss, as she slowly slips into unconsciousness.

Lenox Carter gasps for air as she breaks the surface, eyes wild, teeth gritted together in concentration as she claws at the flat ground that lies above her, dry as a bone and completely Mutt free. The whip at her belt sways and twists in the clutches of tiny Mutt jaws, threatening to spark as it spins around and around, fraying and splitting. She turns, frantically swatting the Mutts off of her. She was not going the same way as Ash Vernon! That was not going to happen! The creatures snarl and bubble furiously as they are batted away, each one tearing strips of flesh off along with them. Her other hand twists and reaches as her legs kick, trying to pull herself up onto the flat plain. Her eyes scrunch up and she places her foot on a rock, pushing down hard and lifting herself out of the water. The Mutts snarl and flap, jumping up at her and sending her splashing back down into the water, scattering the Mutts again. She roars in frustration, somehow righting herself in the roiling depths and swimming up again, hooking her leg onto the rocks and lifting herself. She jumps, gripping the edge of the rock. Her wet fingers dance and skid on the smooth, white surface, and she topples back into the murky depths, back to the mouths of the Mutts. She screams as they rip at her, sending them fleeing and returning to the surface, bursting through it again with berserker ferocity. Again she leaps from the waves and grips the surface. Again her fingers slip and she falls back. Again she rights herself and returns. Again and again she leaps for the surface, again and again she fails, until she is less of a girl, more of a mass of cuts and bruises. Yet she refuses to give up! Better to be battered and bruised out of recognition than to burn to death in water, if that is truly what it is, like that idiot Pyro!

'It's not water.' Claudius informs, 'It's Creta something Prodoxide. Okay, well most of it's water actually, about ninety nine percent. Otherwise swimming would pretty much be a death sentence! And we don't want our tributes dead now do we? Then we wouldn't have all our lovely combatants now would we?'

Lenox groans, splashing back into the roiling water for the umpteenth time, choking and gagging, her head heavy. Each time she falls she becomes drowsier, more complacent, as though the water itself is sapping the last of her strength. She gags and gulps, too tired to shake off the Mutts as she pulls herself up to the rock perch once more. Above her the sounds of cheering and drums reaches an intolerable level, somehow both distorted and amplified by her mind. Her muscles shake and ache as she lifts her body for what she is sure will be the final time, tiny Mutts gripping to every piece of exposed flesh, their little teeth scraping and slicing at her flesh, sending streams of blood down her increasingly pale legs. Her back is bruised and battered and she's fairly sure she's lost at least one boot. Her arms feel like lead as she pulls herself onto the rock, and it creaks and cracks under her weight, but that matters little to her. This is her final shot and, live or die, she is getting onto that ground above her. She just needs to take it one second at a time.

"One..."

She strains and stretches, her arms reaching for the flat surface but, as always, coming short. She shifts her balance, placing her other foot on a higher foothold and lifting herself up to a higher perch.

"...Second..."

She stretches out again, gripping another hold with her right arm and reaching up with her left, squeezing her eyes together and praying that, this time, she'll be able to reach the surface.

"...At..."

This time her hand reaches and, while it slips, she is able to force her leg up and swing it over to the surface. The stone is cold against her foot, cold and unbelievably smooth. She gasps in exhaustion, swinging her other arm up and beginning to pull herself up, Mutts twitching on her body and tumbling back into the water, eager to return to the cooling sea, their stomachs full of her blood.

"...A time..."

She raises herself up, slipping her shoulders and chest up onto the surface and looking around woozily. She had been right, the surface is marble (she didn't know much about stone, but she was fairly sure that no other type of rock could ever be that smooth. the world around her is a large area, entirely carpeted in marble, and she has pulled herself up right in the middle. The ground is perfectly flat, and there are weapons racks against every wall. People cheer at her from every angle. Real people! She climbs onto her feet, shaking with exhaustion as she regards the world around her. Has she won? No, no, she can't have won, not everyone is dead yet! She's in an arena. A Colosseum. Like the ones in that city called Rome. The one that she had been taught about in school. The earliest culture known to Panem! Well, at least her theory about the Arena changing to fit History was right, which meant she had at least some idea of what was coming next. She takes a step forwards and that's when the pain hits. She gasps, her body swelling with agony and falls back, slipping on the marble. The water filled pit rears up behind her and, as her head tilts back, she catches the face of Zard Frezal, staring down at her from posters and balloons which surround her.

'That's right everyone! I'd like you to meet the creator of our first wonderful Colosseum! Victor of District One, Zard Frezal!' Caesar grins, turning to the Victor in question.

"What? You really thought we were talking about rebellion all those times you saw us?," The handsome blond's eyes twinkle behind his dark glasses, "Ha! Even I'm clever enough to only talk about rebellion when there aren't any cameras around!" He laughs, before realising how stupid that statement was and shutting up immediately.

Back in the Colosseum, Lenox topples backwards, her legs slipping from the marble, her back arching as she falls back. the creatures below her snap and snicker as if anticipating the taste of her flesh filling their mouth. They lick their lips and leap towards her. 'That's it' Lenox's mind tells her, 'You're gonna die. Sorry about that.'

Suddenly something slams into her back, flinging her headlong out of the pit and into the hard marble floor, painfully bruising her face. She rolls onto her back, just in time to receive a quick punch straight in the eye. Her eyes widen as she looks up, taking in the spiked, porcupine like hair, the hard, pointed face and the dark, ringed eye. Irre Massenhaft straightens up, fixing Lenox with a huge grin and striking a pose, like a dancer who has just finished a complicated move.

"This is gonna be fun!" Irre grins, drawing his kama and stepping closer, his single eye wild.

Next Chapter: The Final Dead Tributes Society!

ATTENTION: After my next chapter of Dead Tributes Society I will be beginning a new idea for celebrating the death of characters (which I have actually been planning for a very long time!) Basically every time a tribute dies I'll be doing a 'what if' scenario where we'll catch up with the tribute and their family one year on, as though they had won the Games. These what if ending will not be 'canon', but I thought it would be fun to see what all the tributes would be like as Victors! (I've just realised that this Games uses so many different styles and ideas that it's not really a 'Games' anymore! It's more like a clip show of different Games! Ah well, I guess that's progress for you!)