Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. They belong to Suzanne Collins.

Note: Another chapter that one might call long awaited, the chapter covering the overall Big Bad of the 42nd Games – Midas! His was certainly a fun one to work on, so hopefully you guys enjoy reading it. We're in the home stretch now!

District One Male
Name: Midas Battalion
Age: 18
Training Score: 11
Odds of Victory: 3-1
Fact: As tough as he otherwise was, he had a crippling phobia of snails… one he wisely never mentioned during his time in the Capitol, lest the Gamemakers get any funny ideas and use it against him.

Midas honestly believed that he would miss being in the arena once the final tribute aside himself was dead. In the toxic forest he felt completely free and like a king. He was the one in power, he was the one that called the shots and made things happen.

All the same, he was looking forward to boarding the hovercraft if only because he'd be given any drink he asked for. His thirst was becoming a real problem. More than a few times he was swaying, his vision sometimes flashing and blurring from dehydration.

Well, drinks would be coming soon. There were only three more tributes left to kill. The wounded traitor Asterix, the girl from Ten who he was certain would be an easy kill… and, of course, Tag.

It just had to be him that had clung to life this long didn't it?

Midas did not take kindly to having his skills mocked. He especially didn't take kindly to being given the run-around on national television. He could practically hear people laughing at him as a result of Tag always being one step ahead of him.

Well, that would change really soon. All Midas needed to do was narrow the gap.

"Gonna kill him, gonna kill him," Midas muttered, having been repeating the same words for the past half hour. "Gonna make him suffer."

Bad enough that Tag had been a thorn in his side for so long, but he'd taken out several of Midas' pawns. Vuller, Petal, Shine… Midas was even starting to wonder if it had been Tag who really killed Shipwreck. Asterix had sworn he'd seen somebody running off into the night.

Well, what was done was done. But Midas didn't need an alliance to kill a younger boy. He only needed his incredible physical power. He'd earned that eleven for damn good reason.

It was the result of a lifetime spent training himself up to a state of sheer perfection. Midas had originally worked down a ruby mine with his family, quickly moving from working the gem cutting machines to hauling the minecarts along the tracks. His incredible power and the sheer pace at which he cause the carts to move had made it clear he was being wasted down the mines.

Training to be a tribute was the only possibility from then on. It gave him everything he wanted in one fell swoop; an escape from the tough mines and the chance for timeless adoration and fame.

In fact, he already had a taste of the latter anyway. He had ruled the roost back at the academy. He made the social rules and the rest had to follow them.

Bronze had even claimed to have seen much of himself inside Midas. The memory of this had the career brimming with pride.

"Gonna kill him, gonna kill him," Midas continued to say, slashing away at all the bushes blocking his path.

Navigation was becoming tough as the acidic water continued to rise. Midas would have preferred a mineshaft arena – at least he had experience with that sort of thing and could've used the karts to run down other tributes – but it was doubtful the Gamemakers would ever reuse such a terrain ever again.

Nobody could forget the absolute disaster of the Thirty First Hunger Games.

"Gonna kill him, gonna kill him," Midas grunted, outright uprooting a small tree half his size and tossing it out of his way. "I'll saw off his arms and legs and then roll what's left of him down a muddy hill into the acid."

As toxic as the arena smelled and as high as the acid was raising, Midas did not particularly mind it. After all, with every inch of ground swallowed up Tag lost another inch of ground where he could retreat to. It couldn't be much longer now until the finale began.

The other tributes had to be nearby. Soon enough they'd be close enough to feel his blade.

Midas grinned at the thought. Victory was so close.

If only he had more than a quarter of a bottle of water left to drink.

"Come on out Tag! Asterix! Ten! The longer I have to search for you the worse it's gonna be!" Midas bellowed out into the forest.

He received no response other than the gentle sunset breeze. Midas grunted and kept on the move, keen to continue hunting for at least three more hours until setting up camp.

Time passed slowly, far too slowly for Midas' liking, until eventually he found himself passing by a large amount of fallen rocks and a few half submerged boulders. Just ahead of them was a clearing beside a large river. It seemed like a perfect place to rest.

Midas grinned when he saw who had just entered the clearing from the side across from his own. Sleeping could wait, it was now the perfect place to commit murder.

He strolled into the clearing, directing a wolfish grin in Tag's direction. The boy was still wounded from the battle he'd somehow won against Shine, but Midas didn't feel worried. Whatever weapons Tag had, the fact was Tag was smaller, weaker and had scored lower. All logic suggested that Midas had this fight in the back.

He was going to enjoy drawing it out.

"Ready to die?" Midas asked, readying his bloodstained sword.

"Ready to lose?" Tag replied, calmly balling his fists at Midas.

Midas couldn't help but snort at the thought of Tag trying to beat him unarmed. "Not as much as your miner friend was. Did Shine make it hurt? Did she butcher him? Did he cry like a slaughtered pig?"

Midas let out a few more taunts, describing what he was going to do to Tag and how painful it would be. Other than narrowing his eyes Tag did not respond to Midas' words. Midas shrugged, readying himself in a professional battle stance for the fight. If taunts would not make Tag lose his focus he'd just have to do this the old fashioned way, by skewing him through the chest.

"You're no fun Tag," Midas grunted. "Whatever, let's do this. On your guard!"

In an instant Midas was howling in pain as a sharp arrow became deeply embedded into his left arm. Midas yanked it out, snarling at his opponent. A small piece had remained stuck within his arm, not that Midas cared. He was more focused on the crossbow held by his younger opponent and not letting himself show how visibly pained he was.

"Ranged fighting? Coward!" Midas roared.

Midas didn't bother to listen to what Tag said next – some crap about fighting smarter instead of harder – and charged at Tag before he could load another arrow. It would have been a killing blow had he not leapt to the side. The sword became briefly embedded into the tree, though Midas was strong enough to yank it out in barely a moment.

He stared, stumped, as the light of clean water trickling out from within the bark.

"…The water was in the trees," Midas could hardly believed it. How could anybody be expected to work that out… or, was that what the weak girl from Nine had claimed she knew?

Damn it all!

"I worked it out weeks ago," Tag said from across the clearing. He had the sheer nerve to perform a few fancy moves with the short sword he took out from a scabbard across his back. "If it's a hand to hand fight you want then it's one you'll get."

Midas stormed his way over towards Tag, ready to bleed him dry. "How generous of you."

Midas swung the down over from over his head, only for Tag to leap to the side and block it. Both leapt back, regaining their balance and stances. Tag's strike was easily parried by Midas, only for Midas' follow up horizontal swing to be foiled when Tag kicked up a cloud of dirt into his eyes.

It became clear that the two had entered a sort of brief stalemate. Tag could not match Midas' sheer physical power, but Midas' dehydration had negated a lot of his advantage. It was a back and forth duel between the two with neither being able to decisively injure their opponent.

At one point Midas began to force Tag back across the clearing towards a tree. Each powerful swing was barely dodged or deflected, a few cuts being inflicted to his arms in the process. Midas cackled to himself, pleased to see bloodstains forming in Tag's sleeves.

His thrill didn't last long. Tag jerked up a knee into Midas' crotch, making him buckle up and lose some of his breath. It gave Tag a fighting chance to regain ground and start forcing Midas backwards. Several cuts result sin blood flowing freely down Midas arms, the sheer sting of the cuts making Midas start to struggle to maintain his focus on blocking the worst of Tag's strikes.

Both boys circled each other as blood dripped off of them and down to stain the dirt. It was a deadly question of who would lunge first.

Tag was that person, Midas barely blocking the attack. He then, with a cocky smirk, stomped down hard on Tag's foot and was able to slash him across the chest. Not to the lethal degree Midas had hoped for, but enough for him to start laughing.

The battle was all but over. Midas just had to decide how long he was going to draw this kill out for.

"Not bad," Midas said, standing back to survey his wounded rival. Tag wasn't crying, just barely, but it wouldn't be long until that was all he'd be doing. "Not bad at all. Ha, the strongest boy from Eight in years failed to kill me. I'll be a monster in the minds of your district's kids for years! None of them will forget what comes next."

Midas couldn't help it. He just loved being able to play up for the cameras and give himself a memorable image. Playing the villain of a Hunger Games was a fun experience.

Not as fun as the looming hacking and slashing would be, of course.

"Gonna run Tag?" Midas asked, readying himself to land a final awful strike at his rival. He couldn't help but sneer. "Fourth place isn't that good, you know."

Tag narrowed his eyes. A look of what seemed to be some mix between clarity and courage burned within. He wheezed for a moment, spitting out some blood.

"Oh, I know," Tag narrowed his eyes further. "…But first is better."

Midas had no time to react. He had expected Tag would either break down and beg, or that he'd make a futile attempt to run away and live a few minutes longer. He had never expected that he would make the suicidal attempt to barrel forth at Midas with his entire body right behind him.

One startled yell was all that Midas managed before Tag's elbow met his ribs, cracking one of them. Only after being knocked backwards two meters did Midas realised what a mistake he had made. So focused on the fight was he that he'd not kept an eye on where the acid river was.

It was right behind him and he was falling backwards into it!

It was hell. Pure, utter, painful hell. The acid burnt away at Midas' flesh until he was raw and red. His sword was lost under the awful liquid, much like some of his scorched clothing. Midas screamed and screamed, likely able to be heard for miles.

He didn't care that he was showing pain. He in too much agony to care for anything other than getting out of the acid water. He wasn't going to die, he wasn't going to end up dying the same way Starboard had!

By the time Midas managed to haul himself out of the water his skin was red, chunks had been burnt away and small amounts of bone were visible here and there. All the same, he was still somehow alive.

Alive and clearly maintaining his ferocious image if the freaked out look on Tag's face was any indicator. Midas sneered for the camera he knew were watching, wanting to be sure he'd be remembered as a figure of terror.

It was part of what he had learnt at the academy. When victory has escaped, go down as somebody memorable to inspire strength in future careers and terror in the outliers. He smirked at the thought of what the children of District Eight must have thought at that moment.

He looked up at Tag, the boy having taken his supplies and already bandaged himself. The boy stared down at Midas clutching his short sword.

"It ends now," Tag managed to say.

"I'm OK with that," Midas said, spitting out blood from his horribly scorched mouth. "If you kill me, it'll be a glorious battle never forgotten. Whether you win or lose we'll never be forgotten! I'll never be forgotten! My name will go down as the most powerful career of these Games, the one who slaughtered so many tributes on the way! My name will be like that of the grim reaper in Eight."

Midas sneered right into Tag's mortified eyes.

"Go on, kill me… start a legend," Midas said, managing to cackle.

Midas maintained his freakish stare at Tag at the boy made his way closure to him, clearly having made up his mind on what to do. Midas snickered; if he couldn't live as a victor then he'd accept dying as a legend.

He could only blink, confused, when Tag dropped Midas' bag of supplies down in front of him.

"What?" Midas had no idea what else to say.

"You're no rival of mine," Tag's voice held nothing but light disgust and dismay. "You're no ferocious beast either. Certainly not some dragon who fought a knight."

Tag turned to leave under the light of the setting sun, ignoring Midas' baffled splutters.

"You were just some thug who tried to mug me early on in my life, one with an attitude problem. One that needed years of training to be able to kill innocent people, like my poor district partner whose only crime was crying because she was scared," Tag idly raised a hand to wave at Midas, still not looking back. "Goodbye Midas, I'm sure your sponsors will restore you. I'm not gonna end you' you're not worth killing."

"NO! NO!" Midas clawed at the dirt and at what little remained of his hair. "You get back here! You fucking come back! Fight me! Finish me! You fucking bastard! You bastard Tag! This is not how we'll end it! I'll find you, I'll kill you! I'll kill you and everybody you love!"

Tag didn't respond, finally leaving Midas' sight as he set off deeper into the arena. Midas was left all alone to snarl, howl, scream and try to drag himself along the ground in pursuit of Tag.

It was over an hour until he was able to get his battered body to move and even longer before he was able to stand and start taking slow, weak, footsteps through the forest.

"Gonna kill him, gonna kill him," Midas seethed, trying to follow after Tag.

Alas, Midas had lost the trail of his foe and was reduced to aimlessly wandering through the forest for any sort of prey he could take his anger out on.

He didn't find any prey, but mere minutes before the anthem he found a predator. Or, rather, a predator found him.

He'd been limping slowly along beside an acid river, hoping it would lead him to the cornucopia, when one of the crocodiles that called the river home lunged out from the acid and clamped its jaws around Midas' legs.

"No! No!" Midas had no weapon and his peeling hands failed to grasp anything that could save him. "NOOOOOOOOO!"

Midas was dragged down under the acid and swiftly devoured by the crocodile, gone and forgotten by the Capitol crowd in a matter of minutes.

Over two miles away, resting up at the cornucopia, Tag… or, as was his true name Midas never knew, Spool could only flinch as Midas' face was shown in the sky. Spool couldn't shake the images of Midas' acid scorched face from his mind.

He couldn't help but think about what Midas may have been like outside of the arena. Truthfully, the Games had been the catalyst that made the mortal enemies.

"Just two more left to go," Spool whispered to himself as the anthem came to an end. "Don't worry guys, I'll be home soon."

Midas would be home soon as well, though only within a casket.

It wasn't even a casket of solid gold like he'd always hoped for.

Tribute Deceased
Ranking: 4th
Cause of Death: Devoured by a Crocodile Mutt
Time Lasted: 18 days, 23 hours, 49 minutes and 20 seconds
District One Eliminated