The seventeenth day
-Coda Fukai, 14, District 8-
He was still reeling from the feast. They had gone from eight to four in a matter of one measly-ass day. If that wasn't enough to scare the shit out of the other three, he didn't know what was.
Then again, they were probably glad that they had an easy target: the little kid with the limp. It was sad, but true. At this point, that was all that he was to them. The easy fourth place before they would have to kill their actual competition. Coda wasn't dumb. He knew that at this point, there was no way he was going to beat any of the other three. He could only hope that they all destroyed each other first.
Yeah right. He had seen them around the Arena before: they were allies. If they teamed up against Coda, that was just it for him. The only thing he could hope for was that it would be fast and painless. He'd really had enough pain in his life.
The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he was a dead man walking at this point. It was a hard to swallow pill: he could rally behind his dead ally as much as he wanted, but that fact didn't save him from her fate just because he made it this far. There had to be a fourth place. And third, and second… Coda didn't want to be any of those. Obviously. He felt like he'd made it too far for that.
Despite his obvious disadvantages, Coda had something over the other boys: the knowledge of where they were at all times. For the moment, it was helping him evade them, but eventually he knew that he would have to move the game forward. And with his disadvantages, he knew that he would need to have the element of surprise on his side if he wanted to even have a fighting chance. This wasn't a place to be fair. Not with so much at stake.
Coda watched the little colorful triangles glide nicely across his screen. Of course the stupid Capitolites didn't label them with names: not even numbers for hell's sake. Like Coda could remember which tribute was purple, which was blue and which was brown. Like hell. Sometimes Coda had to check his own bowtie as he forgot what color he was.
He flicked through each of the floors, noticing for the first time the doors were labelled with the suits, showing where all of the stairs led. That was going to be immensely valuable to Coda in the future.
If Lonan had known all of this, he definitely wouldn't have negotiated with Coda. The boy snickered himself a little bit. He didn't consider himself to be the clever type at all, but that was truly a master plan. It just happened to work out that he had all his crap in one backpack, separate from his supplies. In desperation for his life, he made the bargain. It was a total steal for Coda. He bet Lonan was mad when he opened the bag and saw all of Coda's junk in there. Together, it was heavy enough to seem like there were valuable things inside. Coda couldn't have gotten out of there faster if he tried. He definitely didn't want to be around to watch Lonan open the bag.
The most dangerous part of that interaction was that Coda had to surrender one of the ko-nanny things to Lonan, so now he was armed. That might not bode well for Coda later on.
But Lonan had made a mistake in letting Coda take his tribute map. Now he had eyes on Lonan at all times, so revenge would be futile.
He hoped.
He couldn't help but smile as he watched the little triangles move around. The blue one was pacing around in circles, while the purple one was still in place. That was the dangerous one, because he was right near Coda, whoever he was. The brown one was walking around the third floor, slowly but surely heading towards a golden circle that must have been a wheel.
He smiled to himself. He hoped that Henley would be proud of him for his little trick. In a way, her cleverness and calm persona under pressure seemed to have rubbed off on him. He liked it, because she was a part of him now. That was just all the more reason for him to find a way to get the hell out of this mess somehow.
And fast.
He could already feel the thirst in his drying mouth. All of the spoils won by Henley's death were completely gone, all thanks to that prissy-ass motherfucker from District Two that couldn't even live to tell the tale of the lives he screwed.
All of that aside, one thing was true for Coda: these Games were going to come to an end soon. He wasn't sure he was ready for it, but he would have to find a way to get ready.
The ground suddenly opened in front of him, and Coda immediately perked up. It was pretty dumb to hope that it wouldn't be a piece of junk from Coda's track record. But he could at least try to hope. He opened the silver cannister and reached in to find a lime green token. Could still become a piece of shit, but at least he would have the control over what kind of crap it was.
What was the real junk was the piece of paper that came with it. Coda used to look up to his mentor, but now Tartan was just trying to piss him off, as if it were on purpose. As much as Coda didn't want to hear what his mentor had to say, he didn't feel right just leaving the paper there, so he picked it up and looked inside.
Right away, something didn't match up. The handwriting was definitely not Tartan's scratchy-ass mess of a note. Unless he was writing neatly just to fuck with Coda! He should probably just read. He unfolded the note and read,
Coda, read this to spark your flame.
Wherever there's chaos, make the best of it. Even if it's yours.
Never stop burning,
Anakyn
P.S. Yeah, you didn't expect this gift from me of all people, but someone's gotta have your back here.
Coda couldn't help but smile a little bit at that. He felt a conglomeration of emotions: relief that the note wasn't from Tartan, happy that someone else was going to have his back out there… And confusion, because honestly he couldn't remember who Anakyn even was. He felt like he'd definitely seen the name before, but he couldn't put it to a face.
"Well," he cleared his throat. "Thank you there, um, Mr. Kyn."
All confusion aside, he read the rest of the note again. He so badly needed one last spark to get him across that finish line. Once he got home, he could figure out what to do next. He was used to living day-by-day, before the stupid ass incident…
Trying to make the best of chaos was a good sentiment. After all, that was what Coda's been doing this whole damn time. He had to make do with a fucking lamp for fuck's sake, he was covered in lube! He had a feeling that the asswads at the big complex weren't done fucking with them yet either. If he could engineer the chaos into his own favor, well… Maybe he actually had a shot at getting out of here.
And if he could just get some water, maybe he could put it off for another day or so.
He got up on his feet. This floor had wheels all around it. He could see that there was a wheel closeby labelled Basics on his map. He got to his feet, a little relieved that someone else was there to guard his crap because it was much lighter without it. He walked over to the wheel, looking at some of the options. Now, it was up to fate once again.
Coda took a deep breath, sliding his token into the slot and pulling the lever. The great wheel spun rapidly, until it landed… Sleeping bag.
Coda sighed. At least it wasn't absolute shit like that stupid hairbrush. The bag produced the snot-colored lime green sleeping bag. It felt so soft when he picked it up, he was tempted to lay down and nap right there.
But he also noticed the purple triangle on his map was now active, walking towards a golden circle. If that tribute spins something deadly, Coda was in big trouble. He knew he needed to put some distance between them, but wasn't sure where to go.
Make the best of the chaos. Maybe he could pull another clever little trick.
Coda's heart beat with anticipation. This was either going to be a great decision, or his death. But at this point, he was tired and thirsty, and it seemed like the best course of action now that he'd used his last token.
The brown figure: the only one Coda knew for sure had water: was heading towards the other side of the floor. Coda had two options to try and sneak up on him. Either he could use the elevator, or he could try to evade Mr. Purple and get through the hearts door. Well, unless… He could always retrace his steps: out the spades door from whence he came, down to the ground floor, and take the hearts door down there.
His stub leg started to ache just at the thought of that many stairs with his prosthetic. Coda let out a puff of air in annoyance. Mr. Purple was now walking away from the wheel right in front of the door, around to where the chaos wheel was. If he was sneaky, Coda might be able to do it.
Using the map as a guide, Coda snuck around, holding his backpack close to him, trying not to make a single sound. He walked slowly and quietly until he saw Mr. Purple across the way and quickly hid behind one of those star wheels. He looked over: Mr. Purple was oblivious still.
Good.
Coda continued to sneak forward. All was going well, until his stupid peg leg got caught in the carpet, and with a loud bang, Coda hit the ground, a curse word immediately escaping his lips. He scrambled back to his feet, looking defensive.
Mr. Purple didn't even look over.
Coda's brow creased in confusion. He had made such a terrible clatter. Unless… Wait a moment… Aha. This was the deaf one.
Coda breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't want to fight Mr. Purple right now: or anyone, at that. Mr. Purple blissfully continued walking, not even looking over. Coda approached slowly, hiding whenever he could. Then, when Purple's back was turned, Coda slipped through the hearts door.
He took a few deep breaths, relieved to be free of that threat for now. Then, he started up the stairs. As he slowly went up, his mind started to fly with worried thoughts. This was probably a reckless idea, but right now, he was desperate. He had snuck past one tribute already, what was one more? …Right?
Coda walked up the stairs, even though his gut told him to retreat back down to the empty ground floor. He watched his tracker closely: the brown triangle was moving, which would make it harder for Coda to do anything. He kept moving, though, knowing he would have to do something brave to be considered worthy of victory.
He crept carefully up the stairs, his prosthetic lightly thumping the concrete as he went. When he arrived, he checked his map one more time.
No going back now.
He pressed the door open.
~.~.
-Lonan Fodor, 17, District 10-
The seconds felt like hours. He felt like he was living life in slow motion, even with everything that had happened yesterday. Every second, his body felt heavier. His motivation snuffed out more and more. It may have been the final four, but that didn't mean he would be going home any time soon.
Home. It was a place he didn't even remember anymore. He closed his eyes, trying to remember the sun on his skin. Trying to remember the face of his brother, the smell of his parents' house. He tried to remember his bedroom, the place where he sat alone and cried, the place where he dreamed of his son's little face. But it all just felt like a hologram to him now. After seventeen days in this place, it was all that he knew. These carpets, the lights that were so bright in the afternoon… The smell of blood, the feeling of a weapon in his hand. They were the only reality he knew now. The Hunger Games was all that he could remember.
Even his time in the Capitol was fleeting from his mind. It had gone by in such a whirlwind he could barely remember the faces he saw or the things that he did.
But he did remember that boy, crying in a tree.
Lonan never expected to be in the final four with two of his allies. As wary as tributes were about alliances, they so very rarely actually ended up in the finals together. Lonan knew enough about Games history to get that much. The final 4 were usually a bunch that were driven, sparked by the death of someone they cared about, ready to get revenge for them.
The final 4 were ready to fight to get home.
Fear and anxiety swirled in his stomach at that thought. Was he not ready to get home too? He was… Surely he was… But he didn't feel like it. He was kicking himself for letting the boy go, knowing that he could be one step closer to home… But something in him just couldn't do it. He didn't want to fight anymore. He took the easier option, a trade.
What the hell is wrong with me? He didn't know. He didn't feel this low since before he was put in here. There was just something in his gut that was telling him that he didn't deserve to get out of here. Maybe it was because he killed unprovoked. Maybe it was because he was outcasted, rejected by his home. Maybe the scarlet letter he wore on his chest was just too damning. He didn't know. All he knew was that his desperation for friends and family had been replaced by a quiet, resigned numbness. He only operated out of fear for death.
When he closed his eyes, he saw the fear in the face of that boy in the tree, but it was directed towards him. He heard the screams of friends carrying friends away, willing them to take one more breath. He saw the crease in his friend's eyebrows as blood dripped off of his weapon. He felt cold, and yet he didn't feel guilty.
Something changed after that day. Something irreparable. People that had looked to him for leadership now looked at the floor, away from his eyes. The people that he had once lifted up, people that he helped, were now afraid of him. This wasn't what he wanted at all. And now, those people who had once trusted him, were the only things standing in his way.
Lonan sighed quietly to himself. He never meant for it to be like this. When he dreamed of the Games, he thought he would leave the Arena a hero. But there were no heroes here. Lonan did what he had to do. The fact that Ceru and Owen didn't understand that wasn't Lonan's problem. They would someday.
And yet… Watching the girl die for Ceru like that… Someone she barely knew… It made Lonan wonder if he should have done something much different.
I did what I had to do. He was reaped, just like all the rest of them. But I was going to volunteer. He couldn't believe he was so stupid. But that didn't matter anymore. What mattered is that to get out of here, he would have to kill three more times: two of them his friends. If they didn't understand why he did what he did, it wouldn't matter. If they wanted to live, they would give him a fight.
A tear escaped Lonan's eye and rolled down his cheek. He didn't want to fight them. They were his friends. They believed him when nobody else would. They understood him. They were kind to him. They worked together. They had good luck. They were a team. After all they had done for him, he didn't want to fight them.
But he had to. And to get home, to get to that life he always wanted, he would.
…Right?
Well, at least he had some time to think about it. He had gotten the water from the feast, as well as Harleigh's supplies and Camellia's. Plus, the bag of crap from Coda.
He used his strength to get these. He at least tried to make Harleigh's death quick… She was completely delusional, on her way to sleep, and probably didn't feel a thing.
The way she screamed would haunt him forever, though.
Dammit… He had won these supplies with brute strength. Was that really how he wanted to win…?
Here, it was his only choice. The people watching him would never understand why it had to come to this. They can point out how differently he could have and should have done it all they wanted. But they would never understand. Nobody would understand. They can say they would sacrifice themselves all that they wanted, but few would actually put their own life below another's. It was human nature.
But now, sitting here, he wondered if he was all wrong. If there was something he could have done to be more honorable, to be the person that everyone wanted to win. Whatever it was, it was too late for that now.
Lonan hung his head in shame. It was shame he would never escape from, as long as he lived… And if that was true, what was the point of existing anymore?
He squeezed another tear out of his eye, his whole body becoming tense trying to hold it back.
No.
It wasn't too late for him. Lonan refused to let it end here like this. He wanted to come into this Arena because he knew that he could come out, and that was still true. He had a life waiting for him back home that he had been denied, over and over again denied. Lonan went into the Games because he believed that he deserved better. And he wasn't about to give his chance away now, after everything he'd been through. He wanted to come here to win something he had long been starved of: justice. Lonan wasn't about to give up on justice just because he had done some things he wasn't proud of while here. He did what he had to so that he could pave his own way. And not even his, all of those who had been falsely accused.
That boy in the tree needed someone to tell him it was okay. He needed someone to affirm him when nobody else would. Lonan wanted to be that person for even more boys like himself. He wanted a platform for justice. That was why he was here, and that was what kept him going. He wasn't about to give himself up this easily.
Lonan closed his eyes tightly, taking a deep breath through his mouth, feeling rejuvenated. If he was going to get out of here, he was going to have to get angry. He could feel it coursing through his veins. An anger no longer created of selfish desperation, but out of passion for justice. It was the only thing that was going to get him back on that train to his District. He no longer cared about shoving his fame in the faces of those who hurt him. They would get what was coming to them in court. He didn't want anyone to grovel for his forgiveness: in truth, he had already forgiven them.
What he wanted now was change.
What he wanted now was justice for himself, no longer because he wanted to feel bigger than others around him, but because he deserved it after all of the wrongful accusations that were made against him. It wasn't a matter of his victory and her loss, it was a matter of him finally living a life free of lies.
The anger consumed him as he saw a face peeking out at him from over one of the card tables. The most recent person to cheat him, obviously trying to cheat him again.
Lonan wasn't going to have it.
He was going to get the hell out of here, and it all started right now.
~.~.
-Owen O'Connor, 18, District 5-
He cracked open his eyes. For just a moment, he was afraid to open them. What if it was all a dream? He had slept soundly for the first time in weeks, who was there to say that the events of last night weren't just a figment of his imagination. After all, all of the things he'd seen just felt too good to be true. Breaking free of Nines, seeing Mom again… It all seemed so far away.
But it wasn't.
The interview reel was still sitting there loyally, waiting for Owen to turn it on and hear her voice again. It was so good…
He worried that he'd be scared, scared of the promise he made last night, hung over almost. But when he sat up, his nerves were masked by a cold, hard reserve to get out of here. Seeing her face again was really all she needed. And he only had Rammie to thank now.
The only problem in Owen's plan was the fact that he didn't have anything but his bare hands to fight with. Hopefully, something that could be remedied with the token he'd gotten from Kelly. It was never going to happen if Owen didn't make it happen. That was wha the learned about his future. I had to take control of it. He was ready to do it this morning: running off of a full night of dreamless sleep. He steeled his face and collected what was left of his things. He knew from training that he couldn't live much longer without water, so it had to be now or never.
"Mom? It's Owen. I'm going to try so hard to come home to you." He took a deep breath. What other option was there? Not only would he never get to see her again, but he was worried that losing him might set back her progress.
He wasn't sure he recognized the place he'd ended up, but hopefully there was something lucky to help him here. He could see flashing lights in one direction, so he made the decision to go that way. There was no more time left to stall and think. Now, it was less thinking, more doing.
It didn't take long at all for Owen to approach the wheel. When he saw the word Weapons on top, he hurried towards it. Perhaps the Gamemakers put it there because they wanted a good fight, perhaps it was just dumb luck, but Owen wasn't about to question it. He was just going to do what he had to and spin the damn thing.
Without much of a thought, he put his cyan token into the slot and pulled the lever. The wheel was sent into a frenzy. How he hoped it would be the last wheel he spun… But he felt that surely he wouldn't be that fortunate.
The wheel came to a stop on a weapon that Owen had only ever heard of, never seen: let alone used.
The machine produced a cleaver, with a cyan blue stripe across the handle. It looked sharper than he imagined a typical one was, but it was meant for killing people, not butchering animals. Owen couldn't help the feeling that this was somehow ironic, but he couldn't think of the last tribute to use butcher knives as a weapon, so he dropped the thought.
It wasn't ideal, but Owen knew that he had no choice but to make it work now. At least he hadn't gotten a dummy option.
Well, now Owen was set with a weapon and that cold, hard determination. The next question was where exactly he should go. While he waited, he decided to have some breakfast, which in his fervor he'd completely forgotten about. And of course, while he ate, he replayed the interviews again. He could practically recite it by heart: timing and all: and he would have, if he was confident at all in his Piccolo impersonation. Now, watching the interview just made him want it even more. To hear her voice without being able to recite every syllable. His mom was the only thing keeping him going now, and he was going to continue to hold onto her as long as he could here. It was an advantage his competition didn't have.
His stomach calmed a little bit after that, but his mouth still felt dry. He couldn't shake the feeling of thirst, and he wouldn't until he got some water or got the hell out of here. Whichever came first.
He took the cleaver, giving it a few practice swings and hits to the wall, trying to get used to how it felt in his hands. Despite being a complete novice, he found that he was picking it up naturally pretty well… That made him at least a little optimistic.
But I still haven't taken that hit yet. He would have to be ever careful of how to proceed. Lonan was trained after all: one free strike from him would certainly render Owen dead. Ceru and Coda were easier to think about in that regard: he wasn't sure Coda had the accuracy to one-hit kill him, and he didn't think Ceru had the guts. He would just have to continue to be careful.
He looked around the floor, at the towering doors with suits on them. He was trusting in the heart of the suits to guide him. Without taking much time to mull over the logistics of it, he walked towards the door on the opposite side than where he came: the large door of hearts.
He wouldn't know if this was the right decision until it might have been too late. He walked up the staircases: they seemed shorter than before. Didn't give him much time to ponder or think about what was going on back home. He reached a landing with a door, but Owen heard a small rumbling above him and realized that someone must have been a step ahead of him.
He continued walking up the stairs, holding his cleaver tightly as he went up each step. His heart started to quicken with anticipation. Anticipation of getting closer to home… Adrenaline at what he had to do to get there. He had killed once before: but he couldn't see the face of the life he'd taken. Now, he wouldn't have a choice.
Don't be foolish, Owen. This is what I have to do. Hopefully this was a part of his life that Mom could just forget. He wished he could forget it too. But at the same time, he didn't have a choice.
He swallowed a nervous lump in his throat as he pushed open the door in front of him. His hands shook with anticipation as he ducked back behind a table. That was, until he heard the screaming.
"You thought it was funny, huh?! You little cheat!"
Owen's eyes widened at the voice of his ex-ally, quickly taking cover and coming closer.
"Please, I'll give you anything you want!" the desperate voice of another tribute that made Owen wonder if he should just go the other way.
He heard a great groan from Coda, who was shoved to the ground with a strained cry. "Take it all! Take it all!"
"I will take it all," he said, but obviously he didn't intend on letting Coda live.
"You thought you were so clever… Well, nobody cheats Lonan Fodor and gets away with it."
The scream from the fourteen-year-old made Owen's blood run cold. He was such a tough little kid… The fact that he was wailing was not a good sign.
Owen peeked up from behind the table again as another howl from Coda made his limbs freeze in horror. This wasn't fair.
Was there any point in trying to talk sense into Lonan? After what Owen had seen in the past, there wasn't. The Arena had changed him from that person that talked to him up in the tree.
Disgust flowed through his veins as Coda continued to beg Lonan, but this time not for life.
"Make it fast… Please just kill me!"
Hearing a snarl come from the older boy: who was obviously in the position of power: was too much for Owen.
His body carried him, weaving around tables, his footsteps barely audible, until he was close enough to them to smell the blood being shed. He had no time to think it over.
Owen charged at his ex-ally from behind, and before Lonan knew he was coming, the cleaver was deeply lodged into his back. Blood shot out of his mouth, onto the weeping Coda's face, and he collapsed to the ground, shock still on his face. Owen didn't want him to suffer: He took the ko-naginata that had been dropped in surprise and sent it through Lonan's chest. It was a quick death, and regret exploded in Owen's gut at the sight of what he'd done. Then, his gaze set on the boy on the ground. He wasn't too badly cut up, but he had multiple bleeding spots on him.
It's mercy, he thought, hands shaking as Coda stubbornly pushed himself back up to his feet.
"You… Think… I… Won't… Fucking… Fight…" he said through clenched teeth, giving Owen a defiant look through the pain he was obviously feeling.
Looking into the face of the innocent boy, Owen could feel himself faltering. He didn't know if this was what he wanted. A cannon boomed for Lonan, and Owen's attention was taken back to the young boy in front of him.
I'm sorry Coda.
He lunged forward, weapon raised.
Suddenly, mid-lunge, he felt his body jolt with electricity, and he stopped moving. He tried to move his arms and legs, but it was like they were frozen in place… All his muscles were tensed up… Was this the hit?!
No… In front of him, Coda was also frozen into place it seemed, still clenching his teeth and hands around a knife he was holding. His blood had stopped flowing.
"Now now, you two will have plenty of time for that later," a familiar voice trilled over the loudspeaker. Owen wanted to yell, but he couldn't move. He couldn't do anything. His supplies were taken with Coda's and Lonan's body. Even the cleaver was somehow taken out of his hands…
Lonan's face was shown in the sky, despite it being mid-afternoon.
Owen's heart fell to his stomach. That could only mean one thing.
"Congratulations to each one of you. Lady Luck has smiled upon each one of you."
No… It can't be… He wasn't ready!
"Please, stand by tributes…"
His throat felt tight.
He had never imagined himself here.
"…Finale proceedings will begin immediately."
~.~.
A/N: I know the POVs definitely didn't work out evenly, but it was a matter of who had the action this chapter and I'm trying to operate on some kind of a schedule. We'll check in with each of our final 3 throughout the finale, which is next chapter! And it will be posted a week from tomorrow on June 21st! I am so excited to finally present you all your Victor next chapter and get rolling on the many exciting things I have planned for the future subplot and the sequel to this story, but I'll get more into that as we hit epilogues.
CQ: What do you think Lux has in store for these three tributes?
Eulogies:
4th place: Lonan Fodor, District 10- Stabbed by Owen O'Connor, D5
I agonized over these four for so damn long. From the very beginning of the story, Lonan was a frontrunner for Victor. Every time I had to imagine the future of my verse, Lonan was the one I auto-filled for the Victor position. He was such a lovely character with a really unique and interesting backstory unlike one I'd ever seen. He forced me out of my comfort zone for some of his scenes and really expanded my horizons as a writer. I always loved to write him, and his relationships with those around him. After killing Elliot, he was put into the villain role, but ultimately it wasn't out of malice, it was out of desperation (which these three gentlemen are about to learn). He always did what he thought was right, and was mature enough to realize when it was misguided. But at the same time, he knew what he had to do and wanted to do it to survive. The Arena just changed him too much, and he couldn't keep up. It was so hard to see his Arena journey end, and I agonized over this decision for such a long time. Ultimately, it was time for his run to end. Thank you so much for this amazing boy Glader. I'm sorry to all the friends I crush throughout this process T.T
Amidst the hype, I just want to S/O a few open stories right now where you can get an extra angst fix.
Renegades by TheEngineeringGames is a full SYOT with 11 Districts and Capitol tributes that is going to be an angst party and needs some extra love! Subs close in two weeks.
Playing with Capitalism by Platrium is an SYOT with 24 tributes, plus you can sub escorts, Head Gamemakers, and stylists! Along with a fun interactive Arena twist!
Only Time Will Tell by goldie031 is a partial rewrite where your tributes can be saved! It has multiple Quell twists all swirled into one conglomeration of awesomeness!
I'm sure most of you already know about them but if you didn't there you go.
Ok, I will see you next chapter, where it all comes to a head!