F3: MIKHAIL FREY
They'll send me down soon, since I've only got three opponents left. I wait in more peace than I've ever had before- well, at least that I can remember. I feel like I'm living in the moment all the time now, not even bothering to remember what happened yesterday or the day before. The Games are one big bloody blur, the Capitol a garish smear. The last clear memory I retain is of Kanzy visiting me in the waiting room of the Justice Building. However, everything right now is in a much harsher, clearer light right now. Every little sound is Ebony attacking me, every time the leaves move Marius is charging towards me with his harpoon raised. Every time I dare fall asleep, I jerk awake within minutes at the sound of a leaf rustling. I feel so defeated, and yet I still have to make it home. I will make it home, too. Ebony will finish off Marius and she's much too insane to kill both Gabriel and the Career from District 4. And Gabriel doesn't fight. I'll be home within the month. If my calculations are correct, the month will be up in about a week and a half. I swear a silent vow to myself that I'll be home by then. The sun begins to rise and I slowly- ever so warily- rise to my aching feet. The wounds that Ira gave me in our last battle are almost entirely healed, thanks in part to that sponsor gift I was sent after the battle. Do I still have it with me? Yes, there it is, nestled among my vials and token. I remove the dragon necklace and clasp it around my pale, thin neck. The tattoo of the crows shows slightly beside the dragon's curling tail.
Another noise echoes somewhere in the arena. A strange crackling sends shivers down my spine and wet slurping makes me shudder horribly. It's one of those sounds you can't stand to hear; when you do hear it, the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. For Arali, my older sister, the sound of Styrofoam trays in the school cafeteria trigger the reaction. I pull one of the serrated knives from my gray bag as well, then yank on the drawstrings and settle the pack on my shoulder. There are no tributes out there and it doesn't sound like it could be any of the muttations from the Cornucopia. I'll have to find it before it finds me.
The mountains have dried off from the weird mists yesterday and I scramble up and down their slopes like some sort of mountain goat. My sore limbs feel the best while climbing- my body is accustomed to the terrain after eleven days trapped on it. In Three, the district is comprised of flat streets and stairs here and there, not mountains and trees. I like the outdoors. But only in certain scenarios. Another hideous clacking noise pulls me from my reverie and I barely manage to stop walking before I step into a small crater. In the center of the crater are some neon-yellow spheres, beginning to crack a bit on their smooth exteriors. As I approach, the muddy ground beneath them spits up another of the things, making the squelching noise I heard earlier. The sphere knocks against its comrades, clattering. I watch it in wonder and fear for a few minutes, but nothing else pops up. I step towards the things.
Fresh cracks spread from a single point on the newest thing. These could be dangerous- I can't forget I'm in the dreaded arena. I also can't forget my home- I will have to face these things before they attack me. I hold my knife a little tighter and poke one of the yellow circles with it. Nothing. No more cracks, even. Suddenly a huge line appears on one of the other six shapes and I jump backwards. They remind me of eggs, when the babies inside of them are hatching out. These, though, are Capitol-approved. I touch one of them. It pulsates faintly and I suppress a shudder as the thing seems to vibrate beneath my hand. The cracks on its surface spread. Why didn't I see this before? These things are eggs. I shove a fist in my mouth and bite down hard on one of my knuckles, drawing blood, to keep from squealing in sudden fright. What animal hatches from an egg almost my size?
With a huge crunch, something's ugly face bursts from one of the eggs and immediately draws itself back inside. I scream for real this time and scramble for the trees as fast as I can. Nothing chases me, though, and curiosity reins in my flight. The yellow egg has a small hole in its surface, but nothing jumps out- and none of the other eggs are broken through either. I retrieve another knife and stalk closer. The fragments of eggshell crunch beneath my feet as I look into the egg.
I almost heave. It smells like rotting garbage inside the egg, where something man-sized and slimy is curled in the eggshell in the fetal position. It mewls a few times. I harden myself to its cries- like those of a baby- and sit near the edge of the crater. When it comes out, I'll be ready. For a while no other eggs crack further and no other gruesomely human creatures pip their eggs. I keep a white-knuckled grip on my daggers. Eventually, two more eggs burst and when the one nearest me is punctured a fragment of eggshell scratches my cheek as it flies through the air. I only watch the eggs. Finally, all seven of the things have made holes in their prisons and I bite my lip nervously, recalling what I once learned about snakes. Often a baby snake stays in its egg for almost a day after breaking through, or pipping, for the first time. I really hope these Capitol mutts stay in their shells for a long while. But this is the Hunger Games and a Quarter Quell at that. I can't expect nice surprises, can I?
M6: GABRIEL GROW
There. Right up ahead. The Cornucopia stands tall and blazing in the late morning sun. I thought I lost Ebony when I went to sleep in an oak tree, but when I awoke she was dozing right beneath me at the base of the tree. I jumped, she woke up, and now I'm running from the girl who thinks I'm Marius Dylan for the third time in three days. There's the Cornucopia. It blurs in my field of vision as I run. I'll have turn around there, or face two former Careers at once. If that happens I stand no chance. So, as I break through the last of the dense brush, I tag the golden horn and whirl around in one not-so-fluid motion. Ebony, her face twisted in a mask of insane rage, bears down on me with her notorious crossbow in hand. I have no weapon. I duck to one side as the girl shoots a bolt at me, and Ebony's face falls. Why is she crestfallen? If I were in her position… no. Then she speaks in her hoarse, quivering voice. "Won't you dance, Marius?" She drops her crossbow and I don't do anything except sit there, stunned. I feel sort of like a flower. Just sitting there. Ebony takes two swords from her back and throws one at the ground in front of my feet. "Pick it up, boy! Marius isn't a coward- who are you to shy from battle?" I need to reply.
"I… I'm Gabriel. Not Marius." I pick up the blade Ebony has offered me hesitantly.
"Lies!" she sneers. Then, with a swift motion, she attacks. I barely manage to block the blow, and it jars my entire arm pretty badly. Ebony seems satisfied. "Oh, Marius, I'm going to have fun with you. You don't deserve a quick death for what you did to Linley!" She strikes again, but I parry and swing back. It's sloppy, since I haven't had real weapons at all in the Games, but I'm still strong. I've noticed that Ebony hasn't been eating, while I've been stripping leaves off of trees at night and choking down what I can. I have to twist awkwardly around backwards as Ebony tries a sidestroke, but the tip of her sword only grazes my skin. Through the grime on her face, Ebony's almost snarling. Like a mutt. I lash back at her furiously. She doesn't have any reason to be attacking me. I immediately feel a twinge of pity when I hit some healing wounds on her back and three long strokes rip open; the regret doesn't last long with adrenaline pumping through my veins. I strike again and block a few more vicious blows. We shuffle around, but Ebony moves her feet more than I do. I'm still stronger, and force is often what the Games come down to. I feel like I have the upper hand; Ebony moves back five feet and I am able to come off the Cornucopia. Our strikes become routine- swing, parry, return, block. Until Ebony dives forward and cuts deep into my ankle. The sudden blood doesn't register in my anger, but the pain comes on like an onslaught of fire. I howl.
We've both drawn blood. Ebony looks at me with fire-eyed fury and lunges towards my limping ankle. My entire right leg collapses and I cut her on her forearm as I fall. As far as I can tell, she doesn't even notice. She has me down and keeps me there with a series of short, sharp blows. Soon her blade becomes faster than mine and I get a few agonizing- yet shallow- cuts on my chest and shoulders.
"Good to see you, Marius," Ebony whispers, "Good to see you in pain like you should be." She drives a foot into my gut and drives the breath out of me. I gasp on the ground, curled up as much as I can, and Ebony fiddles with her sword. I see the blade disconnect into two knives as the black pulses around the edges of my vision. Ebony kicks me in the back until I come unfurled and then she drives a knife through my hand. I scream until my voice breaks. Her weight disappears for a second, then a crossbow bolt is pounded through my other wrist, pinning me to the ground. "Nice and cozy, Marius?" Ebony asks. I can only whimper that I'm not Marius, that I'm Gabriel and I only want to see Ella again, before Ebony punches me in the jaw. "Shut up, you dirt-loving, murderous, villainous cur! I'll only kill you slower!" She says the last part almost lovingly.
The cold steel of the knife against my tortured ankle is both refreshing and agonizing at the same time. I can't move for pain, can't cry for pain, but I mewl out at the lacerations until stars erupt in my vision. There's so much blood. The air itself is turning red, when I cry out more crimson oozes out. Ebony's Cheshire-cat smile is scarlet and her eyes are like coals in the night. Everything's red now. She sits on my chest, working her way up towards my face. I can still feel the blade through the pain. How? It all hurts so much.
"There goes your pretty face, Marius," Ebony coos. She digs down into my cheek, tearing my face to shreds and preventing me from screaming with the blood running into my mouth, threatening to drown me. I cry in my mind until that voice breaks, too. The knife cuts patterns in my arms, but not deep. It's so shallow that the skin tears on its own when Ebony pulls the knife out. The blade saws against my collarbone and it feels like my neck is being severed. Why don't I pass out? I'm too strong for my own good, now. I thought strength would come in handy in this arena, but the pain I can withstand is a terrible cost to be strong. Strong-willed is dangerous now. Never misunderstand the intelligence of the insane. I can barely breathe.
Ebony takes the knife and arrow out of my hands and rolls my notwithstanding body over. She perches on my back and drives my wounds into the ground. The blood is soaked up into the dark soil. My sight goes from red to reddish-black. Ebony sings as she carves into my back. I can't breathe. I can reach for my pocket, though. It hurts. My own movement hurts over Ebony's torture. She still works on me. My bloody fingers close over the tiny horse charm and the last thing I hear is Ebony's insane laugh.
F11: EBONY ECHO
He faces me, the boy I've been chasing for so long. He's in my reach, the one who killed Linley. This isn't the way I wanted it to be- so I give him false hope with my sword. We'll dance a little longer now. We fight. WE fight and I hurt, just a little bit, really. Still I groan and clench my teeth. Then his foot bleeds and I have Marius down. Finally. The sword I hold detaches into two knives and with one swift motion I plunge one blade through his hand and scream in giddiness. Marius won't be running again. He screams. What a baby! He's less of a Career than even Alex Tibolla was. I shake my hair from my eyes ferociously and pin his other hand down even as he tries to push me off of him. Soon the boy screams louder and he snaps. He whimpers. I laugh. Here is where I perform the finale to the dance. MEGAN. The knife carves deep into his ankle just above the previous mark. M. E. G. A. N. I'll see her soon. N. E. S. S. A. I carve the letters across his torso. He tries to cry out and blood bubbles in his throat and mouth. I allow myself a smile. His arms- my father who died. Stavren. Mallow. Delilah. The letters overlap each other like wind messing up the carefully piled crops in District Eleven. Then I scoot up and place my knife against Marius's forehead. He's Marius, and he's dying. L. The letter is small and delicate. Like the girl I'm writing for. I've never been much of a writer. I. This time I jab the knife in deep for the pain I feel. N. She didn't deserve to die. So now Marius gets my vengeance. L. The boy turns his head slightly and the letter turns into a morphed triangle. E. I danced. Y. Marius fell. Like the ashes.
I yank my blades from Marius's hands and roll him over as roughly as I can. The blood wells up from the puncture wounds in his palms as I heave on his shallowly breathing body. There's no need to pin the boy back down now. I carve in huge, jagged letters now, no thoughts at all. E. B. O. N. Y. E. C. H. O. That's my mark. The boy moves his hand towards his pocket and grabs hold of a small charm. His token. I laugh, like the birds. The birds don't laugh at me. Now Marius doesn't laugh either. Why is a water boy's token a horse? I don't bother wondering as he falls unconscious and twitches on the ground. No recovery for Marius. I've gotten him at last.
I'm thirsty after my long chase and my adrenaline-filled murder. It's fine, though. His death is his just desserts. Desserts would be nice right now. I can eat now that my enemy died, but I'm not really that hungry. Do I get to go home now? I won MY Games. Marius had water. It's up near the Cornucopia. I want it. It'll be my prize. I push myself off Marius's body and pick up the bottle. It's squishy. I crack a smile at that. Nothing much in the Games is soft but flesh. I pry the cap off the bottle and cringe; it was almost glued on with dried blood. No matter. I just want the water, and it will still be clean.
I find much to my consternation that you have to squeeze to get anything to come out. I shake the bottle upside down and a few drops roll out of its top. Good. I raise it to my lips once again. The cool liquid runs down my throat. It feels so good it burns in my body. I gasp. Water doesn't usually burn. I know what does, though. Poison berries that I find sometimes in Eleven. Once I ate one and I barely threw it up in time. But this is water. Marius is not stupid enough to run around with just poison. He would have grabbed a different bottle in that clearing. I gulp a few more mouthfuls of water and wipe my mouth off.
My stomach constricts and I slump to my knees. Maybe… maybe Marius gets his revenge even as he too dies. I cough, but it doesn't help anything. Heaving in short, shallow breaths, I sprawl on the hard-packed ground and the bottle falls from my hand. It's the same place where I shot Marius in the shoulder during the Career breakup. I turn my head limply towards the boy I killed. His face stares at me, already like a grinning skull. The boyish face, the light hair… the eyes that are most certainly not green. I did not kill Marius. Marius was Gabriel. I scream, but I cannot move. I cannot even close my eyes.
M4: MARIUS DYLAN
She screams for me as she tackles him there, just on the other side of the valley. Originally I was standing near my tent, obscured by huge stones, but as the fight continues I move closer. Listening. The boy from Six cries as Ebony laughs and repeats my name. Then it fully hits me- she thinks I'm the one dying beneath her; Ebony thinks Gabriel is me. My heart wrenches like it never has before, but the sensitive organ has leapt into my throat and my feet are firmly rooted to the ground. I can't help Gabriel. He screams and his voice breaks, ebbing away with his blood and his life. I can't do anything for him now. There haven't been any sponsor gifts recently and I'm out of food, although the water is seemingly limitless. Ebony cackles once more and I hear her clothes rustle as she steps away from Gabriel. I've moved all the way to the Cornucopia now, and the cool gold supports me when my knees start to shake. I hope the cameras aren't seeing this right now. I don't want to face a tribute still racing with bloodlust and adrenaline. My harpoon isn't as good in close range, since I still have that fatal atlatl hooked in my belt. I toss my light brown hair from my green eyes and prepare to face the girl.
Two cannons. Both of the tributes are dead, but there's still one opponent out there and I have no idea where she is. There's no way the boy from Six could have escaped Ebony this time, but Ebony… it's possible she could have walked away and the girl from Three is lying dead and broken on the other side of this valley. I don't know which one I'd prefer to fight, at this point. I don't especially care, as long as I go home alive. Holding my harpoon in front of me, I leap out into the open. It's Ebony, as I suspected. Good. I didn't want anyone actively hunting me. And suddenly I know the fear my prey- Mallow- felt when I was chasing her; I know the terror the tributes feel while being chased. It's awful. Why did I ever want to subject people to this? I just want to go home- back to the crashing waves, back to Shoalle. I never want to see Mikhail Frey. Never.
The bodies are lying in the most horrific positions- Ebony's eyes are still open. I brush my rough palm over her glassy eyes and close her eyelids over the unseeing orbs. Then I gently grab her body by the shoulders and stretch her out so she could be sleeping. Her face has a greenish- gray waxy pallor to it, though. Ebony would never pass for sleeping. Gabriel is worse. Blood still oozes from his wounds and he's contorted into a spastic, convoluted posture. I shudder. There are incomprehensible words carved on his arms and back, and a name is hewn into his forehead. LINLEY. I gag and step back retching. The flies are already arriving and I swipe a few from Gabriel's eyes, knocking his head backwards in the process. He looks even more tortured now and I try to do for his mangled body what I did for Ebony's slightly wounded corpse. He doesn't want to rearrange, though; he's already gone stiff. I can only turn away and mourn him as the hovercraft comes and removes the two tributes. There's only one more opponent to face now, and I'll have to be ready no matter the cost.
Trying unsuccessfully to force Gabriel out of my mind, I storm back to the lake, check on my giant muttation, and get to work. I need to find out my endurance, especially with the wounded shoulder Ebony gave me. I use a tough piece of tarp from an unused tent and make it into a little satchel, filling it with leaf mold, wet sand, and small stones. I form a little cross shape to be my mannequin's body and pad it with the same materials I used to form the head. Soon it's ready for use. I use a hunting knife to sharpen two ends of the cross. One end I stick in the ground; I impale the dummy head on the other wooden spike. Similar to the training dummies at home, really. I survey my handiwork, but in an instant, I'm trapped in a flashback to the district Four training center. Where I met Shoalle.
"Hey, that's my sword!" the girl cries, flying at me in a tangle of reddish-brown curls and sharp fingernails.
"Who says?" I reply gruffly, after untangling myself from her wrath. She steps back and looks at me.
"You've got nerve. You're the first who's bothered fighting back about that," she says. Her bright eyes stare into mine, and I feel like she's reading me. It's unnerving, especially for a thirteen-year-old boy like me.
"Well, nobody has the rights to own stuff here. We're not in the Games… yet."
"I've got the rights to make friends, though. I'm Shoalle Halifax."
"Marius Dylan." And then we shake hands.
No, I can't focus on that right now. The dummy is ready and I attack it with a katana and my harpoon. The tarp is more resistant than… just about any materials in the arena… and it takes quite a bit for me to fray it badly. Ten minutes in by my figuring and my shoulder doesn't hurt. Good. I mean, it's still really sore, but I can still fight. And I can take down the scrawny fifteen-year old girl within that time span. I don't want her to hurt at all, so I'll make it clean. I'm no Reetan or Ebony. I give the ragged dummy a few more strikes.
And on the last strike, my harpoon hits a stone in the padding and sends a jarring jolt up my arm. I gasp and let my weapons fall. My shoulder throbs again. This is what I can't risk- one bad move and my left arm will be totally disabled. I'll have to make it the fastest final fight ever. If only the Gamemakers will let me.
4th: D6M Gabriel Grow
3rd: D11F Ebony Echo