The thirteenth day

The Arena was completely still as three teens sat awake, trying to steel themselves, desperately trying to gather courage for the coming day. Each knew he would need it, and yet each was left wondering if he would be able to gather the will to fight.

…

In the woods sat Job Markov. Blood caked his body, sweat somehow managing to mat down his hair, even with the chilly breezes. His body shivered, yet overheated. He tried to close his eyes, but sleep wouldn't come. Though the night was silent, the stars painting the dark sky peacefully, not even the slightest movement of a tree branch to disturb him, Job stayed awake. He had in all honesty barely slept a wink after taking a life. At the time, he believed that she deserved it. But in reality, that did not line up with his faith. His anguished heart twisted and turned with his chest, just as his body, trying to find a way to defy the odds and feel comfortable enough for just a fleeting moment of shut-eye…

The horrible scenes replayed in his head, like a skipping record. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the wide eyes of a fellow human being that willingly died in his place. Who was Job, a murderer, to deserve such a sacrifice?

Then again… Who was the criminal on the cross?

…

At the summit of the mountain, Nebuchadnezzar Spiros rocked back and forth, holding his knees to his chest. The movement was calming to him. It was almost as if he were sailing, out on the sea, and not here. Not in this icy hell. Suddenly, the betrayal stabbed him, just as he had done, and he began to feel quite seasick.

Who was he to speak a single word about justice? Who was he to know a single thing about what was right?

After all he had done, the fact that he was still alive was naught but a sick, cruel joke played on the families, friends, and loved ones of his allies whom he'd killed. Going home would mean a return to a different world. A world of which he was no longer the king. He long ago cast away his armor of truth, and instead he traded it for a cloak of brutality, and cruelty. The two things that he had never wanted to wear on his person. He was the king of hypotheticals, but in reality he was nothing but a fool. A fool willing to sacrifice his heart for wealth and glory. The very person he so vehemently despised in the past.

In the pale glow of the moon, he was naught but a shadow. Very appropriate.

Oh, how the great have fallen.

…

In the clearing of presents, Kasier Picasso was beside himself.

How was he ever to forgive himself for what he's done? He was so sure he could run away from the label of criminal. It had only taken Inari's life to remind him that it would never go away. Like a scar carved into his forehead, he would always be the criminal. He would always be the rageful man that wasn't there when she needed him most. She was the most important thing to him, and now she was gone.

Kaiser's fingers trembled as he tried to close his eyes. No sleep would come. Only the pain of needles on his palm, the torment of feet kicking at and dragging the ground, tormented screams that he had somehow shut out in his rage before, but now he can't silence them.

He couldn't admit it to himself, but he loved her. If he couldn't even let her die peacefully, how was he ever to believe he could protect his mother? How foolish of him to think that winning the Games would solve all of his problems. The Games were only the beginning of a life of pain. Even if he wasn't behind bars, he would always be in prison. An eternal prison of pain, and sorrow. The eternal torment of living with the knowledge that he could have said goodbye, but he would never get to.

He thought that the Games would be his second chance at life.

But death gives no second chances.

…

And yet, for all of his pain, Job felt something else in his chest. Warmth. Not a feverish warmth, but the warmth of a greater presence. He was not alone, he was not left here by himself. Though he did the unspeakable, though he lost so much, he had something bigger in his heart.

Hope.

And, as much as he didn't feel that he could kill again, he knew that there was something bigger out there for him that was waiting. There was something greater for him to do in order to change the world. He could never be sure why he was chosen, but he could feel that something bigger was waiting for him outside this hellish snowglobe. A new wave of determination filled the tribute from District Three, who held his knife tightly in his numb hand.

Everything happens for a reason. He had faith that God would protect him through all of his endeavors.

He wasn't sure he was quite ready to fight, but he was ready to face whatever was set out on his path.

…

But for all of his deeds, Nebuchadnezzar was not going to continue this streak. It was the final fight, after all. He never came here to win on a dirty trick. He will show what he's worth, even without the use of his hand. He has trained for this situation.

Perhaps, if he wins the last battles fair and square, perhaps he will be received with a warm welcome back home.

Nebuchadnezzar took a shaky breath, which he released into the air in a great show of smoky condensation. Now was not the time to give up. This was what he was born to do. Those that criticized him failed to realize the stakes of the Arena, and the lengths to which it tested one's character. He had failed plenty of times in training, but he also always got back up. Though now his failures ran much deeper, like crevices in the stone below his feet, he could still get back up. And he would continue to get back up again and again until he couldn't anymore.

He had family and friends that he had to return back to. If not for their wanting him, for his own selfishness, his own desire to protect them from being driven to such horrors as he had. He would put his heart and soul into creating tributes that fought honorably and did not stoop to such lows as he.

He reached over and grabbed his sword with his left hand, his fingers naturally sealing around the handle.

This was the one and only time that failure wasn't an option.

…

But Kaiser so badly wanted a second chance. A chance to live away from fear of being raped in prison, a chance to live without the worry about his mother's health, worry about her being homeless, worry about STDs. He wants to live a life where he can actually do something for someone else.

Prison was a place full of desperate people. People that were in because they were desperately trying to make ends meet. There were so many that lived day to day in his District. Even if they don't accept him, they will accept food, water, blankets, pillows, music, dancing, riches. They will accept fruits to their heart's content, they will accept fish, shrimp, lobster, and clams from District Four, they will accept new reaping outfits and school clothes. They will appreciate not having to take extra tesserae, they will accept the opportunity to find a place to live without worry about the high cost of basic food. They will accept access to creative supplies, the chance to do something bigger than cleaning horse shit.

It was what Inari would have wanted for her home District that she loved so much. And if Kaiser could do just one damn thing right for her, nothing was going to stop him.

He slid his fingers into the brass knuckles and made a light fist, cringing when his nails touched his soft palm.

Even if he didn't have much hope left, he could still do something good.

…

The sunrise that morning was unusual. Instead of the soft hues the tributes were so used to, the sun painted the sky crimson, casting a bloody glow upon the carnage. The night seemed to fly by.

Nebuchadnezzar was the first to be brought into action. When he heard whispers, he immediately held his weapon to his chest, before realizing that they couldn't possibly be coming from his opponents…

"Play with me… Play with us…" he turned around to see the army of hollow-faced dolls, many with pieces of hair ripped out of them, that were quickly approaching him. "Play with us…" they whispered to him, their little arms reaching out and grabbing the snow, pulling themselves towards him. Nebuchadnezzar didn't hesitate: he immediately started running.

"Play with us…" they whispered behind him. As he was running, a doll lurched itself forward and grabbed his ankle, and he felt the pain of a bite. He quickly pulled it off. The moment it let go, the doll was motionless.

"Why don't you want to play?" Nebuchadnezzar dropped the doll as soon as he saw the face. Dark hair brown eyes, that angular jawline, that easy smirk staring back at him… The streaks of red on his face and clothes. He was even wearing the same color jacket… With a scream, Nez threw the doll to the ground and ran faster, but not before the blonde doll that had been burnt to a crisp launched itself onto him.

"Why did you leave me Nebby Neb!?" He quickly threw it off, his heart beating harder.

"Hear that Turtle? He doesn't want to play with us," came another voice, as another doll launched itself onto him. The boy who had died first. He was missing both of his eyes and there was a giant hole in his chest that was covered in red. It looked as if something had exploded out of him… Nez quickly threw the doll away in sheer horror.

But it wasn't his fault, he hadn't killed that boy! He shrugged the doll off. They clearly weren't meant to kill him, or else they would have.

The girl from Six launched herself onto him, losing a leg in the process. Her hair was mostly torn out, but the scar on her face was unable to be mistaken. "You don't want to play," she said, but he quickly brushed her off. The dolls didn't stop shrieking and crying behind him.

"You left me because I'm broken, didn't you?" asked the doll with frizzy blonde hair.

"You let your boyfriend kill me Euron," said the one without any clothes.

"We only wanted to plaaaaay…"

Nebuchadnezzar ran, kicking the little things off of him with every step. The blue-haired one screamed particularly loud. "Why does everyone abandon me?" she shrieked as she was buried by the snow.

"I just wanted to play with you and your friends," the shaggy-haired one wearing a tattered, destroyed binder said as it tried to latch onto his shoulder.

"Stop. Make it stop!" he said, running even faster, trying so desperately to escape this torment. The yells of the little things didn't stop him.

"It's because we're broken isn't it!?" God, make it stop. Nebuchadnezzar balled his fists around his weapon and swatted away the doll with dark skin, frizzy hair, one eye torn out, and a body that was absolutely mutilated, ripped to shreds.

"Murderers!" shrieked the girl with dark skin and black hair.

"You won't play with us because you think we are broken. But you don't know that you are one of us! We are all broken together!" he quickly shooed off the girl from Eight that seemed to be whispering in his ear in a high-pitched voice. Stop it…

While he was being led to the main mountain, his competition was being ushered in different ways.

Job's competition was far more formidable than some dolls.

The hulking lion wearing a crown was circling the tribute from Three like he was prey. Its eyes were emerald green… Looking into them was like looking at his District partner in the face. His lower lip began to tremble in fear, but the lion didn't make a move. He just paced in circles around the tribute, always staring it with those eyes like lasers…

Job stood in fear, frozen, as he faced the hulking beast. He swallowed a lump in his throat, praying desperately for his body to be called into any action at all… The lion let out a deep, thundering roar, and Job's body snapped into action. His hands and legs were shaking as he tried to climb, any way to hide from the beast, but that apparently wasn't the right answer as with that, the lion let out a great roar and pounced at Job.

The tribute from Three screamed, holding tightly to the knife and leaving the rest of his supplies behind to take off running. His feet slid in the snow, but he only wanted to get away. He could hear the thundering footsteps, the great roar of the lion behind him, as if he was right on his heels at all times. Job kept running and running, until each and every breath was like breathing a thousand daggers, and yet, the lion never attacked. Even when his pace slowed, he was only met with a menacing growl and beckoned forward by another prepared pounce.

The lion did get a couple of scratches on Job's ankles and calves, but he was lucky to not be torn to shreds as he set forward, going wherever he was lead, like a sheep lead to the slaughter.

Kaiser, after narrowly escaping multiple giant Jack In the Boxes wielding various sharp weapons, was now face-to-face-to-face-to-face with an army of the most unsettlingly creepy things he'd ever seen. With giant ears, large, round eyes that blinked with eyelids made of plastic held with screws, a beak that opened and closed, and little feet that wobbled towards him in the darkness of the crimson morning, Kaiser knew he didn't want to get too close to them.

They weren't the best mutts Kaiser had ever seen. Maybe the mutts really just didn't look realistic in person. Sure, these were kinda creepy, but for the finale, really? That was the best they could think of? Not really what Kaiser had in mind for epic finale mutts.

They were large: only about a head shorter than him: and they moved far faster than a creature that size should have moved. All of them were talking, saying things, but Kasier wasn't about to listen to them. He ran exactly where they told him to. Occasionally, a smaller one of those… things would latch onto his ankles and he would have to kick him off, but these mutts were surely not meant for killing… Not unless he stopped running. And he certainly wasn't about to do that.

They were asking to be fed, some of them, asking to be held, asking for a joke or a story… Their words clogged up Kaiser's thoughts, as he tried to focus on running and not looking behind him. The furbies continued to chase Kaiser, asking him to play. He could hear the sounds of crackling electricity behind him as the voiceboxes started to slow and lower in pitch, as the toys started to malfunction. He heard soft thumps as some of them collapsed behind him, shaking violently as electricity cackled and uttering one word over and over again.

It didn't bother him until one of them crashed in front of him, violently shaking, and uttering "Kaiser! Kaiser! Kaiser!" the voice was far too familiar for him to ignore. The blue furby violently shook on the ground, electricity cracking as Inari's voice got deeper and slower, until it finally stopped, and the toy stilled.

He could feel his eyes filling with water. That isn't real, it isn't her. "You abandon her again," says another of the toys.

"No." he put his head down and ran faster. The toys eventually lost their ground on him, much to his relief, that is, until he saw the reason why.

Nebuchadnezzar stumbled forward, into his field of vision. The boy from District Two was holding onto his ears, on his knees on the ground. Kaiser's heart beat in his chest as he approached Nebuchadnezzar, ready for any tricks he might pull.

Nez's world came into focus when he saw the other boy approaching him: not a toy but a real person… He quickly managed to get back up on his feet, and he looked his opponent in the eye.

"You…" Memories of their last encounter filled Nez's brain, next to the screams of the dolls and the malfunctioning furbies in the distance that vied for his attention. "It was YOU!"

With a yell, he charged towards Kaiser, who quickly went into the defense.

Nez kept talking, aimlessly swinging his weapon. "It was YOU that made me into that!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Kaiser grunted, trying to kick his feet out from under him and narrowly dodging a stab from his sword.

"You made me do it." Nez let out another yell. Kaiser suddenly felt so bare and exposed, with his close range weapon and no armor. "YOU MADE ME BURN HIM!"

Kaiser was never the most agile person, but if there was any time to be agile, it was now.

"Burn who!?" he asked, though he was out of breath from the sheer amount of movement it took him to continue dodging Nebuchadnezzar's blind swings.

"You made me burn him!" Nez yelled again, and Kaiser knew that he wouldn't be getting anywhere.

"You locked me away Nebbie," came a creepy little voice, and suddenly a tiny figure jumped on Nebuchadnezzar's shoulder. Kaiser took advantage of his distraction and landed a clean punch. Nez groaned from the impact, but it wasn't enough to make him drop his sword and he slashed furiously at Kaiser's front, causing him to retreat again.

"You left me because you didn't want to play with me anymore!" The doll that grabbed his ankle was all too familiar. Kaiser stumbled backwards, instinctually kicking it off.

It's not real. It's not her.

"I did, once. But I won't do it again!"

Kaiser steeled himself as Nez charged at him. This would be the last time. He met the Career halfway. Nez was yelling still. Kaiser threw a punch, but when he felt a pain explode in his abdomen, he stumbled backwards. Suddenly something as simple as keeping his footing was ten times harder.

Nez was laughing as he was approaching Kaiser once again… But it wasn't over yet.

Kaiser felt weak, but when Nez came over, he charged as fast as he could and threw the most intentional, hardest punch of his life, right into Nebuchadnezzar's eyes. The Career let out a yell, obviously not expecting to be hit by a walking dead man. Before he could even reach for the handle of the sword that was still hanging out of Kaiser, the boy from Ten had him on the ground. Punch after punch landed on Nez's throat, until he was choking, coughing, aimlessly reaching for Kasier as his eyes poured bloody tears down his cheeks.

That was, until he abruptly stopped struggling under Kaiser. The boy from Ten stood up, his hands and weapon covered in blood that slowly dripped off of his knuckles, desperately waiting for the cannon to boom.

"For all I've done…" he coughed and sputtered, blinking more blood out of his eyes. "I am proud to say that I lost in a fair fight. I will go where I belong, as we all someday will. I am ashamed that I could not protect the ones I love. For that, I am… Tru…ly… So…rr…y…" His body went stiff and not long after, his cannon boomed.

Kaiser's body shook as he realized that this was far from over… And he had a sword hanging out of him.

It was no use taking it out. He needed to keep himself from bleeding out until it was over, if it was at all possible. The toys didn't stop though, and Kaiser knew where he was supposed to go next. He didn't need the toys to lead him up the mountain, to the glimmering castle up top. The sky, still red, began to lighten slightly as Nez's face appeared in the sky.

The doors to the castle opened before him, and there stood his next opponent. Behind Job sat the lion, proudly wearing his crown and seated upon the throne, watching them expectantly.

Job stood in the opening, waiting for his opponent to arrive. When he saw the sorry shape Kaiser was in, his heart became expectant with hope. Hope that he could get back home.

But staring into his opponent's brown eyes, so dark and heavy and full of pain, Job suddenly froze.

"It's the last one," Kaiser said, his voice bouncing off of the walls of the castle.

"Indeed," Job said, swallowing a nervous lump in his throat. All he would have to do would be to pull the sword out of that wound, and surely the crown would be his.

Kaiser's first charge seemed half-hearted and delayed, and it was easy for Job to move out of the way. The whole time, his eyes were on the sword, trying to plan how he was going to get there. The attacks were half-hearted, and Job held up his knife like he would actually defend himself. Kaiser charged towards him again, and Job dodged. The tango for two seemed to go on so long that the lion became restless, letting out another great roar.

Kaiser's face steeled with determination, he took another deep breath. "I'm sorry."

This time, he came at Job with all of his might. Job, however, was ready for him. He slid across the ice strategically, grabbing the sword that had been stuck in Kaiser's stomach and quickly ripping it out. Blood covered the floor. His opponent froze in his tracks, eyes widening.

And it was that moment, looking into his wide, fearful eyes that were full to the brim of pain that Job finally understood why.

He was put on this earth for a very specific purpose. He was put on earth for this very moment. He was spared and spared again, for this.

He thought it was so that he could go back home and spread the Word. He was brought to this place, where feet may fail, for this second.

But that was not it.

Job put his knife on the ground, and slid it across the floor to Kaiser. Before the tribute from District 10 could ask any questions, Job fell to his knees. The most vulnerable position.

He wasn't put in this place to die on the first day. He was put here to show a nation of unbelievers what it truly meant to be a martyr. He was put here so that Kaiser could have the second chance he deserved. Even if he didn't know it. He didn't know how he had the courage to do it. It was something he couldn't explain. But this was not his second chance to take. Looking into Kaiser's face confirmed it.

Sprit, lead me where my trust is without borders.

"What the hell are you doing!?" Kaiser asked, his voice laced with panic.

"It's time for you to take the second chance you deserve. Go home. Hug your mother. Make right what needs to be made right. It is too late for me."

"No… Stand back up! Fight! Don't let it end this way."

The lion roared again.

"Kaiser, you're going to bleed to death. Just do it!"

Kaiser picked up the knife slowly, looking into the face of someone that suddenly showed no fear.

"Fight me dammit!" Kaiser yelled, his wobbling voice echoing off of the walls of the castle. "Don't you want to go home?!"

Job's eyes filled with tears. "Please don't make me fight," he said quietly. "My service ends here. But your path is only just beginning to unfold. You will do great things as Victor, Kaiser. Things greater than I could do. This I am certain about. But I don't want to make my family and friends hurt anymore than they must. They will understand. This is a path I have chosen, because I do not want to hurt anyone else. This is my path, and yours will continue."

Kaiser's hand shook as he stood over the tribute from District three with the knife. "Aren't you afraid? Of death? Of pain?"

Job laid back with a teary smile. "No. Whom then shall I fear? It is well with my soul."

Kaiser's tears dripped onto Job's chest as he sent the knife through his chest. It was a quick kill, but it wasn't by any means easy. Job's cannon boomed almost immediately. Kaiser's tears slipped off of his cheeks and dripped onto the body, where blood was just beginning to seep through her clothes.

"I will never understand you, Job," he said quietly, with a low sob.

But he had his whole life ahead of him to figure it out.

When he stepped out of the castle, he was greeted with a blue sky, and the bright warmth of the sun.

"Ladies and gentlemen of Panem," came Elizabella's voice from the loudspeaker. Kaiser immediately broke down into loud sobs as they announced, "I now present to you the Victor of the 61st annual Hunger Games…"

"NO!"

"Kaiser Picasso of District Ten!"

"No…" He grabbed onto the railing, looking out at the snowy wasteland, the empty tracks, as the snowflakes danced in celebration for what he'd done. His sobs were carried away by the wind, to a place that he would never have to hear them again. Somehow, out of everyone that came into this place, he was the one that came out. The ladder was lowered to him, but he didn't want to touch it. He didn't want to be lifted out of here. He shouldn't have done it. He should have let Job live… He feels a panic washing over him, grabs at his head, and is frozen in place by the ladder that starts to lift him out of there.

The rest of the process is a blur: being seated in a hospital bed, hurriedly being attached to IVs and taken into surgery, just the briefest semblance of a congratulations from somebody as he went…

As he drifted to sleep, the faces of those whose lives he'd taken flashed before his eyes before the world went black.

Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me,

for me,

for me...

~.~.

A/N: This was absolutely heart-wrenching for me to write. I cried literally so many tears throughout the course of this chapter, but honestly, I have absolutely no regrets about my decision and this is exactly how it was supposed to go. Didn't even need to write it twice to know it. As much as it hurt, I'm very happy with my choice and after so much turmoil, I can be solid on it. Also, yay, Camellia's memory can be unblocked now!

Kaiser was actually never my first choice until right at the end. I had him in mind for a long while, but after writing last chapter, I was sold on him winning. Both of my Victor dilemmas involved him as well. I realized that I couldn't kill him off. Though he was never the one I gushed over of my 8, he was always a solid character with a lot resting on his return home.

But it also saddens my heart to do these eulogies.

3rd Place: Nebuchadnezzar Spiros, District 2- Beat by Kaiser Picasso, D10

Full disclosure, it was almost always between Nez and Kaiser despite him placing 3rd because I knew that no matter who Job was against, they would end up dying in second. But I'll explain that more below. My relationship with Nez is interesting. From the beginning he was set to be the Victor, up until I realized that would mean that everyone else would have to die lol. Then, he was out of the running and Victor was between Kaiser and Job. Then, he won the poll and was back in the running even after killing Garrett. So my final finale choice was between him and Kaiser. Nez has a lot more family to come back to and even as I was writing his last sections in this chapter, I was almost swayed to rethink my choice, but I obviously did not. His family and friends will bounce back. Though I would have liked to explore his dynamic coming back home after being "dethroned," in the end I just didn't think he'd be able to forgive himself for such outright cruel acts, even if he tricked himself into thinking he could. It was a tough choice because of how much I loved writing Mr. Justice with a dark streak, but in the end there was no way he would have been able to get back home with his sanity. RIP Nez. He will be greatly missed by those that loved him, and greatly used as an example by District 2 trainers in my future stories' Games Theory and Games History.

2nd Place: Job Markov, District 3- Stabbed by Kaiser Picasso, D10

No joke, I had to stop writing this section just to let out all of my tears. I knew this was going to be painful. However, the reason that Job couldn't win is because the only future I could justify for them would be hijacking them against religion, which would not only lead to a future that I couldn't possibly put them through but would also keep Phil away from the piano probably and I wasn't ready to tackle that plot hole. I couldn't put them through that, but I can't imagine the Capitol in my verse letting Job keep speaking out religiously like that as they believe it could be dangerous to the oppressive government. And I love this kid too much to have them live like that, so I thought this was a more humane end. Plus, I believe it is a nice ending to their arc of being too afraid to die until that very moment. It made me… So hurt. I loved Job, and at one point I basically was Job. That was about 3 years ago, but killing off this version of my younger self was still next to impossible, but in a way empowering. I put so much of my own struggles and joys into Job, so trust me, this was probably the hardest death I have ever written or will ever write. That said, Job can rest easy knowing that their life was used for a greater purpose. I will seriously miss writing them though. It was so hard for me to kill off any of my characters for this story, but this was the hardest. It was the humane thing to do. RIP Job. You hold a special place in my heart with Platty and Sylvester and Ponty and Gio and I will never forget how much I loved writing you, you sweet child.