As Khada stood in his launch room, carefully sipping water from a glass, the weight of the moment was not lost on him. This was it. Today was the day that Khada had been waiting for. His actions today would determine his fate for the entire Games – and possibly the rest of his life. To be fair, Khada had never dreamed of the Games the way his peers had, never looked at the volunteers and wanted to be just like them. But he couldn't deny that they presented the opportunity for his magnum opus, the four best kills he could ever make. Even if he was dead by this time next week, he would go out in a blaze of glory.
From what he could tell, Khada was as prepared as he could be for the Arena. He'd showered and cleaned his teeth, then put on the standard outfit provided to all of the tributes, presumably save for the color of the top: a grey polyester crew-cut shirt, dark brown cargo pants, and a pair of sturdy brown boots. His stylist had also given him a waterproof, bottle-green jacket that went down to his knee and which apparently had a removable fleece lining. For the time being, Khada had placed it on the plate from which he'd launch, not interested in sweating any more than he had to before getting into the Arena but equally uninterested in leaving it in the launch room by mistake. Hopefully, he could just leave it there for the bloodbath and decide what to do with it once the dust settled and the Ones were in charge of the cornucopia.
"I think you're going to be launching soon," his stylist said, holding out a glass lotus necklace that Khada had brought as his token. "Is there anything else you feel like you need to do beforehand?"
"I think I'm good," Khada said. He took the necklace and carefully put it on, making sure that the clasp was securely fastened.
"Are you sure you want to bring a glass pendant with you?"
"I'm sure. It is important to me; it will bring me strength."
"Suit yourself. Just be careful with it."
"I will be."
A few moments of silence passed before a firm, pleasant female voice announced, "Tributes, please prepare for launch. Step onto your plates and face the black circle on the wall. We will begin launch protocol in the next five minutes."
Khada gave his stylist a polite bow, then stepped onto the circular metal plate in the corner of the room, picking up his jacket and draping it over his arm. Knowing that some of the other tributes might take longer to get ready, Khada took a moment to meditate, tuning out the voice, closing his eyes, and imagining that his legs were connected all the way from the metal plate down past the floor, past the catacombs of the arena, past the ground, all the way down to the Earth's core. He needed to ground himself first; only by starting from the bottom could he reach the highest heights.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, Let the One Hundredth Hunger Games begin!"
Both the voice of Magnus Templesmith and the feeling of pressure under his feet snapped Khada out of his meditation. A small, glowing number 60 appeared in front of him and began counting down. Instantly, Khada's mind began to race; he couldn't think of any explanation other than the bloodbath beginning as soon as his plate clicked into place. If it did, he had no doubt his target would run away immediately, which was just unfair to Khada. The bigger the pinprick of light above his head grew, the more anxious Khada got. How was he expected to carry out his mission without the tools to do it?
But as soon as his head poked up through the ground, giving him his first look at the Arena, Khada realized exactly what his contact wanted him to do. He should have known better than to doubt them if they'd given him such an important mission to begin with.
Sitting on the ground in front of him was a loaded crossbow.
With remarkable dexterity, Khada scooped up the crossbow as his platform continued to rise. As he got the crossbow into position, he scanned the area around him for his target; his contact had insisted that the target would be within reach. Fortunately, it didn't take Khada long to find them.
Cain must have been at least sixty meters away, but Khada had him in his direct line of sight.
Khada's plate clicked into position.
A gong sounded.
The bolt flew from Khada's crossbow right into the throat of Cain Mohen.
It was not three seconds after her plate clicked into place that Jaesa heard the sound of a crossbow bolt whizzing through the air. It was faint, very faint, but she was sure she could hear it. Immediately, she began to wrack her brain, trying to remember who had spent time at the crossbow station during training such that they would be confident enough to grab a crossbow and fire in such a narrow amount of time.
It was almost a relief when she realized that the only person who could do that was Khada. It wasn't a guarantee that the sound came from him, but it was a pretty safe bet.
Jaesa stepped off of her platform and almost immediately tripped over a backpack; as she launched, she thought she'd spotted something out of the corner of her eye, but had convinced herself that she was seeing things. She bent down and picked it up, then surveyed the area, pleased to find a staff, a rapier, a sword, and a shield laying next to where the backpack was. A quick glance at the backpack revealed that it was designed to carry a lot of equipment. It had multiple pockets, two side mesh pockets for water bottles, and a variety of elastic loops attached to the front and sides, probably meant for holding weapons that one couldn't carry. But the most curious quality of the backpack was a small, cylindrical pocket on the front made out of clear plastic. Jaesa investigated the pocket for about a minute before shrugging it off; she would just have to be incredibly careful about what she put in it.
Jaesa considered for a moment how best to pack up her equipment, then secured her rapier and staff in one of the elastic loops. She picked up her sword and shield and began to walk in the general direction of the noise she'd heard earlier. Jaesa wanted to find her allies, but in the off chance that Khada had not fired that crossbow, the more important thing by far was identifying the source of the deadliest weapon in the Arena.
As she walked, Jaesa kept moving her head back and forth, keeping her eye out for anything that could provide information on the Arena. She had to admit that it was gorgeous. Cherry trees blooming with pink flowers surrounded her, their soft color constantly in her field of vision though not quite densely packed enough that she couldn't see between them. So it only took a few moments before she caught sight of another tribute.
"Who's that?" called a voice from a few meters away. She whipped around, ready to stab whoever it was, but quickly lowered her sword when she saw that it was Tyranny. "Oh, hi, Jaesa."
"Tyranny, you can't sneak up on me like that. This would have been through your gut."
"Did you not recognize my voice?"
"Let's just say it wasn't my first priority. Anyway, did you hear the crossbow?"
"I heard something like the twang of a string."
"That'd be it. Stick with me; I think it was Khada, but we can't be too sure."
The girls picked up the pace, and before long, they found their way a little clearing. Sure enough, there was Khada, standing over the corpse of Cain Mohen, whose body was bleeding profusely out of every major artery. His crossbow was on the ground next to him; in one hand, Khada was holding a knife, and in the other, a glass jar that was about half full of a thick, red liquid. "What are you doing?" Jaesa exclaimed.
"None of your business," Khada replied simply. He carefully screwed a lid on the jar and placed it in his bag.
Jaesa decided not to push. "OK, we've got three of us. Have either of you seen Lydia or Shine?" The two shook their heads. "Great. I feel like we should keep moving rather than wait for them here."
Fortunately, at that moment, Lydia and Shine emerged into the clearing as well. "There you are! I'm glad we found you!" Lydia exclaimed, wrapping her girlfriend in a hug and causing the weapons in her hands to clatter to the floor.
"I'm glad as well," Jaesa replied, tensing a little in Lydia's embrace. She didn't want to hurt Lydia by accidentally stabbing her with the rapier – at least, that's what she told herself. "Did anyone see any other tributes yet? Other than Cain."
"No," Lydia said, letting go of Jaesa. "We saw nothing on our way here."
"So that means there's probably no cornucopia. I guess this is as good a place to camp out as any. Everyone grabbed all of their supplies, yes? Good. We have Cain's backpack here as well."
"Wouldn't surprise me if it was empty," Shine pointed out.
"Me neither but at least it's another bag for all of our stuff. Let's start organizing and go from there, I think."
The Careers put their weapons in a pile and began to pull things out of their bags, sorting out weapons, food, water, and other supplies. After a few moments, Khada paused and looked up. "Do you guys hear that?"
Jaesa focused for a moment, and sure enough, there was something in the distance, the sound of grass being crunched beneath small feet. "Keep going," Jaesa instructed. "This should be easy." She grabbed her rapier and a knife and swiftly headed in the direction of the sound.
It didn't take long for her to find its source.
The trees in the Arena were beautiful.
Amber might have grown up around trees, but they were nothing like these trees. She'd never seen ones with such gorgeous pink flowers on them! She knew that Moss had told her not to move after they launched, that he'd come and guide her to a safe place, but Amber couldn't help but wander among the trees, entranced by the way their branches and flowers extended all the way to the sky.
The problem was, she'd wandered so far that she didn't know how to get back to where she started.
At a loss for what else to do, Amber took a moment to listen to the trees. There was nobody to listen to, after all, and she was so far away from the clearing where Moss was supposed to meet her. As she listened, she kept wandering through the woods, eventually making out the muffled voices of a few other tributes. This must be where Moss was! Amber picked up her pace a little bit; he could definitely help her navigate back towards her supplies, and then they could find Toby, and…
And…
And it wasn't Moss.
It was a Career girl.
As his plate locked into place and the gong sounded, Toby tried to take in as much information about his surroundings as possible as quickly as possible. Without the sixty seconds before the official start of the bloodbath, he needed to make decisions as fast as possible to increase his odds of survival. After all, anything he did in the next fifteen minutes would have significant ripple effects on his longevity in the Games.
Or at least, it would if there were any other tributes around.
Toby had launched into a clearing, maybe two or three meters in diameter, surrounded by deciduous trees that reminded him of his home in the fall. Although, the trees weren't quite as densely packed as they usually were back home; Toby could make out a few figures in the distance through some of the gaps in the trees, whereas in Seven, you were more likely to see other trees through the trees than anything else. Fortunately, there were no other tributes in striking distance: no Amber, no Moss, no… anybody.
Given that he was mostly alone, Toby allowed himself to let his guard down a little bit – not too much, of course, but enough that he was willing to look down for a moment. And he was very glad that he did; if he'd run away immediately, he would have missed the backpack sitting at his feet. Toby picked up the backpack and took a peek inside it, immediately recognizing its contents: the first five items on the list of supplies he'd made the night before. He also noticed that the backpack had a clear plastic pocket on the outside that he couldn't tell what it was for. But he could worry about that later. Right now, considering that there was nothing and nobody in sight, he had to figure out where to go.
Relatively arbitrarily, Toby picked a direction to walk in and started walking. A small part of him hoped that he was moving in the general direction of his allies. But a much larger part of him was more than satisfied with these moments on his own. It was nice not to feel smothered by Moss, with his constant insistence that they stay together, move quickly, and stay away from danger. Toby could just walk in whatever way he wanted, take as much time to admire the brightly colored leaves as he wanted, and do whatever he wanted, because there was nobody to tell him not to. For the first time in his life, he was truly independent, and that could not be more refreshing.
As Toby kept walking, he spotted a small hint of pink peeking through the oranges and yellows. Curious, he kept going, eventually emerging from the deciduous forest into a grove of trees with twisty branches and pink blossoms. Toby's mind began to race; clearly, this Arena was a lot more complex than he'd initially thought. If he'd already found two sectors in the Arena after this little time walking, how much else could there be?
He couldn't have been more than thirty meters into the pink tree section when he caught sight of another tribute walking towards him.
Instinctively, Toby darted behind a tree, then peeked his head out to try to figure out who it was. As soon as he realized it was Moss, he ducked his head back again. He needed to decide what to do and fast – would he let Moss know that he was there or let Moss pass him by?
And what would happen if he made the wrong choice?
At that moment, the scream of a young girl filled the air. Moss froze, turned and bolted towards the scream – which just so happened to be back the way he came, away from Toby. "I'm coming, Amber!" he yelled. "Just hold on!"
The younger boy stepped out from behind the tree, watching Moss's figure retreat into the distance. He took a deep breath, then confidently walked away, into the engulfing embrace of the deciduous forest.
He'd spent long enough with Moss. It was time for Toby to forge his own path.
The scream of a young girl filled the air. Moss froze, turned, and bolted towards the scream, which was, of course, the opposite way of where he was going. He didn't know why, but something in his gut told him that that was Amber's scream. And if Amber was in danger, then he needed to find her.
As he ran, he stumbled into a clearing exactly like the one he launched into. On the grass in front of the plate was a magenta backpack with green trim. He could only assume that it was Amber's; his guess was confirmed when he found five items inside. He slung the backpack over his shoulder and kept running. Amber had to be close by; how far could she have gotten?
Suddenly, in the distance, the figure of a girl appeared, standing up and walking the other way. Could that be Amber? Moss pushed on and on, beelining for the spot where he'd seen her. But when he got there, his heart sank.
It wasn't Amber who stood up and ran away. No, Amber was on the ground, pulseless, cold, pale.
Dead.
Moss knelt by her body and put her hands in his. All he wanted to do was keep his district partners safe, and he'd already let one of them die. What kind of an ally was he?
Where was his other district partner?
Moss took a deep breath. He wanted to mourn Amber, but these were the Hunger Games. He had to keep going. Yes, Amber was gone, and she was not coming back. But he could still keep Toby safe.
He just had to find his younger brother.
As soon as Acacia saw the area around her, she realized that every single thing that she and her district had planned out needed to be thrown out the window. They'd spent what must have been hours last night coming up with a good bloodbath strategy, but it hinged upon having a cornucopia horn to orient them. Not only was there, evidently, no cornucopia, but there was not a single other tribute in sight. How was she supposed to protect the small children if there was nobody to protect them from?
Granted, she hadn't been enthralled with her district's insistence that she prioritize Smash and Crash's lives over her own, but she knew how important district loyalty was to her mentors, and she wasn't interested in giving it up so early. Although, it was kind of hard to be loyal to her district partners when she didn't even know where they were.
Acacia began to wrack her brain, trying to think of anything that could help her find her allies. Suddenly, she remembered something Zareth had suggested that Acacia had thought was asinine at the time but that might actually prove helpful given the circumstances. She dug into her bag and picked out the compass that she and all of her district partners had ranked at seventh on their supply lists. None of them were great with navigation, but Zareth insisted that it was easy: to go north, all they had to do was follow the red arrow. This way, if they got separated, they could all just go and meet up as far north as possible.
This was definitely separated. Hopefully, the others would remember their compasses – if they got them.
Acacia took a moment to rearrange her supplies, working through the process that her mentors had drilled into her during training. She put her coat in her bag, secured her belt of knives around her waist, and somehow managed to find a way to carry all of her weapons. Once she felt ready, she started off, but the trek was harder than she expected; the air was so humid that it felt like walking through water, and it was surprisingly hard to navigate through the thick foliage. Whoever thought that a jungle would be an entertaining Arena for a Quell did not have their head on straight, though she had to admit that the pink and purple tropical flowers that peeked through the walls of green were rather pretty.
After what felt like a few hours but was probably just a few minutes, Acacia heard someone calling her name. She looked to the side and caught a glimpse of a magenta coat through the thick foliage. "Smash?"
"Hi," called a tired, little voice. A few moments later, Smash, still wearing her coat, peeked out from between the ferns. The girl was drenched in sweat and hunched over from the weight of her backpack. "Help."
"Come here," Acacia insisted. She took the backpack off of Smash's back and helped the girl out of her coat. "Why didn't you put this in your backpack before you started walking?"
"I didn't know I was allowed to take it off."
Acacia sighed. She did not volunteer to mother a child. Thankfully, once the coat was off of Smash's back and she'd moved one or two of the heavier items from Shine's pack into hers, the girl seemed a lot less tired. Acacia pulled a knife out of Smash's bag and put it in the girl's hand; Smash took it gingerly, as if she'd never seen one before. "All right, shall we go hunt?"
"Let's go."
The two walked along in silence, each looking at the other every now and then just to make sure they were still there. Acacia couldn't help but notice that, while Shine seemed a little more upbeat than the night before, she still was not nearly as energetic as she was in the first days after the Reaping. She hoped the younger girl could get her act together; losing your morale could be the last nail in your coffin in the Games. And she did not want to drag along someone who did not want to be dragged.
"Acacia? Do you hear that?"
"What's up?"
"It sounds like a tribute struggling."
"You're right!" Acacia picked up the pace, pushing through the ferns and foliage towards the noise, Smash following as closely as she could. It took a few moments of searching that was too frantic for Acacia's liking, but she finally found the source of the sound: Nikau holding down the smaller – well, the only boy from Nine. "Nikau!"
"Oh, there you guys are! I just found this kid," Nikau said proudly, one hand on the boy's throat and the other holding down his legs. "He tried to get away but I managed to hold him down."
"Not bad. Smash, you want the honor of the first kill?"
Acacia and Nikau turned to look at Smash. Somehow the girl looked even smaller now, her face pale and her hands trembling. She walked over to the boy and held up her knife, ready to stab him in the throat. But she couldn't seem to bring the knife down. Something kept stopping it about midway down her torso. Each time she brought it down, Smash's hand started shaking more and more until finally, Acacia put a hand on her back. She gently took the knife out of Smash's hands and quickly slit the boy's throat.
"Thank you," Smash said, looking up at Acadia with big eyes. "I… I'm sorry."
"It's OK. You can have the next one."
Suddenly, Crash burst through the trees. "Aha! There you guys are!" he exclaimed. "Oh."
Smash looked at her brother, then immediately sat down and buried her head in her backpack. At a loss for what to do, Crash and Nikau took off their packs and began to empty them, comparing the supplies they got and sorting them out. Acacia gave her bag to the boys, then sat down next to Smash and began to rub her back.
These were going to be a long Games.
Brandi had assumed that the first moments of the Games would be her downfall. Given her mother's involvement with the rebels, she was sure that the Gamemakers were going to screw her over with her launch placement, putting her between two Careers or something like that. But that wasn't what happened at all. Rather, as far as she could tell, Brandi was actually in pretty good shape so far. There weren't any other tributes nearby, as far as she could tell, and she'd even gotten a bag with a surprising number of supplies in it. It was dangerous to hope this early on, but Brandi couldn't help but feel like she was in alright shape.
Maybe, just maybe, the odds weren't as stacked against her as she'd initially thought.
Brandi knew she couldn't let her guard down, though. The area she'd launched into was very, very sparse; anyone who came within a hundred meters would easily be able to spot Brandi through the scattered, thin, lifeless trees. Even if she managed to take cover behind one of the few evergreen trees, the footprints she left in the thin layer of crunchy snow would be a dead giveaway that someone was there. As easy as it was to spot other tributes, it was also cold enough that Brandi doubted people would move around all that much; instead, she figured they would choose to stay put, preferring to conserve energy that way. Brandi considered staying put as well, but she quickly changed her mind when she thought she saw a few figures in the distance, slowly moving towards her. If any of those tributes spotted her, it would probably be riskier not to move.
Zipping up her coat and putting her hands in her pockets, Brandi set off, doing her best not to make noise despite the snow crunching under her feet. She moved at a slow enough pace so as not to exert energy but a quick enough pace that (she hoped) other tributes wouldn't register that she had passed them. Silently, she cursed the color of her jacket; even though it was a muted shade of magenta, it would surely make her stand out in such a monochromatic landscape.
After about thirty minutes of walking, Brandi noticed that the trees in the distance seemed to be getting closer together. She picked up her pace a little; soon enough, she crossed over into a completely opposite world. The air was warm and humid, the trees were full of leaves, and foliage covered what seemed like every inch of the forest floor. Brandi could almost feel sweat pooling up under her jacket. Brandi began to look for a place where there was enough cover that she felt comfortable pausing for a break.
Finally, she caught sight of a couple of big ferns that crossed to cover herself. Desperate to no longer feel drenched, Brandi stepped through the ferns and found herself in a small clearing, no more than a few feet in diameter. She put her backpack down and opened it up, grabbing a knife and her water bottle from the pack and replacing them with her jacket. Brandi scanned the area around her and sat down, willing to let herself relax for just a moment.
As far as she could tell, she was safe.
Brandi breathed a sigh of relief as she sipped on her water, listening to the rustle of the leaves around her and the occasional sound of the ferns rubbing together as if they were being stepped on. She had never really felt safe before – certainly not during the Games, and honestly, not at home either. It always felt too risky to even be around her mother, to be associated with her rebellious ideas; they always felt like they'd come back to bite her, even though the ideas weren't even her own. But here, in the place where a rebel was most likely to be targeted, Brandi had made it through the crucial first hour of the Games unscathed.
Maybe she wasn't being targeted. Maybe she could actually breathe for once. Maybe she did have a chance to win.
The pain that suddenly appeared in her back begged to differ.
Brandi turned her head to see two of the Careers standing over her, one of whom was a mere child. "Good job, Crash!" said one of them. "Give it another stab and you'll have her."
The pain as the knife was removed from her back was even more excruciating. Brandi fell on her side, unable to think as a burning sensation ran through her entire spine. A part of her wanted to turn, to look her killers in the eyes, but she just couldn't move.
Brandi should never have let her guard down. She should have known that the Gamemakers would lead her into a trap.
She should have figured that her mother's ideals would kill her.
48/12. Cain Mohen, District Three Quell Male. Killed by Khada Oromonio.
47/12. Izan Peralta, District Nine Standard Male. Killed by Acacia Andalu.
46/12. Amber Elmore, District Seven Standard Female. Killed by Jaesa Briton.
45/11. Brandi Hahn, District Nine Standard Female. Killed by Crash Hatch.