Chapter 61: Enobaria Golding
And here we go again with the Careers and District Two, and it's Enobaria Golding, our fierce, badass canon Victor with the teeth to win! But was that all to the tale? Or, in the midst of an ongoing murder mystery, was there more...
P.S. Hey, so, I know I said I was opening sub reservations for Blue Moon, but after a while, I've decided that I'm gonna close reservations three days after I upload this chapter, so if you wanna reserve, be sure to reserve now! Otherwise, you'll have to go through the whole choosing process aha (if I sound like I'm uttering nonsense feel free to PM me on or DM me on Discord to ask questions xd)
Katniss scrunched her face, contemplating the Victor whose photo sat before her. "Honestly, Enobaria is an enigma to me. Was she ever really for or against us in the rebellion?"
Peeta frowned, then shook his head slowly. "Not until the decision to have another Games. She did terrify me, though."
"I didn't really like her," Katniss admitted, scratching her head. "Tearing apart a tribute's throat with her teeth-" Katniss shuddered, grimacing at the mere memory of that horrible incident. "Yikes, that was gruesome as hell."
Peeta nodded in agreement. "But then again, she's alive right now, and she's among the final few Victors, so I guess we have no choice but to get along with her."
Katniss sighed. "I guess you're right. Her arena, though..." Katniss didn't finish her sentence, and she didn't need to either. Peeta gritted his teeth, and the pair both knew that had they been in that same arena as Enobaria, they would have likely lost their minds long before the trumpets sounded.
Enobaria Golding
District 2
Aged 18
5 Kills
The murders of Jill and Scipio, coupled with the shock victory of James Silva, rattled the nation. Well, mostly the Capitol, but District Two certainly felt the effects as well. They had just lost Scipio, one of their Victors, a source of pride for them, a man who had brought glory and honour to their District, and from what they had heard, his death had been nothing short of disgraceful, undeserving, a mere whimper of the life he had lived.
They were furious.
They were absolutely livid.
And more importantly, they wanted cold, hard justice to be served to the perpetrator.
From the minute the shocking news was spilt out to the patriotic, warrior-like people of District Two, there was massive uproar and cries for justice, calls for the murderer, whoever it was, to be tortured and sentenced to a slow, equally horrifying death.
Yet, the name Jill Wilson didn't even make a mention in local newspapers.
No one in Two seemed to care about this violinist woman who had ruined their chances of bringing home another Victor all those years ago.
No one cared that these two murders were more than likely linked.
The blind fury and rage seemed to ensure that rational thought eluded the people of the District, as they began training their Career recruits harder than ever to execute their revenge on the Districts.
One of these recruits was Enobaria Golding, who would always turn up at the Career Academy first thing in the morning, at the break of dawn, around the time that Draco Hadley himself did. Draco, of course, was more than pleased with her desire to train ad her consistent fighting attitude that she displayed throughout the training sessions. She was a vocal leader too, someone who commandeered the respect of the other recruits, able to sway them into a course of action with a single, firm command that simply oozed with charisma and a stupendous confidence in her voice. Her wrestling skills were simply unmatched in Hadley Academy, by far the largest, grandest, most prestigious Academy in not just District Two, but in all of Panem. Her capabilities with a knife were unworldly, to say the least, as if they were merely sharp extensions of her hands. A vicious fighter, a formidable beast, arguably the strongest contender to be District Two's next killing machine volunteer to take the crown home.
Selecting her as the volunteer was a mere formality, one of the easiest choices Draco had ever had to make.
District Seven were having a bittersweet year, to say the least. They had lost and gained a Victor in the same year. Jill Wilson, their most beloved icon, the golden girl of the District, the Bloody Violinist herself, the kind music teacher, she had been brutally massacred, and for what? There didn't seem to be a motive behind this cruel, horrible murder.
And yet, something good had happened during that same, eventful Games that had spewed out Jill's rotting corpse.
James Silva had come home.
The underdog boy, the last person they would have expected to survive, had done something the young, terrified tributes had longed to do ever since the Games first began.
He had won the Hunger Games, and he had done so in style.
Sure, he had come home with a bionic left hand, and had constant, recurring nightmares, but hey, at least he was alive. And he handled the trauma much better than most too. Ellen, that girl who instantly shot to fame in the weeks following James's victory with her incredible artwork, which was plastered all over Capitolite art magazines, did a great job in consoling the new Victor boy, spending her hours by his side, admiring the wild nature around them, relishing in the peacefulness of the inner woods of District Seven. Another one of James's friends, Walter, would come over for dinner every day to entertain him with his jokes. A third, Logger, taught him how to play the recorder, in a bid to distract him from the memories of the arena. All this, coupled with James's relatively optimistic attitude, ensured that he could continue doing good for the District, donating nearly all of his earnings to the needy and taking in a whole host of orphaned cats from the streets of the District, building his own cat sanctuary, which the children often frequented to play with the friendly felines. The Silva Cat Kingdom was a source of joy for the local children, and the muffins that James had begun to learn how to bake were an even bigger bonus to visitors.
But not everyone was happy.
Olive Sanchez, the goddaughter of the dearly departed Jill Wilson, had executed her revenge, only to find out that Scipio was in fact, not Jill's murderer. All the evidence instead seemed to point to the murderer being someone who wasn't from Victors Circle, or District Two, for that matter, but Olive wasn't going to poison anyone else. She sat in her mansion, the one she thoroughly did not deserve to live in, crying in her pillow, shattered bottles of beer lying rampant across her floor, as Scipio's ghost flooded her with the haunting nightmares of what she had done.
But the past could not be erased, and she had to drown in her sorrows all alone, the growing fear of letting her secret slip and the consequences it would bring about continuously paralysing her heart for the rest of her days.
Enobaria knew something the rest of Panem didn't.
She knew exactly who had murdered Jill Wilson.
You see, her parents were both prominent, high-ranking Peacekeepers, who spent much of their time in the Capitol, meaning he had to live with her uncle Aegeus Golding, who was a trainer at Hadley Academy, a man who had grown close to her when her parents were practically absent throughout her childhood and adolescent years. Aegeus cared for her, trained her to be the best, and always told her to be proud of her parents' work.
"They're doing Panem a great service, Enobaria," he would insist. "Never forget this."
But on New Year's Eve, her parents came home and delivered the shocking news to her, shattering her usually positive views on the work that her parents did.
They had assisted in the murder of Jill Wilson.
They were drunk, they didn't even realise that they had just revealed the answer to a mystery that had captivated the nation to their daughter, who stood before them with her jaw dropped, quite unsure of how to respond.
"President Snow," her father slurred, clutching the half-empty bottle of beer in his hand, a tipsy smile wobbling across his lips as he swayed about, before eventually plopping onto the couch after a long day at work. Enobaria gazed at him, wanting desperately to leave the room, but she knew that she couldn't do so. Not now, at least. "Good ol' Coryo," her father chuckled, letting loud a large burp.
Enobaria wrinkled her nose. "Yes? What about him?"
Her father's eyes glazed over for a while and he raised his bottle high into the air. "He told me that I needed to take her body to the elevator," he garbled.
Enobaria's eyes widened in alarm. She gulped, pressing her lips together, not wanting to be anywhere near her father now. "B-body?"
"Ooh yes," her mother shouted, stumbling in from the kitchen before falling flat on her face. Enobaria rushed to help her out, grabbing her by the arms and dragging her to her bedroom.
"But Poseidon, he did the deed!" her father shouted as Enobaria opened the door to her mother's bedroom. "He killed Jill! And that Peacekeeper who was sent to Four, oh that was a ruddy little fellow!"
Enobaria laid her mother on her bed, giving her father a wary glance. "But why?" she queried, the question blurting out of her lips before she could get a hold of herself.
Her father roared with a drunken chortle. "Oh, he's been recruited by Draco as one of his top agents, doing deeds for him around the clock with Victor status! You know, he put in a very special concoction in her drink, one that your mother and I cooked up just for this! Ooh, in fact, I think we still have some leftovers in our kitchen, right in that dark orange container!"
The dark orange container.
A loud gasp escaped from Enobaria's lips. Just that morning, she had reached into the cupboards and was just about to pull it out to pour its contents into her soup, only to see a bright orange one, the one she had intended to take out in the first place, precariously placed right on top of it. Had she mistaken those two containers...
Enobaria didn't stick around for much longer. She bolted off into her room and slammed her door shut, a horde of thoughts charging through her head as she tried to process what her parents had just flippantly revealed to her.
"What the heck?" she murmured, crashing into her bed and staring up at her ceiling, lost in a wave of emotions. Was she angry? Not really, after all, it had been ordered by President Snow himself. Was she disgusted? Not really either, after all, what was the difference between this murder and the murders she would no doubt have to commit in the arena? Was she conflicted? Hell to the yeah. Shocked? Most definitely. And most importantly, she started to think twice about volunteering for the upcoming Reaping, knowing that Jill's murderer, Poseidon, would be awaiting her at the Capitol, and she could not possibly escape the intrigue and mystery surrounding the cases. How would she react, when she saw Olive, the distraught lady from Seven, the goddaughter of Jill? How could she possibly hide this secret from the other Careers, who were probably dying to know the end of the tale?
"No, you have to volunteer," Enobaria told herself firmly as she marched over to her bathroom to brush her teeth, which many people had remarked to be pretty sharp. One of her friends had a father who was a dentist, and on one visit, she requested for him to sharpen those already sharp teeth, just so she could show them off to her fellow peers. "Volunteer, and then you'll have all the money and glory in the world." A look of anticipation flickered across her eyes as she thought of all the things that a victory would bring about.
Her doubts about volunteering were soon erased after that.
Luxe felt a whole new degree of empty. The once lively, adventurous Career boy with a dashing smile readily plastered on his face now sat solemnly on the train to the Capitol, reading a book that Marie and Woof had co-written. But even as he flipped through the pages, which seemed to emit an aroma of longing and agony that scuffled up his nose, he couldn't seem to find even the slightest bit of joy out of them. Something had happened, something horrible indeed had occurred, right in front of Luxe's once twinkling eyes.
Onyx had died.
It was a dismal time for the Victors, after the murders of both Jill and Scipio, but Luxe didn't think it could possibly get any worse, until of course, Onyx fell off a ladder and cracked his skull right in front of him. Luxe had tried, tried his best to call the medics, who were having a power outage that day and couldn't receive his call, tried his best to drag him to the infirmary, to no avail.
Onyx soon died in his arms, with Luxe crying and begging for him to stay with him.
And yet, in the most twisted way possible, Luxe knew that what awaited Onyx was most certainly a lot better than Panem.
The afterlife, where he could be with Jill and Scipio and Hassan and Sterling and Axel.
The afterlife, where Snow did not reign supreme.
The afterlife, where he wouldn't have to be prostituted and sold for some cash.
The afterlife, where he could, hopefully, finally be free.
Luxe blinked back tears as he flipped yet another page, only to see a sad illustration of the main character, a young girl from the poorer sectors of society, wailing as she clutched the dying figure of her brother, as a torrid rain beat down upon them, their bodies caked with filth and mud, a mutt howling in a distant cave.
A tear freed itself from his eyes and plunged into the world below, falling, falling, shimmering as it reflected the bright rays of sunshine from outside the window, quickly gaining momentum, deliberate in its freefall, until it hit the page of the book, falling with a soft 'splat' and absorbing itself into the pages of the book, which Luxe quickly shut as outside his room, he could hear his tribute, Paladin, calling for him.
He had to carry on Onyx's legacy and keep on bringing home Victors from One.
Porter crossed her arms, a slight, disappointed shake of her head pretty much summing up what an awful day it had been. She watched as Flash had yet another drunken brawl with that new escort, Vinum, who was a fairly intelligent man, when he was sober at least. But most of the time, he preferred to indulge in his favourite red wine, chugging the expensive liquor as he kicked back on his bed, dressed in a bathrobe, the television in front of him showcasing the latest episode of Austin and Olivia, a new romantic TV series that was taking the Capitol by storm. Admittedly, watching that show was a guilty pleasure of Porter's. After all, those two teenagers were so adorable together. But if you even suggested that she ever watched the show to her face, she would most likely rip your heart out.
She rolled her eyes and headed back to her room, just as Vinum judo-flipped Flash onto the floor, knocking him out, right before he too passed out from exhaustion.
Idiots, she thought as she flung the door open and crashed onto her bed. If she wasn't mute she would be screaming her head off at the moment, because her tribute just happened to be an absolute clown of an idiot who couldn't think like a normal person would. She threw her hands in the air at the thought of that crazy lunatic known as Noah Arnold, a loudmouthed seventeen-year-old boy who seemed to have the most arrogant mindset possible. The son of the mayor of District Five, he was nothing more than a spoiled brat, the parents' favourite son, apparently. At least his brother Veda seemed to have some common sense at the goodbyes. But Noah, oh, Noah... Porter thought that either he was the silliest tribute District Five ever had or secretly their best ever, a secret genius who was disguising his true intelligence.
Porter desperately hoped for the latter, because as far as she was concerned, he was going to die long before the Bloodbath even ended.
He seemed to think that he was a guaranteed Victor right from the start.
He seemed to think that he was an utter genius.
He seemed to think that he could do anything and say anything he wanted without any consequences.
That last part had gotten him into some rather nasty trouble with that powerful girl from Two, Enobaria, who seemed to radiate power and authority over the rest of the Career pack. She was a deadly fighter too, and for some reason, she kept on baring her unusually sharp teeth at the other tributes in an attempt at intimidating her. Porter frowned. Sharp teeth? Did she think she could somehow utilise them in a fight? It was possible, but biting another tribute would most certainly be a tactic reserved for desperate, last resort moments. Still, it served its purpose, pulverising many of the younger Outliers and asserting her dominance over pretty much the entire tribute cast that year.
With the exception of Noah, of course.
She tried to bare her 'fangs' at an unimpressed Noah over at the wrestling station, a station that Noah did absolutely terribly in, by the way, in a bid to get him to go away. Porter watched from the Gamemakers' Loft high above the tributes, a crestfallen expression on her face as she watched the action unfold below. If Noah had any sliver of hope prior to that moment, well, it was more than certainly cast out beyond reach now. Noah strutted up to her, his chin raised high in a cocky show of arrogance, and, to everyone's (except Porter's) astonishment, he gave her a hard push. Enobaria hissed as she stumbled, but didn't quite lose her balance.
"Who the heck do you think you are?" she snarled, marching up and grasping him tightly by the shoulders. Her lips curled into a dark, sinister scowl and her wrath became even more apparent as she fixated an icy, hard stare onto him, her sharp teeth out on display, as if she was more than ready to rip him to shreds.
Porter bit her lip. She knew this wasn't going to end well, that horrid feeling in her stomach lingered on as Noah continued to give Enobaria an bemused look. He put his hands on his hips and an eyebrow shot up as he spat right in Enobaria's face. "Bitch, you don't own me. I'm the Victor of the Sixty-First-"
He didn't finish that proclamation. Enobaria had already tackled him to the ground and Porter could only sigh as she raised her fist, ready to beat the living daylights out of this stupid boy, before the Peacekeepers came and separated both of them forcefully.
This is going to be a long day, Porter thought, gritting her teeth as she drank a sip of beer.
But it was only going to get longer.
Because Noah just had to steal Enobaria's knife, right as she was about to throw it. Porter was taking yet another sip of her favourite beer, watching as Enobaria stood at the knife-throwing station, carrying a determined pose as she stared defiantly ahead, raising her knife high above her head. She had a deadly throw, one Porter had grown to despise, and she surely wasn't going to miss this next shot. Enobaria, like all the other Career tributes, was a cheating scumbag, someone who illegally trained and volunteered to willingly massacre poor, helpless children. Such an attitude left her utterly disgusted, and made her stomach churn with an outraged sort of bile. Sure, she had some friends who were formerly from the Career Academy, but these people, such as Brutus and Geneva, had changed after leaving the arena, no longer the proud murderers they once were in their youth, having been plucked out of the brainwashed times of yesteryear and exposed to the harsh realities of Panem. Some, like Reyna and Hercules, weren't even the stoic, cold-hearted tributes they seemed to be. As for Enobaria, Porter viewed her in a negative light now, as Hercules had admitted that she was pretty patriotic and loyal to Draco, hell-bent on attaining glory in the arena. However, he had also hinted that whenever he mentioned anything related to killing, a slight flicker would appear in her eyes and her smile would falter ever so slightly. A sign that she could possibly change, perhaps?
Enobaria was about to throw her knife and Porter put the bottle of beer to her lips, letting the numbing liquid flow to her lips and into her mouth, the taste she had grown so used to tingling her taste buds. Pondering on and on about Enobaria boggled her mind, and she needed this refreshingly cold beer to loosen the intense jumble of thoughts that swarmed through her head like a cloud of locusts.
Then, out of nowhere, Noah ran in, charging at full speed towards Enobaria, and snatched the knife right out of her hands, before dashing off, letting out a loud ululation, a wide, cheeky grin on that outrageously annoying face of his. Porter instantly spit the beer from her mouth, staring with a dumbfounded expression at her utterly idiotic tribute, who was instantly pursued by an outraged Enobaria, fumes billowing out of her nostrils as she barged right at Noah, knocking aside a trainer and a dummy in the process.
What the heck was he thinking?
The muffin he threw at Enobaria during lunch was the final nail to his coffin.
Just another boy from District Four.
That was what Hull Fernsby had resigned to being. All his life, he was average at everything he did. An average student in school, an average trainee in the Career Academy, an average fisherman, average at everything. He had no skills, nothing that really stood out, well, apart from his ability to play tennis, but he wasn't as good as many other people on the school team. He was just a bang average person.
So when he was Reaped at the age of sixteen, he knew his fate was practically written in the stars.
Just another tribute, just another death, just another name lost in the annals of history, as Hunger Games Death Number XXX.
That's why he'd already said his final goodbyes, shed his last tears, written his final letters to be sent home by his mentor, Marina.
That is, until Marina collapsed onto the ground of course.
On their final night in the Capitol, right after dinner, as Marina stood up to leave the room, all of a sudden, a pained expression contorted itself onto her face and she let out a gasp for air, before she crumbled limply onto the ground, as if all the energy had been sucked out of her limbs.
Cue the loud screaming, cue the panicked cries for help, cue Hull rushing to alert the Peacekeepers on guard nearby. They were able to administer CPR, but she was having a serious heart attack. The paramedics had soon arrived to whisk her off to the hospital, and Hull hadn't heard from her ever since. Early in the morning, he'd tried to ask Tigris, Willuna, Mags, anyone really, if they had an inkling of knowledge as to what had happened, but no one had uttered so much as a peep, instead silently directing him and his District partner, Laguna, who, much unlike him, was in the Career pack and had a fighting chance of claiming Victory, straight to the hovercrafts with only a few final words of instruction and encouragement.
But there were no answers whatsoever.
He had gone into his tube with a heavy heart, a deep intrigue for the truth growling in his gut, as this unanswered question about Marina's fate lingered on and on in his head, making it impossible for him to think.
He stood on his pedestal, quietly glancing ahead. The Cornucopia was silver as usual, but this year, it seemed shinier than usual. Hull looked around, a curious glint in his eyes. When he saw what lay in store for him in the arena, he knew that he simply had to die in the Bloodbath, before things got even uglier for him later on in the arena.
The arena was a network of mirrors intertwined and surrounding the large, seemingly endless room, which stretched on and on as far as the eye could see. It was a maze of mirrors, with the reflections of the tributes being shown all across different mirrors and the path ahead becoming more and more uncertain, as each direction could well be just a reflection.
Hull bit his lip as he stared at the ceiling. Great, there were even more mirrors attached to the ceiling. Given enough time, this would be more than enough to drive anyone crazy. No, there was simply no way around it. He had to die now, before the road became much harder.
Ten seconds left on the clock.
His life, his boring, average life, began to flash right before his eyes as the clock slowly ticked closer and closer towards the start of the Bloodbath.
Any time now.
He thought of his parents, simple, humble fishermen, taking him out to the docks, bringing him along for their fishing trips.
He thought of the salty, incredible smell of the ocean, and the way it had refreshed his lungs for the past sixteen years of life.
He thought of the palm trees swaying around by the beach as kids zoomed down narrow streets with their rusty old bicycles.
He thought of the harbour, with the steamboats blowing their loud foghorns, and the workers singing as they unloaded goods onto carts.
He thought of the old lighthouse, its powerful beam of light shining through the darkness, a bright gleam amongst the night sky that was painted so vividly with stars.
He thought of his old school, and the many kids that trampled and pranced across his grounds, and the sound of books being flipped open before a class, and how even the sound of the school bell, seemed to resonate so loudly in his head.
He thought of the fish market back home, with al the fishy smells that he once disliked but had grown used to, and the wide variety of seafood being sold there.
He thought of the golden sands of his favourite beach, and the sound and sight of the small waves breaking upon the shore, as little kids built sandcastles and splashed about in the water, their fun, cheerful laughter echoing through his head like that of hollow ghosts.
He thought of the surfers and the soccer players and all the other athletes that would stir up a wave of support and cheers from the proud, fanatic supporters every time a match or tournament was being played.
He thought of his best friend, Ripple, and all the jokes and pranks he used to pull on unsuspecting classmates, and how they always seemed to make Hull holler with glee.
And lastly, he thought of Marina, his warm, gentle mentor, smiling down at him from Heaven, beckoning for him to join her.
He was ready to do so.
The gong rang and Hull jumped off his pedestal, ready to dive into the action and run for one, last time.
He bolted straight into the heart of the Cornucopia, feeling the wind racing against his back as he ran, faster and faster, until his feet could nearly take off and fly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Laguna, his District partner, stab the boy from Seven, and right beside her, Enobaria bashing the head of the girl from Twelve. He ran and ran, past the dead corpse of what he presumed had at one point been the girl from Three. He heard loud screams, loud slashes of swords, as Enobaria and the boy from Two took turns stabbing the girl from Nine, with Enobaria landing the final, killing blow, although there was not been a slight hint of a smile to be found upon her steely face. He ran past a giant tent that honestly, he had no clue who would be stupid enough to take. What use was a tent, when it basically a clear sign to other tributes that you were there. He ran and ran, until he felt something sink into his neck, and for a brief moment, he let out a loud cry of pain as a harrowing pain erupted through him, sending shockwaves of misery across his body. He could feel himself slowly slipping away from the world as he fell to the ground, Enobaria making large strides towards him to collect her knife, which was lodged in his neck. He could see black spots forming across his vision, feel everything becoming lighter and lighter until suddenly, he felt completely weightless.
He was finally free.
Lyme liked Enobaria, to an extent, that was. Compared to some of the, how should she phrase it, intellectually lacking tributes that District Two had tossed into the arena, Enobaria was more than fine in Lyme's eyes. In fact, she reminded her of herself, in a way. A strong, vocal leader of the pack, a girl who seemed to have a good knowledge of tactics, oh, she was more than Lyme could have asked for. And she had told Lyme that to her, killing was more of a task, a necessity that had to be done, and it brought her little joy, if any at all. Oh, all this was music to Lyme's ears, sweetened further when Enobaria said that she had studied some of her tactics in the past when it came to the Games.
Finally, a tribute who had brain cells! Oh, Lyme was on cloud nine!
But then she learnt that Enobaria had a dark secret. She didn't know what this secret was, maybe it was a murder or a large crime that she had committed, that led to her believing that killing was a duty that had to be carried out, not something that was fun and games.
But she knew it was there.
Enobaria herself had told her this. "There's something I know of," she had told her, a quiet, almost scared tremor in her voice as she spoke, her gaze shifting around nervously, her bravado and confident facade quickly falling apart. "If anyone else knows about it, I will be in big trouble." Lyme hadn't asked, instead, she had promised that she wouldn't tell anyone, and yet Enobaria still refused to spill her secrets, although Lyme didn't necessarily blame her. Not even she could bring herself to tell all her little tidbits to her twin sister Blenda. She respected Enobaria's desire to keep her secret to herself, and mentored her to become a Victor, eventually deciding that she liked Enobaria, which was more than she could say for most of the tributes from Two. Evan had been a good kid, but he wasn't exactly very tactically astute. So, Enobaria was pretty much the perfect tribute for Lyme.
However, she had her flaws. A hot-tempered, fiery spirit that flared out whenever she got frustrated, which, unfortunately, was an easy occurrence, and the fact that some of the other mentors, including Porter, James and Chaff, had already expressed their hatred towards not just her, but also those sharp teeth of hers, hindered her from being a completely perfect tribute. In fact, Chaff had already instructed his kid to take Enobaria out before any of the other Careers, and so had James, Colt and Beetee, effectively painting a huge target on her head. Her brawls with the boy from Five during training and later on with the girl from Seven just after the interviews had shown the fouler side of her, especially considering the fact that the girl from Seven hadn't really done much to ignite the sparks of anger within her. And the way she lashed out at the girl from One when she didn't heed her instructions on the first night in the arena? Well, it hadn't been a pretty fight, to say the least. Enobaria was a born leader, but her temperaments reminded Lyme of Freya, a woman who had slowly begun to communicate better with the other Victors, although her loyalties still clearly lay in the Capitol. Lyme was also more than a little miffed when she saw that Enobaria hadn't bothered to at least destroy some of the other supplies at the Cornucopia, a place where they were unlikely to return to considering the nature of the maze, allowing the boy from Three and the pair from Ten to run in and snag some valuable supplies.
Oh well, maybe she wasn't the one after all.
Over the next few days, Lyme watched from the comfort of the Mentoring Room as Lyme and the rest of the Career pack tried to navigate their way around the maze of mirrors. Marina was strangely absent, but no one had told her what had happened, no matter how many times she asked. However, the gloomy looks upon the faces of the District Four team were pretty ominous, and she wasn't exactly sure if she wanted to know just what had happened. The Careers hadn't found anyone by the third day, and being in that maze, bumping around and running into dead-ends that didn't seem to be there, it did wonders for your brain, and not the good sort of wonders. Enobaria began to flare up even more every time she bonked her nose into a shiny reflection of what appeared to be a path, and one time, when the Careers stumbled into a space that was covered on three sides with mirrors, she let out a cry of irritation and flung a knife at a mirror.
Big mistake.
The mirror shattered, but what lay beyond it was even worse.
A mutt stood there, right in front of the static Career pack, a mutt that resembled the shape of a large wolf, except it was made entirely out of glass. The Careers were initially unable to see it, until Enobaria started shouting at the top of her lungs, her eyes fixating on the mutt's crystal-clear blue pupils.
Lyme herself hadn't realised the mutt was there until Enobaria did, but it was too late. The mutt let out a loud, shrill screech before it pounced into the air and landed right on top of the stunned boy from One, who fell to the ground underneath the mutt. Enobaria raised her other knife and flung it at the mutt, which promptly shattered into a million glass shards, shards of glass that tore right through the boy from One's body underneath it.
Boom!
Lyme had to resist the urge to gag as she saw the boy's bloodied corpse, mangled with glass and torn-out gore, lying crumpled on the ground, unidentifiable from the handsome, blonde boy that had been there not five seconds ago. Not a single square inch of his body had been spared from the glass shards, one of which, a particularly large one the size of a small blade, had pierced right through his heart. Blood cascaded out of his body, gushing out in large quantities, staining the entire floor an ugly carmine as the Careers yelped and reeled backwards, horrified by the sight before them. Lyme too recoiled in alarm, repulsed by the sight of all this. She could tell that the other mentors were equally revolted too, as Gwen hid behind the cover of her magazine and James dashed out of the room, his face green with disgust. Back in the arena, Enobaria was quickly ushering the other Careers away from this ghastly scene, urging them to move on.
And the horrors of the mirror maze would only continue.
Citan Saiss was on the run. Enobaria had spotted him, and he had to flee for his life.
Because Citan had absolutely zero intentions on dying. He had a family waiting for him back home, a disabled father and a mother who was a serious drug addict, as well as a little sister, nine-year-old Makina. They relied on him for a meagre income, his job at the nearby car manufacturing factory was absolutely pivotal to their survival. If he died now, well, he shuddered as he imagined how his family could possibly live on. If he won, though, his family would never have to go hungry again, they would be free of worry, free of care in this world, free from the poverty that had struck them during the Dark Days. He could just picture it, his little sister smiling up at him as she played with a brand new set of toys, his mother going to rehabilitation and being free from drug abuse, his father getting a prosthetic leg, oh, the things he could obtain if he could just survive! They were tantalisingly close now, it was down to the final three...
But first, he had to evade, or better still, kill Enobaria, who was hot on his tracks, a knife in hand, a scowl on her face and a tenacious blaze smouldering in her steely eyes. It was hard, running in this maze, especially with all those stupid mirrors. He kept on bumping and getting lost, and in a chase, when every single precious second could mean the difference between life and death, hitting one of the numerous dead ends that, at first glance, seemed to be the way forward, was simply not an option.
"I'm coming for you, you son of a bitch!" Enobaria shrieked, crashing face-first into a mirror, but she didn't seem to care one bit. This murderous girl, she was hell-bent on killing him, a fiery obsession in her eyes, a vortex of rage swirling around her as she slashed and stabbed the mirrors surrounding her. Citan chuckled as she bumped into yet another dead end, and she let out a loud snarl of frustration as she realised that she was encased in an array of mirrors, light of all colours reflecting across her image on the mirrors that surrounded her.
Citan was free.
Until he ran headfirst into yet another dead end.
Smack! Citan crumbled to the ground, a throbbing pain that felt like a sharp-toothed creature eating him from the inside bursting through his head. He could feel the world spinning around him, and his body felt almost weightless.
No... he thought, willing himself to try to sit up, only to be struck with an immense pain that simply demanded to be succumbed to. He let out a harsh, half-stifled yell as his head spun more and more, and soon a myriad of bright spots flickered through his gaze, and he lay there, in a crumpled daze, as behind him, footsteps began to approach and not a moment later, Enobaria came into view, a stern, hardened look on her face.
Citan's heart sank as she thrust her knife into his chest.
This is it, the end. My family, what are they going to do now? These thoughts, plus a maelstrom of emotions eddied through his head.
He wasn't ready to die.
He wasn't ready to leave his family, not now!
But the shock of what had happened, and how it had happened, it just frothed and bubbled through his heart, and the regret of not paying attention to what was ahead, it churned and beat down upon his brain, until both his heart and brain shut down. For good.
Two months later, his entire family would follow him to the grave.
Noah was in the final two! He grinned as he sauntered towards the Cornucopia, tossing that bloodied knife of his around. Obviously, he was going to win this. After all, who was going to stop him, that wannabe girl from Two? Pfft, he could take her down, no problem! Ever since he was Reaped, Noah had known full well that his victory was more than guaranteed. He was beyond the level of the other Victors, he was simply too good of a tribute! The way he had so flawlessly ambushed the girl from Four? First-class action right there. The way he had taken down that pathetic girl from Seven? Absolutely legendary stuff from a legendary tribute! He could just picture the Capitolite girls watching him right now, fawning over this sexy hunk of a boy who was so effortlessly going to win, and all without breaking a sweat! He could just imagine all his fans waiting for him back home, ah, the parade, the cheering, the roars of excitement, the roses being thrown at him when he returned, all the hugs of delight, all the people wearing shirts with his name upon them, waving banners with his beautiful face imprinted upon them, oh, he simply couldn't wait for all of it! His victory festival was going to be phenomenal!
He whistled to himself as he walked around, striking a pose as he vainly looked at one of the mirrors, checking out his handsome reflection for the hundredth time that day. He didn't know that the only reason that he had come this far was that many of the other tributes had simply committed suicide after getting lost in this maze, something that had driven them to insanity. He didn't know that he was not being celebrated as a hero back home. He didn't know that literally no one in the Capitol thought he was 'sexy' or anything of that sort.
But for now, he pranced about with a spring in his step, relishing at the moment when he, Noah Arnold, would be crowned Victor before the entire nation.
Just as he entered the Cornucopia clearing through, he felt a hard force push him to the ground, taking him by surprise.
Who would dare to attack the mighty Noah?
He turned around, and saw that Enobaria had him pinned to the ground, a wild, crazed look on her face. He snarled, struggling to break free, after all, he was the strongest of the strongest! Breaking free from her grasp should be no problem, right?
Noah let out a loud yelp of fright when he realised that he indeed could not break free of her clutches and yelped once again when Enobaria lunged her face towards him, those sharp teeth of hers that he had mocked throughout training sinking into his neck as if she was one of those vampires from the vast collection of books his mother owned back home.
The first thing he felt was an intense, indescribable pain. He screamed, until he could no longer scream. His vocal cords had been paralysed, and Enobaria raised her fist, her teeth still munching through his poor neck, and boxed him in the air, inflicting yet another crunch of pain like never before, and suddenly, Noah couldn't hear anything out of that ear. He thrashed and squirmed, hitting something soft, possibly her gut, but it wasn't even close to being enough to push her off. Pain sheeted through him with an atrocious intensity, and he could feel his throat being ripped apart, hurting so bad that he could barely negotiate the raw landscape of mirrors that had strobed in and out of focus around him. Then, Enobaria did the unthinkable, something that would make viewers across Panem belch in utter disgust.
She ripped his throat out.
Noah could feel the life slipping away from him, and he couldn't think, couldn't speak, couldn't set his mind right.
Then, one final realisation dawned upon him.
He was far from the best.
Katniss and Peeta had a brief yet awkward moment of respect for Enobaria. "Like her or not, she's been through a lot," Peeta noted, an uncertain look on his eyes as he thought about the olive branch of peace they were going to have to extend to Enobaria when they met at the Capitol. "Her parents were later found guilty of murdering Jill, weren't they?"
Katniss nodded. "Yeah, I guess so. I guess she wasn't anywhere near as bad as Draco or Miller or Julia, so it's good that she lived to see a world without President Snow, a world where Panem is free."
"Enobaria must've suffered her share of trauma, Lyme once told me Enobaria was one of her favourite people to hang out with, so she's probably not gonna be that hard to get along with," Peeta said with a shrug.
With that, the pair swiftly moved on and Peeta flipped the page, revealing the photograph of the next Victor. A young boy with scruffy dark brown hair stood before them, staring shyly ahead with his dark brown eyes that seemed fixated on a water bottle an audience member was carrying. He had a soft jawline and looked rather young and small for a former member of a Career pack. However, the muscles on his arms and legs were evidence that he was indeed rather strong, and the jacket he donned bore the emblem of a District whose tributes were known to be extremely skilful, both of which were hints to his true strength and the real threat that he posed. "Nemo Williams."
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), Enobaria Golding(61)
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), Audi Lando(59)
District 7-Hassan Greenwood(2), Jill Wilson(15), Olive Sanchez(26), Birch Davison(35), Blight Gavin(53), James Silva(60)
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: Onyx: Ugh, I didn't want to kill Onyx off, but out of the older Victors, I knew that he was the one who had to go. A magnificent Victor and a magnificent mentor who played a major role in many chapters, he was certainly vital to the Victors and to District One as a whole. But alas, his story has been told, his purpose fulfilled, and it was time for poor old Onyx to leave. RIP Onyx
Marina: I admit, I did not plan this one out, this was completely made on the fly. But this was the most heart-wrenching decision that I simply had to make. She kick-started what has been a glittering ffn career that has truly changed my life completely for the better, and publishing her chapter was a watershed moment that led to me eventually meeting my best friend, Marie464. She was an incredible person whose story had to be told, someone I see as more than just another character, and it pains me to say this, but Marina's time in The Degenerates is up. RIP Marina
What did you think of these two's deaths? What did you think of Enobaria and her backstory? Should Olive die for what she's done to Scipio? Who's gonna die next? Will Cartier, Evan and James survive? Leave your thoughts in the reviews!
And yeah, that's it, folks! Another chapter, another step closer to finishing xd. A long journey that's almost complete by now, thank you to everyone who's put up with me until this day, and I hope I've done well enough so far! Enobaria was a tough one to create, because I simply found her portrayal super hard and the way she had to be written was hard to think up of. But hey, I've done it now, and yeah, I can update xd. Shoutout to Marie464, Josephm611, contemporarydancer2, the garden, RubyTree7, Platrium, Willuna, Fox Carved In Ice, cartierscrown, My-Mental-Mind, Remus98, fiona11303, SilverflowerXRavenpaw and MeTheFanatic19, all of whom have really helped me out lately and have been there when I needed help the most. They're all the greatest friends I could ever ask for, and if they have a story, please, please, check them out, especially if they're starting an SYOT, then please do sub! Marie464 is someone you might wanna check out especially tho, she and I have something special planned hehe. That's all for now and oh yeah, 3 days left to get your reservations in, otherwise you'll have to submit a tribute without any guarantees of being accepted as someone else might have submitted a better tribute to that slot. Well, that's it, stay tuned for Nemo! Cheers :)