Hello dear Capitol! Thank you for waiting for this chapter. It was supposed to be posted yesterday but I underestimated how long it would take me to write all these fight scenes. (Insert 'graphic design is my burden' meme but it says 'fanfiction writing is my burden').
Anyway, the final battle awaits! Read on with bated breath ;)
Thank you to MaxMan667 for beta-ing! Your insight is always appreciated.
Leto Larston (18)- D2F
I watch as the hovercraft draws Logan's body into the sky, a string of guts hanging down as he slowly ascends. Blood drips from my nose and I spit bright red into the snow. Both of my eyes are nearly swollen shut and part of my mouth won't close due to the claw marks that extend from my right temple to the left side of my jaw. I think part of my lip is missing, but there's no way to know for sure without looking in my reflection, and it's not like I have a mirror around. Besides, there's no point in speculating. All that matters now is to kill the rest of them and go home.
I step once toward the corpse of the mutt, wincing as my blistered feet rub the inside of my boots. I bend over gingerly to pick up the remains of my whip, snapped into two parts. It's useless now. I throw it back onto the ground with a sigh. Through my swollen and bloodied eyes, I can barely see past a few feet in front of me. Blood trickles down my face as I reach for some water to clean myself off. The water is freezing cold and I hiss as it flows over my forehead down to my chin, over my wounds. I cautiously touch the painful cuts on my face, realizing how lucky I am that the mutt didn't take out an eye.
The lacerations pulse with pain. I search around for a safe spot to tend to my wounds, and come across a strange alcove that is packed with Capitolite food. Platters of fish, sweetmeats, fruit pies, and braised vegetables litter the marble floor, steaming with heat as if they had just been cooked. I settle on the ground with a wince, taking in everything that I've inherited from Logan. It seems I found the resource that the mutt was guarding.
Still, I won't have it for very long. The Gamemakers will push us together for the finale soon. It took me days to get here, especially after the Gamemakers tried to kill me with that snowstorm. A smirk twists my lips, pulling at the gashes on my face. I'll run all the way back to the Cornucopia to meet my foes, snow and the Gamemakers be damned.
But before I can face them, I need to make sure that I'm in the best physical shape that I can be. With all of my injuries, I'll be going into the final battle with some significant disadvantages, but at the very least I can sterilize my wounds.
I dig in my pack for my first aid kit, then draw out the little bottle of alcohol. Holding it tightly between two fingers, I let out a long sigh and psyche myself up for the intense pain that I'm about to feel. Holding the bottle above my face, I close my eyes and let the liquid pour over my wounds. I grit my teeth to prevent myself from screaming out as the pain sparks a fire on my skin.
I let out several loud breaths, huffing in and out. Sterilizing smaller cuts in training didn't prepare me for the agony of a wound like this.
The pain cream from the med kit stings as I apply it to my face. My hands shake as I wrap gauze around my head, the surface of the bandages touching the raw wounds. With a choked cry, I lower my hands, gulping back tears. Salty tears would aggravate the wounds further, and I can't remember the last time I cried. I won't start now.
I don't know what you're talking about!
Logan's tone had seemed genuine. An authentic confusion and fear imbued in his voice.
It's strange. I don't feel any better about Cyprian's death after killing Logan, not any more than I did after killing Volt. I recall my whip wrapping around Cyprian's throat, the desperation on his face as he tried to beg me for his life.
Marlowe may have been the one to deliver the fatal blow, but I was the one who killed him. My district partner. My training partner. My friend.
My eyes sting once again and I shut them tight, willing the pain away. When they open, I shoot a dirty look over to the mutt's body. It lies motionless with its tongue lolling out of its beak,one yellow eye punctured and bleeding into the snow. The blood is so thick it's almost black. The scent of rust and iron fills the air.
I struggle to my feet and grab as much food as I can. I still have quite a bit of food from the Cornucopia, but I might as well prepare for the worst. Once my pack is full, I stand and look out over the bloodied snow. I must look the part of a blooded, determined Career. Sticking out my chest to complete the image, I begin my long trek over the snowy hills.
Passion Mavros (17)- D1F
After spending the night along the coast, I've gotten accustomed to the noise of the waves crashing against the rocks below. The icy waters seem to be thawing once again, and every now and then I can hear a chunk of ice splitting as it hits the cliff face. At first it was unnerving, leaving me questioning if another vision was going to come. But ever since I saw Callum at the Cornucopia, none of my other victims have appeared to me.
Callum may not have been my kill, but he was my victim.
Years ago when I was a child, I remember watching Callum's father teaching him how to make me the perfect pancakes. I sat, tapping my foot against the leg of my chair, painted black of course, my arms crossed. I wore a tiny black bow in my hair and a checkered black and white dress with frills. I felt like a princess ordering around my servants, and my mother had encouraged me. She was always trying to get my siblings and I to compete for dominance over our little realms of the manor. She called it 'engendering assertiveness'. I wonder if the point was to also teach the servants their place.
I used to throw the pancakes on the floor, plate and all, if Callum didn't make them correctly. I recall the blank look in his eyes as they met my own, and his passive bow as he quietly began to clean up the mess.
Once I return to District One, I'll make things right with the Koches. I'll treat them better and share my winnings with them so they won't have to put up with my family's abuse anymore. And I'll try my best to ensure that their other children live long, happy lives. It's the least I can do.
I continue walking with my mace in hand, keeping an eye out for tributes. I'll be at the waterfall soon. If anyone is around, they might see me coming, but it hardly matters. I have more weapons than anyone else and the training to hold my own.
Unless that tribute is Leto. My stomach flips at the thought of facing my former ally on the battlefield. With any chance, she'll end up dead before I have to fight her, but if it comes to that, I'll do anything I can to come out on top. Nothing can stop me now.
Caillou Wight (17)- D3F
Despite knowing that there are no other tributes around the Cornucopia, I keep my crossbow close as I search through the remaining weapons. The Careers seem to be out hunting, but who knows when they'll return. I need to stay vigilant.
The inside of the golden horn is miraculously free of snow. I crouch near the frozen grass as I examine the blade of a large scythe. It's far too unwieldy to use. Other than a few scattered knives, the only other weapons are a short sword and a long, cumbersome spear. The blade of the sword is thick and heavy. After I heft it up and twirl it around a few times, it drops out of my hand with a loud thud. I stare at it with resignation, then grab a knife from the ground. Bile rises in my throat. It seems I'll be facing my opponents with only a knife and a crossbow.
After taking a look at the weapons, I dig through the rest of the supplies for any ointments or healing creams that the Careers left for the taking. The rash now covers the majority of my abdomen and chest as well as my leg, and is becoming very irritated. It was only itchy before, but now is alight with pain with every movement that pulls my skin. I wince as I lift a backpack full of oranges and misshapen pieces of metal. There's nothing of use inside it, but looking to the left I can see a small white container. I eagerly snatch it up and read the black writing on the side that says, Healing Balm.
I slather it generously on my torso, contorting my arms to be able to reach under my tight jumpsuit. The red skin is inflamed by the rub of the fabric, but the balm seems to take away some of the irritation. There's only enough to cover my chest, so my leg remains itchy and stinging with pain. A bit of blood seeps through the material of my jumpsuit, a richer and brighter color than that of the bear's blood that covers my body.
At least the Gamemakers apparently wanted to give me a chance at harvesting the leftovers at the Cornucopia. I must have been the only one without sufficient weapons for the final fight. My stomach once again twists when I remember that there are two Careers left.
Soon, the Gamemakers will push us all together and I will be in an all-out fight. I grip my new knife and try to remember the training that I received in the Capitol. My best bet will be to wait here until the others arrive and take them by surprise.
I wander over to the mouth of the Cornucopia and peer out at the field surrounding it. It's strange to see the golden horn so empty and barren, the field surrounding it covered in white, no sound over the plain beside the whistle of the wind. Snowflakes lightly fall onto the baby hairs that are growing over my scalp. Everything is so serene and picturesque that for a moment I can imagine that there are no cameras watching, no other people in this entire arena, only me and my thoughts, free of the Hunger Games, free from Panem as a whole. Free from responsibilities or worries or anyone relying on me.
I crouch down and grab a handful of snow, watching wistfully as it filters through my fingers back onto the ground. There's no use in wishing or imagining. I've done that my entire life. Now is the time to live, to truly live before it's too late. I won't be able to survive this last day if I don't stay in reality where I belong. Where I've always belonged.
I reach into my pack and dig out the note and drawing that Jessica sent me, examining every inch of her stenciled face. Her brown curls and small nose, freckles carefully dotted along her cheeks. I will see it all in person again, very soon.
Remember, in mirrors you see others, in art you see yourself
Keeping my poker face in check, I fold up the drawing and the message, playing them beside my secret weapon. The mirror gleams menacingly as it reflects the bright sunlight.
I can win this. That's one thing that I've always known since my name was read on Reaping day. The only thing between me and seeing my family again are three other girls.
Passion Mavros (17)- D1F
Bloodlust thrums deep in my veins. I lick my lips and taste salt. Digging into my pack, I pull out a chunk of salted pork and tear into it. The meat is dry and turns into powder on my tongue.
As I approach the waterfall, I can hear the gentle sound of the water tumbling over the rocks. With a peek over the coast's drop-off, I can see that the sea itself is still mostly frozen, sloshing around with chunks of ice and bits of dirt and grass. My journey to the island may have to wait, or perhaps it will never happen at all. With only four of us left, the Capitol might be eager for a finale.
It's already started happening. Earlier today, I had felt a huge rumble in the ground and heard a massive crack in the distance, then looked up to see that the mountain's white layer of snow had been released as an avalanche upon the forest.
I bare my teeth in a cheshire grin. I can already imagine the blood flowing, the screams of terror, the scent of rust and fear in the air, so thick I could bite into it. I remember it all from the bloodbath, and I hunger.
The image of my axe splitting open the back of the little girl from Seven, blood spurting everywhere and her brother's cries of anguish. Then again in the field of flowers, the brains of the little boy from Nine splattering and clinging to my mace. Alder, Jeremy had gurgled as he died. Serves him right for betraying the Career alliance.
Then it comes unbidden, yet again. Blood trickling from Callum's mouth as the sword is shoved through his back while the girl from Eight slicing open his throat. He falls onto the ground right in front of me, eyes lifeless, staring at me blankly. I let out a shriek of horror, closing my eyes and raising my arms up to shield myself.
"No, no, no…"
Then I hear a rustling noise from beside me, and I ignore it with all my might.
"It's not real… it's not real…"
There's nothing around except for brown rocks and snow, mixed together to form a disgusting dirt-colored mixture. There are no ghosts, no creatures sent to haunt me. Gamemaker tricks can't fool me this time.
Then I hear the unmistakable sound of a blade whistling through the air.
I get down and dodge the blow in a way that only comes from years of practice. My opponent yells in fury as I turn around.
"It's you," I say plainly.
Flux does not bother to answer, her brown eyes narrowed, breath coming quickly.
My hackles raise, swinging my mace once in a sinister circle. "I believe you called me a snake bitch? If my memory isn't failing me. And it never does."
"I believe you killed my friend," she hisses, eyes flashing.
Despite all her posturing, I can tell she's hurt. Her stance is enough to see that her ankle is hurt, maybe even broken, and her halfway attempts at pursuing me confirm it. I hold my mace in one hand and slip a throwing axe out of my belt with the other.
"Was that the little crying girl?" I sneer. "Pathetic to the very end."
Flux roars with anger as she rushes toward me, hatchet raised.
I easily sidestep the swing, bringing my own little axe up to her stomach in a practiced arch, but she dodges out of the way. And so the dance begins.
My footwork is immaculate and my mace swings are perfectly elegant, illustrating the battle as the artform it is. My onyx hair blows into my face as a sheer black curtain and I flip it backward with a snarl, twirling around to bring my mace down onto her body.
Flux screams as she rolls out of the way. I turn to see her lying prone on the ground as she clutches her ankle, panting deeply. I smirk, raising my mace and plotting my next blow.
"You'll die just like your little friend," I say with a sneer.
Flux looks up at me, dark curly hair hanging in her eyes. Her voice is full of venom when she spits out, "Not before you, bitch. I made a promise."
"Looks like you'll be breaking it."
She shakes her head, wincing as she extends her leg. "Clever comeback."
I smirk. "Don't need to be clever when you're as dreamy as me." I push my hair over my shoulder.
"Or when your slave is dead. He was supposed to be the clever one, wasn't he?"
My face falls. Rage pumps through my veins as I fix her in my gaze, words coming out slow and intentional. "Would you prefer me to pin you to the ground with my axe before I smash you up, or shall I cut off your hands and feet first?"
"Fuck you," she grits out.
I smile coldly. "My choice, then."
Flux DuBois (14)- D8F
Passion raises her axe, black hair framing her face, beautiful green eyes bright and snake-like. I roll out of the way, but the axe head pins the palm of my left hand onto the ground. I scream in agony and horror as I watch the skin and flesh of my hand part like butter. As Passion comes at me with her mace, I grab my hatchet and hastily reach up to block. The mace easily deflects the hatchet and sends it flying over the snowy rocks.
With a desperate cry, I use my other hand to grab the axe and heft it free from my own flesh, trying to roll out of the way.
Passion's mace swings down onto my ribcage as I turn to the side, and I scream in pain and fury. I hear her making a strange noise like a cross between a growl and a maniacal laugh as she pulls her mace free. Adrenaline keeps me moving. I don't have a moment to spare.
Raven's last request rings in my ears. I stagger to my feet, touching my cracked ribs with my bleeding hand and holding the throwing axe in the other.
"Beg for mercy!" Passion screeches, advancing on me again.
Instinct kicks in as I dodge the blow, but she keeps coming at me relentlessly. The madness is visible in her eyes, her training apparent in her carefully placed footsteps and swings. I realize, fatigued and bloody, that I stand no chance. The Careers will always have the upper hand against us younger, less experienced tributes. Tag managed to win against the Four girl last year, but he is far smarter than I'll ever be, and she was injured and driven half mad after her boyfriend died.
A familiar rage pumps through my veins despite the exhaustion and the white spots in front of my eyes. I won't let this bitch win yet again. She killed Sparrow. Last year, the boy from Two killed Sock. The Four girl killed Seb. my mind runs through every tribute who I've seen be bled to death by a sadistic Career, and my blood boils.
Another swing of the mace comes my way. I instinctually jerk away, but it catches my other side this time, crunching bone and bits of flesh. I barely have it in me to scream. I ready myself for the inevitable pain, but I glance up to see Passion staring into the distance, green eyes wide and shocked.
I look behind me to where she's staring, seeing nothing. Then I hear the faintest noise- the sound of singing. It sounds faintly like Sparrow, her voice soft and melodic on the breeze.
"No," Passion shakes her head. "Not her."
Taking advantage of this moment, I grit my teeth and grab the chain of the spiky ball before she has a chance to pull it away.
Passion's gaze flits back to me and she tries to yank it out of my hands, but I hold on with all my might, my splintered hand bleeding freely onto the ground. I pull myself forward, and the recognition of what's happening slowly spreads over her face.
"Yes," I hiss.
In a flash, she reaches for another throwing axe on her belt, but my own plunges into her shoulder in an instant. "For Sparrow!" I scream. Blood fountains upward from the wound, right where her neck meets her shoulder.
"For Raven!" I draw my axe back, smashing it again into her neck. "For Thimble!"
She gurgles, eyes rolling backward, and I feel a slight pinprick in my side. Not bothering to look down, I keep drawing back my axe and plunging it into her body until my arm is covered in gore up to my elbow. Her body collapses onto the snow.
"For Sock!" I yell, incensed. "For every tribute killed by Careers like you!" One last axe blow heaves her skull in half.
Her body twitches for a few moments longer before the cannon sounds. Her once beautiful face is cleaved apart, splattered with blood and brains, bone showing and splintered into the snow.
I feel vomit rise in my throat, but nothing can compare to the feeling of victory. Not even the pain that grips my body.
I bare my teeth and raise up my axe to the sky, hoping the cameras can pick up every speck of blood, every line of agony in my face, every inch of my victorious grin.
"District Eight hasn't lost!" I yell into the winter sunlight. "We've won just as much as last year! Even if I die, we're the victors!"
With a desperate cry, I feel my knees buckle underneath me as I fall into the snow. Warm, sticky liquid drips from my lips. I look down to see that a few of my fingers on my left hand are missing, the bones peeking out as I wiggle them. I gulp down more blood and taste its iron on my tongue as I reach up with my other hand to gingerly touch my ribs. They are undoubtedly broken, moving painfully under the skin. A groan escapes from my mouth, but I don't let myself collapse completely.
I slowly drag myself to my fallen backpack, searching inside for the vial of liquid that I had retrieved from the island. It's inscription had said that it was a cure for 'the flesh impure'. I can't think of anything more impure than the sliced and minced flesh of my skin right now.
I grab the vial of sparkling gold liquid and uncork it, pouring it over my mangled hand. As it touches the bloody stumps of my fingers, the liquid instantly congeals and transforms into a strange synthetic skin. The exposed bone is covered and the bleeding immediately stops. I breathe in a sigh of relief, examining it closely. Then I look down at my ribs, where the mace had torn into my jumpsuit and drawn blood. I pour the remainder of the liquid on my wound and watch as it seals in a similar way.
The empty glass vial falls from my fingers and onto the snow. I struggle to stand, still feeling the pain, but able to move despite it.
This isn't over yet.
Leto Larston (18)- D2F
After half a day of running toward the Cornucopia, my body screams in protest, but I continue, only stopping for the occasional drink of water or snack. I'll have time to rest once the Games are over.
My feet are still unsteady underneath me from the frostbite, and my eyes are still swollen from Logan's relentless punches, but the bleeding from the mutt's claw marks on my face has at least ceased.
I stop in tracks as a cannon resounds throughout the arena. One less opponent to face. I breathe in deeply, allowing myself a moment to feel the cold on my face, smell the scent of my own blood, hear the distant sounds of owls hooting, growing louder and louder.
Just as I try to put one foot in front of the other again, I suddenly freeze. That can't be an owl. It sounds like a low baying noise, mistakable for an owl at first, but clearly something else. And it's coming from behind me.
I look back slowly to see a distant figure standing in the snow. It stands upright at an inhuman height, but horns protrude from its head, and when it lifts its head to the sky, a loud bellow echoes over the snow.
In a flash, I turn back around and begin running again. I don't want to see what the Gamemakers have planned for the finale, though I know it is inevitable. They could at least wait until I reach the Cornucopia!
I can hear the creature's labored breaths behind me as it begins chasing me, though it's still at least a hundred yards behind me. Picking up the pace, I swing my arms beside me as I run over the rolling hills, willing my feet to not get caught in the snow. In the distance, I can see the golden glint of the Cornucopia. To my right, the forest has been obliterated by the avalanche. A primal instinct urges me forward, whispering, go go go.
The mutt behind me makes a guttural grunting sound, like an animal ready for its meal. I glance behind me to see that its long horns are connected to the head of a bull, a glinting ring visible in its nose, breath huffing out of its nostrils in a mist. It's legs are hooved and bowed like an animal's but it stands upright like a man. In its hands rests a large primitive hammer made of stone and wood. It charges toward me with a loud bellow, lowering its head to spear me with its horns even though we're still far apart.
That's all the encouragement I need to hurry to the Cornucopia. My feet push the snow along with every stride. The golden horn gets closer and closer. A spray of snow hits my back and I can hear a loud gravelly roar. My heart pounds in my chest and I puff out arduous breaths as I approach the Cornucopia.
I run to the mouth so that I can grab the top and hoist myself up to safety. But as soon as I reach the entrance, a blinding light suddenly is directed toward me. The ray of yellow light blinds me momentarily and I sputter in shock, reeling backward. Panic rushes through me as I blink rapidly, rubbing at my eyes.
Then I feel a large burst of pain in my shoulder. I look to the right to see an arrow sticking out of my body. Gritting my teeth, I reach up to pull it out, letting out a gasp as the arrowhead rips out of my skin. Then I look over to the culprit, cowering in the corner with her crossbow held in front of her. Her brown eyes are as wide as dinner plates. The creature outside roars again, sounding much closer this time.
In an instant, she scrambles with the crossbow, another arrow flying. I hear it whistle past my ear as I rush toward her with my sword in hand. She darts behind a stack of supply crates, quick as a fox, and I lurch after her. As I turn the corner, I duck just in time as her silver knife flashes over my head and I smash the hilt of my sword into her stomach. She staggers backward, coughing and disappearing again into the maze of boxes like a shadow. I let out a cry of desperation as I pursue her through the innards of the golden horn, until I spot her head bobbing near the mouth of the Cornucopia.
I chase after her with my heart in my throat. As soon as I leave the Cornucopia and emerge into the sunlight, the mutt's hammer swings at me. I barely roll out of the way, running to the tail of the Cornucopia. Gasps of exertion are ripped from my throat as I throw my sword onto the golden horn, my hands slipping down its surface. I haul myself up and take a moment to breathe, steadying my stance as I peer out over the surface of the Cornucopia at my opponent. She stands at the other end like a shadow covered in dried blood, her silhouette glowing from the sun behind her. I lean down to grab my sword, wishing that I still had my whip.
No matter. I was top of my class at the Academy for years. I am destined to win the Hunger Games and bring glory to my family and District Two, and I will do it no matter what.
Caillou stares at me with shadowed eyes, crossbow held taut and pointed directly at me. "You put up a good fight," I say tiredly.
She stays silent, but I see a lazy smile spread across her face. She seems to be waiting for me to make the first move.
Below, the creature growls angrily and circles the Cornucopia. It shakes its head and breath puffs out of its nostrils. It raises its hammer and stares at the two of us with hate in its animal eyes. Heat radiates off its hulking, furred body.
I look back up to Caillou to see her shifting her crossbow, and barely dodge the arrow as it flies past me. My shoulder aches as I raise my sword, glaring at her through my swollen eyelids. She raises up her golden metal crossbow and our weapons clang together with a loud ringing sound.
Flux DuBois (14)- D8F
Sparrow's haunting singing voice still rings my ears as I stagger toward the Cornucopia. I can see it glinting in the distance, so close yet so far away, hazy in the sunlight. The singing was pleasant at first, but eventually became more and more shrill until it was piercing. I was so afraid that my eardrums would burst that I began staggering away from its source, the coast, even though I know what will happen. The Cornucopia will bring death and disaster; if not to me, then to two other girls.
I can feel my ribs shifting under my skin in an unnatural way, the pain immeasurable. At least I'm not bleeding freely on the ground. The medicine from the island did its job, despite my misgivings about it. The Gamemakers can be snake bitches just as much as District One girls, but it seems in this instance they were throwing me a bone.
Holding my side with my fractured hand, I squint at the golden horn in the distance. My other hand grips the hilt of my hatchet. I had considered taking Passion's mace, but it was too heavy and too difficult to wield without training. My trusty hatchet has been with me through this whole ordeal, and I couldn't just leave it behind. On my belt rests one of passion's throwing axes; the one that I used to split open her skull.
Sparrow's shrill voice pierces my ears, growing louder and louder until I have to reach up and cover them with my hands. The Gamemakers aren't happy that I'm taking so long.
Up ahead, I can see a large figure approaching the Cornucopia, much larger than any human. My shoulders slump as I watch two shadowed figures throw themselves on the Cornucopia to avoid the swings of its giant weapon. I may have spoken too soon about the Gamemakers not being snake bitches. It seems like they're setting me up to fail.
I could try to get past that creature and insert myself into the battle, but I wouldn't make it past that mutt. There's only one other option available to me; to stay here and wait it out.
With a loud sigh, I glance around at the cameras that are surely fixated on me and raise my arms in a defeated shrug. Then I make a show of finding a place to sit, brushing off the snow from the ground and wincing as I lower myself down. My ribs stretch painfully and I bite back a yelp of pain. Sparrow's song has increased in volume yet again. I reach up to forcefully cover my ears, but the song pierces through the barrier like the sharpest knife. Her singing seems to have turned into wailing, reminding me of the scream she let out when Passion's axe split open her back. I peek behind me where the sound is coming from, and I feel my heart leap into my throat when I see a distant writhing mound of creatures.
I lurch to my feet, careening to one side as I grip my fractured ribs. The creatures are led by a large one, whose pincers are moving incessantly and whose eight black eyes glint in the light.
The mound of bodies and legs seems to be moving right toward me. I look back to the Cornucopia in resignation. It seems I have no choice.
I leave my backpack where I stand, having no use for it anymore. Making sure my weapons are secured, I slowly begin to make my way to the Cornucopia.
As I start moving again, the singing gradually ceases and I let out a breath of relief. Once my ears now longer feel like they're being stabbed, the realization of what I'm doing sets in. I resolutely keep jogging forward, my eyes fixed on the mutt ahead of me. It seems to be some kind of bull mutt. Its horns look awfully sharp and its hammer seems terribly heavy.
I skirt around the back side of the golden horn. The two figures on top of it are clearly my opponents. They stand apart from one another, motionless. I take in the olive skin and high cheekbones of the Career girl, the dark skin and baby hairs of the girl from Three. Caillou has a crossbow, I note to myself as I slow down, crouching to avoid the attention of the muttation. My best bet is to hide inside the Cornucopia until one of them dies, then take my chances with the survivor.
While the creature huffs and roars at the two girls on the Cornucopia, the girl from Two abruptly runs at the other girl and the two of them crash together. I take my chance and run toward the mouth of the horn as the mutt is distracted.
As I sprint, I can hear the grunt of surprise and the heaving breaths of the mutt behind me. All it takes is a glance behind me and the enraged roar of the mutt to know that it's caught wind of my presence. So much for hiding.
With adrenaline pumping through my veins, I change course for the tail of the Cornucopia, grappling with the grooved surface and hoisting myself up. I feel the swoosh of air under my feet from the creature's hammer as I haul my body over the golden metal surface. The creature growls indignantly. When I stand and look down at the ground, I see that the snow is now covered with gray spiders. Some of them are tiny little things, but others are much larger, the size of my head or bigger. The largest one stays back, watching with blank eyes.
I turn to the battle happening just before me. Caillou and Leto are locked together, breathless grunts leaving their mouths. Caillou pushes the Career away from her with her metal crossbow and Leto staggers to the side, nearly falling over the side to the swarming spiders down below. I glance down at my feet and shake off a few tiny insects from my boot. The smaller spiders are crawling up the Cornucopia fairly easily, but the bigger ones seem too heavy to pull themselves up the slick surface.
The mutt roars and swings its hammer widely, clanging against the Cornucopia and leaving a large dent in the side. I hop away from the mutt, realizing that I need to engage with the battle. The Capitol is probably cheering in their living rooms and bars and parties, urging me to draw blood or have my blood drawn. I heavily lift up my hatchet, grinding my teeth together.
Looking on, I can see Leto is now precariously standing on the edge of the Cornucopia while Caillou points her crossbow at her. Her eyes flick over to me and I can see the dawning realization that they aren't the only two tributes here.
For the first time in a while, I feel fear rise like bile in my throat. I wasn't afraid when I was fighting with Passion. Only blind rage and the thought of revenge had coursed through my veins, making me fearless. But now the prospect of my own mortality stares me straight in the face. I look down at the spiders below me once more before drawing my throwing axe and taking aim.
Caillou Wight (17)- D3F
Peering over at the other girl at the tail of the Cornucopia, I can see that she's clearly hesitant to join the fight, but her arm is raised in a way that makes my heart jump in my throat. I take one quick glance back at Leto, her dark eyes hard and unyielding, and let my arrow fly before jumping to the side, just out of the way of Flux's axe.
I can hear Leto's scream and the sound of the axe clattering on the metal surface of the Cornucopia. Rolling over a few times, I grab the axe, dropping my crossbow for a moment, just in time to use it to parry the blow from Flux's hatchet. She is much smaller than me, and not as coordinated either. As she lifts her hatchet, I can see that some of her fingers are missing on her left hand, and she winces with every movement. I hesitate. She's only a little girl, much like myself in most respects. Can I really be responsible for another death of an innocent girl?
In that moment, I can see that she hesitates as well, our eyes meeting. But then they harden again, and she reaches up to swing her hatchet at me again. I use my little axe to swipe at her feet and she jumps away.
Just behind her, I can see Leto's hand gripping the side of the Cornucopia, barely holding herself up. Flux follows my eyes and goes over to kick her off the edge once and for all.
I slowly stand, my rash rubbing against my bodysuit and making me wince. I keep my axe close as I watch cautiously. Flux initially steps on her fingers, but Leto refuses to let go despite her screams of frustration. Eventually her other hand comes up to rest on the surface, trying to pull herself up. She must have dropped her sword so that she can use both hands. What chance does she think she has without a weapon?
As Flux stomps on her fingers again, yelling "Get the hell off!"
Seeing my chance, I grip my axe and rush toward Flux, and I register the fear in her eyes when she looks over and realizes what I'm doing. I tackle her to the ground, watching as her hatchet skids off the Cornucopia and onto the ground below, vanishing into the mounds of spiders. The little creatures chirp and squeal at the prospect of two meals at once, reaching up with their legs and pincers to catch their prey. Flux's head hangs off the edge as I wrap my hands around her throat, trying to squeeze the life out of her. To my right, Leto huffs as she tries to heave herself over the edge, and I can see that my arrow is sticking out of her stomach. The cuts on her face are bleeding, dripping into her eyes and mouth.
Flux's face is turning purple as she scrabbles at my hands with her own, trying to pull them away. I don't relent, focusing on using every ounce of strength that I have to keep them in place. A few spiders crawl up my legs and arms and over her face. I think about pulling out my knife to end it, but then I hear a loud grunt coming from Leto.
Looking over to where she was hanging before, I can see that she has disappeared. Without a second to think, I thrust myself to the side, watching as an arrow whistles past where I was just sitting on Flux's body.
As Flux gurgles and coughs, rubbing her throat and writhing on the ground, I quickly reach down to grab my axe. Leto circles the two of us with the crossbow raised. The arrow is still sticking out from her flesh, and her complexion is nearly white compared to her usual olive skin.
"You've fought valiantly," she says.
Another arrow flies my way and I duck to the ground just in time. In the moments when I'm occupied, Leto hurries over to Flux and stomps on her stomach as she tries to raise herself. Flux curls inward, moaning in pain. Leto shoots an arrow directly into her throat at close range.
It's the first time I've really watched someone die since the bloodbath, and I'm surprised by how quick and easy it is. The cannon fires a few moments later, and Leto leaves the body where it is, bleeding and broken.
She turns to me with blood in her eyes and on her hands.
Gulping, I realize she is all that stands between me and victory. "I love you, Jessica!" I let loose in a primal scream.
Leto shoots another arrow and I don't quite manage to dodge this time, the arrow embedding itself into my shin. I continue running despite the pain, holding my axe high. I release all the rage that I've felt over the years of living in Three, after my grandfather died in the factory, as I grew older and realized that the only way to survive was to erect a wall between myself and the outside world. A screech issues from my throat just as she jumps out of the way.
My axe catches her shoulder where I shot her earlier, but she doesn't scream this time, only kicking me away and raising the crossbow again. Another arrow flies past me, and she tries to click another one into place before realizing that there are none left.
With my easy grin, I advance toward her again, and I can see legitimate panic in her eyes as she tries to block with the crossbow. My axehead clangs with the metal of my own bow, and I hack at it over and over again until it finally falls out of her grasp. I expect her to reach up to block with her hands this time, but as I lift the axe again, I see that one of her hands is slipping inside her opposite sleeve. The realization hits me that she has been concealing something there all this time.
In an instant, I feel the whitehot flash of pain just as my axe descends onto her throat, the agony causing me to miss. I look down in horror to see the knife sticking out of my abdomen.
Time stops for a moment. Two two of us stare at each other, each wounded and staggering on the Cornucopia. The arrow still in Leto's stomach seems to be the only thing stopping blood loss from killing her. Soon it will be the same with me. With a half-sob, half-growl, I meet her eyes.
"You fought valiantly," she repeats.
I narrow my eyes and open my mouth just as the mutt from below roars in frustration, its giant hammer swinging onto the metal of the Cornucopia and causing a mini-earthquake. The two of us stumble. I fall onto the metal with a gasp, Leto trying desperately to keep her balance.
With a realization that this may be my only shot, I grip my throwing axe tightly and wait for the right moment. Just as the shaking ceases, I release the axe from my fingers. But Leto simply falls onto the ground to avoid it, and it clatters onto the metal surface behind her.
Letting out a breath of disbelief, I scramble to my feet as Leto approaches, boots clanking against the Cornucopia. But before I can register what is happening, Leto rips the arrow from her stomach and stabs toward me. I raise my hands up to block the blow, and the arrow tears through my palm. Then as I'm distracted, she grabs the knife from my stomach, smooth as if she was cutting open a roasted bird for dinner, and stabs it directly into my heart.
Leto Larston (18)- D2F
Caillou stares at me, her deep chocolate eyes meeting my own. I keep my fingers curled around the knife, and she chokes up blood in the moments before she falls to the ground. I wrench the knife from her chest and watch as bright red sticky blood spurts out over the golden Cornucopia. "There is no shame in dying for your district," I say grimly.
Deep in my heart, do I believe that? Cyprian died for District Two, and now I'll never see him again. His family, his friends, the trainers back at the Academy.
If I died, would Two be honored by my death?
Caillu spits blood into my face; whether intentionally or not, I don't know. I flinch away, and then I feel the stabbing pain of something in my knee. With a yell of rage and anguish, I kick her away with my other foot, staring down in horror at her own knife sticking out of my knee. It seems we both had a card up our sleeve, quite literally.
For a moment, I stare at her, lying there in a bloody heap on the ground, realizing just how alike we are. Then the moment passes and her cannon fires.
I let out a sob for the first time, my hands reaching for the knife in my kneecap but not daring to pull it out. My shoulder stings with pain where the arrow pierced me, but the worst of all is the arrow in my stomach. I can suddenly feel the intense agony, the realization that if the medics don't arrive quickly enough, I could die.
"Congratulations to Leto Larston, winner of the 78th Hunger Games!"
"I did it, Dad…" I mumble once. Then my knees buckle underneath me and everything is black.
Obituaries:
4th) Passion Mavros (17)- D1F. Killed by Flux. Created by Platrium. I loved Passion immediately because of her instant villain potential, but I saw something more in her as well. Something that allowed me to explore the ideas of what it means to be a Career and how Careers navigate the Hunger Games. She never reached a point where she regretted volunteering or regretted killing others, but she did learn that other people are now simply pawns in her own game. She was a strong tribute and a great character. Most people probably expected her to die earlier on, but I loved writing her.
3rd) Flux DuBois (14)- D8F. Killed by Leto. Created by Tyquavis. Flux was a fan favorite and one of my favorites as well. Her simple way of thinking about things and her ferocious fearlessness are things that you don't often see in non-Career tributes. Ultimately, she was too small and inexperienced to win, but as she said in her little speech, that doesn't mean that she wasn't victorious. She's one of those tributes that I'm going to remember for years to come when I'm writing other things, and I think everyone else is going to remember her fondly as well. Farewell, Flux.
2nd) Caillou Wight (17)- D3F. Killed by Leto. Created by Oldflowers. "Her name is Caillou. It was a name for when her head fell back when she laughed; when she tested boundaries; when she ate black-market honey with a spoon; when she almost didn't feel lonely anymore. It was the name of a kidult — an eternal child, a Peter Pan. Caillou was a follower of clouds and faint skies and idealistic, frivolous sentiments that could be experienced in an instant and pondered over for hours after." This quote is from Caillou's tribute profile, written by Oldflowers. I couldn't express Caillou's personality any better than in her creator's won words. Caillou was instantly one of my favorites as soon as I received her submission. She was clever but not arrogant, sweet but not naive, and someone who truly stood a chance at winning. She was honest to god the hardest death I think I've ever had to write, except maybe Nikki's in BTD. I seriously considered making her the victor for like, several days. But i think that her character development and story had reached an end. Still, she and any of the other tributes could have had a great life if they had survived. Caillou, it hurts to see you go.
Kill Stats:
Most Kills:
Leto Larston (18)- D2F- five kills: Rai, Volt, Logan, Flux, and Caillou.
Second-Most Kills:
Passion Mavros (17)- D1F (dead)- four kills: Sparrow, Alder, Pagani, and Thorn.
Tied for Third-Most Kills:
Marlowe Bahari (18)- D4F (dead)- two kills: Terra and Cyprian
Cyprian Clay (18)- D2M (dead)- two kills: Caiden and Jeremy
Faroud Pistris (18)- D4M (dead)- two kills: Dylan and Rylex
Tied for Fourth-Most Kills:
Flux DuBois (14)- D8F (dead): one kill: Passion.
Blossom Urakaka (15)- D9F (dead) - one kill: Marlowe.
Pagani Chevy (16)- D6F (dead)- one kill: Callum.
It is finished. You know, I have a feeling that people will be upset that Leto won. And that sort of pushed me into choosing her as the victor even more. She became a sort of unlikely villain as the chapters went on, never sadistic or bloodthirsty but just misguided. And she's the best-trained out of all the tributes in the final fight, so she made the most sense as a winner. And storywise, I kind of wanted to explore what it would be like for the victor to kill two of the most popular tributes. Because make no mistake, dear readers, you are the Capitol, and their opinions are your own.
I hope that no one is extremely upset though. I genuinely like Leto as a character and I believe that her story has just begun.
Leto was created by haydex, who also made Tesla and Rooker in the last Games. She disappeared during my 2020 depression break but I hope she returns, because I love her tributes.
There will be two post-Games chapters ahead, so this story isn't actually complete!
If I have contacted you about your tributes already, please try to get them to me by next weekend. If you need an extension, it's no problem. Just PM me to let me know.
For everyone else, I will put the tribute submission form on my profile once the final two chapters of this story have been posted. The submissions will be open at that point.
I look forward to them!
Leave me a review telling what you thought of the final battle!
And as always, thank you all so much for reading. I started writing these stories at the end of my first year in college, and this week I graduate. I did take a year-long break in 2020 which prolonged the process, but it's truly been so satisfying to have this hobby to keep me sane during my college years. Thank you all.