XXXII. Best Served Cold

Because the living justice that inspires me
Granted it, in the hand of him I speak of,
The glory of doing vengeance for its wrath.

There's something ironic about the fact he got a sponsor gift right after he did it.

A parasol dropped from the sky with a whistle humming through the air whilst Calsin stared at Ellie's body, still in shock of what he'd just done. He'd opened it, and read the note aloud to himself. "That was a rough one, buddy. I'm proud of you for staying strong. Cheers, Crista." Behind the letter was a bottle of anti-sceptic solution and a thick bandage designed to fit around his hand. He wiped his injury clean of dirt, wrapped it in the bandage, then closed his eyes before he could allow himself to think too much.

Calsin wakes the next morning (or, at least he thinks it's the morning) in a disoriented haze. He pinches at his wrist, and hopes and prays. Yesterday was just a dream. None of that was real. Ellie's still here and everything's fine. Everything is completely and utterly fine.

His eyes dart to his bandaged hand. That's from the crusty 'ol octopus man. I don't remember him stabbing me, but that's totally where the injury is from. Ellie couldn't have stabbed me. He peels back some of the gauze and notices that the wound is already beginning to scab over, a relief.

"Ellie," Calsin whistles. He scans the area for his ally, wondering where she went because he couldn't have actually killed her yesterday. That was obviously a dream; it had to be a dream. "Where are you, Ellie?"

Did she run away from him? He realizes that he was being a bit of a dick to her— okay, maybe more than a bit— but he didn't think that she'd run away because of that. And of course, her emerging from the water yesterday and attacking him was a dream, just like the fact she's dead because he killed her.

He looks out into the lake and calls for her once again, "Ellie?" Instead of a response, Calsin hears the sound of an object bobbing up and down in the water, about five yards away from him. There's ruffled-up blonde hair and a ripped white shirt covered in dried blood. He gets a bit closer, his toes nearly touching the body of water, before he calls out again, "Ellie? Endellion, is that you?"

There's no response, and it's then that Calsin realizes the events of yesterday were very much not a dream.

Did I actually? He stands on the tips of his toes, hoping to get a better look at the object in the lake. Is that actually? A small ripple sends it closer to him, and then a few more until the object— no, it's a body, is completely washed up on the shore.

Oh my lord.

Calsin is able to make out the two spear wound's in the girl's back, in Ellie's back, and he glances over at his spear on the ground, noticing it's also painted with dried blood. That was real? Oh my lord…

Her face is puffy, and some of the blood has gotten into her hair, making it stick together. He kneels down and feels the side of her chin, noticing that her mouth is still open. She almost looks like she's… surprised, but overall she looks far from the girl Calsin knew before yesterday when she—

She climbed out of the lake with unwarranted vengeance on her face before pushing him to the ground and wrapping her hands around his throat. Ellie picked up his spear and even though Calsin begged her not to, she thrusted it against the air. The only reason it didn't do more damage was because he blocked it, and now his hand is somewhat itchy from the gauze.

No matter what he did, Ellie was insistent on attacking him, almost like she was possessed or something. She behaved as if the lake was possessing her, or worse, like it was making her forget every little piece of her identity. And without that, all Ellie had was profanities to spew at Calsin and wrath to unleash. He had no choice; he had no fucking choice and yet he still feels guilty over the fact he had to kill her.

Maybe he should've been more gentle, though really two spear strikes and having your head pressed underwater is hardly rough compared to other things he's seen in the Games. But Ellie was his friend, and ideally friends aren't supposed to kill friends… except, her last words to him weren't those of a friend.

"You think you're all tough, but you're just like Atlantis. You're malicious, and bitter, and you only care about yourself. You never cared about me, just admit it! All you care about is killing her, so just do everyone a favor and fucking accept it."

Or maybe… friends are supposed to be honest. Adrian was always honest with him, but Calsin doesn't know if he can consider him a friend. Well, yes, Adrian is his friend, but he could be so much more. No, he should be so much more than just Calsin's friend, but the Games have robbed him of ever getting the chance.

And Ellie's words have robbed him of what little self-worth he had remaining after eighteen years of rotting alive.

(That's because they're true.)

Calsin Verrillo and Atlantis Seasbane are one and the same; they're mirrored scorpions with poison on their tongues and malignancy running through their veins like golden ichor. He can hide it all he wants, but he'll never truly escape the fact he's identical to the very devil he's hellbent on slaying. He'll always be a tumultuous sea or a tsunami of rancor.

He'll always be a fucking freak.

A disgrace to the Verrillo name and not even the original familial reproach, 'cause Sevilin dissented first, and he never gave in either. Calsin was too fucking shy to reveal his true colors, instead watching his brother's mayhem from the corridors while his parents screamed…

"Sevilin, stop coming into the house when you're high!"

"Sevilin, you're home from training too early. You must've not worked hard enough!"

"Sevilin, how dare you assume that you'll always be our son after everything you've done to disparage us."

"You don't belong here anymore. Just leave."

Calsin heard the shattered glass and guttural screams yet he didn't do a thing. He was too much of a fucking coward to save his older brother or prevent him from leaving. No wonder Sevilin never returned to bring Calsin with him to his oasis. He was never worthy.

Maybe dying in the Games is his actual calling. He was never able to be somebody that his parents could love, and he idolized Sevilin from afar instead of stepping in. He's never actually been good for the world, much less good for himself.

He had a friend in here yet he hardly hesitated before killing her. In fact, Calsin considered leaving her to rot on several occasions before Ellie's lake-induced hysteria finally prompted him to grow a pair and actually do it. He continued to journey with her, knowing damn well that she was a liability, and all because he's a stupid, worthless, coward.

Too much of a coward to give into the fact that he's not a good person and he shouldn't pretend to be one. At least Atlantis knows that she's a monster; Calsin can't even bring himself to think he's even slightly indecent.

Maybe the real reason Calsin wants to kill her so bad is because maybe once she's gone, all of the inner-demons he so desperately ignores will finally be dead too.

(Maybe he's too much of a coward to kill himself instead. His sliver of optimism remains his saving grace.)

For the first time in forever, Calsin's lost without a plan. He used to enjoy the freedom of being away from home, allowed to do whatever he wants without forethought, but now such uncertainty is grimly unwelcome.

He was fine floating by through the Games and only targeting the weak until it truly matters, but now that he's alone, taking the offense won't fly. He needs to protect himself, because chances are, Atlantis is coming to take him out now, and even if he deserves it, Calsin doesn't want to die so young and so soon.

All he wants is to fly and take the rest of Four into a paradise with him, but the arena's clipped his wings and left him in desolation. He's once again a failure to the world he never should've been born into, yet he's too fucking stubborn to die in it too.

The blood which coats his shirt is nothing in comparison to the seething resentment that's building up instead his head, and the rest of the world should live in fear of the moment when he finally snaps.

Calsin Verrillo may be a traitor and a disgrace, but he'll set the whole world aflame before he goes out a coward.

His food is running low and his water is growing scarce. Dread is bubbling inside him because he knows that he has to do something. He's not a moron; he's sure that at least a few people have thought to themselves, "How is the twelve-year-old from Nine still alive?"

Honestly, Bud could ask himself the exact same thing. He's spent the past few days hiding in the crevices of the caverns, only moving when he's sure that nobody is around him. It's lonely and boring, but luckily Bud is far more accustomed to being lonely and bored than any twelve-year-old kid should ever be.

(At times, the more narrow parts of the caverns remind him of his time with Mr. Avion. There's some areas where he has to barely sneak by in order to find shelter, and those areas remind him what it's like to be buried alive. Gasping… shaking… begging for air… Bud feels like he's being crushed until the coast is clear and he's able to make a getaway)

When he was walking through the cave yesterday, Bud saw something that he didn't quite like. He'd heard a cannon go off, but he didn't think that it was anywhere near him, so he was quite surprised to crawl out of his corner into a gruesome display of blood on the floor. There was a crimson outline of a young girl (who he later learned was the other youngling left, the girl from Eight), and the only object left behind was the shell of a bullet.

Bud's unsettlingly familiar with the sound of a gun being fired. He remembers the day where Mr. Avion took a handful of Peacekeepers and arranged them in a line, firing at them one by one and making deranged faces of glee when each body dropped to the ground. He did recall hearing a gunshot that day, but he thought it was the ghoulish memories of his past invading his brain instead of an actual gun.

He was however, proven wrong, and is now forced to think about how, when, and why, the girl from Eight was shot. He remembers during training that she spent a lot of time with the boy from Ten, and Bud caught them together out of the corner of his eye during the bloodbath. The boy from Ten is big and strong though, and it would make sense if an outside force shot him instead. He's clearly more of a threat. Assuming that the two of them were indeed together, which Bud reckons to be a fair assumption, the fact Eight is dead can only mean one of two things. Either, she jumped in the way of the bullet and died because of it (unlikely; Bud knows how fast bullets move), or the boy from Ten was the one who shot her.

The latter makes more sense to him. Bud remembers during his interview that he was confronted about shooting up a bar back in Ten, so that means he has experience using guns to kill people. He seemed rather hostile too during his interview, almost as if he didn't regret the fact he has blood on his hands. If there's anybody deranged enough to kill an innocent young girl, it's him.

The fact this altercation took place in the caverns does little to reassure Bud. He's worried that Ten gets a sadistic rush out of killing children, worried that he'll get a rush out of finding and killing him. If there's anybody he needs to avoid, it's him… yet, his stomach is begging him for food and if he doesn't act fast, he'll die before he can demand that Panem hears his voice.

Bud worms his way out of his corner, carefully looking back and forth to ensure that he's actually alone. He walks to the left, positive that's the quickest way out of the cave, but in the meantime, he examines the floor to see if any edible insects are crawling around. He's unfortunately, not that lucky. As he ventures further, he notices a hunched over figure out of the corner of his eye. He focuses his view on it and examines it to see who it is…

Shaved black hair and tan skin, it's…. Shoot.

It's the boy from Ten but his visage also resembles that of somebody dreadfully familiar to him. Bud knows that it's not him (it can't be him), but he can't help but think that he's been reunited with Mr. Avion.

It makes no sense; there's no reason for it to make any sense, yet Bud feels his hands trembling. He never thought he'd have to be face-to-face with the demon that haunted his childhood ever again, and technically he isn't, but he might as well be. Ten and Mr. Avion look the same, and they are bathed in sins from killing innocent children.

…Maybe this is revenge?

No. He can't. He has to keep walking. He can't let Ten see him.

The knife in Bud's hand is begging him to use it, but he does his best to control himself. I can't kill him. I'm a good person, and good people don't kill people. It's simple as that.

He tiptoes over the spot where Ten's hunched over, but he jolts back when the boy's head turns in his direction. Their eyes lock, and Bud instantly panics. He tries to run away, but the Ten boy gets up and stops him in his tracks,

"Where do you think you're going, Mister?" He says, his voice mildly intimidating. Ten even sounds like Mr. Avion; his tone is somewhat passive, but it's still clear that he's full of rage. Just the sound of him speaking is enough to get Bud to sweat.

He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. He tries again, panting to himself and pleading, yet there's no luck. Bud looks up at Ten and notices the concerned look in his eyes. It's the exact same one that Mr. Avion gave when he saw Bud "dead" as he hung from his noose. It's almost like he doesn't even care.

Bud tries to talk again. "It doesn't matter to you!" His volume is loud enough that the sound echoes off the cavern walls. "I should be asking you what you're doing here, monster!"

"What do you mean?" Ten responds, his voice now more gentle, which is unusual.

"You killed your ally! And you killed so many other people too." Bud huffs and puffs.

Before he can say anything else, Ten wraps his fingers around his left wrist and pushes him to the ground. He screams, "I didn't kill her!"

He's clearly angry, and Bud doesn't believe him, especially not after he pushed him to the ground with ease. "Why would you even say that?"

It's almost like Ten wants Bud to go insane, the same way Mr. Avion oh-so-clearly did.

(Bud once asked him why he killed Wheelan, his eyes wide and desperate. He was an idiot to think that he would get any sort of response. Instead, Mr. Avion pushed him to the ground and said, "I didn't kill him; your friend killed himself when he disrespected me. Why would you even say it was me?"

Because he still remembers the fire… and the sound of him burning… and the way his voice scratched when he screamed…

It doesn't matter, Bud had to remind himself. Bad people won't let you tell them that they're bad. They always hide the fact that they're evil because they're too afraid to admit it. Either that, or they flaunt in their wickedness.

To this day, he's not sure which is worse.)

Bud glances down at his left hand, the one with the knife in it... Do I have to?

Something inside of him tells him that he does. This is his revenge; this is his revolution.

He spins the blade in his hand and stands tall. Ten grabs onto his shoulders and tries pushing him back, but Bud squeezes his muscles together so that he doesn't slip. He grits his teeth together and grunts wordlessly as he learns forwards and jabs the knife right into Ten's heart.

Ten freezes instantly. His eyes are so wide they've practically fallen out of his head while Bud further pushes the blade. Blood begins to stain Ten's button-up shirt, but Bud is still wordless.

Maybe it's shock, or maybe it's a mix of unbridled rage and fear, but Bud is unable to react when he releases the knife and Ten falls down to the ground with a cannon.

He looks at the bag of food that Ten's stored in the corner, and sprints towards it. Bud got what he wanted, but at what cost?

Ten is dead, and in Bud's mind, Mr. Avion is too, yet he still doesn't feel good.

If I killed someone… does that mean I'm just as bad?

He needs to run.

She's not quite sure what to make of the stranger who's approached her.

He's taller than her (not that that's particularly impressive), and notably disheveled, and there's a mischievous look in his eyes. Perhaps it would be more convenient for everybody if Hedy just got up off the ground and strangled him, but her twisted wrist and the fact he is physically imposing make that difficult.

But, she still has a vicious reputation to uphold, so right when he's about to address her, Hedy cuts the boy off. "What the fuck do you want? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just fucking kill you."

The boy pants, clearly tired from trekking up on top of the caves. He laughs to himself, and then he speaks. "You're a feisty one, aren't you?"

"Something like that," Hedy rolls her eyes, already annoyed by him. "You didn't answer my question though. What the hell do you want?"

He sits on the ground across from her and deeply sighs. "I should be asking that to you. What can I do to be of service to you."

What a little shit, she muses. While Hedy doesn't have any specific memories of him during training, she does remember seeing him allied with the pair from Six, which means that he's the boy from Seven. Strange that he's not with them now, considering the two of them are both still alive. Unless of course, the canon from a few minutes ago was for one of them. If it was and he killed one of them, Hedy's somewhat impressed by the lack of blood he got on himself.

"You can leave me alone," Hedy deadpans in response to Seven's question.

But he doesn't move, and that leads her to think, which is never a good thing. He's stronger than her, and less visibly injured, so maybe he does have some uses. Hmmm…. She licks her lips, then presses them into a line. Perhaps I could use him to— it's too early for her to consider that. Hedy needs to assess him a bit first.

Seven smirks. "But that wouldn't be very fun, now would it?"

"The Hunger Games aren't exactly fun," she replies. "If you're trying to manipulate me or whatever, just know that it's not working."

"Where the hell did you get an idea like that?" He chuckles, leaning back on his palms and staring up at the sky. "I'm just in the market for some new allies, and I noticed that you happened to also be alone. I was wondering if there was anything I could do to earn your allegiance and camaraderie."

"We've been in here for four days now; numbers are thinning and I'd think you'd agree that we're getting to the point where people are better off alone." Hedy squints her eyes. "Why don't you have allies, anyway? I saw you during training with the pair from Six."

"Why don't you have allies?" Seven fires back. "I saw you during training with the girl from Five."

"Touché." She smiles, quickly realizing that she's going to need to find an excuse to get him out of her hair, or at least not actively afraid of her. Not that Hedy thinks people should be afraid of her, of course. She's… not a bad person, just somebody motivated to do whatever it takes in order to win. Maybe what she did to Verdigris and in turn did to the girl from Eight was cruel, but it's common knowledge that the Hunger Games as a concept were basically invented for the sake of being cruel. Maybe she shouldn't give into the Capitolites and their bloodlust, but if it'll lead her to victory, it is what it is.

"I'm asking," he continues to edge her on. "What happened to Five? Last I checked, she isn't dead, unless that last cannon was—"

"Well, I'm asking about the Sixes," Hedy retaliates. "Again, unless the last cannon was for them."

"As far as I'm aware, both my former allies are unfortunately alive." He hangs his head low, as if he's been defeated.

"Same goes with Verdigris," she says. "When I saw you approaching me, I was hoping you'd say that you killed them."

"Oh?" Seven brings his hand to his chin, an intrigued look on his face. "What did they do to make you wish such things. Death is a bit drastic, don't you think?"

"Drastic but necessary," Hedy replies. "If you must know, they betrayed me and I wound up with a sprained wrist, slightly less hair on my head, and the dead body of that poor girl from Eight."

"The girl from Eight?" He tilts his head to the side. "Wasn't she like thirteen? I was hoping that she died of starvation or something; I never thought a person would be cruel enough to take her out."

"That's what I've been saying," she enthuses. False tears fall from her eyes, so she channels that anguish as she continues to speak. "Verdigris is fuckin' psychotic! They found a gun on the ground and shot Eight in the heart without thinking twice. And then they…" She shivers, hoping that the emotions she's faking are still convincing. "They tried to turn the gun on me. It must've only had one bullet, because it didn't go off. Didn't stop them from physically giving me a beating. I threw a few punches, but they're still unfortunately very much alive."

"That's awful," Seven responds, and his voice nearly seems genuine. "The Sixes were just being incredibly annoying. I almost feel bad for trying to leave them when your situation is clearly much worse. Maybe I was being a bit dramatic."

No shit, she thinks. But at least he seems to be falling for her schemes without much doubt. At least she's once again using her words as weapons when her fists have failed her. "You probably were being dramatic, but there's not much you can do about it now, right?"

He nods, then extends his hand. "I'm Judas by the way; what should I call you?"

"Hedy." She grabs only his fingertips and hardly shakes his hand before letting go, because the pain in her wrist still burns. "You were talking about how you wanted to do me a favor earlier, weren't you, Judas. Why is that?"

"Boredom, mainly," he admits. "That and the fact I noticed you looked like you needed help, all roughed-up and tired atop this cave. I'm also rather lonely if you couldn't tell, so I was thinking we could keep one another company."

"Fair, but why should I trust you?" She asks.

"I don't know. Why shouldn't you?" Judas shrugs his shoulders. "Look, Hedy, I'll give you two options. Either you trust me, and I do a little favor for you, perhaps even killing that ex-ally of yours." He opens the bag slung over his shoulder to reveal a large knife. "Or, I leave you alone, and you're vulnerable while Five runs around rampant. You can chose whatever you want, I won't be offended."

Hedy laughs. "Actually, I think you would be quite offended if I told you to leave."

She then considers the options that Judas has presented her with. If she tells him to leave, there's always the chance that he doesn't, and then he just takes his knife and kills her. But, if he employs his help in taking out Verdigris, he could also easily turn the knife on her. Either way, she's at risk of dying, so perhaps it would be wise of her to risk Verdigris' life as well. Hedy's much too stubborn to let herself die without taking them out with her. The other good thing is, Judas seems to genuinely believe her crocodile tears, so maybe he's actually kindhearted enough to help her out. She doubts that though; there's something about him that's without a doubt, off. Still, he's probably worth keeping around, because again, if she's going to die, Verdigris better go out too.

"So you're telling me to leave then?" Judas sighs, preparing to get up and leave. "Suit yourself, I guess…"

"No!" Hedy stammers. "I've evaluated the two options you presented me with, and I actually think that it would be beneficial if you stayed here with me. That's assuming that you'd actually go through with killing Verdigris, of course."

A part of her is upset that she won't get to be the one who gets rid of them, but at this point, taking them out is the one thing she must do if she wants to guarantee her survival.

"Of course I meant it," he responds. "I'm a man of my word, I promise."

"Sure you are." Hedy chuckles. "I don't care what you are, you just better actually kill them."

"I will." Judas nods, then extends his hand once more. "Does this mean that we have a deal?"

"Or something like that." This time, Hedy uses her good hand to shake his in order to avoid her pain.

Once their hands release, she can't help but smile. Verdigris may have won the battle, but now that she has a new "friend" on her side, Hedy Lovelace is sure to win the war.

Flying is something that puts him at ease.

Throughout his life, Icarus has been surrounded and compounded by pressure, from his mother, from Valhalla, from Lethia in a way, and most notably, from himself. Over the years, he's developed an insatiable need to be the "perfect golden boy," incapable of messing up or messing around, even if it means resulting to cruelties in order to get what he wants. It'll all be worth it eventually though, or at least that's what Icarus reminds himself whenever he doubts that his actions have any benefit. Soon, I'll be king, and it'll all be worth it…

All of the stress has nearly buried him alive, so the idea of having wings in order to propel himself off the ground and away from all the incertitude is incredibly pleasing to him. If only he'd been able to fly away from all of his problems sooner. Maybe then Icarus wouldn't need the Games to make his mother proud. Panem has fifty-one other victors, but they have zero boys who are able to fly, and surely she'd be at least a bit impressed by that. And he wouldn't be at risk of dying, either.

Not that Icarus plans on dying, of course. No, he actively refuses the concept of death, because when push comes to shove, he'll always be situated in a position high up above it. He was raised to be a star, born to be golden, and the idea of death is just a mere obstacle in the way of stopping him from reaching the top.

Unfortunately, it seems that Atlantis Seasbane is also an obstacle. While at first Icarus was certain that she was on her side, devoted and inspired to do his bidding like any rational human being should be, lately he's begun to question her motives. That's mainly because of Calsin, who she refuses to seek out even now that Endellion is gone and surely he's on her own and more vulnerable against the two of them. She claimed that their problems from home had suddenly been resolved, and she seemed to easily down his lies about Lethia, but nevertheless the pieces aren't fitting together.

"I think today's the day we finally go after Calsin," he had suggested to her earlier in the day. "I know that you said your problems aren't much of an issue, but I'm unsure that changes the fact he wants you dead. It's best that we kill him sooner rather than later while he's still likely grieving from the death of his ally. The numbers are thinning Atlantis; it's best we take out somebody with one of the higher predicted placements while they're vulnerable."

She seemed to not care what he had to say, replying with "Couldn't the same be said with Lethia? We saw Seven crush her wrist when we were watching the bloodbath. We should go after her before she's fully healed, no?"

"But she has two allies and Calsin's all alone," Icarus had responded. "It'll be an easier fight."

They argued back and forth for several more minutes before Icarus had enough of her and walked outside, flying up into the air so he could take a break from his annoyance.

Truth be told, he's grown paranoid that Atlantis never actually hated Calsin to begin with. The way she switched up so quickly is incredibly suspicious, and the fact she's now actively refusing to kill him is disturbing to say the very least. Her change of opinion happened after the interviews and before the two of them were launched in the arena the next day, which of course gives her plenty of time to scheme around with Calsin, and perhaps even devise a strategy meant to take Icarus out.

(Paranoia has always been a problem of his. The more time he spent with Lethia, the more afraid he was that she'd grow to be better than him. His mother instilled it in him from a very young age; the world is every person for themselves, and more often than not, you're going to be faced with traitors. Lethia may not have been directly harming him, but she certainly had the potential to do so, and that left Icarus horrified. After everything he'd done to help her, he couldn't afford to fall at her feet. She never said that she'd do anything to betray him, and in hindsight she's too much of a sycophant to actually do such a thing, but that didn't change the fact that Icarus was worried. He then realized, she couldn't betray him if he was the one to stab her in the back first. Perhaps with Atlantis it will have to be the same.)

He's considered taking out Atlantis himself, but the issue with that is that she's without a doubt, the better fighter, while Icarus' most powerful weapon has always been his mind. That and, when he does eventually go off to kill Lethia, assuming she has allies alive, he'll need her assistance, and that in turn leaves him with two options. Either he just ignores his suspicious towards Atlantis, or he works in order to break her so that she does his bidding, the same way he had to break Lethia.

There was a time back in One where they absolutely needed to see somebody fall. Castello Bellwether was his name, and he'd been climbing through the ranks like a madman. Icarus had a hunch that it was too good to be true, and when he expressed his frustrations to Lethia, she seemed to agree. She'd also been getting strong lately, so Icarus equally needed to do something in order to restrain her from growing past him.

When he saw the steroids in Castello's backpack, he wasn't exactly surprised, but this was before Valhalla had begun their drug tests. In fact, what Icarus and Lethia did was the reason they began their drug tests. The teacher Icarus spoke to didn't seem to believe him when he said that Castello was cheating, and so, he was forced to take matters into his own hands, with Lethia by his side. Maybe what he did was a bit drastic, but it sure as hell worked.

It was easy enough to buy ricin off of Beryl once Icarus had Lethia wine and dine him. It was just as easy to sneak a drop or two of the lethal poison into Castello's syringe. It was even easier for Icarus to pretend to be shocked when the headmaster called in all the cadets and told them that Castello Bellwether had been found dead in the locker room with a needle in his thigh. It was announced that performance enhancing drugs were permanently banned from Valhalla, because not only were they illegal, but they'd become mixed up with poison, and he didn't want any more dead students.

Icarus was thrilled, but Lethia was notably taken aback. When he asked her why, all she did was shudder and say, "Was that really necessary?" And just like that, she was back under his thumb.

He can do the same to Atlantis in order to reign her back in, and they can get rid of another Tribute in the process if Icarus plays his cards right. He's slowly realized that as nasty as she can be, Atlantis Seasbane is without a doubt somebody who is very insecure. That's something he can very easily play with.

Keeping that in mind, Icarus continues to fly high over the rest of the arena, eying the area below him for any potential targets. On one of the islands closest to the cathedral, he spies Lethia and Beowulf guarding a large marble building together. They seem to be laughing and enjoying one another's company, and that's a thought that makes Icarus sick to his stomach.

It also sparks an idea in him though. It's already been established that Beowulf is hanging on by a thread. He has been since the very beginning of their time in the Capitol, and Icarus can only assume that his mental stamina has gotten worse since the Games began, even if he's been getting close with Lethia. Honestly, that's sad. Chances are, she'll get sick of him once she realizes he can't be used to propel her to victory.

He can however, be used to hurt her. The same way he can be used to hurt Atlantis, even if she doesn't realize such a thing is possible.

Again, it's just a matter of him playing his cards right. He sneaks one final glance at Lethia and her glee and smiles to himself. A shame that's not going to last for much longer…

Icarus turns around and heads back to the cathedral, a renewed sense of confidence pulsing through his veins. Lethia and Beowulf aren't going to see what's coming, but more importantly, Atlantis is so unaware how badly she's about to break in his direction. His mind and motives may be fueled by paranoia, but if that's what's brought Icarus to the top, then he doesn't see a problem.

13th Place: Simeon Coello, District Ten - killed by Bud Bancroft

I have class somewhat soon so I'll keep this note brief, but anyway, that was the beginning of our forth day in the arena. As you can see, tensions are once again beginning to rise. I know that some of you may think Simeon's death seemed out of nowhere and random, but it's something I've actually planned since the beginning of this story, as bat shit as it is. Something about killing characters mid-arc really satisfies me, but that's also bitchy, so Joe, I am sorry. I will explain more next chapter/in Simeon's eulogy, but for now, I will just leave you all in shambles as you panic from this chapter.

Fuck this shit, I'm out,
Linds

The Leaderboard:
Lethia Aphelion: I
Icarus St. Augustine: I
Beowulf Haleot: I
Atlantis Seasbane: I
Calsin Verrillo: II
Verdigris Ahane-Volcain: I
Mozi Hongqi: II
Malin Mardari: I
Bud Bancroft: I
Vancouver Easton: II