A/N: Hey y'all! Here's my 5th SYOT, a new partial from what I like to call: "The non-darkest timeline timeline." Basically, the horrible "everything that could go wrong went wrong" ending of No Apologies doesn't happen. For those of you new to my stories, you're good to go as this is basically a reboot set a few years after my main trilogy, so you should be able to get by without too much confusion. Anyways, enjoy the first prologue!
PS: First 900 words of this are verbatim from Prestige's last POV in No Apologies, but only like 3 people ever read that so I think we're good lol.
Prestige Freeman. District One. The final day of the 101st Hunger Games.
McKenna is split in half as Horatio drives the sword upwards, easily cutting through the top of her head. He doesn't even look, turning around to face us, as what remains of the District Four girl falls forward into the ground in unison with the canon.
Boom!
Hailey has managed to climb back up, swaying on her feet as she struggles to stay standing. When I found her after the feast, she was barely conscious, lying in a pool of her own blood. The sponsor gift of a basic med-kit managed to keep her alive, but I don't have to be a doctor to know that won't last much longer. Her skin has gone pale, and while she still has a razor focus, it's obvious she's just running on whatever adrenaline is still left pumping through her.
She can hardly even speak, just heavily panting as she shakily pulls the dagger out, while Horatio takes his time stalking over towards us, ignoring the little girl who remains frozen in place not too far from us.
"We have to fight," Hailey pants, keeping her gaze locked on the behemoth that makes his way towards us.
She's right, of course. We have to fight. We have to kill him. The monster of a man who bashed in the face of the girl we thought couldn't even be scratched, who didn't even break a sweat killing the most skilled career in the arena. The sword suddenly becomes heavy in my hands.
I'm not a fighter. I'm not a killer. None of this is me. I can't do this. I run fast and kick a ball well, how does that translate into murdering an unkillable freak? All of the times in my life that I've failed, how is this going to be any different? I've fallen on my ass so many times, messed up in every part of my life, even the parts I was supposed to be special at.
I can already feel the weight of failure on my shoulders. Horatio is almost to us now. A part of me wonders if I should just run. Hailey wouldn't be able to keep up, she would fall behind and Horatio would get to her and kill her just like he killed the others. I know that. I know that it's a selfish, awful thought, to just run away and hope that somehow, through some stupid, twisted miracle everyone just dies on their own and I get to leave. But still it echoes through my head.
For all my screwups, for every little thing that I've messed up in my life, all the people who never gave a damn about me; I don't want this to be the end. There's still so much left I want to do. I want to play soccer again in front of a cheering crowd. I want to feel the wind in my air as I run, the adrenaline pumping through my veins as not a single person can catch me. I want to be lifted up in the air, drenched in buckets of ice water as my team all celebrates around me. I want to fail, to be lying down on the turf late at night, tears filling my eyes and a burning sensation in my heart. I want to be embarrassed, to feel like I can never show my face to a single person ever again. I want my heart to break into a million pieces in the worst and best way imaginable, so that whenever I see her I'm not sure whether to laugh or to cry.
I want it all. The pain, the joy, the love, the hatred, the elation, the sadness, the good, and the bad. Nothing matters to me anymore but getting to continue to feel all those things, to get to keep riding those ups and those downs wherever they take me. No matter how high I rise, or how long it feels like I've been at the bottom. I just want to live.
Hailey makes a move. As Horatio gets near us, she suddenly bursts towards him. Even he seems surprised by it, on his backfoot for a second as she slashes out with the dagger, just narrowly missing his neck.
She doesn't get a second chance. Horatio grabs her by the arm and brings a full force punch to her head, Hailey dropping flat backwards as he lets go of her, her body thudding against the ground as she goes still.
Fear and rage bubble up inside of me, mixed with adrenaline that throbs through my veins, pulsing against the inside of my skull. I step forwards, igniting the sword. The red blade extends from the handle.
Horatio switches his gaze to me, ignoring Hailey as he stomps towards me, seeming completely unworried. He just flashes a small smile, igniting his own blade. The two of us continue to circle one another, taking the other in and waiting for their moment. He takes a subtle step forward, and without any further hesitation, I leap once more into the fray.
Our blades clash against each other, red and blue locking in place. Every movement is a perfect choreography, each attack being deflected, every strike being parried. There's no thought, just a calming trust. A faith in myself, and in the mantra that echoes through my mind, rejecting the Prestige who sat in that room after being reaped, and felt absolutely nothing, and wondered if it was even worth it. No, that mantra is shouting above that memory now, rewriting it into a new reality.
I want to be alive.
Those words echo throughout my mind as I leap forward, surprising even myself with the force behind my swing. Horatio steps back and recollects himself, twirling the blade with a flourish as he grunts and spits on the ground.
He's better than me. That much becomes clear right away. His swings are more ferocious, more precise, more deadly. Each blow sends me reeling backwards, and a half-dozen times the blade hums in my ear as it slices past, just narrowly avoiding cutting me in two. But there's something that seems to be pulling me, like I'm a puppet attached to strings. My arms bring themselves up to deflect a blow, I'm pulled into a duck as the blade buzzes where my neck used to be. I swerve and slide, more dancing than fighting as each blow narrowly avoids its mark.
The margins are centimeters, and the fight continues, the blades clashing as the minutes wear on and sweat begins to form, dripping down from my forehead and coating my palms in a slick coat. He's wearing down too, but more than just fatigue. I can see the rage in him building up, piling and burning as his frustration comes to a watershed moment.
He screams, ducks down, and swings at my head with all the force that he can muster. I'm ready, not needing any sixth sense to be able to duck easily out of the way. I pop up to my feet, smack him in the head with the butt of my sword before he can recover himself, and spin out of the way as he wildly swings out at me. He stumbles backwards, and instinctively brings a hand up to his forehead.
I can see my opportunity in front of me, and I leap forwards, snagging my advantage before it can disappear. I twirl forwards, my blade an extension of my arm as I spin towards him. The blade cuts against the fabric of his shirt, tearing it open as he hops backwards, nearly falling onto his back as he struggles to find his balance.
He stumbles, spinning around as he plants his feet firmly into the ground. My thoughts have blended away, raw instinct commanding me as I follow after him, spinning around as I wind up my blade behind me and stab it forwards.
There's a sizzling sound as the blade cuts into flesh. My breath escapes me. His eyes go wide, and the blade drops from his hands, blue wisps of smoke coming from the handle. He stands still for a while, motionless, before he falls too, dropping to his knees as the life leaves his eyes.
As I look down at my hands, I become aware that they're shaking. A few drops of fresh blood run along my fingers as they curl and uncurl around the handle incessantly. My teeth are chattering, and I can feel my legs weakening beneath me.
I don't look down as I flick the blade forwards. There's a sizzling sound, followed by a thud. For the twenty-first time, a canon booms.
4 Years Later
My lungs are burning, my legs aching, head throbbing in pain as I keel over the metal bench, gasping in for air between gulps of water. I've never felt more alive.
A few nearby kids point at me, excitedly jumping up and down as they chatter among themselves. I meekly wave, and that's enough to send them into an even greater frenzy. A smile slips across my lips as I turn away from them, and begin to untie my cleats.
"You're getting really good."
I don't have to turn around to recognize the voice of my co-mentor. I shrug, cramming my balls and cleats into my gym bag. "I could be better."
"Not by much."
"Sabres still haven't won a championship, and I still haven't won MVP, so I'd disagree." I zip up my bag, throw it onto the bench, and turn to face Glory. "So, what's up?"
She tries to look taken aback. Her acting skills don't impress. "Can't I just stop by to check in and see how you're doing?"
"I mean, you can."
Silence overtakes us for a few moments, Glory picking up a whistle as she digs her heel into the ground.
"So. . . ." I say.
"Okay," she blurts out. "It's just this really small thing, see Gal-"
"Nope." I throw the bag over my shoulder and brush by her.
"No?" She asks, jogging out in front of me and walking backwards in my path.
I laugh. "I am not getting involved in anything to do with those two. Let me guess, May put you up to it?"
She hesitates for a moment, opens her mouth, closes it, then settles on, "that's not relevant."
"That's not an answer."
"Come o-on," she moans, sounding more like a nine-year-old than a teenager for a moment. "It's nothing, seriously."
"Then you need my help, why again?" I ask, unable to help the smile that slips onto my lips even as I attempt to deadpan my response.
"You know that Galavant listens to you more than anyone else."
I snort. "Oh, so I'm the designated 'convince Galavant and Melody to let me and May do something' girl now, huh?"
"You don't have to convince him of anything." She says, then quietly adds under her breath, "you just have to distract him."
"Oh?" I say, choking on my laughter.
"It's nothing," she says defensively, her voice rising an octave. "It's just that tonight a few people are getting together and-"
"Sneaking out to go to a party? Aren't you two just little rebels." I laugh at the thought, then pause for a moment. It's been a while since I've talked with Galavant, just him and me, and it would be good to check up on him again. Besides, having Glory and May owing me favors can't ever be a bad thing. I hold off on telling her a little while longer, letting her sit in anticipation and make the decision seem harder than it is. "I'll ask Gal to come train with me tonight."
"Thank you!" She exclaims, stopping and crushing me in a hug as I crash into her. "I owe you one, really."
"Yeah, sure." I say, peeling myself off of her. "But if you guys get caught, this conversation never happened."
She zips her lips and nods her head. "Already forgotten." A smile spreads back onto her lips, and she reaches in for another quick hug. "You're the best, thank you!"
"Yeah, yeah," I say. "Just don't have too much fun, okay?"
She nods her head and quickly dashes back towards Victor's Village, while I take my time, slowly passing through the district and taking in the view.
A thought comes to me, and I'm unable to contain the silly grin that comes with the realization, a joyful contentment falling over me.
Things just aren't half bad.
A/N: More than four living victors? And they're actually happy? Well, while I can't promise zero angst because 1) it's the Hunger Games and 2) I'm still me, this is definitely going to be my attempt at a much lighter and brighter verse than my usual stories.
For those who haven't read Role Model and No Apologies, first of all go read them because they're dope, but if you don't have the time to go through and read them, don't worry. I'll do my best to write under the assumption you're new to the verse as a whole, and really, there isn't too much you're missing considering this is an AU where the end of No Apologies just doesn't happen.
Anyways, down to the gritty details, this will be a partial SYOT, with 8 POV characters submitted by you fine people. Six of these characters will be Careers, and the other 2 will be outer district "contenders": either someone who wants to join the Career pack or is just super capable. Basically, someone who is capable of winning. By keeping the numbers low, I'm hoping we can really take the time to delve into their characters, while also spending some time with all our mentors. Full submission info is on my profile, and I'd love for all of you to check it out and consider submitting. If nothing else, you got some real good odds to get yourself a victor :P
Drop a review to tell me what you think, join my discord server if you haven't already for some bomb memes, and go submit a character!