"Rise"

~Welcome to the wild, no heroes and villains
Welcome to the war we've only begun, so
Pick up your weapon and face it
There's blood on the crown go and take it~

Hailey

Snow is falling. It's a full blizzard out, flurries of snowflakes falling so quickly and thickly that everything is seen through a white tinge. I can barely see my own hands outstretched in front of me, and I can hardly feel them either, my torn up t-shirt doing nothing against the freezing cold.

Prestige has offered to lend her coat three times now, but I've said no each time. I'll make up an excuse about why I'm not actually that cold, and she'll stare back at me knowing I'm lying, but shrug anyways as the two of us fall back into silence. That's been the extent of our interactions.

Prestige has always been complicated. I mean, duh. Ever since I talked with her that first time, the only word I could use if I tried to describe how I felt was confused. And then I picked her to come with me into the Games. Then she nearly killed me, but decided not to. Then a psycho nearly killed her, and I saved her. And for a little bit there we were friends? I think we were, at least. I'm not exactly an expert on what friends do and say around each other, so who knows. Mortal enemy is much more in my comfort zone.

But then, friends don't slip off in the middle of the night and leave you, do they? She left the tiny amount of food and water we had, though. Didn't steal my sword, or my pocket knife for that matter. If she had, I'd be dead. That image of Sigma, knife lodged in her heart, tears streaming down her cheeks, will remind me of that for a long time. Or well, let's not get ahead of ourselves, maybe not too much longer.

So she was confusing, then she hated me, then she saved me and I saved her, she left me, and now she's come back. I think it's safe to say we're back to square one where confusing thoughts ruled the day. Maybe I love her. Maybe Joel is back home cringing and calling me a stupid, hormonal teen. Maybe we're just district partners, and the closest thing either of our dysfunctional, loser selves have to a friend. Maybe I'm just projecting.

Ugh. Just give me someone to fight again, already. Go back to the old days of the Games where it was just an arena fight that lasted like thirty minutes. At least then I could go in, collect my permanent emotional damage, and get out without the extra hassle of being the Capitol's favorite piece of reality drama.

I'll probably regret wishing for that once the Games are over, if I do somehow pull this out of my ass and win. Galavant told me as much. Told me that I'll regret every person I killed, no matter how shitty they were. I tried to convince myself that he was wrong, even through the constant nightmares about that shitstain that tried to kill Prestige. But now, after what I've done? I'm afraid to fall asleep. I don't want to see their faces when I close my eyes. Levi, Sigma, hell even Blaze. He didn't ask to be here, he was just doing what he had to. He's probably a better person than I am.

"Greetings tributes!" My head snaps up, reaching for the knife at my belt as a booming voice echoes through the arena. I try to ignore the way Prestige looks at me as she reaches towards her sword. We both calm down quickly though. There's only one thing that voice could mean.

"It is my utmost honor to announce that we will be having a feast! As you know, most all of you are running low on food and drink, both of which you will be able to have in excess if you choose to attend. The feast will begin in approximately two hours. A compass will be provided for each of you shortly that will lead the way to the location of the feast. While this event is not mandatory to attend, let there be fair warning that the water and berries you have been subsisting off of are laced with a chemical, that when combined with a gas that has recently flooded the arena, turns poisonous. To reiterate on that point, all food and water in this arena is unsafe to eat at this time. We hope to see you in attendance at the feast, and as always, may the odds be ever in your favor."

Well, that's what I get for thinking I want to fight someone. With all that's happened, I wouldn't be surprised if they're reading our thoughts too.

A small, metal canister emerges from the ground, and Prestige and I share a look.

"Don't have a choice, I guess," I say. "I haven't eaten anything in a couple of days."

"I haven't drank in a while, and I'm all out of water," Prestige murmurs, kicking at the floor.

"Horatio's gonna be targeting me," I say in a low voice. "All the Careers are, probably. You don't have to stay with me out of guilt, or because you feel bad for me, or whatever reason you have for not just leaving."

"I'm not leaving you," she says.

"You already did," I mutter. She averts her eyes to the ground at that, and I sigh. "Look, I get it. I don't blame you for leaving, it made sense, it was smart."

"That doesn't make it right, though," she says, quietly. She looks up at me, white specks of snow melting as they hit her face and leaving dots of water on her skin. "I-I hurt you."

"Yeah, it hurt, but it wasn't like it was surprising. I knew you were gonna leave eventually, just like I know you're gonna leave me again. Like my dad said, everybody leaves you, and it always hurts."

"Well, I'm not leaving this time, and your dad was an asshole," Prestige says.

"Yeah, he was." I shrug. "But he was right. Every single person I've ever cared about just leaves. Sometimes it's my fault." The image of Levi flashes in my head, his body smashed up against the cave wall, his head contorted in an ungodly position. "Sometimes it's their's." Another, even more unwanted picture appears. Dad, eyelids closed shut as he laid still in that box, until they lowered it down into the ground, out of sight. My head bows down, and I have to fight off the tears that threaten to come, that wound still so fresh, no matter how much I pretend I can just blame him, say he didn't love me enough and because of that I don't have to love him. I kick my toes into the snow-covered dirt. "But they always leave."

"I'm not leaving you," Prestige says firmly. "So if this is just you trying to convince me to leave you then you can stop, because it isn't happening. We're in this together, here on out."

"If you're with me at the feast, the Careers are going to kill you," I say, coldly, hoping to get through to her. I don't want to insult her, or threaten her, but if that's what it takes to get her to leave then I'll do it. I've already dragged her into the Games with me, I'm not going to let her die because of me.

"I can take care of myself," Prestige says, fiddling with the handle of the sword at her belt.

"Why bother? You don't owe me anything, if that's what this is about."

"The only reason I'm here is because you picked my name, I know I don't owe you anything," Prestige says, dryly. She scoffs. "I care about you. I don't know why, I don't even really know what that means, but I know it. I know that I don't want you to die."

She flashes a smile, and for a moment it's like I forgot how to speak, my heart beating in my throat. "I. . . care about you too," I say lamely, unable to find anything else to say.

She just laughs at that, looking down at her feet. "Then let's go and follow that compass to the feast, and kick their asses."

"Yeah." I snort. "Let's go."

Rain

"The feast will begin in one minute," The loud voice from the skies calls out.

I huddle up, trying to squeeze every bit of me into the giant coat I got last night. The snow was fun at first, but now it's beginning to hurt. The flakes hitting against my skin isn't fun, catching them on my tongue isn't silly. Everything is cold, and every time the snow hits me it's like getting poked by a needle. Even the wind hurts, hitting against my face like a hard slap.

If dad was here, he'd probably know what to do, how to stay safe from the cold. What to do now, to get food and water. The thing that I put on my ear, the blue triangle, is showing me things. It's telling me where the table will go up, the one that will be filled with all kinds of food that makes my stomach rumble to think. Dad would be able to tell me exactly what to do, and he would go out there and he would come back with everything we need and keep me safe.

I shouldn't have run away. I was scared, and I just wanted to be alone, and now I don't know what to do. When I read that note, though. . . . I bite down on my lip, choking out a dry sob. What it said he did, it can't be true. He wouldn't do that. Why would he? He loves me, that's what he always says. But they said he didn't remember that he did it. That he was sick, and that's why he did it. That's why he killed mom.

I've always known that. He may not want me to, he may not think I do, but I still remember. I remember the look on his face, the way he was talking, how mad he sounded. I remember how mom looked at me, the way she told me she loved me the last time I saw her. How she yelled at me to lock my door and hide.

He did a bad thing. But it wasn't his fault. He was sick. I know he did that bad, awful thing. But what the note said. . . he wouldn't do that. I don't remember that. Wouldn't I remember that? I would. Right?

I feel a teardrop running down my cheek, freezing against my skin before it can crawl down to my chin and drop to the ground.

"Ladies and gentlemen." The voice sounds off, and I suddenly remember where I am, that people are watching me. Brooke, Irelia, Nami. . . Ryan. My cheeks flush red. All of them are back home, probably watching me on television, and seeing me sitting here crying. I'm Rain Kaniff. I'm tough, and I ain't no crybaby. I quickly wipe the tears away with my sleeve, barely hearing the announcer when he says that the feast is starting.

As soon as the announcer stops talking, I notice three things at the same time. The first is from the thing on my ear, which shows me the table rising up from the ground through the snow and fog. The second is the gas that starts to fill the air. I can barely see it, but somehow the arena seems to get even darker. I can barely even see my own feet. The last thing I notice is the sound of someone screaming.

It comes from behind me, the thing on my ear causing a red blinking exclamation mark to pop up in my vision at the edge of my sight. My head spins around, that exclamation mark switching out for a red outline of a person, stumbling through the snow. I hold my breath. They stop for a second, turning completely still.

Their head snaps over in my direction, the red outline suddenly disappearing as the thing on my ear cracks, letting out a sizzling sound that burns by cheek for a moment before falling to the ground. The world is completely dark now, and through the blizzard and wind I can't hear anything either.

I scream. I don't even know why, but I do. I scream because I'm scared. I just want to go home, for dad to be here and tell me everything will be okay. For him to tell me everything on that awful note was just lies. I want all of it to just go away.

"Rain!" My dad's voice calls out, and for a second I wonder if I'm dreaming. "Rain!" He shouts again. I let out a deep breath, my whole body shaking as I do, wanting to cry but not having anything left to come out.

"Dad?" I call out, weakly, stumbling towards his voice, my boots barely able to move through the snow that goes up to my knee.

"Rain!" He shouts out again, his panic switching to relief. "Rain, stay right where you are, I'm com-" His voice cuts off, morphing into a shout that goes off in unison with a girl screaming.

"Dad!" I screech. I try to run towards him, but the snow trips me up, and I fall forward, my face planting into the snow.

I hear another scream, this one from right in front of me, feet trampling through the snow, just barely stepping over me as it sprints off in the other direction.

My feet are wobbling as I crawl onto my hands and knees, silent sniffles as I slowly crawl towards where I heard my dad, too afraid to make a sound. He must have just gotten surprised, that's all. And now he had to stay quiet, just like me. He's okay. Everything is okay.

I'm reaching out blindly through the storm, my face just inches above the snow. My hand brushes up against something, and I scramble forward, lifting the hood off of my face so I can see.

My dad is laying down, flat on the ground, staring up at the sky, his eyes open but empty. His hands are both covering his chest, the gap in his interlocked fingers oozing out blood.

I crawl up further, grabbing onto his shoulder and shaking it. "Dad?" I croak out. "Dad, it's Rain. I'm sorry I ran away, I was just scared." I choke out the words, my breath giving out as press my forehead to his chest.

"Please wake up, dad. Please, wake up. I'm sorry."

A canon goes off.

I ball my hands into fists, lightly pounding them against his chest. "Wake. Up." He doesn't move though, and I know why. I pull the hood up on my coat, so that it covers up my face, blocking me off from the world. "Dad," I murmur, sinking into the snow, curling up and clutching onto his arm, too afraid to let go.

Ephraim

The moment the gas begins to fill the air, I know what it is. How could I ever forget what it did to Peeka. That feral look in her eyes, the way she hacked away at that boy from Three, those are images that I can't block out.

When I hear the scream, it just confirms everything I've been terrified of for the past day since she left. Peeka lost control. There's some other, distant screams as well. A little girl shouting for her dad, then who I can only assume is her dad shouting her name back.

I find myself moving towards the voices. It's stupid, and reckless, and I should just try to find the feast table, get some food, and run. But the way that Peeka left, that can't be how it ends. I know that gas does something to her, but if I see her, maybe I can get through to her. Convince her she isn't the monster she thinks she is. I let her leave thinking that's who she was, because I was in too much shock to say anything. Everything she's gone through, and that critical moment she needed me most, I had nothing to say. That won't happen again. This time I'll know what to say.

The man lets out a shout in perfect unison as Peeka screams. It's ahead of me, but I can't tell how far ahead it is. I'm trudging through the snow, my feet feeling like they're tied to bricks. The snow is blinding as it flies directly into my face, stinging my eyes every time they collide against me, like getting a million paper cuts.

That doesn't matter, though. Not right now.

Maybe it's because of the way the snow and fog seems to completely cut off my senses, but my thoughts drift away from the arena, back home. My conversation with Peeka is still fresh in my mind, what I said about Alita and my dad, just like those thoughts rushed through my brain when I thought I was going to die.

And for a second, I pause. I've been so self-obsessed that all I've thought about is what they mean to me. Alita, how much I love her, and don't want to leave our relationship cut off just when it felt like we were just becoming something special. Dad, and the way that he's been there for me, the only piece of family connection I have in this life, and how he's tried so hard to be there for me.

But what about what I mean to them? To dad, who is in the same boat I am; I'm the only family he has left. Mom already left him, what would he do if I was gone too? And Alita, how did I forget what I promised her so quickly? When I last saw her, I promised her that I would try to win, and when I did, I would take her out of her toxic home that weighs down on her so much, and take her with me to Victor's Village. To a better life, for both of us. How did I forget about that?

Peeka is a good person. A genuine, good person, and a great friend who I want to help so badly. But she isn't the most important person in my life. I tried with Peeka, I really did. But I owe it to Alita and my dad to fulfill my promise I made with them too. To try to make it back to them.

It takes all my willpower, but I know what I have to do. The table for the feast is in the other direction. The table that has food and water and safety and life. I have to choose to live. I choose life.

I turn around, and only see her for a single moment before the claws enter into my chest. The physical pain is less than I would've thought, I can hardly feel anything at all. Can barely think. I see her eyes, and in them I don't see anything. No love, no sorrow, no emotion, no regret.

I know what I wanted to say. Those words are right there, at the front of my brain. But they don't come out. Instead, all that escapes my lips is a shallow breath, as I feel myself begin to fall.

Prestige

Two canons now. After the shouting match that was happening at first, the only sounds have been that feral, guttural scream that rings in my ears every few minutes. There's the faint sounds of footsteps, the wind throwing around the sound so much that there's no way to know if it's way off in the distance ahead of you, or a few feet behind you.

Hailey is pressed up against my back, facing in the opposite direction, both of us clutching onto the swords, but too scared to ignite them, not wanting to draw the attention of whatever is lurking in the snow.

I spare a glance down to the compass, and see that we're not far from the feast table now. It can't be far. Soon we'll get that food and water, and we'll get the hell out of here. Meanwhile, the numbers are being thinned. That's a good thing. Less competition. I just have to keep on telling myself that.

There's another scream, and it may just be my imagination, but I can swear it sounds like it's coming from right behind me. I can't help the scream that rises from me.

I immediately clamp a hand over my mouth, the compass falling to the snow below. Hailey and I both stop, and for a moment everything seems quiet, even the wind dulling so that I can just barely make out the sound of my own ragged breathing.

The blizzard is calming too, at least, it is in one direction. Right in front of me, the snow slows down, seemingly making a path that's barely visible through a hazy fog. Through the narrow pathway, at the very end, I see something, just a formless shape.

It becomes more clear, forming into a clearer and clearer outline of a person, a person that I realize is running directly toward me. I scramble to bring my sword up, igniting the blue blade to offer the tiniest bit of extra visibility. Just enough light to see Merrium Solera, a look of pure terror on her face as she runs, not at me, but away from something else.

She notices me just a moment after I see her, and I tense up, expecting some sort of reaction. For her to throw a spear at me, or shout out for her allies to come get us. What I don't expect, is for her to scream out, "Help!"

I don't get a chance to make sense of that. Merrium is tackled to the ground, letting out a high pitched scream as the fog thickens again, blocking out the sight of her so that the thing that tackled her is just a shadow. The shadow slashes at Merrium, silencing her cries as another canon booms.

I'm frozen in place, too terrified to even run away, which is what my brain is yelling at me to do. Hailey is whispering something, maybe asking what's going on, maybe giving me the same instructions my brain is. I don't hear it either way.

The shape stands up, slowly stalking through the fog towards us. Hailey is by my side now, the fog clearing up in a circle around us, the snow bouncing off some invisible barrier to create an open space. An arena.

Hailey ignites her sword, the red blade glowing, casting a dim shadow over the pure white snow. My own sword is off, on the ground. I don't even remember when that happened.

The creature stalks through the fog, stepping out through the curtain and into the open area to reveal something that I had never imagined as a possibility. The murderous creature that's already murdered three people, and had a trained career running and screaming for help, isn't a mutt. It isn't an animal, or even a deadly career on a power trip.

It's Picaboo Benner, the harmless girl from Ten that Hailey and I had forgotten was even alive. This isn't the girl from training though, the one who got squeamish around weapons, was always smiling, and got nervous pangs whenever a boy so much as looked at her.

The first thing I notice is the blood. She's covered in it. Her shirt is just a tie-dye with various shades of dried and fresh blood, her arms and hands caked in the stuff, even her face and hair splotched with it. The next thing is the claws. Long, silver, metallic claws extending from the back of her hands, still maintaining a shine despite everything else. Her eyes are the last thing. She doesn't even look human, looking into her eyes, it's like there's nothing staring back at you, just a mindless machine.

Hailey seems just as shocked as I am, standing frozen in place for a long moment while she continues to stalk towards us. Finally, Hailey leaps into action, dashing forward and swinging out with the sword wildly. Picaboo doesn't even try to dodge it, both of us watching in horror as her left hand gets taken clean off, without her showing even the faintest reaction. That moment of horror is all she takes, leaping forward and slashing out with her remaining hand, the claws creating a gash on Hailey's stomach, three individual cuts.

Hailey lets out a gasp, falling backwards onto the snow. Picaboo continues to move towards her, the skin around the wrist of her hand that Hailey cut off seeming to bubble up, skin reforming itself as her hand starts to reshape itself.

Finally, I'm able to snap myself out of my frozen state, snapped into action by the look on Hailey's face as she looks up at her. Not the confident, sure Hailey that taunts whoever she fights and is never worried. But the Hailey whose eyes are wide with fear, arms held up in self-defense like a little kid who's afraid she's going to get yelled at.

I pick up the sword, and don't allow myself a moment of hesitation, stumbling over to Picaboo, igniting the sword, and stabbing it through the back of her chest.

The blade cuts clean through her skin, extending out the other end in front of her heart. She doesn't cry out though. She doesn't collapse. She just looks down at the glowing blade, turns around, ignores the way that the blade cuts through even more of her chest as she does so, and swipes her claw at my face.

I back away, the sharp edges just barely slicing against my cheek as I drop the sword in the process. Gone is the blank, emotionless girl, and replaced with it is one who looks furious. Hailey stumbles to her feet, wildly swinging out with her sword and taking out Picaboo's ankle.

"Prestige, run!" She shouts, stumbling off in the other direction as Picaboo limps towards me, even as her skin quickly reforms itself.

She doesn't have to tell me twice.

I turn and run. My feet stomp against the snow, kicking up the white powder as I force myself through it. I've never run in snow before, but still I've never felt myself running so fast. Adrenaline pumps through my veins, short-circuiting my systems as all I can focus on is my feet, ensuring that I land on the ground with each step.

Even then, I can hear the footsteps behind me. I can hear them gaining on me with every moment. It doesn't matter how long my strides are, how quickly I pump my legs, she continues to get closer to me. Closer, and closer, and closer.

I see a figure through the fog, and I'm barely able to react in time to jump to the side, avoiding colliding into the colossal outline of a man, who could only be one person.

My momentum switch sends me tumbling to the ground, and I turn around as I fall, watching as Horatio Rex catches Picaboo, stopping her with one hand, clad in a heavy metallic glove. The whiplash hurts my neck to watch as Horatio grips onto her neck, slamming her into the ground. Picaboo slashes out with her claws, but he's keeping his distance, pulling a broadsword from his belt with his free hand, and bringing it down on her neck.

Her head pops clean off.

I don't stick around to watch the rest, quickly scrambling to my feet and sprinting off into the distance, not knowing where I'm headed but just knowing I need to get away from here.

It's only after a few minutes of this, running headstrong into the blizzard that I allow a single thought enter my mind, a sudden realization that brings a chill through my whole body.

I didn't hear a canon.

A/N: Things are falling into place. We're in the endgame now.

9th: Clyde Kaniff: You were a fun one, but ultimately you were always a supporting character to Rain. You did some awful things, but at least you died unaware of the worst thing you did, even if Rain has to live with that knowledge instead. You were trying to be there for your daughter, and you protected her as best you can, but when the cards got laid on the table, and people had to start dropping, you were always going to be one of them.

8th: Ephraim Kress: Ouch. Ow. You were never going to win. I knew from the very beginning you couldn't win, since Glory won the 100th. But still, even knowing that, and having this exact scene planned out for literally two years did nothing to dull the pain. You were a good guy, who got caught in the middle of a bunch of stuff that was way beyond you. You always just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. While having you die right after making that realization hurts, at least you got to remember what you had waiting for you back home. Thank you Dreamer, for another wonderful character who was so easy to write, and so, so difficult to kill.

7th: Merrium Solera: Merrium was really fun, she was a cocky career, but sadly you kind of fell to the wayside in the Games. Really what that came down to was just the Careers not being involved in any of the action, and me cutting out a bunch of filler POVs back when I was rushing through the Games a bit. Still though, you were fun as hell to write, and thank you Tom for giving the chance to bring Merrium to life.

Trivia(3 points): Cards on the table, who's gonna win the Games? All of these characters were at one point in consideration for victor, but ultimately there can only be one.