Chapter XII, Capitol: Death Rattle


- Six Feet Under -
The Twenty-Fifth Hunger Games


Launch


Myria Soretti, District Two Female


Despite how heavy her eyelids felt, Myria just hadn't slept at all.

She tossed and turned for most of the night, twisting in the sheets until she got too hot and had to throw them off of her. Despite every desire in her head to just close her eyes and rest, her body simply refused.

And now, as dawn crept through the shades of her drapes and lit the room up in a purplish hue, she found herself tracing the intricate detailing on the ceiling above her that reminded her of home.

This is it.

The final day had come about too quickly and Myria didn't feel prepared in the slightest.

A deep sickness rooted itself in her stomach as she climbed out of bed, swinging the drapes open and taking in the city below for the final time.

A small part of her was going to miss the view. The grandiosity of the Capitol had stirred something inside of her — something Myria now knew was past memories itching to be revealed. But most of all, the view had reminded her of the way the sun rose above the mountains and filled her bedroom with light.

Maybe I'll see it again?

Myria didn't want to think too much about it. It was so far away still.

She busied herself with the morning preparations, making sure to take a little longer than normal in the shower. When the brisk morning air hit her warm skin, she smiled, if only to escape the reality for a little longer.

Dried up and prepared, Myria took a painfully slow walk back into the main apartment.

Reina was at the table, eyes staring at Myria over the steam of her coffee.

"How did you sleep?"

I slept terribly. Not at all. I'm exhausted and emotionally drained and I want to cry but I can't. "I slept okay, thank you. Did you?"

Reina scoffed, "You know, I thought I told you that niceties won't make a Victor out of you?"

Myria slipped into the seat opposite her. "I know… I guess a lot has changed but maybe I haven't."

The words came out more scathing than she wanted. After all, it was Reina who had restrained Myria as she cried and screamed on the floor of the ballroom.

"You're lucky I didn't hit you last night."

Myria gulped. She remembered taking a swing at Reina, as if her emotions weren't her own. "I'm sorry…"

"Don't be. I like it," Reina scoffed again, "It shows spirit. The kind you'll need to live."

"Right."

"I wouldn't eat too much. It'll make you bloated."

Myria wasn't hungry, anyway. She stared at the assortment of breakfast food spread out across the table. It smelled delicious… but it somehow made Myria's stomach somersault.

Her lips thinned out into a sad smile. She remembered the way her Mother would cook the eggs. It felt like such a distant memory, and yet, not remembering at all seemed easier to cope with.

"Can I give you a word of advice?"

Myria nodded tightly, "Okay."

"Don't trust your allies too much. They'll be useful for a while, sure. But I know they'll turn on you. You're looking to save yourself. Just remember that."

The door down the hallway opened. Steadily, Ludwin walked in. His eyes were red-rimmed and dilated as he sat down at the table.

"Where's Aleric?"

Reina shrugged, "I don't know. I'm not his keeper."

Myria couldn't help but stare longingly at her district partner. At first, Myria assumed that they only shared their pitiful, joint execution as tributes. But after last night, as Ludwin offered comforting words outside of her bedroom door as she cried, she realised that they were kin.

"You should get your strength up," Myria grabbed one of the reddest apples, handing it over to Ludwin.

He smiled politely as he took it, "Thank you."

Myria knew that Reina would be no doubt rolling her eyes at their exchange. Once their alliance was ended, she had pushed for Myria to create as much distance as she could from him.

And to begin with, she did, but things felt different now.

"Did you want to pray before we go?" Myria asked Ludwin quietly.

He chewed his apple as he nodded, gulping it down. "I think that'd be nice."

Reina stood up, huffing, "I'll give you two some privacy then."

As she left the room, finally leaving them in peace, Myria swallowed the fears in her throat and let it all out.

"I can't keep Geneva away from you if she wants to hurt you," Myria's words came tumbling out of her mouth, "She's made it clear that her first targets will be you and Sanjay."

Ludwin raised his eyebrows, "Has she?"

"Not in so many words… but I can tell by the way she looks at you both," Myria replied anxiously.

Ludwin nodded as he absorbed the information. "I can't promise that we won't defend ourselves, Myria… if she comes at us, she's against us."

"I know…" Myria whispered, "It's why you have to avoid us at all costs."

"I wish it had been different," Ludwin smiled sadly, "But… it happened the way it did. Just… look after yourself first and foremost, yeah? I don't think you can fully trust her."

I know… I have to see my family now more than ever.

Myria felt a sense of relief, as if she had unburdened herself. "Did you still want to pray?"

The two tributes put their hands together and closed their eyes, taking a moment for a deep breath.

Myria wanted to wish for so many things, but the selfish part of her brain seemed to kick into an overdrive, and she wanted for one thing more than anything else.

Limos. I know you can hear me. I know I'm doing this for you. In any other life… well, in my last life... I died for you. I gave my blood for you. I can only hope that, this time, you spare me the pain and let me go home to the family I miss so much.

Myria peeked out of one eye. Ludwin was lost in thought, eyes squeezed tight.

Just don't let him suffer too much for me to live.

"Praise Limos…" Myria finished off, opening her eyes. They locked onto Ludwin as he, too, came out of prayer. "Did you manage to―"

The clock on the wall chimed for the first time since their arrival. A deep, melodic bell that tolled throughout the apartment. Reina quickly reappeared at the doorway to the hall and both tributes turned to face her.

"It's time for you two to go," Reina said.

Myria couldn't help but sigh in relief, "You're not coming with us?"

"Nope. My work is done. It's all on you two now."

Ludwin looked back at Myria. His lips quivered. His eyes watered until he blinked them away, "Are you ready?"

No. I don't want to do this. I don't want to go through this all over again. I want to go home, to my family, to the life I lost already.

But instead of pouring out her emotions, Myria clenched her fists under the table and nodded, "I guess so."


Oscar Duponte, District Three Male


Oscar's eyes kept flickering towards Amryn as the clock chimed.

Whilst visibly, she was composed and stoic, Oscar could tell that there was a deeper turmoil beneath the surface. The hurried blink of her eyes at the sound was definitely an attempt to hold back her emotions.

"It's time for you both to go," Harlan said from the table.

Oscar rose first, defeated. He couldn't shake the tension that tightened his shoulders as he walked towards the elevator. Armyn soon followed although her steps were notably hesitant.

Oscar paused just outside of the doors, "Harlan, can I ask something?"

Harlan had been through the ringer also. Oscar almost felt bad for their troubled mentor.

"I'm sorry," Oscar said, "Last night was… a lot. We didn't mean to take it out on you."

Amryn had paused at Oscar's words. Something seemed to resonate in both of them despite Harlan's complete silence towards the situation. He nodded, "I think you both need to forget about what happened and focus on yourselves."

It wasn't quite the acceptance that Oscar needed, but he knew he couldn't have expected more.

Resigned to their fate, the two tributes stepped into the elevator. Oscar smiled sadly as he hit the button and the doors began to close, just as Harlan's hand shot in.

"Here," Harlan passed something to Oscar which he gratefully accepted. "You lost it last time. I was waiting for the right moment to give it to you… but I think it'll help."

The small, golden coin struck something inside of Oscar. A sense of familiarity and home. He immediately recognised it as the heirloom he had stolen years prior.

"Oh," Oscar hummed, "Thank you."

"Amryn, I wish I had something—"

"—It's okay," Amryn cut him off, "I'd rather not think about it."

With a gentle nod, Harlan stepped out of view and, for the last time, Oscar and Amryn said goodbye to their apartment that had become their volatile home for the past week.

The ride down was full of tension and silence. Oscar just didn't know what to say to Amryn. Whenever their eyes met, he could just feel the overwhelming sadness that lay dormant in her; eyes downcast, a little watery, a droop in her shoulders.

It was all signs that Oscar recognised. It was all signs that Oscar couldn't let himself feel.

He had to remain as focused as possible. Analytical, composed, wary but strong.

He had to remain as cautious as he had always been. A small, deep part of him that he had seemingly forgotten.

"Are we keeping our promise to each other?" Amryn asked out of the blue.

Oscar's heart thumped a little too hard. "No… I don't think we can."

Amryn turned to face him and, in that moment, Oscar realised that they had surpassed their initial idea of courtesy towards one another.

"If we bump into each other, in the arena, I'll help you," Oscar allowed a sliver of weakness to be exposed, "If we bump into each other, in the arena, I'm not your enemy."

A warm sense of relief washed over Amryn as her expression crumbled.

"I—I don't know what to say…"

Oscar wasn't particularly super emotional. But in that moment, he realised that the pair of them had been hurt too much, and all that was left was broken, fractured teenagers, trying to piece together a life they had lost.

He engulfed Amryn into a spontaneous hug, feeling her body tighten before relaxing at the brief, comforting action.

They pulled apart as the doors opened onto the lobby of the training centre. As expected, a convoy of Sisters awaited them, collecting each district pair as they arrived and escorting them towards the cars.

Amryn climbed in first, followed by Oscar, as the door of the car was shut behind them. The dark interior was unforgiving, blocking out all light so that the tributes wouldn't be able to see where they were headed.

"I hate to ask this… but out of morbid curiosity, I guess… do you know how long you've been— you know—"

The car rumbled to life and began to roll down the street.

Amryn gulped, "I was born during the Dark Days."

Oscar nodded, "Oh, okay—"

"I… I died during the 7th Hunger Games," Amryn added. The dread in her voice was thick, but most of all, the sadness in her eyes was paramount.

Oscar couldn't believe it. Amryn had died when he was only five years old, as opposed to him believing that he was older than her. He wanted to ask if she knew how she died, if her memory had come back as horrible as his, but he realised that it was misplaced.

Amryn didn't want to share and he didn't need to know.

Even if he had a horrifying memory of water burning his lungs, his chest heaving with every breath, as his eyes slipped shut and he descended into the dark, murky waters of inescapable death.

He shook his head, "I was born right after the Dark Days. I don't remember much of it. I guess I died only a few years ago, though I can't remember exactly when."

"I'm sorry," Amryn whispered.

"Don't be," Oscar's throat dried out, "It's not like we did it to each other."

He shoved his hand into his pocket, thumbing the amulet over and over. Each time, a sense of comfort kept him grounded, reminding him that he couldn't lose his head so close to the start.

The rest of the car journey was in total silence. Every time a question had formed on Oscar's tongue, he bit down, if only to not upset Amryn further.

Eventually, the car slowed down before grinding to a halt. The door opened but there was no light. Oscar clambered out into the darkened, large tunnel, hearing the faint whistle of the train as it waited in a station on the far other side.

A Sister appeared, "Please follow me, tributes of Limos."

Obediently, Oscar and Amryn followed her to the carriage and climbed aboard. Behind them, the other tributes all rolled up in tandem in other cars.

"This must be what takes us to the arena," Oscar mumbled.

Amryn didn't respond as she slid into the booth seat and nestled herself up against the window. Oscar respected that. He waited for what felt like a lifetime, staring out of the open door, before it was shut in his face.

This is it. No escape.

There's only one way out of this.

Oscar looked across at Amryn and smiled sadly. If not me, then let it be her.


Sakura Ishari, District Twelve Female


Sakura watched from the window as the train began to move. The tunnel grew more distant as they rolled out into the light, leaving behind the Capitol for the last time.

If Sakura squinted hard enough, she could see the metallic buildings she had grown accustomed to grew smaller and smaller, fading into the mountainous horizon until they were no more.

Just like that… it was but a memory to hold onto.

Not that we're any good at that, Sakura smirked.

Unlike most of the other tributes, Sakura was surprisingly feeling average about the situation. She knew the Capitol for their iron fist, forcing districts like her own into near-death poverty out of pure greed. So, to her, it made complete sense that they'd do something as twisted as resurrecting people from the dead and punishing them once more.

…Definitely made sense.

The only thing that mildly disturbed her was Kozin.

Sensing the tension, he had chosen to sit on the far other side of the carriage, ensuring there was a decent amount of distance between them. She could see his dirty blonde curls and charming face, all of which only reminded her of what harm his family had done.

And then there was the little boy she saw in the snow… and saved his hat… from the Eldarie Manor…

Sakura shook her head. He isn't that little boy any more. If he stayed alive, he'd only destroy District Twelve like his parents were doing.

Instead, Sakura focused on the scenery as they travelled through the mountain range. The grey slate rocks turned into grassy knolls and hills, always peppered with a vast array of trees that Sakura knew meant they were heading north at the very least.

A door opened, revealing a Sister pushing a small cart.

"Tributes of Limos, would you like some food?"

Sakura stared at the cart full of snacks, ignoring the pang of hunger that struck her stomach. "Nah, I'm good."

"You might not eat for a while."

Damn, she got me. Sakura gently picked up a bag of cookies, "Might as well enjoy it."

With that, the Sister rolled the cart down to Kozin who greedily took a small feast and spread it out across his table.

Sakura opened up her bag of cookies and chewed on them slowly, staring out of the window as time seemed to take forever.

It's not even that she wanted to hurry up into the arena, but also, it didn't frighten her. From her forgotten memories, she could recall that she had done pretty well the first time, something which only boosted her ego more. She also knew that her strength was tenfold compared to some of the tributes who hadn't even found theirs out yet.

And with Geneva, Myria and that other girl, I'm sure we'll do just fine.

Who am I kidding? We'll do better than fine. I have the most badass group going. Besides the last girl who I can't remember, the other two are from districts secretly notorious for their training, as Myria had said.

Sakura's quiet confidence wasn't very quiet any more, but it didn't bother her. Nobody got far through being humble all of the time.

The train began to slow down once more as the scenery grew darker. The trees thickened and the mountains no longer looked habitable.

"I think we're here," Kozin mumbled, not particularly at Sakura.

She stared at the back of his head across the room, a little annoyed. "It looks that way, doesn't it?"

"Oh?" Kozin turned around, "Did you say something? I wasn't paying attention."

"I said it looks that way, doesn't it?" Sakura sighed.

"Oh. Yeah, it does. I just said that…"

And that's why I just don't talk to him. Part of her wondered whether Kozin had ever put two and two together, and that they had met when they were both a lot younger. Maybe that's why he chose to avoid her too? Either that, or he sensed her particular disdain for him and didn't want the extra hassle.

Sakura couldn't blame him for that. She was acutely aware of how full on she could be.

The train slowed down as they reached another dark tunnel. It looked abandoned — large chunks were missing from the mountain above it, overgrown roots and weeds thickening as Sakura continued to watch.

Oh, they really had arrived.

As the train halted, the same Sister from earlier made an appearance once more.

"Tributes of Limos. We have arrived."

So many people are stating the obvious, Sakura climbed up out of her seat, dumping her trash in the bin as she followed the Sister to the far door.

"Once you step out, I shall guide you, along with the other tributes, to your rooms before the launch."

"Wait, this isn't it?" Sakura raised an eyebrow, "I thought we were here."

"We are here, but this is not your arena, Miss Ishari."

Sakura couldn't help but frown, "Is this another trick?"

"I doubt she'd lie to our faces," Kozin added in from behind. When Sakura made a face at him, he sighed, "I mean… not maliciously at least."

The Sister smiled but didn't respond. Instead, she opened the door and stepped out. Sakura took a brief moment to collect her thoughts before she followed.

The tunnel was dimly lit by a few scattered wall lamps, eerily similar to the same ones that illuminated District Twelve's mines. Sakura furrowed her eyebrows as she kicked at the loose gravel on the ground.

Around them, the other tributes began to depart from the carriages. The tension was thick; more so than their first day before the baptism, sizing each other up.

It was official. The only thing stopping them from going home was each other.

Large, domineering threats that desperately wanted the same thing.

Down the line, Sakura made eye contact with the newest addition to their group, that girl from District Ten. The distance between her and her district partner was palpable, reminding Sakura that attachments like that were costly.

The tributes began to move. Sakura watched as everyone followed each other, an anxious smile on her face that let everyone know how nervous she was beginning to feel.

"Please. Follow me."

As Sakura began to walk, it dawned on her that this was it. The arena was coming just around the corner.

She clenched her fists, feeling the power surge through her veins. Her anxious smile eased into one of not-so-quiet confidence.

She was ready.


Thiago Doherty, District Five Male


If Thiago was somehow able to look into his own mind properly, he'd drown in the amount of emotions that thrashed around in there.

It had all been too much — it had answered so many questions but, in turn, and provided Thiago with nothing but more turmoil, strangling out any remnant of joy that he had in his personality.

He had cried so hard last night. More than he had probably done in his entire life.

Whenever he shut his eyes, he just remembered falling from that cliff. The wind against his skin. The scream that disappeared into the air. The overwhelming, deafening, life-ending smash that broke every bone in his body as he hit the ground.

Thiago shuddered as he walked across the abandoned tunnel, his feet heavy with each step.

Just to his right, Elika looked horrendous with swollen, self-deprived eyes and her chin tilted downwards.

In a switch of their roles, Thiago gently touched her arm to get her attention. She looked up at him, mouth pinched.

"I—" Thiago just didn't know what to say, "—Are you okay?"

What a stupid question. If Thiago was able to slap himself, he would've.

Elika shrugged, "Not really."

"Did… did you and Wyatt talk it out?"

Thiago might've been distracted with his own issues, but it didn't stop him from listening to everything around him, albeit muffled through the walls and his sobs. From the little information he did know, however, it was not pretty at all.

Elika shook her head, "Nope… and I don't think I'll get the chance to."

The tributes all eventually came to the end where a large door was opened for them. Gently, the Sisters guided them through in their district pairs, and Thiago made sure to cling to Elika's side, if only for his own comfort.

"You… you shouldn't think like that," Thiago finally added in.

"I know," Elika's voice was so quiet that even in the echoed chambers of the hallway they walked down, Thiago could barely hear her. "It's hard not to think like that though, you know? I wish we knew sooner."

They disagreed on that. Thiago definitely didn't want to know at all. Not sooner or later. Just never at all.

"I guess it's just… time to move on," Thiago hated to say it, but he also hated to see Elika — who was always so lively and bubbly — suddenly a shell of her former self.

The tributes ascended the spiral staircase before them. Their footsteps clanged against the metal steps as dozens of feet nervously marched to their eventual doom.

At the very top, the line stopped.

"You're right," Elika whispered as a Sister up ahead began to talk, "I'm proud of you, Thaigo."

Despite the sadness that seemed to be his new personality, Thiago blushed, "Wait, why?"

"You've come a long way," Elika smiled sadly, "You were always so frightened and caught up in your own head. But you found yourself an ally, and despite what happened last night, you seem… stronger than you were at the beginning."

The scar on his forehead began to thud as he remembered more and more, punishing himself with every gory detail that he could cling to.

Thiago swallowed the emotions that clogged his throat, "Thank you. I appreciate it—"

The line moved as the boys and girls began to split into two different directions. Elika shared a final, sad nod at Thiago as she was taken away to the right and he was pushed to the left.

The large concrete room was split up by drab curtains, effectively making cubicles. Each tribute was guided into one and Thiago instinctively took the one at the far end, away from the others.

In the little cubicle, a wooden bench contained what Thiago could only assume was his clothes for the arena. A white button-up shirt, black slacks and a thick, black jacket that felt puffy and warm as Thiago slipped it on.

Why such a thick jacket? Thiago felt how it constricted around his body, and didn't quite know why.

Outside of his curtain, a commotion stole his attention. He peeked out from behind the sheet to look.

"You need to calm down—"

"—Don't tell me to calm down! Who do you think you are?"

Across from him, Thiago caught Rafe's eye who came running over in an identical outfit.

"I bet they're gonna fight," Rafe mumbled, "I can feel it."

"What even about?"

The boy from One, Sanjay, stood between two warring boys. Cenric from Nine continued to raise his voice higher and higher, squaring up to Kozin from Twelve who couldn't hide his smirk.

"Tell your district partner that I'm going to kill her!"

Thiago's throat tightened.

"Shit…" Rafe was tense by Thiago's side, "That's not the kind of threat you just throw around."

I guess this is the perfect place to make good on angry promises, Thiago thought bitterly.

"Just tell her yourself," Kozin shrugged. His calmness seemed to only anger Cenric more, until a Sister appeared to calm the tension.

"Tributes of Limos. Please follow me."

"She says that a lot, you know," Rafe sighed, "They really want us to remember, huh?"

Thiago saw straight through Rafe's constant deflection. He wanted to talk about anything else other than what constantly made Rafe's voice crack, his eyes pinch, or the way he tightened at the mere mention of her name.

Thiago needed Rafe to go into the arena with a clear head. One which he did not have currently. "Rafe… about Niobe—"

"—Please don't," Rafe cut him off, "I can't talk about that right now. Just… not now."

"I need you to be focused," Thiago whispered, daring to try and place his ally in the right lane.

"I am. I will be," Rafe was steely in his response as the boys all left the room, meeting up with the girls in the hallway once more.

Thiago didn't quite believe it, but he had no choice. There was no turning back any more. "Okay. If you're sure… there's never too late to fix something."

"When did you get so confident?" Rafe smirked, "You're like a new man, Thiago."

Thiago laughed dryly, "So everyone keeps saying."

The tributes were guided down to the far end into a large, empty room. Corralled into the middle, the door shut behind them, sealing all twenty-four inside.

Panic began to swell as someone hit the door. Mutterings grew louder as tension swept through the cluttered group.

And then, the music from last night played once more. The deep tones of the haunting organ drummed against the plastered walls. It grew louder and louder, swallowing any other sound.

Thiago instinctively grabbed onto Rafe's wrist, "What is happening?!"

"What!?" Rafe shouted back, "I can't hear you!"

"I said… what is happening!?"

It reached a feverish pitch that made the whole room silence. Thiago's head went fuzzy as the room began to spin. Sickness rose in his stomach until his grip on Rafe's wrist began to tingle.

And despite the panic that rose in Thiago's chest and made him want to scream, exhaustion captured his thoughts and vision, blurring them both until he staggered to the right, pulling Rafe with him.

Why… why can't I think… straight?

Thiago's mind went blank. The room was swallowed into complete darkness as twenty-four bodies hit the floor.


w w w. sixfeetunderhg. weebly. c o m.


Questions!

Last chance to tell me your favourite tributes, however many you want, and who you see going far in the arena?


Is that a new blog I see? I thought now would be the perfect time to announce it, so please, have a look and tell me what you think!

Besides that, we made it boys. After twenty-one chapters and each tribute getting the most screentime pre-arena I have ever done, it goes without saying that this story has been a journey for me as a whole. From next chapter onwards, it's time to return some of these precious kids back to their graves.

I have pretty much figured out everyone's final placements (or, at the very least, the ballpark of it). I took into account a lot of different factors, but for each death, I will give a little, live eulogy to commemorate them by. They've become such a big part of me that I need to send them off in style.

So, for the last time, please let me know what you think of the tributes, the intros, the Chapitols, anything pre-arena that you liked, loved or hated!

And as always, thank you to everyone who submitted, read, reviewed, chatted to me and supported me. It's time to break some friendships and destroy these kids — leggo!

~Corey.