This is going to be the last story I write for this series for a while. I'm just feeling a little burnt out after writing so many stories for this series; plus I've been getting into Total Drama recently and that's my main focus atm. I will finish this series, I just need to take a break!
Karina Oliphant, 17, District Twelve. Placed 24th.
She'd steeled her nerves plenty beforehand, preparing for the inevitable carnage. Giving herself pep talks, practising breathing exercises, collecting different survival skills like they were pretty rocks. She was determined to be Twelve's third Victor. She wasn't going to let herself be written off so easily.
Of course, all that prep can very easily fly out the window in a matter of moments. Chaos doesn't care about people's plans.
Neither do other people trying to follow through with their own plans.
And it was such that Karina found herself in a race against the Nine girl for a knife and a pack.
And it was such that Karina slipped in a small patch of mud.
And it was such that Nine grabbed the knife first and plunged it into her chest.
Such is chaos.
Jovan Dobbs, 14, District Three. Placed 23rd.
As soon as the gong had sounded, he'd turned away from the cornucopia and sprinted away into the bamboo forest. Forget supplies and weapons. He would cross that bridge when he came to it. Right now, the most important thing was to get away from the immediate danger.
The bamboo was thick and solid, unyielding to his attempts to escape. He had to manoeuvre his body this way and that to get through. Screams and shouts cut through the air and he was thankful to not be a part of it.
All around him was green for as far as the eye could see. Soft grass bent under his feet. The rocks were covered in slippery moss. Even the light that penetrated through the foliage shone a light green.
He knew there was a mountain; he'd seen one jutting into the distant clouds when he was at the cornucopia. Hopefully there would be something there for him. Even if the only upside was a vantage point over everyone. It would at least give him time to figure out a plan of action.
Suddenly, his feet slid out from under him, losing traction on the damp grass. A small bamboo shoot rushed up to greet him. It violently smashed through his right eye and out the other side of his head.
He twitched spastically. The part of his damaged brain still capable of coherent thinking screamed to get up and get away. His limbs scrabbled helplessly in the grass and dirt.
But the bamboo was unyielding to his attempts to escape.
Emery Lannister, 18, District One. Placed 22nd.
So far, it was just like the simulators in the training center.
Sure, she hadn't scored a hit on anyone yet, but the way everyone moved and acted was eerily reminiscent of those blocky orange figures. What she had to do was pick an easy target, then everything will be gravy.
She picked up her rapier and looked around. There - the boy from Eight was a little ways away from her, skidding around in the mud like everyone else. He held a fluorescent green backpack strap in one hand and was reaching for a dagger with the other.
She didn't hesitate. She marched over to him and swung. He ducked and fell backwards in the process, his boots flicking mud all over her face. Emery briskly wiped it off and took another swing. He rolled out of the way, his feet kicking out. She jumped out of the way and lined her rapier up with his neck. One slice would be all it took.
"Damn it!" He tried to righten himself but fell back once more. Emery grinned. Once she got this oaf out of the way, she could get back and kill someone else.
She lifted her blade into the air.
And felt something stab into her back and out through her chest.
She opened her mouth in horror and blood came pouring out of it. Her avocado-green jacket was stained a hideous muddy colour.
Then two uncaring hands shoved her to the ground and wrenched her rapier from her grasp. "Come on, get up!" A girl shouted at the boy. It was his district partner, that angry little spitfire of a girl. She pulled him up to his feet and dragged him away.
Emery watched the District Eight pair flee into the bamboo and began to sob. She's trained for this her entire life! How could she have fallen so quickly?
Oslow Warren, 16, District Six. Placed 21st.
He was already done with this shit.
Fuck the Capitol. He wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of trying to fight for his life. Besides, it wasn't like his life was worth living anyway.
He had family, but no one who would miss him. No Capitolite worth their wealth would spend it on him. And Six was a rubbish place to return to.
So what was the point of winning, again?
He stayed standing on his pedestal, tapping his foot impatiently. He did think it was sort of funny how the Careers were chasing prey that were doing everything in their power to avoid them, yet they were ignoring the perfectly willing - and stationary - target right here!
Stupid Careers. The whole lot of them could be replaced with braindead hippos and nothing about the Games would change.
He watched the One girl go down and he snorted at her misfortune. Stupid Career. Was she ever taught to watch her own back?
Then he saw the Eleven girl's stomach get sliced open and he winced in sympathy. That was not a pretty way to go out.
And when he was finally spotted by the girl from Four who promptly shot an arrow into his neck, he realised that choking on your own blood also wasn't a pretty way to go out.
Alysandra Husk, 13, District Eleven. Placed 20th.
All her life, she'd been last.
Last of her siblings to be born. Last in line for supper. Last in line for her parents' affection.
Last to be picked for school sports. Last to be sponsored. Last to be remembered by anyone.
She was hoping that the Games would be a blessing in disguise; a way for her to earn her wealth and status and be loved by somebody. But to do that, she would have to be the last to die. That was okay. She could deal with being last just this once.
But then the Two boy sliced her clean across her stomach and she knew it was over.
As she lay on the dewy grass, holding in her intestines, she could make out the blurry, crumpled figures of the girl from One and the boy from Six.
The only thing that gave her comfort was the fact that at least she wasn't dying in last place.
Jadell Bran, 15, District Nine. Placed 19th.
Jadell kept his hands firmly clamped over his mouth. He needed to remain absolutely dead silent if he was to avoid detection. He'd managed to sneak into the cornucopia and hide behind a crate at the back, so now he just needed to be invisible until he could escape.
It had quieted down outside. The bloodbath was pretty much over. All he could hear were the Careers talking amongst themselves.
"Jesus, Emery went down quickly, didn't she?"
"Yeah. That's not good. Not good at all."
"Did anyone see who killed her?"
"One of the Eights, I think."
"Well, we'd better keep an eye out for them, then." Footsteps entered the cornucopia. "But for now, let's see what we've got in here."
Jadell trembled, biting into his thumb to stop himself from crying out. The taste of blood filled his mouth. He swallowed as silently as he could.
He needed to keep a clear head. His family was counting on him. They'd already lost one of their own to the Games more than a decade ago, and he didn't want to join her in the afterlife.
The shuffling, chatter and footsteps grew closer and closer until finally, the crate hiding him was pulled away. The light from outside was blocked by the leering face of the boy from Two.
Jadell scrambled to his feet but Two was quicker. He picked up a nearby machete and decapitated him in one swing.
Jadell was dead before his head hit the ground.
Ampere Velatrix, 17, District Five. Placed 18th.
It was freezing out here. She and Volt had made it out of the bamboo just as the sun was setting. They'd set up camp but didn't dare light a fire for fear of attracting something to them. So they were sitting around freezing their asses off.
"Do we need to stay here?" Volt asked, arms wrapped tightly around himself. "We should walk around. Walking will help us keep warm. Plus, we might find some proper shelter."
Ampere looked out into the darkness beyond them and gulped. "No. We don't know what's out there."
"We can't stay here," Volt pleaded. "We're too exposed here, anyway."
Ampere gave in. The two of them got up and headed into the night, holding each other's elbows so they wouldn't get separated.
Volt was right. Walking did help warm them up a little. But it was still dangerous. They were basically just stumbling round in the dark, with only the faint light of the crescent moon to guide them. They knew they were in some kind of plain, but everything else was a mystery.
And then they let go of each other, and things became even worse.
It was just an accident. Ampere had tripped over a rock, letting go of Volt in the process. But Volt couldn't locate her in the dark. He didn't call her name, too afraid of someone overhearing him. As he searched for her, he ended up just wandering further and further away from her.
Ampere got up and dusted herself off. When she found Volt, she was going to kill him herself for suggesting they walk around in the first place!
She looked around her, straining her eyes hard. She could barely see her hands in front of her face…
But wait, she could see something. Up ahead, in the distance, there was something white and wispy.
Ampere jogged towards it, just glad to be able to see something. As she got closer, she noticed that it was moving. It seemed to be twisting and turning all over itself.
What was it? Mist? Fog?
That couldn't be. There wasn't any mist or fog around that she could see. Just this one little white wisp.
She moved closer, and closer. Something in the back of her mind told her that it might be dangerous; that she should just leave it be.
But still she persisted. Whatever this was, it wasn't normal. She had to see what it was.
When she finally came upon it, she screamed and screamed and screamed something awful. It was so ear-shattering that it could be heard across nearly the entire arena. Her cannon fired not long after that.
Her official cause of death was listed as fright.
Tilly Park, 18, District Ten. Placed 17th.
The next morning dawned misty and humid. Tilly rose early, packed up her camp, and trotted onwards to the mountain. She fingered the throwing knives she'd swiped from the cornucopia. They'd come in handy. Not just for fighting off other tributes, but also for fighting off any mutts that may be lurking around. She wasn't sure what kind of mutts would be in an arena like this, but she sure as hell didn't want to come across one.
Tilly came to a gently flowing brook and stopped to fill up her drink bottle. The water was crystal clear and so cold it made her teeth twinge. She sat on the bank for a while, slowly sipping from her bottle, as she watched the arena come to life.
The bamboo was long behind her; she'd made it into a proper forest with trees and shrubs. It was very peaceful. The birdcalls were subdued, and the loudest sound around was the water in the brook flowing past. Tilly was glad for the peace, but she knew it couldn't last forever. Something would come by, sooner or later, if she stuck around for too long, so it was best to keep moving for now.
She stood up and headed back into the trees. Now the loudest sound around was the crunching of leaves under her feet. It was starting to become less peaceful, and more eerie…
Somewhere nearby, she heard another crunch of leaves. She stopped short and peered into the treeline ahead of her. It was as if the world had stopped moving. She couldn't see anything. Just foliage for as far as the eye could see. There was no other noise. Even the birds had fallen silent.
Thoroughly creeped out, Tilly broke into a run, desperate to get away from whatever was out there-
-and something wrapped around her foot and pulled her skyward.
Tilly found herself dangling upside down, the ground spinning above her head. She reached and grabbed hold of the rope encircling her ankle. It was wound too tightly for her to even slip a finger underneath.
She took one of her throwing knives and attempted to saw through it. It was a strenuous task, made difficult by the fact that she could hardly hold herself up in the optimal position for such a feat.
And then came the sound of two pairs of feet kicking their way through the leaves towards her.
"Holy shit, we got someone!" It was a boy; Tilly didn't recognise his voice. "You've got the knife; you do it."
"You do it." There was a girl, too. "I don't think I-"
"Alright, fine, gimme." The boy took a step closer. Tilly swung out with her knife. The boy gasped.
"Careful, Pine!" the girl cried.
"I'm being careful! Hey, come help me with this! Hold her arms down, or something!"
A hand enclosed around Tilly's wrists and pulled her arms back, leaving her chest exposed to their knife. Her own knife dropped to the ground.
"No! Let me go! You bastards!" Tilly thrashed about, kicking her legs wildly in one last-ditch effort.
"Sorry," the boy offered up weakly, then raised his knife.
Demeter Banks, 16, District Nine. Placed 16th.
Demeter sat huddled in the bamboo, watching the last of the Careers leave with bated breath. As soon as the boy from Four disappeared into the greenery across from her, she made her move; bolting from her hiding spot with outstretched arms.
She wasted no time in grabbing two packs and throwing them over her shoulders, then shoving knives into her belt. Right, she had everything she came for. Time to leave.
But as she passed a rack of spears, she paused. They might be able to help her. They'll be good for defence.
Oh, what the hell. She'll take one.
She wrapped her hands around the shaft and quickly yanked it out of the rack. Alright, time to leave for real, this time.
Then came what she's been dreading: someone heading through the bamboo towards the cornucopia. "Hold on, I left my bottle!" It was the boy from Four.
He burst out of the bamboo just as Demeter was making a break for it. She didn't stop or turn around; she kept her sight focused on what was in front of her and her energy on sprinting away to safety.
"HEY!"
Demeter was nearly through to the other side when something sharp and painful thudded into her back. She dropped to the ground and bled out within seconds. Her thieved supplies were collected from her and returned to the cornucopia.
Alexander Haven, 18, District Four. Placed 15th.
Alex had been floating around on a high all day after finally scoring a kill. Everyone was glad that he'd managed to stop that dratted Nine girl from pillaging their stuff. He'd certainly earned bragging rights for that.
Right now, he and Fiora, armed with spears and night-vision goggles, were prowling around through the trees looking for more tributes. They weren't having much luck so far and Alex was getting antsy. He really wanted another kill to his tally.
"Come on," he huffed, kicking a pebble. "Where is everyone hiding?"
Fiora hushed him. "You'll scare them off with all that shouting."
"I wasn't shouting!" Alex protested, but Fiora suddenly held up her hand to halt him. She put a finger to her lips and gestured with her spear.
Up ahead, sitting on a rock and partially concealed by a bush, was another tribute. It was hard to tell if it was a boy or a girl, but they were facing away from the Four pair, seemingly unaware of their presence.
Alex grinned. "Nice!" he whispered. He took several large strides and readied his spear. He aimed the tip right at the back of their head. But before he could throw it, Fiora grabbed his arm.
"Wait-" she started but Alex cut her off.
"What is it?" he grit his teeth. "Do you want this kill? Because too bad, it's mine."
"No." Fiora kept her gaze firmly on the figure. "It's just...I don't think that's a tribute."
"What do you-" Alex realised exactly what she meant when it stood up. It was a woman, it seemed like, wearing some kind of long, colourful robe. Definitely not a tribute uniform. The woman's face was eerily pale and her hair the same shade of black as the night. She looked right at them and Alex saw her leer. A chill ran down his spine.
"That's a mutt," Fiora grabbed Alex's arm and pulled him away.
They jogged further into the trees as quietly as they could, and as far away as possible. They checked over their shoulders and didn't see the woman, but still they kept going. Eventually, they came to a large tree and clambered up its branches until they were shielded from view by the leaves.
Alex leaned against the trunk and caught his breath. Scanning the ground below him, he saw no sight of the strange woman, but he didn't feel safe quite yet.
He craved his neck over to Fiora straddling the branch across from him. "What the fuck kind of mutt was that?"
"A damn creepy one, that's for sure." Fiora shivered. "I'm glad we didn't stick around to see what it would have done to us."
"Yeah."
Silence fell between them as they kept their eyes peeled for any sign of danger. As the minutes ticked by, Alex's pulse gradually started to slow down, but he kept his spear tightly gripped in his hand. This was not how he wanted his night to go. He was supposed to get another kill and go back to the cornucopia in a blaze of glory.
He sighed. Stupid arena and stupid mutts.
An airy giggle cut suddenly through the still night. Goosebumps immediately sprouted on his arms. His shoulders tensed up.
"Fiora, what the hell?" he asked, letting out a shaky breath.
"I didn't do that," came her even shakier reply.
Alex turned his head slowly. Right above his right shoulder was a pale face leering at him eerily.
He sharply drew in his breath in a gasp that sounded like a scream. His body pitched sideways in an attempt to get away from that creature.
"Alex, no!" Fiora cried.
Alex realised his mistake when he felt nothing but the empty air all around him.
Fiora Seaward, 18, District Four. Placed 14th.
Fiora watched Alex plummet to the ground below. He landed with a sickening crack. She held back a sob as his cannon fired.
She turned her attention to where he had just been sitting.
And screamed.
It was that mutt she'd seen earlier. Only now it didn't have a body. Just a head. Attached to its neck was a long string of foul-smelling meaty pink entrails. The face of a woman smiled at her. It was a terrifying smile.
The head floated over to her, its entrails slapping against the branches. Fiora brought up her spear, but her hands were shaking uncontrollably. She slid back as far along on her branch as she could, wrapping her legs around it so she wouldn't fall off.
The head kept coming closer and closer. Fiora thrust out her spear. She missed by several inches. The head gave another giggle that made all the hair on Fiora's body stand on end. She shuffled back further, nearing the end of the branch.
A loud cracking sound cut sharply through the air. Fiora's breath ended in a loud gasp.
She didn't have time to prepare herself before the entire end of the branch snapped and she was left falling through the air, just like Alex had. The last thing she saw was that face, smiling down on her like it was Death itself.
If she'd known that this was what the Games would end up being, she would have just stayed home.
Lucie Lindell, 16, District Three. Placed 13th.
How could she have let this happen? She was supposed to be smarter than this!
She should have run as soon as she realised that the whole world had fallen silent. Birds not chirping, insects not chattering, animals not moving, that's always a bad sign. It means that danger is afoot. She should have proceeded with caution.
But she didn't. Instead, she walked right into one of the most basic traps anyone could set.
She was dangling upside down, a rope strangling her ankle, a sturdy branch right above her. A basic trap.
Seriously. Even a baby could have avoided this.
And now here comes the Seven pair. Here to kill her. Obviously. Two blonde clones wielding knives. Getting ready for some stabby-stabby.
Well, two can play at that game. Or three, but whatever.
Lucie felt her pocket. Okay, her knife was still there. She was on a semi-even playing field now.
Come on, Seven. Come and meet your maker.
"Peach, you know what to do!"
"On it!"
The girl rushed over and made to grab at Lucie's arms. Lucie heaved and swung herself away. She stuck out her tongue.
"Damn it!" the girl yelled.
"Come on, let's just get this over with!"
Not if Lucie had anything to say about that.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out her knife. Using her already decent momentum, she went straight for the nearest one and whipped her blade up in an arc. Immediately her arm was coated in sticky blood. The ensuing screams told her that she got the boy.
"Oh my god!" the girl cried. "You bitch!" That was presumably towards Lucie.
Lucie suppressed a satisfied grin. She swung herself back again, ready for round two, but as she did so, she saw the girl lunge at her with a glint of metal in her hand.
Lucie hissed at the sudden explosion of pain in her chest, and then it was her turn to meet her maker.
Angelo Maroney, 18, District Ten. Placed 12th.
Twelve down. Eleven to go. He's halfway there.
He can do this.
Angelo tried not to let anything he saw get to him. For Parker's sake.
He knew he was District Ten's last chance at winning this year. It's pretty weird to think about. Only a few days ago, Tilly was still alive; eating, talking, breathing, existing. But she's dead now, dead on the second day. Her body would be being prepped to return to Ten. And if he wasn't careful, he would join her.
And his brother Parker would go to the Community Home, with no one left to care for him.
Angelo's resolve tightened. He won't let that happen. Not over his dead body.
But right now, he really wants to get out of this bamboo. He'd run into it during the bloodbath, and now he can't find his way out of it. He's absolutely certain that he's going round in circles, but since every damn thing looks the same, it's impossible to tell. It's a maze in here.
He stopped for a rest; drinking water and nibbling away at his fast-dwindling supply of beef jerky. He sighed, fed up with everything. What he wouldn't give just to have a normal steak again.
Angelo perked up when he heard movement to his left. He stood up and held his axe at the ready. Ready for anything.
Two figures emerged from the dense green. The Eight pair. Angelo remembered them from training; the boy's quiet quirkiness and the girl's spiteful attitude. Standing in front of him now, they didn't look worse for wear. They were clean and healthy-looking.
They were also fully armed with small metal stars.
Another thing Angelo remembered from training. You were supposed to throw them, or something. Small, but deadly. He'd seen the Careers practising with them, but not the Eights.
"Hey!" the boy said excitedly, "We finally found someone!" He bent down to his district partner. "When's the last time we saw another tribute?"
"Does it matter?" the girl growled. She held her hand back. Angelo saw the metal spikes from in between her fingers. He took a step back and brandished his axe.
"I don't want any trouble," he cautioned, "so you might wanna just turn right around and leave."
"Funny. I was just about to say the exact same thing." The girl didn't move from her position. She glared at Angelo through slitted eyes.
The boy just stood there dumbly, looking back and forth between the two of them. He didn't seem at all concerned. Not one little bit of fear crossed his face. Odd.
"Well?" Angelo was getting impatient. "What did I say 'bout leaving?"
"How do I know you won't just kill us as soon as we turn our backs on you?" The girl spat.
Angelo sighed. "Fine. I'll show ya." He dropped his axe to the ground and spread out his arms. "See?"
He was going to say something to the effect of, "Now clear off," but that was when he felt something sink into his throat. When he brought his hands up, he scraped his fingers against a metal star. His eyes widened.
"I see you," the girl said simply. She grabbed the boy by the arm and disappeared into the bamboo.
Angelo ripped out the star and regretted it immediately after. Pain seared through his body as blood spilled onto the ground. He collapsed onto the ground and choked out his last few bloody breaths.
How could he have let himself get tricked so fucking easily?
Parker… I'm so sorry…
I'm sorry…
Peach Bonsai, 17, District Seven. Placed 11th.
If that Three girl wasn't already dead, Peach would have stabbed her fifty thousand times for what she did to Pine.
It had been a day and a half and Pine's condition still hadn't improved, despite the mountain of medical supplies sent by sponsors. The knife wound stretched all the way from the right corner of his mouth, along the bridge of his nose, and ended above his left eye. His face was covered in blood, to the point where he couldn't even use his eye. It all just kept pouring out, and no amount of bandages and wipes and spray would fix it. It was a hopeless endeavor, but Peach still kept trying. She wasn't going to give up on her brother. Never ever.
"Watch your feet," she instructed, helping him step over a log. He fumbled around in the dark of the night, but he made it.
Peach shivered and rubbed at her arms. "We really need to find somewhere to camp out."
"Yeah. I'm exhausted." Pine agreed.
Peach scanned the area around her, looking for a good place to rest. None of what she saw looked particularly decent. It was all just so hard and cold, out here in the woods. But at least they were here and not running lost in the bamboo like they were on the first day.
She hated this place.
A flash of movement caught her eye. She held in a gasp. It was a tribute, a little ways away from them, but steadily moving closer towards them. Their movements were cautious and uncertain, picking their way through the foliage.
Peach gripped onto Pine's arm. 'There's another tribute right there," she whispered. "We have to hide."
"Right."
Pine let Peach lead him through the forest. She still paused to help him navigate around fallen logs, but not for as long as she had before. They needed to hurry.
After a few minutes of sprinting as silently as possible, they came upon a small building. Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be a shrine or maybe even a church of some kind. It was made of wood and decorated in red, brown and gold. Whatever it was, it would help hide them.
Peach and Pine bounded up the steps and inspected the place. There, in the corner, stood an enormous ornate pillar. Peach pushed Pine into the shadowy gap between it and the wall. It concealed him completely, but there was a problem…
"I can't fit," Peach whispered.
"You can't? Maybe if I moved over a bit…" Pine struggled to get both of them in but Peach stopped him.
"I'll hide somewhere else." She stepped out to look around. Immediately, her gaze fell on a large chest of some kind. It looked more than big enough to fit an entire person inside.
"There," she whispered, "I'll hide in that chest over there. You stay put."
"Okay."
Peach ran to the chest on her tiptoes. She lifted the lid, climbed inside, and shut it as gently as possible. Curled up in the fetal position, she held her breath as the sound of approaching footsteps carried over on the wind.
Pine stood up straight, stiff as a board. He too held his breath. His fingers searched for his knife. He relaxed slightly when he located it. He was armed. Peach was, too. They'll be fine, even if he was half-blind.
The shuffling grew louder and louder, until solid steps told Pine that the tribute was now in the building with them. He didn't dare move. Not even to blink. As if the slightest flutter of eyelashes would give away his position.
Something creaked. It didn't sound like the floorboards. It was immediately followed by a strange slurping noise. The noise bounced off the walls and filled up the small space. Pine shivered. It was a disgusting sound.
He wondered what in the world was making that noise, and why. His curiosity was so strong that it made his heart pound, but he resisted the mighty urge to peek out and see for himself. Instead, he just stayed put and hoped that it would all stop soon.
It did stop, after maybe ten minutes or so. A cannon suddenly burst across the sky. Something slammed shut. The footsteps creaked their way outside and into the night until they were no longer audible. Pine's chest heaved in relief.
Time to get out.
"Peach?" he called, his voice just above a whisper. "Peach? Let's go!"
He felt his way around the pillar and blinked in the darkness, double checking to make sure the coast was clear. Then he tiptoed over to the chest and knocked on the lid.
"Peach?"
There was no reply. Nothing.
"Peach! We have to go!"
Not even a whisper.
He got a grasp on the lid and lifted it open. Immediately, the stench of blood hit him in the face.
No...
Inside, he could barely make out a vaguely human-shaped mass at the bottom. It wasn't moving.
He tentatively reached out a hand and poked what looked like his sister's arm. The skin felt...wrong, somehow. Instead of being warm and encasing muscle and bone, it now felt very cold and papery. Like an empty sack.
He grabbed an entire handful with his open palm. All he felt was skin and clothes. Something slick coated his hand. Blood.
"Peach?" he said aloud, the word trembling as he sat back on his haunches.
That cannon earlier…
Was...was that for her?
Volt Lumiere, 17, District Five. Placed 10th.
Ampere was dead and it was his fault. He let go and then wandered off. And now she was dead.
He heard the screaming. It had kept him awake every night since. He knew she died horribly, and it was his fault.
It wouldn't have happened if he'd just held on tighter.
And without Ampere, the one person in this whole arena he could trust even a little bit, there didn't seem to be much point in going on.
He was one of the weakest tributes. With a two in training, no muscles to speak of and his only ally dead, him losing was inevitable. Even that tiny girl from Eight was stronger than he was.
His mentor, Isaac, had tried so hard to get him to keep going via sponsor notes, but Volt was having none of it. He wasn't stupid. Ampere was the one who deserved to go home, in his opinion. And she was dead.
And whose fault was that?
He kicked a few pebbles out of his path as he wandered about aimlessly, waiting for death to strike him down however it pleases. He was back in the bamboo, dangerously close to the cornucopia, but he didn't care. Why should he? If he couldn't even protect the one person he swore to protect to the best of his ability, then he obviously couldn't protect himself.
The Two girl suddenly appeared behind him, wielding a sword. The metal blade, as well as her teeth, glinted brightly in the moonlight. Her smile dropped as Volt turned around and simply watched her.
"What?" she said, sounding disappointed. "Aren't you gonna run, or cry for momma or anything?"
Volt shrugged. "Can't be bothered."
The girl raised an eyebrow. "What's the matter with you? Aren't you gonna help put on a show for everyone watching?"
"What's the point? My ally's dead and it's all my fault. I'm pretty much useless, so why bother doing anything anymore?"
The girl lowered her sword. She actually looked pretty damn apologetic. "That's rough," she said, "it's not fun, losing your friends. Look, I'll try and make this quick, okay?"
"Whatever."
True to her word, the girl made a quick, clean slice across Volt's throat. He bled out within seconds.
Maybe, up in heaven, he could see Ampere again and apologize to her. And maybe, just maybe, she'd forgive him.
Pine Bonsai, 17, District Seven. Placed 9th.
Volt wasn't the only one who'd given up.
Pine hadn't even left the building. He'd been curled up on the floor, sobbing his eyes out, grieving his poor dead sister.
He would have given his life to protect her. Or that was just what he'd thought. Instead, he had hidden like a coward while his sister lay dying in a cold wooden chest. And now all that was left of her was skin and clothes.
Who was he to win after that? After letting Peach suffer like that?
After the flood of tears came the avalanche of memories.
Him and Peach in their nice shirts and jackets, ready for their first day of school, clinging to each other nervously.
The two of them pooling their money so they could afford that big bouquet of flowers for their mother's birthday.
Peach always waiting outside the school for him whenever he had detention.
Outside, something moved.
Peach trying to teach him how to make a daisy chain, and then mocking him incessantly when he couldn't get the hang of it.
Pine paid it no mind.
Their seventeenth birthday, when their parents surprised them with a massive homemade honey cake. Peach smiled widely, her hair and eyes glowing in the dim candlelight.
It got closer to him.
Peach's horrified face when her name was read out at the reaping. And then his own bottomless terror when his name was called.
Two shadows stood over him.
Sitting next to Peach on the train, watching the world pass them by…
A voice sliced through his trip down memory lane: "Jesus, what happened to you?"
It was a boy and a girl. The girl had spoken. She was tiny and blonde. Her hair made him think, Hey, she kind of looks like Peach…
They'd both gotten sevens in training. Just like their district, Peach noted with a small smile.
"Let's just get this over with."
Something poked him in the stomach. He barely felt it.
That Three girl had slashed him something terrible. He barely felt it.
"Oh my god, you're bleeding!" Peach cried, her hands clapped to her face in horror.
He brought his hands up. Blood coated the fingertips. That was an issue.
He could barely see, either.
Oh yeah. That was going to be an issue as well.
His vision felt like it had been smeared across his face. He knew that didn't really make any sense, but that was the only way he could describe it.
All he saw was the impending blackness. He couldn't even see Peach in his mind's eye anymore.
But she was still there. She took his hand and started to lead him through the trees. He felt her hand, warm and heavy and alive in his own. She was…
...still there…
Chenille Stringer, 13, District Eight. Placed 8th.
"For god's sake, Calico, we're in the fucking Hunger Games! Not a sightseeing tour!"
Calico was sharply brought back down to Earth. He looked over at her guiltily. "Sorry, Chenille."
Chenille folded her arms and harrumphed.
Calico broke out into a wide grin. "It's just that I'm so excited to be here! I've always dreamed of visiting Japan, and now I'm here!"
"Well, I hate to break it to you, big guy, but this ain't Japan. It's the arena. Where we could die at any moment."
"Oh. Right." Calico was crestfallen.
"I'm getting really sick of reminding you, you know." Chenille said, tapping her foot impatiently. "I don't understand why you keep forgetting."
"I've always had a few… issues with my memory," Calico explained, toying with a nearby branch. "I don't know why, I just can't help it!"
"Well, then start helping it! You're not doing me any favours! I have to do all the work around here!"
"That's not true!" Calico protested, "I help carry all the supplies!"
Chenille rolled her eyes. "Oh yeah. So helpful." She glanced up at the mountain to where they were heading. So big and imposing. A perfect place to hide out for a little while. "Anyway, enough dillydallying. We have to move."
She marched onwards through the foliage, Calico following along silently. He, indeed, was carrying most of the supplies, but that didn't matter much to Chenille. She was already sick of his shit. Well, she'd been sick of his shit since the second they met at the reaping, but whatever.
And yet… she couldn't help but help him.
He may be annoying, loud, forgetful, and way too obsessed with the cultures of the Old Countries, but dammit, he was still her district partner, and if she couldn't win this, then she was gonna make damn sure he did.
But seriously though, his jabbering about the Old Countries was particularly irritating. He was engrossed in Japanese culture in particular and Japanese mythology in extra particular.
And the most annoying thing was… it was actually helpful!
Aside from an incident where they were chased by an eight-foot-tall woman, Calico's knowledge helped them avoid several mutts they'd seen throughout the arena. Hell, she even managed to kill one of them! She was instructed to stab it while its head was still detached from its body. She didn't know what that meant in the heat of the moment, but she was happy to oblige.
...Okay sure, maybe Calico was more helpful than just carrying everything like a pack animal. But she still did more than him! Not even he could dispute that!
They walked for another few hours, stopping periodically to rest and drink some water. Calico complained about his shoulder hurting. Chenille took one of the bags from him and carried it herself. They arrived at the base of the mountain in the late afternoon, as the sky was overcast with impending rain. A path had been conveniently carved along the side of the mountain, providing an easy journey to the top.
Still though, Calico struggled to keep going. He was panting loud enough to wake his parents back in Eight, and he was sweating buckets. Chenille reluctantly let him finish off a bottle of water then forced him to his feet and kept walking.
"You can rest once we reach the top," she told him.
Calico only continued to pant. She did her best to block it out and push forwards.
Eventually though, they made it. It wasn't to the top, since there was no path going up that way, but they did make it to the highest point they could: a large cliff. Set back from the cliff was yet another one of the odd buildings they'd seen throughout the arena. Calico told her they were shrines.
They sat down on the steps. Calico leaned back with his arms behind his head, eyes shut against the cloudy sky. He was completely and utterly at peace.
Chenille joined him, reveling in the rest. If it weren't for the fact that they were in the middle of a brutal death match, this would actually be a horrendous way to spend a day. Just chilling on the steps of an ancient shrine with her… well, he wasn't quite a friend, but he wasn't not a friend…
Acquaintance? Honorary brother?
Whatever. It didn't really matter, anyway.
She sighed deeply, feeling the cool air on her skin-
-and something rumbled deep beneath her.
Chenille's eyes shot open and she jumped to her feet in an instant. Beside her, Calico had also gotten up, looking at her with equal parts confusion and fear. The whole world around them shook violently; the ground began to split, and the shrine looked ready to collapse.
"Earthquake!" Chenille cried. She grabbed Calico's arm and dragged him back the way they had come. "Let's get outta here before this whole mountain falls apart!"
Calico needed no further instructions or encouragement. In fact, he took off running in a dead sprint, despite how exhausted he was earlier. It was all Chenille could do to keep up.
She made sure to stay away from the crumbling edges, but away from the rock walls. Boulders and chunks of rock came crashing down around her, avoiding her only by a hair's breadth. It was like being out in a heavy hailstorm, but so much worse.
Chenille soon lost sight of Calico entirely. That was sort of good, at least. It meant he was far enough ahead that he could probably make it the rest of the way down without being crushed like a bug.
It was getting harder to stay standing, let alone keep herself upright. She persevered, however. If there was one word that could perfectly describe Chenille Stringer, it was stubborn.
It wasn't long before it became too much for her, though.
She darted to the side, out of the path of a boulder. But the ground she stepped on almost immediately gave way under her feet. There was nothing she could do to save herself.
She screamed as the ground and rocks and trees rushed up to meet her, more out of frustration than panic.
Kyra Plaston, 18, District Two. Placed 7th.
Ever since she took the life of that Five boy, the mopey one who hadn't even bothered to put up a fight, Kyra had felt strangely empty.
She knew she shouldn't. She'd gotten a kill. That was one less tribute out of the way, and one step closer to winning.
Kyra had it all planned out. She would win this thing, go back home to Two, and open an animal shelter. Lame, sure, but fuck what anyone else thought of it. She'd grown up seeing way too many stray cats and dogs fighting against human cruelty and Mother Nature for their right to stay alive; she couldn't just sit on her hands and do nothing to help them. That's why she was doing this: putting herself in their shoes and fighting for her right to stay alive.
But seeing that Five boy...he'd just completely given up. He let his district partner die, so he felt he didn't deserve to keep living as a result. He didn't fight, scream, or even cry. He willingly laid down his life for his own guilt.
Now Kyra wasn't sure if she was doing the right thing.
Maybe sometimes people don't want saving? They want to return their gift of life?
But could that apply to animals? Did they have any concept of things like guilt and sacrifice?
Did those animals want her help?
Kyra was sure of that last point being true; at home, whenever she fed the strays, they'd always come back for more. So they at least have some sense of gratitude.
But they wouldn't understand why she was fighting in the Hunger Games for them. They wouldn't have any concept of such a barbaric pageant.
So when a boulder came careening off the mountain and slammed into her skull, she realised, with her dying thoughts, that that meant all those poor animals; the ones who waited dutifully each morning for her to feed them, wouldn't understand why she suddenly stopped showing up.
Pavel Coleman, 15, District Twelve. Placed 6th.
Pavel never thought he would ever make it this far. He thought for sure that he'd get an axe or throwing knife in the chest within seconds of the gong ringing out, but instead it had been his older, tougher, more resilient district partner who had died first.
Seeing Karina go down so quickly had rattled him. He thought for sure he'd be next, until Tak grabbed his arm and pulled him away to safety.
Yeah, if it wasn't for Tak, he'd definitely be dead by now.
Pavel was running on borrowed time, and he wasn't foolish enough to think otherwise.
The long, arduous journey of him and his ally through the arena was mostly uneventful, except for one incident where they got chased by a creepily, unnaturally tall woman. They escaped though, and had been laying low ever since.
He and Tak barely spoke. They'd done plenty of chatting in the Capitol, back when they still believed they'd be dead on the first day. Pavel knew lots about Tak's home life and vice versa. But now they only talked out of necessity. Panel was paranoid about being overheard by the other tributes, and Tak wasn't a particularly chatty person to begin with.
It still worked out for them, because now they were in the final six. Between them, they had a 1 in 3 chance of making it home. Those were pretty good odds.
But Pavel wasn't going to count his chickens before they hatch. This was a matter of life and death. The odds of District Twelve getting two Victors in one decade were extremely low. His time would come, sooner or later.
And it did come; in the rumbles of a violently shaking planet, and in the form of a tree which blocked out the sun as it plummeted towards him.
Tak Albright, 18, District Eleven. Placed 5th.
Tak didn't see Pavel get crushed under a tree, but he did see the aftermath of it.
He didn't let himself gag at the sight of his ally's broken body, and he didn't let himself cry over it, either.
Pavel had to die if Tak was going to win, and vice versa. Horrible, but that was just how the game worked.
Nevertheless, he wasn't going to forget Pavel and everything he did for him. Nor would he forget Alysandra, his tiny district partner who just wanted to be loved and accepted. And he certainly wasn't going to forget his parents, watching their only son on the television with bated breath.
He was going to carry all of their spirits with him. He would shoulder all their burdens and worries as if winning would dispel them all.
So he put on his mask of stoicism and bravely soldiered on, resigning himself to seeing this out, all the way to the bitter end. If he were to fall, then he would make use of his final moments. One could claim that he wasn't Victor material, but one couldn't claim that he didn't go down without a fight.
The bitter end came soon for him. The next morning, as he blinked away dawn's harsh light with bleary eyes, he was tackled by a tomato-blur. His face was met with the jacket of the Six girl. Her claws were sunk deep into his neck as she squeezed the life out of him.
Tak reached for his knife. He grasped the handle with shaky fingers and, with all his remaining strength behind it, sunk it into the girl's hip. She howled in pain and yanked the knife out.
Tak took advantage of the fact that her hands were no longer on his neck to raise up his arms and throw her off of him. She hit the ground with a thud. Tak struggled to his feet and took off running as fast as his wobbly legs could carry him.
Something sharp and pointy collided with the back of his head and stayed there. Tak fell down face-first, and stayed down this time. The girl hobbled over, pulled Tak's own knife from his skull, then spat upon his body before leaving for elsewhere.
The fight was quick, barely lasting a couple of minutes, but Tak had done it. He was dragged down to hell kicking and screaming. He did not give up without getting a few good knocks in first.
Tak may have been suffocating under the weight of everyone's burdens, but he had still carried them without complaint.
Carlotta Chassis Venheim, 17, District Six. Placed 4th.
Blood poured out of the gaping wound the Eleven boy had inflicted. Pulling the knife out was a stupid idea. It was done in the heat of the moment, supplemented with a surge of adrenaline. And now she was paying the price for her foolishness.
She was so close to the end. If she died because of one silly decision, she was never going to forgive herself.
Carlotta stopped her hobbling and carefully sat down under a tree. The gnarled trunk supported her back without too much discomfort. She let out a sigh that seemed to lift an intense weight off her chest.
It wasn't actually so bad in this arena. At least there were some nice views. But things could have been way worse. She could have been stuck in that cave arena from the First Quarter Quell. That would have sucked ass.
Carlotta searched through her small backpack. She didn't have much left; only a few bits of food and a knife (two if you count the one that had been jammed into her hip), but that was alright. She was nearing the end, anyway. It was nearly finale time.
Soon, she'd take down the last few tributes, whoever they were, and the hovercraft would arrive to take her back to the Capitol. She'd heal up, have her crowning ceremony, and go back to District Six; their second Victor in the decade. Everyone would know her name.
Carlotta sighed again, becoming vaguely aware of how painfully empty her head was starting to feel. She pushed the feeling as deep down as she could manage and continued on with her daydream.
After her victory, she would finally get a proper house, with proper beds and a proper bathtub. A working television. Pantries laden with food. And enough money to last her ten lifetimes. She would never have to work again. Hell, she wouldn't even have to leave the house if she didn't feel like it…
It had suddenly become an exhausting effort to just keep herself upright. She very carefully changed her position so that she was now lying down instead.
With the Capitol's money, she could finally invest in all the luxuries she so badly desired. Fancy soap. New dresses. A swing set; something her heart had always desired. Then china dishes. Clean sheets with intricate patterns on them. Perfume. Fluffy blankets…
She had never felt grass as soft as the grass she was lying on right now. A nearby daisy stem tickled her cheek. Her fingers spread themselves out, feeling everything but grasping onto nothing.
Every morning, she could finally wake up without worrying about getting mugged or jumped by hooligans. For once, she could simply exist in peace…
Her hip pulsated. Something sticky oozed out of it. Carlotta was dimly aware of the fact that she should be concerned, but whatever. She could be concerned after she finished her quick rest.
Now, where was she?
Oh yes, extravagant meals of roasted duck and orange cake. Proper heating and air conditioning. A shower. Wardrobes full to bursting. Water pipes that didn't freeze in the middle of winter. A nice garden for her to do whatever she wanted in. Shoes that didn't squeeze her feet. An actual refrigerator…
That would certainly be the life to live…
Carlotta continued to daydream about the life she wanted, as she shut her eyes against the life she already had, and was losing, forever.
Luxor Bonaparte, 18, District One. Placed 3rd.
Emery was stupid.
Emery was vain.
Emery was weak.
Emery died in 22nd place.
Emery was unworthy of being the Victor.
She was the complete opposite of Luxor.
Luxor was smart.
Luxor was motivated.
Luxor was strong.
Luxor was in the final three. Soon to be the final two, then the final one standing.
He was worthy of being the Victor.
Kallus was a worthy opponent. Luxor was going to enjoy defeating him. But that Eight boy… not so much. He'd only survived on pure luck alone. He was just another kill to add to Luxor's tally.
Luxor had spent nine days in this foreign forest. It was time for these games to end. Time for him to prove that Emery was never going to survive. Not while he was still alive.
He struck out with his sword first.
Kallus dodged it as if he was dancing on air.
Emery wouldn't have dodged that.
Kallus swung his mace. Luxor ducked, letting it pass by over his head, disturbing a few loose hairs.
Emery wouldn't have dodged that, either.
Their weapons clashed. Neither was ready to give in just yet. Their arms' muscles strained under the pressure. The soles of their shoes dug into the soft earth.
Then Luxor leaned back, just enough to get into the right position to kick Kallus' knee, causing his leg to buckle under his weight. Kallus fell to the ground, completely vulnerable, his life ready for the taking.
Emery wouldn't have done that. Hell, she'd be the one lying-
But Kallus recovered extremely quickly. Gripping his mace tightly, he heaved it with all his might, grunting through gritted teeth.
The spiked edge connected with Luxor's head. His skull shattered instantly.
Bloody bits of bone sprayed onto the damp grass. Luxor's body fell with a thud, a cannon shot marking the end of his run in the Games.
He didn't even have time for one last thought about how Emery might be having the last laugh right now.
Kallus Lymestone, 18, District Two. Placed 2nd.
Kallus had never felt so alive before.
He was one kill away from victory and all that it entailed. So close that he could practically feel the Victor's crown upon his head. His heart was beating out of control now. He kept his head on a constant swivel, keeping an eye out for his final opponent.
The trees formed an umbrella far above him, with leaves so thick that they blocked out most of the moonlight. The trunks were tall and thick, as were the branches protruding from them.
It was on one of those branches that he saw him. The boy from Eight.
Kallus remembered him from training. He'd spent most of his time with his district partner at the throwing stars station. He also had a really annoying laugh.
He was honestly surprised Eight had made it this far. Tributes like him usually get eaten for breakfast.
Still, he should be an easy kill.
Kallus stood tall and pointed his sword at him. "Come down here and fight me like a man."
Eight shook his head. "Not yet."
Kallus cocked an eyebrow. 'What do you mean, 'not yet'?"
"I mean," Eight stood on the branch and leaned against the trunk, "I want to do something first. I want to tell you something I think you'll find interesting."
Kallus instinctively brought up his wrist to look at his watch, only to remember he wasn't wearing one. He sighed. "Alright, fine. But make it quick."
Eight rubbed his hands together with glee, a devilish smirk crossing his face. " I don't suppose you know what the gashadokuro are, right?"
"Gasha-what?"
"Gashadokuro. They're mythological spirits from Japan."
"...The Old Country?"
"The very one."
"What the fuck have Old Country myths got to do with anything?" Kallus frowned, impatient.
Eight raised a calming hand. "You'll see. Now, where was I…? Oh yeah, that's right!"
"Hurry up!"
"Right. See, gashadokuro are giant skeletons, about fifteen feet tall or so, and are formed from the ghosts of people who died in battles and weren't buried. They're frightfully angry creatures, constantly seeking vengeance, and the way they do that is… not pretty, no, not at all…"
Kallus figured he may as well humour the kid. "How do they enact vengeance?"
"By grabbing lone travellers, biting off their heads and drinking the blood that sprays out from their neck."
Oh. Okay, then.
"Since they're made out of the bones of people who've already died, gashadokuro have the power of invincibility. When they're out for blood, they'll keep going and going until their anger runs out and they disintegrate."
Kallus was creeped out by this supposed creature, though he would never admit it. But he was also just confused now. What exactly was the whole point of this story?
Eight kept blabbing on.
"There's no way to defend yourself against them. If one catches up to you, you're as good as dead. But there is a way to tell if one is coming. If there's a gashadokuro nearby, you can hear a ringing sound, caused by its teeth rattling."
Kallus put one hand on his hip and raised an eyebrow. "Pardon me for interrupting, but when are you gonna finish? I kind of have a Games to win."
"Oh? I'm done already."
"And what was the point of this tale of yours?"
The smirk returned to Eight's face. Kallus felt a shiver go down his spine. Eight's voice dropped to a menacing whisper as he said the last words Kallus would ever hear from a human mouth:
"Can you hear that distant ringing?"
As soon as he said it, Eight disappeared behind the tree trunk. A rustling followed as he jumped from the tree and bolted into the foliage at a breakneck speed.
Kallus froze, unsure of what to make of all that. Surely the kid was just joking, right? He seemed like he was in a jokey mood, kinda…
And then he heard it.
Ringing.
It was coming from somewhere in the distance, rapidly getting louder and louder. Kallus couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from. Soon the noise was so loud it was almost deafening.
A shiver ran down his spine. His head whipped left and right, trying to locate the noise.
To his right, he saw the trees shift aside to reveal exactly what Eight had described: an enormous skeleton. Tall, frightening, and incomprehensibly menacing. It gnashed its teeth at him, the ringing sound driving itself through his head.
Kallus came extraordinarily close to wetting himself. He decided to do what Eight had done and run away.
He only made it a little ways away before the skeleton took three quick strides and closed its teeth around his neck.
Calico McQueen, 17, District Eight. Victor.
Calico came from the arena no worse for wear. In fact. He acted as if he'd just had the adventure of a lifetime.
And in his mind, he really had.
He was all smiles at his crowning ceremony and his banquet, though the fact that he kept forgetting people's names was as funny as it was annoying.
District Eight were overjoyed to have another Victor, and the Capitol liked him fine enough, but one question still remained: how did he know so many myths about a country that was, for all intents and purposes, long gone? It wasn't taught in the school curriculum and was quite an obscure topic, so what gives?
Well, the answer to that was one Calico kept to himself.
In the slums of Eight where he lived, there was a run-down, dilapidated library. Inside this library, on the end of the very last shelf, was a book. Calico, as a curious and mischievous twelve-year-old, took the book home and never returned it. He'd dusted off the cover and cleaned the mould from the pages, and then he sat down and devoured it in one sitting.
It was a book on mythological creatures from the Old Country Japan, written before Panem was even a country, and it had miraculously survived the Darks Days and everything before and after. Books from back then almost never survived.
It was Calico's favourite book and he reread it almost every month.
Generally speaking, Calico had a few problems with retaining certain facts, like people's names. A nasty fall and a resulting head injury from childhood had made that certain. But Calico had read that book so many times that he was able to memorise every single piece of information it gave him.
But in response to Caesar's inquiries, he just laughed and said he had great intuition. He knew the Capitol didn't take too kindly to Old Country Books. He didn't want to risk losing his favourite book of all time.
Only his fellow victors, Woof and Lonnie, knew the truth. And for years to come, he would regale them with all sorts of mythological tales. Woof just nodded along politely. Lonnie's weak stomach always got the better of her and she always begged him to be quiet and leave her alone.
Calico went and told these tales to Chenille too, at the tribute graveyard. She wasn't exactly in a position to refuse, being dead and all, but every so often Calico swore he heard her voice angrily telling him to shut up.
The Hunger Games wasn't the last time Calico would wander a forest. The second time would come during the Mockingjay Rebellion, where, armed with a backpack of supplies and a water-stained map, he would vanish into the trees.
Only this time, there were no mythical creatures to keep him company.
Notes on the mythological creatures:
Tenome: The ghost of a murdered blind man with eyes on his palms. He stalks the night searching for his murderers so he can enact justice on them. The way he killed Peach is the same way he kills another hapless traveller according to legend.
Kune-Kune: A mysterious wispy creature that appears in large open spaces and kills anyone who gets too close to it. It's what killed Ampere.
Rokurokubi: A spiritual person (usually a woman from what I've seen) whose head detaches itself from her body at night and roams around looking for victims. The only way to kill one is to attack her body while her head is elsewhere, which is what Calico and Chenille did earlier in the story.
Hachishakusama: Briefly mentioned in Chenille's POV. An eight-foot-tall woman who kidnaps children.
Gashadokuro: Basically what Calico said lol.