Arroyo Cardoso- District Four male (17)
Three days I'd been hunting. The Arena was so big and so full of hiding places and there were so few people left it would probably be luck or Gamemaker interference the next time two Tributes crossed paths. I'd been in the Arena so long my Cornucopia provisions were long-gone and even the vending machines were starting to run dry. As I rummaged through a mostly-empty machine I had a revelation and kicked myself for how long it took me. I might have to wait awhile but I would certainly find someone eventually if I waited in the cafeteria.
Not just someone. Unless they were on the brink of death by starvation, most Tributes would be wary of the cafeteria because they would assume I had been frequenting it for some time. The only one bold enough to go in regularly would be my preferred target: Flint. Flint was my only reasonable competition- other than Alysanne, I thought, and hoped she wouldn't be the one my stakeout turned up. I kept redirecting my thoughts from her on the long walk down to the cafeteria.
I found more than I'd even hoped for upon exploring the kitchen. Open cupboards and out-of-place bare spaces indicated that Tributes had come before me and would probably return. Of course they hadn't been able to eat everything in the sizable room and I quickly found some crackers to nibble on as I continued my inspection. I had plenty of kitchen implements to pick through and supplement the spear and small dagger I already had.
Best of all, I found the perfect spot. Opposite the entryway to the kitchen was a row of industrial ovens. They were meant to be old-fashioned but they were still untouched models. They were sleek and polished and reflective. After a lot of moving around and experimenting I found a spot behind a row of counters where the reflection in the stoves revealed the doorway but someone in the doorway couldn't see me. I settled in for the long hunt.
Flint Kenyte- District Two male (18)
It was simple logic that Edward and I ended up in the cafeteria. Kitchens had weapons and food and stuff, not that that was what we wanted. We wanted the cookie sheets. Hours of experiment later, we'd found half a dozen that were sturdy enough for our purposes. We'd also found a lot that weren't and both had some bruises and scrapes in the name of science. We fashioned some awkward straps out of packaging tape and that was all there was to it. The "plate armor" was uncomfortable and cumbersome but under our shirts it wouldn't be apparent until Arroyo got up real close, which he wouldn't be keen on doing since he used a spear.
Once we made it to the cafeteria it occurred to us that it was probably the best place to cross paths with our target. Arroyo was bound to show up either to gather supplies or to hunt for other Tributes gathering supplies. Two days went by as Edward and I wandered the floor trying to strike the balance between not letting Arroyo sneak up on us while simultaneously trying to draw him out.
"So. What's the kid's name?" I asked Edward after hours of mostly silence.
"We were thinking 'Ori'," he said. "After Zephyra's grandfather."
"I've heard worse," I said, thinking of a kid I knew named "Commodus". As in, "commode", as in "toilet".
"I guess I probably won't know what he actually gets named," Edward said softly. "Pretty low odds, anyway."
"Better every day," I shrugged. Edward's morose mood was apparent in how the conversation trailed off and died. We were approaching the kitchen anyway. We could take a lunch break and maybe feel better after some food.
Arroyo Cardoso- District Four male (17)
It would have taken near-supernatural senses to hear footsteps on the carpet that covered most of the Arena. I might have been able to if I'd used all my skills and focus, but after hours of waiting I was shot. I didn't hear a thing until the Tribute reached the laminate tiles behind the cafeteria front counter. I sat up from where I'd slouched, catching myself before I made any noise, and riveted my eyes on the stove. I couldn't believe my luck when the Tribute walked through the door and I recognized Flint. But I couldn't take anything for granted. Flint was an animal that had to be killed, not wounded. With only one shot I couldn't risk going for the head. As he crossed the threshold I sprang and threw my spear, hitting him right in the heart.
Edward Matthews- District Five male (18)
Arroyo popped up like a murderous jack-in-the-box and threw his spear at Flint. It hit him in the chest and he bent over it at the same instant as Arroyo realized I was with Flint and ducked back behind the counter. I ran around Flint, whose armor had saved his life but who was still stunned by the force of the blow, and charged at Arroyo, knowing Flint would come after me in a second.
"Wait!" Flint yelled behind me as I ran to get inside Arroyo's strike before he could ready another attack.
Flint Kenyte- District Two male (18)
"Wait!" I screamed as Edward charged at Arroyo. Arroyo had used and wasted his one shot with the spear. But that wouldn't be the only weapon he had- especially not in a room full of them. When Edward was almost at the counter Arroyo rose into view and flung a cast iron frying pan at him like a frisbee. I could only watch as it bounced off his face with a dry crack like a baseball hitting a bat. He crumpled and fell. Arroyo crouched behind the counter to shield himself from the spear I now wielded and looked at me with calculating eyes.
I bent an arm in front of my face as I approached the counter between us. I thrust the spear at Arroyo with my free hand, trying to drive him back and off-balance. He jumped backward and brought his arm up from underneath the counter. A thin stream of fluid shot into my face, spreading pain all across it as I reeled back and clawed at the hot sauce in my nose and eyes. My free arm scrambled on the counter and I threw the first thing I felt- an empty metal bowl- at Arroyo. It bounced off his chest and clattered on the ground. He retaliated by throwing a knife at me. I twisted to the side and it scraped down my arm as it flew past me, followed by a meat tenderizing hammer.
Arroyo Cardoso- District Two male (17)
When Flint came at me after I put a spear through his heart I felt an instant of abject fear. Then I saw the boxy irregularity of his shirt and put it together. I would have to go for the head, then. That or a combination of smaller wounds. But the way Flint was coming at me I wouldn't have that luxury. I needed to kill him as fast as possible.
Flint's eyes were red when he opened them. The streaming tears were already doing their job of washing away the pepper sauce, so I moved while I still had time. I ran around the counter and grabbed Flint's spear- my spear- while he was still trying to get it oriented. It occurred to me, as we grappled back and forth across the floor, that we'd fought over a spear once before and it hadn't ended well for me. Fool me once...
Flint used the advantage of his size and weight to bull me back toward the far wall of the kitchen. As we smashed into the row of stoves he hooked my leg with his and tried to force me down so he could use his weight to choke me. But while he had the advantage in size his armor cut down on his maneuverability. I pulled sideways on the spear and swung him down so we were both leaned over the stove tugging the spear with one hand and punching with the other. I pushed out on the spear and yanked back in with the move we'd all been taught to use if someone tried to pull our spear from our grasp. When the movement pulled Flint's head near I hooked my elbow up and over his neck and threw my weight onto him. He started to buck and thrash in his attempt to throw me off before the loss of blood knocked him out. But it didn't take long before he went limp.
Flint Kenyte- District Two male (18)'
As soon as Arroyo got his elbow across my neck I knew I was in bad shape. I knew firsthand how very little time it took to choke someone to death. I had only one way out. I thrashed and bucked to distract Arroyo as I used the erratic movements to move my hand into place. As I went limp to let him think he'd won, I cranked a knob.
Snapsnapsnap
The bad-egg smell of propane hit the air and a sheet of fire spread under Arroyo. He screamed and leaped back as his body reflexively acted to recoil from the fire. I fell awkwardly to the floor and jumped up while he was still beating at his clothes, which hadn't had enough time to ignite but were still painfully hot. I thrust the spear at him and all he could do was deflect it with his arm and sacrifice a strip of flesh. He grabbed it with his free arm and the grappling began anew. With a practiced movement he'd learned in his fancy academy he pivoted so my back was to the counter behind me. He let go of the spear with one hand to take a knife from his pocket and the sudden shift in force unbalanced me enough that I couldn't wrest the spear free before I had to let go with one hand to grab his arm and stop him as he stabbed down at my face. I strained my peripheral vision for anything that might help me and my eyes fell on a bottle of olive oil.
Isn't that just like home, I thought with something like humor. Not that we had olive oil back home. But we had bottles.
I let go of the spear and grabbed the bottle. As Arroyo adjusted for the change in force from me letting go, I swung the bottle at his head like a bat. Bottles are a lot harder than people think. They don't shatter when you hit someone like they do in the movies. They stay in place. It's your head that dents.
Arroyo stumbled back and his eyes went unfocused at the stunning blow, but he was strong and he stayed on his feet. As he was recovering himself I smashed the bottle against the sharp edge of the counter. That was the part that reminded me of home. It reminded me of gang warfare and the sounds people make when you thrust broken glass in their face.
Arroyo didn't make many sounds, because I wasn't aiming for intimidation with him and I thrust the bottle into his throat. Rivulets of blood poured over it as I twisted, scraping ragged glass over delicate tissue and organs. The spear clattered to the floor as his hands went up to try to hold his blood in. He gurgled ragged breathing sounds around the wreck of his throat, falteringly held together by painted-red hands. Not much made me sick anymore but I wished I could block the sound from my throat. It sounded like my grandmother's tea kettle.
Arroyo Cardoso- District Two male (17)
It's because I wasn't smart enough, I thought as I lay on my side bleeding out. I was never smart enough. Or because I wasn't strong enough. I didn't train hard enough like Tulsi. She should have been here instead of me. She would have brought it home for us.
There was so much blood on my face no one would see me crying. My body shook as my stuttered breaths dissipated in my throat.
I should have practiced street fighting. I should have watched Flint more closely in the Capitol. I should have seen the armor. I should have won.
Flint stepped around me and knelt by Edward's crumpled form. In a few minutes he'd still be alive and I'd be dead.
I'm the last Career, I thought. I would have laughed if I could have. Who would have thought? No one. No one at all.
But I am. I am the last Career. Not Tulsi. Not Dionysus. Not Charybdis or Quarla. Me. I got closer than anyone. I thought Tulsi was unbeatable but I beat her, didn't I? I beat them all. If I don't think they're weak then I can't think I'm weak. Then I didn't lose because I wasn't smart enough. I just lost because... I lost. And if it doesn't make them worthless then neither am I.
Edward Matthews- District Five male
I was alive. I thought I was alive. I wasn't sure about anything other than that. I couldn't feel my body but was somehow aware that I should be in pain. Something distant and white blurred above my head.
A shadow passed across the light. I felt pressure on my hand and then distant whispers. They didn't make any sense and I felt no need to listen. My body was slipping away from me. It didn't seem important to try to stay.
I only wanted one thing before I did whatever I was about to do. Like I was operating a puppet secondhand, I pieced together sound.
"Ori."
7th place: Edward Matthews- Head smashed with frying pan
All those jokes in movies about getting hit with frying pans aside, if you get clobbered full-strength with a cast iron frying pan you're gonna die. Edward had intended to cautiously snipe at Arroyo to draw him out and fight with Flint but Arroyo had trained for too many different fight scenarios and just knew all the tricks. Head injuries seem to be underrepresented in SYOTs and I'm always keen to inject a little reality into these mostly unreal stories. Edward had a lot of skills and his alliance with Flint, along with his healthy respect for his own shortcomings, got him a long way. He's a far cry from the douche he was before the Games. Ori lost a good father. (sidenote I suppose some people saw this coming when I gave the kid's name, since that's about as damning as having a character say he's about to retire, but I wanted him to be able to say it). Thanks Pi for a realistically flawed character (don't we all know an Edward) who took accountability and made real change.
6th place: Arroyo Cardoso- Throat cut by Flint
But darn if he didn't make a fight of it. Arroyo thought lowly of himself but his actions proved otherwise. The last true Career has fallen and how the mice will play. Since this fight was set in the kitchen I realized all the opportunities for crazy tactics and weapons and had fun with it. Arroyo came prepared for a formidable opponent and his foresight got him very close to a win. Had Flint not thought quickly with the oven burner it would have been a different story. Arroyo was sort of a laid-back slacker Career like we see now and then but he had his own insecurities and his extroversion let him connect with his allies as people and not just Careers. He brought out a lot of good in his friends- particularly Quarla and Alysanne- and despite his fears he came out ahead of any of his allies. Thanks Tracey for a bright spot of color for the Arena.