Chapter 58: Poseidon Nakamura
A/N: After a fairly long losing streak, District Four are back at it again, although Poseidon is not exactly District Four's ideal Victor. He's got the strength, he's got the determination, but what happens when fire meets water?
P.S. I'm opening subs for Blue Moon, PM me if you wanna reserve a sub (max 2 per account) and I'll start the story maybe around next year
Katniss frowned, a rough memory of Poseidon's Games emerging in her head. "Wasn't he the crazed pyromaniac kid?" she asked, a little wary of the smug look in his eyes.
Peeta nodded, a grim look on his face. "Yep, that kid."
Katniss scrunched up her nose. "District Four had so many promising tributes, and yet he was the one who came out alive?" She shook her head in disbelief. "Crazy."
"I know, but to be fair, he had a pretty rough upbringing back home in District Four. I can see how it shaped him to become who he was in the arena," Peeta noted.
"Still, Poseidon Nakamura won't come out on top of my list of favourite Victors," Katniss said, an air of finality in her voice.
"Now that I can agree," Peeta murmured.
Poseidon Nakamura
District 4
Aged 15
6 Kills
Marina:
That kid was messed up and I knew it right from the start. I first came across young Poseidon when he was about five, being lagged along by his parents across the MacEwen Fish Market, a couple of bruises and scars smeared across his tan face. It was never an odd sight, seeing a young boy with injuries on his face, after all, life in District Four could get pretty crazy at times. Fishing could cause injuries and so could our love for sports. Just ask Coral and Rafael, they'll tell you that going a month without any scrapes was frankly a laughable impossibility. But the thing that caught my attention was the look in the little boy's eyes. He was scared, terrified, almost, by his parents. His mother had an iron grip on his wrist and his father herded him along, all the while glaring down at him with all the fire and fury of a mutt. I could tell that there was something wrong about this family right from the start. When his parents were looking at a selection of cod at one particular stall, Poseidon tried to break free from their clutches and run off, but his feet tripped on a loose pebble and he was sent crashing to the ground with a loud, painful thud. I winced and moved over to help him but his parents, those two large, cloaked adults, beat me to the chase. They dragged him to his feet and pulled out a strip of masking tape from their pockets. I watched, a horrified look splashed across my face as they slapped the tape over his mouth, the poor little boy thrashing and wailing, doing everything in his power to break free. I looked around but the crowd around them seemed to be doing their best to avoid this family. Perhaps they knew something about them? Well, I didn't, so naturally, I moved over to defend the boy, but once again, his parents were much faster. They hauled him off, still kicking and bellowing out muffled screams, through the asphalt road, and away into the harbour beyond. I shook my head, still struggling to wrap my head around what I had just witnessed. This was child abuse, wasn't it? That was why the poor little kid was trying to escape. He wanted to run off to a better life, to a free world, and I hadn't been able to help him. Years later, this guilt would only enlarge itself in the most colossal fashion possible, as I grew to learn about what the boy had grown up to be.
Six years passed, and I was taking a nice walk down the beach. It was sunset, and the sun painted a lovely, golden painting on the horizon, as ships sailed across the shimmering blue waters. It was all so picturesque, straight out of a painting done by a Capitolite professional. The breeze blew gently across my grey hair, the sea spray gently billowing onto my now wrinkled face. My legs were weary, but I did not care. This scene, this gorgeous tranquillity, it was rare. I had to embrace and live every single precious moment of it to the fullest. There was the gentle lapping of waves breaking against the shoreline, which was a lovely shade of pristine, white sand. The salty smell of the sea filled my lungs, filling me with the incredible smell that I had grown up with, the life-giving scent of the sea our lives depended upon. This was Surfer's Paradise, the beach the Fishers had regularly frequented when they were kids, and hands down the most gorgeous, most peaceful place that District Four had to offer. My mind thought back to the Fishers, those poor, poor kids. Jolien and Timmy, the two eldest siblings, the horrible, god-awful torture they had to endure in the VPR, it really shattered them to the core. Especially Timmy, the once lively comedian who had turned to alcoholism and was a hollow shell of what he once was. What the Capitol did to him was inhumane, and the frozen tears on his devastated face spoke volumes about this, as did the constant, recurring nightmares of his worst suitors, no, monsters, and the loud screaming in the middle of the night that even I could occasionally hear all the way from my house. And then there were the two younger siblings, Iris and Rafael, attached to the hip with such a strong, familial bond, one that not even the Games could break, but they themselves, their very beings, the core of what made them, well, them, now that was broken into a million pieces, torn apart by the cruelties of the arena. It broke my heart to see the four of them be so torn apart, but alas, it was inevitable. Standing on this beach as my hair floated about in the breeze, I could almost picture the four of them, plus Coral, another Victor destroyed by the trauma of the Games, Dive, that poor girl who was doomed in the arena, and Nile, the sporty boy and Rafael's best friend, all standing on that beach s they had once done so in a bygone age, as their younger selves, just laughing and having a good time for once. I could see them, just standing there, shimmering in the mist, their echoing, ghostly laughter terrorising my mind with the horrific memories of their fates...
My train of thought was soon interrupted by a sound. A loud, cackling from somewhere behind me. It was that of a boy, a young one, by the slightly high pitch in his voice. There was a loud 'pop' sound, followed by even more laughter. The laugh was sinister, sounding very much like that of Beatrice Pennywise, that horrible, cruel, vile supermodel who regularly bought Timmy and Birch. Oh, she was a madwoman, and the torture she subjected them to, it left them in tears as they descended further and further into a state of chronic depression. I turned, wondering who this was, and my eyes widened. The boy standing before me was young, about perhaps twelve years of age, and had an awfully familiar face, with black hair that I was sure I had seen somewhere before. Don't get me wrong, there were a ton of people with black hair in District Four, including the mayor, Ezili Traore, but his hairstyle, now I could've sworn I had seen it before. The boy held a stack of firecrackers and was placing them inside a cage of mice, a lighter by his side. I gaped in horror as he began to light the firecrackers, causing loud explosions that blew the mice apart to bits. "Hey!" I yelled, a furious rage burning in my throat as I ran to stop him, half the mice having already been reduced to smithereens and the remainder having endured a gruesome fate, however, they had not yet met their end. The boy just kept on giggling even as I slapped the lighter away from his hand. There was a crazed sort of look in his eyes, a murderous cackle in his voice. "Put that fire out now!" I demanded, but he simply stuck his tongue out at me and ran off, giggling and howling all the way.
"Fire, fire!" he howled, not even the slightest bit of remorse in his body language. I shook my head and went to douse the flames with seawater. Then it clicked into my head where I had seen him before. I gulped, realising now why this boy, this young child, was torturing mice with fire. He was that little boy who was abused by his parents, the one I saw in the fish market.
Mags:
I first met this little whippersnapper at the Career Academy, back when he was fourteen and yet still a crazy-ass bitch. Prior to this, I had no clue who he was, and I didn't care either. I didn't really pay much attention to the Career Academy, since it was run by Marina and Jolien most of the time, so I didn't really know much about the candidates. But one day, when Jolien called in sick, I was pretty much forced to go there to observe and help train the tributes since Timmy was having VPR duties (disgusting what they did to him, by the way), Iris was also sick and Coral and Rafael were at the sports centre training kids too. I walked into the halls of the Academy, the only one in the District, by the way. Yes, we only had one Academy, but children cycled from all parts of the District and rode small trucks just to train here once in a while. It was all in the name of survival, really. But there were a few who were here to train to volunteer. These pesky little whippersnappers were the rotten apples of the bunch and I didn't like them one bit. Our culture had been changed forever by that volunteer Atoll, and now these whippersnapper volunteer wannabees kept popping up. They were voluntarily going for the Hunger Games. How utterly preposterous! I rolled my eyes as I passed by a girl and her friend, who were both chatting about the possibility of volunteering when they turned eighteen. Idiots. They knew nothing about the consequences of volunteering. They were nothing short of idiotic twits. Then I saw him. Poseidon Nakamura. Or at least that was what the trainer was shouting at him, so I assumed it was his name. He was over at the fire-starting station, trying to light a fire in his own, without the trainer's supervision, so I guess the trainer had every right to shout at him. But the frantic, crazed look in her eyes, as well as the incredibly worried tone in her voice, it made me think that something else was up. The way she was dashing over towards him, screaming, "STOP! NO!" made me wonder, what the heck is this Poseidon kid doing? Then he did it. He lighted a fire on the stick, and he picked it up, grinning. With one, powerful throw, he hurled it straight at the dried grass turf where several kids were practising their fighting skills. And the place went ablaze. I dashed for the fire extinguishers, and so did many of the trainers, but it was pure chaos. Kids were screaming, running around, clothes and body parts on fire. One was trapped in an ever-growing ring of fire, screaming frantically for help as the flames licked and hissed around him, slowly reaching out their red-hot tentacles out to engulf him a fiery ball of furious heat. I burst forward and used the fire extinguisher to save him before it was too late. The other trainers followed suit and soon, we got the whole damn place under control. Heaving a sigh of relief and wiping a bead of sweat from my forehead, which was starting to get wrinkly, proof that I was turning into an old freaking hag, I looked around for that crazy little whippersnapper named Poseidon, but he was nowhere to be seen. I shrugged, putting the fire extinguisher back in its place. Eh, surely he would be banned from entering the Academy after this, right?
Another year, another bloody typical Reaping. I sat in my usual spot, staring with a politely bored expression at Willuna, who was giving her usual Reaping speech, albeit with a sort of scrunched, reluctant expression on her face. Earlier that month, Luxe had called us to tell us that the VPR had expanded beyond just Victors, in fact, Prudens and Jana had both been roped into the 'action', Prudens as he was very close to some other Victors, Marie and Valkyrie in particular, and Jana just to stop her and Blight from sparking mischief. Jana had somehow managed to flee in the dead of night to District Fourteen, which was good for her, but Prudens had remained. I guessed that Willuna was probably concerned that she might get dragged in as well. The grim expression as she said, "Panem today, Panem forever," would echo that loud and clear. Beside me, Jolien sat with a dazed, hungover expression on her face, her lips pursed and her clammy hands clenched tightly together. These Reapings, they brought back terrible memories for her, bringing back memories of that god-awful day when she had been Reaped, as well as memories of the three Reapings that followed. Well, we all knew what happened then. As the time to pick the tributes came, Jolien's eyes glimmered with anxiety and she pressed her hands to her face, sucking in a deep breath as she awaited to see who would get fished out of that bowl. This year wasn't my turn to mentor a tribute, so I didn't really care. Well, obviously I cared that these poor kids went home safe and sound, that was why I went on sponsor duties, but there definitely was that element of anxiety that was missing this year, as compared to say, last year, which had been my turn to mentor. Oh man, I had prayed for days that I would get a good, solid tribute like Jolien or Timmy again! As Willuna thrust her hand into the girls' Reaping bowl, I could hear a slight whimper slip from Timmy's lips. He too was mentoring this year and had every right to be nervous and anxious. Willuna pulled out a slip. "Melania Moreno!" A tall, eighteen-year-old girl, a pirate girl, I remembered from the numerous news articles about pirate attacks along the coast, emerged from the crowd and strutted up to the stage, a confident smirk plastered on her tan face as she strutted up the stage, shooting coy glares at the kids around her as she did so. I groaned as she took the stage, grinning broadly, before telling a rather bemused Willuna that she had planned on volunteering anyway, so this was a great honour for her, and blah blah blah. Oh well. Another stupid pirate this year it seemed. Good thing I wasn't the one dealing with her. Willuna sighed softly and asked for volunteers. Melania glared murderously at the crowd, as if challenging them to steal this moment away from her, to steal her shot at glory away from her. Shockingly, someone did raise their hand.
"I VOLUNTEER!" a girl screamed, her strong, determined voice booming across the Reaping Square. I smacked my forehead. Great, another idiot who wants to die? I sighed, a disappointed look on my face as yet another girl, one with bright, flaming red hair, marched up to the stage, Melania looking on with the most hilariously furious look possible. Smoke nearly bellowed out of her nostrils as the redhead girl brushed her arm en route to the stage, a dark scowl on her crestfallen face as Idiot Number Two struck a pose next to the escort, no doubt for the cameras. She introduced herself as Nineve Jenkins and drabbled on and on about how volunteering was such a huge honour and all that shit. I zoned out for this entire part, not wishing to pay her any mind.
And then it was the boys' turn. Willuna once again thrust her hand, this time into the boys' Reaping bowl, and fished out a slip of paper. "Aegeon-"
"I VOLUNTEER!" Willuna looked up from her slip, an eyebrow raised as a boy marched out from the crowd and climbed up the stage, a cocky smirk pasted on his face. His chin was raised high and his eyes gleamed with arrogance. That was when I recognised him. He was Poseidon Nakamura, the absolute mad lad of a crazed whippersnapper who had tried to burn down the Career Academy. And now he was going into the arena, but not before spending some quality time with us Victors.
Oh, how fun.
Jolien:
Oh, why did I have to be the one mentoring Poseidon? From the minute he entered the train to the Capitol I knew he was gonna be a handful. He took one look at the marvellously gorgeous interior of the train and a slight smirk emerged on his arrogant face. "Imagine if I could burn all of this down."
I shot him a withering look, stunned by his words. "But why would you do that?"
He shrugged. "Don't know. Maybe it's because burning things down is fun." With that, he grinned and sauntered off to the dining car to eat. I shook my head, the realisation that this wasn't going to be a good year swallowing me up.
I fucking hate my life.
After dinner, I followed him to his room to discuss tactics. But first, there was one question I was dying to ask him. "Why the heck did you volunteer?" I asked, an apprehensive look on my face, which was embellished with smeared makeup and dark rings around my eyelids. Truly, an iconic beauty. Yep, by this point, one could probably sense the sarcasm dripping from my thoughts.
Poseidon snorted, kicking back to sit himself in a rather relaxed position of his soft, Capitol-made bed. "Oh, so that I wouldn't die," he said nonchalantly, fanning his face with an instruction manual on his bedside table.
I frowned, his words taking me by surprise. So that he wouldn't die? The Hunger Games was literally a death sentence! What was wrong with this kid? "Explain yourself," I demanded, crossing my arms in an unimpressed fashion.
Poseidon chuckled softly, shrugging his broad shoulders. "Oh, my parents, they were sick and tired of me. They wanted to kill me, you see? They're horrible people. So I volunteered." He spread his arms, grinning from ear to ear. "Besides, the Peacekeepers won't flog me anymore if I'm Victor, right? And plus, I get free goodies!"
It took me a while to process his words. His parents, they were abusive, it seemed. But why were there no signs of visible trauma on this kid's face? "What did your parents do to you?" I asked, slightly concerned by this point.
Poseidon's face darkened, his eyes glowering at me. There was angry sort of energy about him, and he balled his fists, seething slightly. "Don't even begin to talk about them." The way he said 'them, it really highlighted how much he seemed to hate his parents. I didn't press on. But I didn't want to continue working with him either.
Timmy:
I sat in the Mentoring Room, a can of soda (Iris had snatched and thrown away my beer bottles again) in hand, sighing deeply to myself as more and more Victors flooded into the Mentoring Room, donning mixed expressions on their wide variety of faces. From the young, grim-looking Colt to the pumped-up, excited, ageing Draco, I watched as all of them took their seats, with varying degrees of nervousness towards the upcoming Bloodbath. My own tribute was Nineve, a girl who had been a part of the Red Crew alongside Melania, the girl who was Reaped. She was soaking up the attention and was anticipating the time when she could finally legally kill. I, on the other hand, was hoping that she would end up like Shocker, Scipio and Geneva, a girl who won, but was forever changed by the Games. Her attitude, her refusal to listen to me, it was sickening, yet I had seen it in several Capitolite suitors before, including that beastly demon Alexa Bellgrove, who I really didn't want to think about. I shook my head. Now was not the time to dwell on people like her. No, now was time to think about the Bloodbath. I stared ahead at the screens, which were still focused on a panellist discussing the predictions for this year's Hunger Games. Any time now, and the carnage would begin. Any time now, and the memories would come flooding back to me. Any time now, and the screens would force me to relive my own brutal Bloodbath, a memory I desperately wished I could suppress. But I had no choice, I simply had to look on. I swallowed, tracing the bile as it went down my throat, watching as the screens began to reveal this year's arena. The first thing I saw was the ice. A thick wall of blue ice that shimmered brightly with the rays of soft light that shone upon it. Then, as the camera zoomed out, I started to see the full picture. I gritted my teeth as the cameras showed me a network of ice caves. My thoughts immediately raced back to Poseidon and his love of fire. He had shown it in training, after 'accidentally' burning a significant portion of the fire-starting station and he had confirmed his pyromaniac inner self during his interviews. "I don't know," he had admitted to Caesar. "It's just something that gives me pleasure. I just love seeing things burn. It's something my parents taught me: burning things can be fun." I knew he was messed up there and then. Shuddering at the thought of what his parents could have possibly done to him to make him a pyromaniac in the first place, I struggled to sit through the rest of his interview, in which he bragged about his numerous fiery antics. And now, with an arena like this, I knew he was definitely going to do something sinister. Beside me, Jolien nudged me, a concerned look on her face as she fiddled with her hair, fidgeting in her seat as the cameras showed different angles and zones of the arena. There was a small, fur hut in one area and in another icy tunnel, a mutt den lay patiently waiting for hapless tributes to stumble upon it. An ice-cold, glacial river ran through one section, chunks of ice floating on the frigid waters that glowed a beautiful shade of arctic blue. Jolien, however, was not looking at the screens. She was looking at Marie, who looked on with a fair bit of anticipation. Something gleamed in her eyes, something I hadn't seen in them for a while. Was that hope?
"Elektra seemed like a nobody in training, but something tells me she and Marie had something planned out," Jolien whispered, a cautious eye on the Victor from Five as she brushed aside a rude remark from Draco, a hint of a smirk on her face.
I nodded. Marie was a fellow Victor and one who had gotten along well with Iris and Rafael, sure, but I never liked her. She was a sneaky woman and her betrayals in her Games had left me with a sense of mistrust towards her, especially after what she had done to Morwenna. Oh, Morwenna. Her death had given me a plethora of nightmares that were near impossible to erase. It wasn't hard to imagine that she would teach and encourage her tributes to utilise a similar tactic of manipulating other tributes and betraying them later on in the Games. "We'll see what happens in the Bloodbath," I whispered back to Jolien, who shook her head slightly, a dejected look on her face. Poseidon had been far from easy to mentor, the boy was disobedient as heck, and the mental strain was really starting to show on my poor older sister. "Let's just hope our kids have a change of heart, 'kay?"
Jolien nodded, taking a sip of her own soda (again, Iris and Rafael had snatched her alcohol away too) and taking in a deep breath. "I guess so."
The tributes began to rise onto their pedestals, dressed in thick parkas and long, warm pants, as well as thick boots made for walking on ice. Most began to shiver a little as soon as they entered this chilly hellhole of an arena, and Poseidon and Nineve were no different. They were strangers to the cold, having grown up in hot District Four. And now, their teeth were visibly chattering and their bodies were shivering from the sudden drop in temperature. The countdown began. I took a deep breath, just like Jolien had moments earlier. This as it, yet another Bloodbath, yet more tributes who were going to perish. Ten, nine, eight... Suddenly, there was a loud explosion. Gadget screamed, nearly jumping out of her skin. I fumbled in my seat, the sheer deafening noise still ringing in my ears as I looked at the bloody, mangled remains splattered across the pedestal that was three pedestals to Nineve's right. Nineve herself blinked rapidly, taken aback by this scene. The girl from Eight had dropped her ball to the ground, activating the landmines. What happened next hadn't been pretty to watch and Kimi promptly burst out of the room to vomit in the toilet. It took me a while to realise that I had dropped my can of soda, which had spilt all over the floor, creating one big, ugly puddle. Cursing underneath my breath, I forced myself to refocus as the gong rang, although only about half of the tributes leapt off their pedestals, the other half still shell-shocked after what had just happened. Poseidon was part of the former while Nineve was, unfortunately, part of the latter. She stood on her pedestal, a smear of blood on her navy blue parka, muttering something under her breath as the girl from Seven beside her ran off into the ice caves. Poseidon, on the other hand, burst forward, keeping a blazing, fiery glare on a knife not too far away from him. Somewhere behind me, I could hear Colt groan as his boy was struck down by the boy from Two. The butcher boy stood no chance in the first place. After all, he was as sweet as candy. A part of me felt bad for him, but I knew that his death had been coming all along. Nineve had finally snapped back to attention and was sprinting towards a gleaming cutlass with a jewel embedded into its shiny hilt at the heart of the Cornucopia. Cutlasses were by far Nineve's favourite weapon so it didn't surprise me one bit that she was running for one. In fact, most of the Careers this year seemed to show a strong preference towards swords, with the exception of Poseidon, who was excellent with knives, and the girl from One, who was absolutely lethal with a spiked mace. Poseidon had finally gotten his knife and was running for a bright orange backpack. Hang on, a backpack? I gaped at the screen, confused by his actions. Why would he run for supplies now? He was going to get the supplies after the Bloodbath anyway, right? After all, he was part of the Career pack that would almost certainly take over the Cornucopia right after the Bloodbath. His actions seemed a little odd, but I didn't want to question them for now. Perhaps he was calling dibs on that particular backpack for some strange reason. He rushed towards the girl from District Seven and pinned her to the ground, slashing her throat. From my left, I could hear an agonised wail from Olive, who had dropped her flute as tears rolled down her bright red cheeks. Birch reached out to hug her, the master thief himself keeping an evil eye on Poseidon. Nineve, on the other hand, had just strangled the boy from Eleven and was wrestling the boy from Five to the ground. Good. At least she was taking out the weaker tributes. As agonising as it was, killing as many tributes as possible was absolutely essential in the Bloodbath. It made sure you could go home as quickly as possible, and also allowed you to eliminate the smart but weaker Outlier tributes (in previous Games, this would've been Marie, Colt, Beetee, et cetera) before they got a chance to shine. Nineve managed to slash the boy from Five's chest and was moving on to the other tributes. But where was Poseidon? Beside me, Jolien let out a loud, confused gasp. Following her gaze I raised my eyebrows when I saw that Poseidon was running away from the Bloodbath with his knife and backpack, a coy smile on his face as he sprinted across the ice, slipping once in a while, but somehow being able to maintain his balance, unlike the boy from Twelve, who slipped and fell on his arse, before being promptly killed by the girl from One. It took me a while to process what had just unfolded. Poseidon was ditching the Careers? Was he suicidal, for goodness sake? He had just betrayed his allies, oh, they were not going to be happy! I shook my head as the Careers began to notice Poseidon's disappearance and were muttering angrily amongst themselves, furious looks on their faces. Jolien and I exchanged nervous looks. Oh, this was not going to end well.
Jolien:
Poseidon got into trouble on the third day. The night was a cold one, even in this Mentoring Room. Timmy was off with a suitor, a young, less monstrous one, thankfully, but still a horrific experience nonetheless. Hence, I was left in charge of both of the tributes. Mags was discussing rebel tactics with Oakette, Mags was scheming with Alma Coin, Scipio and Ringo and I didn't want Iris, Rafael or Coral anywhere near the big screens. No, those poor souls didn't deserve to feel the pain of being forced to watch children die. They were in their rooms, keeping a low profile, minding their own businesses, just like they should. might not be the motherly figure I once was, but these three were still as precious as gold to me. Iris and Rafael were family and Coral sure felt like family too. I had to protect them from the horrors of the arena as much as I could. I had a blanket over my legs as I quietly watched the Games from the freezing cold Mentoring Room, dressed in a hoodie that Iris herself had designed. I was the only person in the Mentoring Room who was this cold, really, but hey, District Four was a hot place, you couldn't really blame me for always being cold in the Capitol. Letting a slight shudder escape from my lips, I watched as Poseidon trudged across a tunnel, knife in hand, his orange backpack, which contained a bottle of water, some rope and a lighter, slung over his broad shoulders. He quietly hummed to himself, humming a local song that was widely considered to be taboo in the District, as it had been composed by a notorious arsonist by the name of Isla Kingsley. The song was about fire meeting water and the lyrics weren't child's play. Poseidon had endured a rough childhood, with his parents locking him up in a cold storage room every night nothing more than a lighter. Often, they would also burn live animals and sometimes even corpses in front of him to fuel his love for the blazing infernos. Willuna had managed to scrape this information out of him after a pretty lengthy conversation that ended with her having a burn mark on her cheek, but hey, it was good to know a thing or two about your tribute. Besides, Willuna brushed the burn off as 'nothing', although she didn't speak to Poseidon again after that incident. In a way, I felt bad for Poseidon. No child deserved to suffer such harsh treatment, but at the same time, he had a choice to be a better person and he chose to be a pyromaniac. I was at odds over how to feel about him, if I were to be completely honest. Uncomfortable, that was how I felt about him, I decided. Just then, something dark and furry, about the size of a bicycle, lunged from out of the blue and burst straight at Poseidon. I let out a pretty loud yelp as Poseidon managed to duck, sending the beast crashing into the walls of the ice cave. His eyes widened with alarm and he readied his knife in a battle stance, gazing around nervously for more threats. The beast in question was a wolf-like mutt, with rabid, green eyes and a row of crimson spikes down ita back. The mutt snarled at Poseidon, baring its razor-sharp fangs and giving him a murderous glare, its eyes glowing brightly with a blazing rage. I gulped as Poseidon lost his footing on the ice, slipping and falling to his knees. He winced in pain and the mutt growled with an animalistic sort of anticipation, licking its large, fur-covered lips as it stared at Poseidon, probably imagining the ways in which it would devour this hapless boy from Four. "Come on, get up!" I pleaded, biting my lip as Poseidon struggled to his feet. I didn't necessarily like the crazy boy but he was still my tribute and I wanted him to win the Games. After all, no child deserved to die in the arena, well except maybe those kids in the Quell, but still, the sheer torture of the arena was something not a single soul should ever be forced to endure. The mutt charged at Poseidon, but he managed to hold out his knife and slash its throat. The mutt let out a soft whimper of pain, then crumpled to the ground, dead. Heaving a sigh of relief, I took another sip of hot cocoa, my fingers trembling as I held the cup to my freezing cold lips. I hated this cold, but I hated the Games even more. I longed for the morning to come and the fresh rays of sunlight to enter the Mentoring Room. Maybe then I would find some solace from this blisteringly cold night.
The morning light shone through the windows of the Mentoring Room, bathing it with a fresh, golden sunlight. The dawn was ethereal, a burst of new hope after that awfully cold night. The warmth flooded into the room and I was finally able to take off my blanket and hoodie in exchange for some more comfortable clothing. Blight entered the room, sweating from head to toe as he sauntered in, panting. "It's really hot out there," he muttered as he went over to the thermostat. Instantly, my eyes widened. No, he was going to lower the temperature, wasn't he?
"Blight, no!" I shouted, my voice loud and frantic. I probably raised my voice too much but in the heat of the moment, I didn't really care one bit. I was already cold and did not need to freeze to death in this stupid Mentoring Room. Blight's hand froze and he turned his head towards me, his eyes widening slightly. He saw my blanket and hoodie and let out a soft chuckle. Narrowing my eyes, I maintained a firm glare on him, getting my point across.
"Uhh, Jolien, you do realise it's tremendously hot in here, right?" Blight said, nervously twitching his hand.
I hissed at him. "Tafff, don't test me, Blight," I threatened. Normally, I wasn't this threatening but this needed to be done. Blight slowly edged away from the thermostat, his face scrunched up in a discontented sort of manner as he headed towards his seat. Olive whispered something in his ear and he nodded, keeping an eye in me. Recently, Blight seemed a lot more detached and a lot less bubbly. I knew that Jana's escape to District Fourteen must be the driving factor behind this, but there was nothing to be done. She wanted and deserved that better life elsewhere, and Blight could do nothing to stop her from reaching that goal. Her sanity had to come first after all. My eyes turned back to the screen, where Poseidon had reached the small, fur hut tucked away in one of the ice caves. The hut was dilapidated and was no bigger than a refrigerator, constructed with brown bear fur and decorated with large animal bones strung together with red string. He was still humming that accursed song as he walked on the ice, before stopping right in front of the hut. I wasn't sure what was inside but I was vaguely concerned of the possibility that mutts were to be found inside. Poseidon, however, didn't even hesitate before popping his head into the hut and gawking at the contents within. He was an idiot for doing so, sure, but what he found was well worth the risk. Firecrackers. A whole, fresh stack of them. I could see that burning, crazy look of excitement in Poseidon's eyes as his eyes feasted upon this precious treasure. I wasn't sure, though, if it was for the best. He could end up getting himself into trouble with those firecrackers. What if he accidentally blew himself up? What if he melted the ice and got trapped in a crevice? These thoughts swarmed through my head, although I doubted it swarmed through Poseidon's, as he whistled with amusement before swiping the firecrackers and stuffing them into his backpack, chuckling to himself. A flash of uncertainty crossed over my eyes. I wasn't sure what was going to happen, but what I did know was, when Poseidon got his hands on some firecrackers, fire was going to come alive. There was no doubt about that.
The following day, Poseidon finally met the Careers. While Marie's tribute, Donna, was busy hanging out with her allies from Nine, Poseidon and the Careers were having a bit of a fickle. Poseidon had the misfortune of running into the tunnel where the Careers were sitting in, discussing their next course of action. The little brat could have quietly slipped away, could've just stealthily sneaked out, but no, that wasn't what he did. I smacked my forehead as Poseidon let out a loud fart that echoed across the walls of the ice caves, the unholy noise (and smell, presumably) ringing across the ice caves continuously like the tolling of a loud, terrible bell. The colour drained from Poseidon's face as one by one, the Careers' heads turned towards him, their eyes gleaming with excitement. In their minds, there was only one thing they wanted to do. Kill. Poseidon whirled around and sprinted across the ice caves, furiously searching through his backpack as he ran. My heart began to pound as the Careers got up and charged after him, the girl from One momentarily slipping but quickly regaining her balance and rejoining the chase. Oh gosh, Poseidon was screwed now! "No, no..." I murmured, burying my face in my hands as defeat loomed in the distance with the inevitable death of Poseidon. I could almost feel my soul slipping away from my body, the hope slipping away as the Careers charged at Poseidon, swords and weapons out, snarling and roaring with murderous rage, out for the kill. These deadly, lethal, enraged beasts of tributes were not gonna stop until Poseidon was reduced to a bloodied, torn-up corpse and at the moment, I wasn't sure how Poseidon could escape their clutches. To make matters worse, Poseidon was running in the direction of a rushing, glacial river, which had rapid currents that not even the best swimmer could swim across. The water itself was cold to the bone, capable of causing near instant hypothermia. Large chunks of ice floated through, their edges jagged and sharp. Surely there was no escape for Poseidon now? My eyes were drained of hope as Poseidon edged closer and closer towards the river, an anxious, petrified expression on his face as he ran for his life. Then he jumped. Straight onto a floating chunk of ice. I blinked. What was he doing? Surely, he wasn't going to try and cross the river? But he did. Like a dancer, he jumped and balanced and twirled across the ice chunks with moves that Gadget herself would have been proud of. I could hear Draco roar with rage as Poseidon hopped onto the other bank of the river, just as the Careers arrived at the scene, wielding their shiny melee weapons that couldn't possibly harm Poseidon now. Heaving a sigh of relief, I finished my cup of hot cocoa.
But Poseidon was far from done.
He pulled out his lighter and firecrackers and it all dawned on me what his plan was. I inhaled sharply as Poseidon lit the firecrackers before tossing them onto the other side of the river. What happened next was utter chaos. Screams erupted from literally everywhere. In the arena, the Careers screamed, although their screams barely lasted a minute as they were blown up and burnt to a crisp. Poseidon screamed too, a loud cry of victory, the burning passion ever-present in his voice, the crazed sort of delight glowing like bright, burning embers in his eyes, which were lit with a gleaming glee. In the Mentoring Room, John and Cecelia were both screaming, horrific memories of the fires they had lit during their own Games flooding and crashing back into their minds, sucking up the life and energy out of them. Draco was screaming too, in a fit of rage. He shouted and screamed at the screen, shooting forth a choice selection of swears and curse words, emptying out all of his anger on the boy who stood triumphantly before the fire and fury before him on the screen. I blinked, half-amazed, half-horrified at what Poseidon had done. After a bride moment of processing, my lips managed to utter out one phrase.
"What the fuck?"
Poseidon:
I smirked as the stared at the girl in front of me, my final challenger, my biggest opponent thus far. As much of a crazed pyromaniac people thought I was, I wasn't dumb. In fact, I had known that Donna would be a threat from day one. Ever since I saw her scheme and snicker with Marie after the Tribute Parade, I had suspected something was up. I saw her stuff a knife into her shirt during the Bloodbath, hiding it from her allies. And now, she stood with a knife, presumably that same one, which was dripping wet with cold, red blood, the blood slowly falling drop by drop onto the ground, staining the pale blue ice a lovely shade of red, although not as lovely as fiery red. Her lips curled into a sadistic smile as she took a bold step closer to me, the sound of her boot stomping on the ice echoing across the cave walls. She had killed her two allies, I was sure of it and she was tougher than most would have predicted her to be. But I had something special in store for her. "Ready to die, Four?" she drawled, twirling her knife in the air as she came closer towards the cave I had been in for the past seven hours. I didn't respond. Instead, I merely flashed a terrified look on my face, looking around nervously, imitating an escape attempt. But I was cornered. And at the same time, I wasn't quite ready to die. Donna cackled, a hint of cruelty in her voice. "You're trapped now, Four. You don't even have that knife with you!" It was true, I had dropped my knife the other day, rendering me weaponless. But not without a plan. I took another two steps back, whimpering slightly. Donna seemed to be falling for it. Just a few steps closer. She sneered at me. "Bitch, you're even weaker than I thought. I think I'm gonna enjoy killing you, you useless piece of shit!" She leapt forward to charge at me, but that was when she stepped on it. The hidden switch buried underneath a sheet of ice. The switch that ignited a certain trap that I had spent a full four hours building, with those splendid sponsor gifts that had been sent my way. Her eyes widened in a momentary fear, then bursts of flame erupted from the left side of the cave wall, engulfing her in flames. The fire, the licking inferno, it was so incredibly gorgeous, so exquisitely beautiful, I admired it with great, big eyes as Donna screamed, although her screams were quickly drowned out by the flames. Her cannon boomed soon after. A wide smirk spread across my face as the trumpets sounded by long-deserved Victory.
"Fire wins, bitches."
Katniss and Peeta held a brief minute of silence for Poseidon. "The kid had his issues, but maybe we never really gave much help for him," Peeta reasoned.
Katniss shrugged. "I never really liked the kid, but I guess you could be right."
There wasn't much to add on, so the pair quickly moved on. Peeta flipped the page, revealing a girl with long, stringy dark hair and olive skin. She had wide, dark brown eyes that almost popped out of their sockets. Her hands were jammed in her pockets and her lip appeared to quiver slightly. Her expression was that of a nervous, rattled person, and her body was unbelievably scrawny. Behind her, Kimi stood, looking a little distracted, while Ford stared solemnly ahead. Katniss gasped when she saw her face, tears brimming in her eyes. "Audi Lando."
VICTORS
District 1-Sapphire Huntington(4), Onyx Hibonite(9), Franc Montgomery(14), Crystal Montgomery(21), Sterling Jones(25), Luxe Carmichael(36), Geneva Cooper(37), Cartier Cooper(44), Valkyrie Montgomery(54)
District 2-Ragnar Sveinsson(5), Reyna Boudicca(6), Draco Hadley(10), Scipio MacAllister(17), Freya Carson(22), Hercules Nichols(28), Julia Dawson(39), Brutus Gunn(42), Lyme Sveinsson(45), Evan Fortis(55)
District 3-Nikola Johnson(13), Gadget Schroeder(24), Beetee Latier(40), Wiress Jansen(47)
District 4-Marina Bluebell(1), Mags Flanagan(11), Jolien Fisher(31), Timmy Fisher(32), Iris Fisher(33), Rafael Fisher(34), Coral Thiller(41), Poseidon Nakamura(58)
District 5-Shocker Crimson(8), Switch Kim(19), Flash Morrison(27), Porter Tripp(38), Marie Meredith(52)
District 6-Ford Hamilton(20), Kimi Bentley(51)
District 7-Hassan Greenwood(2), Jill Wilson(15), Olive Sanchez(26), Birch Davison(35), Blight Gavin(53)
District 8-Woof Casino(16), Calico Pepper(48), Cecelia Rheys(56)
District 9-Gwendolyn Whitfield(18), Laurel Flamsteel(29), Miller Thompson(49)
District 10-Ringo Alvarez(7), John Gatwick(23), Mare Trybull(43), Colt Dias(57)
District 11-Orchid Bloom(12), Seeder Crue(30), Chaff Mitchell(46)
District 12-Axel Millar(3), Haymitch Abernathy(50)
Victors that are underlined are deceased.
A/N: There we go! Poseidon comes home and District Four have yet another Victor amongst their ranks! Well, this was an interesting idea to develop and I hope you liked this chapter and if you did, pls leave a review! Oh and while you're at it, check out Ashes of Snow and Ice by Marie464, The Tactics of Winning by Fox Carved In Ice, The 101st Hunger Games by MeTheFanatic19, Killer Vacation by Willuna, And We Run by contemporarydancer2 and The Loudest Become The Strong by RubyTree7, written by my amazing friends in the ffn community. Anyway, so uhh, I've had some things going on with my physical and mental health, so hope it doesn't really show in this chapter, and if the quality is slightly affected by it, I'm really sorry. Things have been said about my story that I don't wish to disclose, but I'm glad that some do still like my story. And whatever happens, I will finish this, no matter how hard I have to fight. That's all from me and have a good day! Cheers :)