XXXIV. Karma's Deadline

Of whatsoever things I have beheld,
As coming from thy power and from thy goodness
I recognize the virtue and the grace.

He's a bit relieved that hunting was unsuccessful. Of course, Beowulf didn't say that to Lethia, even if she's his friend now, but he was deeply hoping he wouldn't be forced to kill again. For what feels like the only time in his life, he's actually gotten what he wanted, and not what his mother wants him to want. A shame that what he wants is of course, the exact opposite of all Glinda Haleot's hopes and wishes.

Beowulf wonders how his mother feels about the fact he's basically done nothing but sit around for nearly five days, which causes a frown to form on his lips. She's expecting me to be all nasty brutes from Two of years' past, isn't she? He rolls his eyes, so painfully dejected.

"Is everything okay?" Lethia says, noticing the pained expression on his face. "You seem more sullen than usual."

Unsure if she's trying to joke with him, he gives her the benefit of the doubt and chuckles. "I just feel like we're being useless, if I'm being honest. We were out for maybe five hours, and the only cannon that sounded wasn't because of us."

"Well, we've established that this place massive, and there's definitely lots of places for people to hide." The two of them had walked by a field of flowers, a range of mountains, and a large farm before turning around to find an empty castle. "We only got through half the arena, even after all this time. I guess we'll have to do some more searching after we sleep."

Beowulf wants to tell her that he's more than fine never going hunting again, but her eyes are filled with fiery determination, and he'd feel bad rejecting her. He admits, "Sleeping sounds nice. My feet are beginning to hurt."

"I'll let you go first then," she sympathizes with him. "I feel like the two of us being asleep in the same room as Vancouver is a recipe for disaster."

Throughout their time alone together, Beowulf's noticed that Lethia seems to have a growing suspicion against the motives of their other ally. He was somewhat of the mindset that he aught to give her the benefit of the doubt, but Lethia did make points when she mused about how odd her relationship with killing is, and how she's certainly capable of more than what she's letting on to. While everything that Vancouver has said to Beowulf over the past week or so has been amicable, such kindness could easily be a hoax. He's learned time and time again that not everybody means the nice things that they say.

(He's aware that Lethia might not have meant it either when she said that she wanted to be his friend, but he's choosing to believe that her intentions are pure. He has to, if he wants to remain sane.)

"If you hate her so much, why haven't you killed her?" Beowulf asks, earnestly. "We've been alone with her so many times, and I think it's obvious that I wouldn't stop you."

She holds up her limp hand and sighs. "That, and the fact I admittedly did not know that you wouldn't freak the fuck out over it."

"Hindsight's twenty-twenty," he says with a shrug. "I probably would, you're right."

"You could help me if you want," Lethia offers.

He's doesn't respond. The prospect of killing once again being something that he's confronted with is too much for him to bear. And this time, it wouldn't be a stranger, but rather somebody that he knows the name and face of. He'd be killing somebody who he spent over a week of his life with in an unfair fight when she didn't expect it, and that just feels wrong. Maybe he's a moron, and maybe Vancouver truly is the unstoppable evil that Lethia suspects her to be, but it feels wrong of him to kill her without knowing anything.

"Or not…" Her voice trails off once she notices that Beowulf hasn't answered her.

He stutters, "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it!" Lethia pats him on the shoulder. "I know you're tired, but the good news is…" She points at the mausoleum in the distance. "It would appear that we're almost back."

He runs over to the building with a relieved smile, and gestures for Lethia to follow him through the door. When the two of them step inside, Vancouver is waiting for them in the exact same spot where she was when they left.

"It's about time you come back," the Twelve girl says. "I was starting to get worried that something happened to you."

"We were worried for you too," Lethia replies. Beowulf can practically feel the lack of genuineness in her voice. "Especially after the cannon—"

"Well, funny story!" Vancouver cuts her off. "You're actually never going to believe what happened."

Amused, Lethia raises a brow. "Oh?"

"You know the boy from Nine?" The taller girl begins, getting up from her seat and pacing around the room. "I had a funny little run-in with him a while after the two of you left. I think he assumed that you two were the only people who were staying here, because he ran in here with a knife, and well…"

"Did you kill him?" Lethia asks, her suspicion obvious.

Vancouver walks over to the tall iron cylinder in the back of the room. "Well, technically he did it to himself."

"What do you mean?" Beowulf says, a tear forming in his eye.

She points to the door of the cylinder. "Well, why don't you open this up and find out?"

"Don't," Lethia grunts. "It's not worth it."

"Excuse me?" Vancouver gasps. "I'm just trying to be a good ally. You know, showing transparency and what not."

Morbid curiosity gets the better of him, and he walks towards the device which he now remembers from training as an iron maiden. As soon as he swings open the door, he immediately regrets it.

The body of a twelve-year-old boy, or the mangled remains of what used to be a twelve-year-old boy, spills onto the ground and Beowulf can't help but scream. There's hardly an inch of him that's not covered in his own blood and guts and what's left of his heart has been hardened into a murky gray rock that's visible through his ribcage and skin.

He looks up at Vancouver and notices the squeamish look on her face. Without thinking, he snaps at her. "Why do you look so uncomfortable? You're the one who did that to him."

Beowulf needs to get away from here, and he needs to do it fast. Suddenly, he realizes that Lethia is right, and Vancouver Easton is inhumane.

"He did it to himself," the girl in question says with sigh. "I told him that if stayed still inside there, his death would be quick. Clearly he didn't listen."

"Sure, Van." Lethia deadpans. "I definitely believe that."

"Don't call me that," Vancouver responds. "Look, I know this wasn't ideal, but I did what had to be done so that our supplies could be safe. Would you have preferred me to kill him out in the open and leave his body where everybody can see it? Or should I have just let him take our supplies? Would that have been better?"

"You're lucky you're too tall to fit in that thing," Lethia says under her breath. Raising her volume, she continues, "Right. So give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you—" she glances at Beowulf, "why we shouldn't kill you."

"I didn't realize Beowulf also had a problem with me the way you seem to." Vancouver puts her hands on her hips and pouts. "What do you want to do, Beowulf?"

He wants to run.

It doesn't matter that Lethia's his friend. She's going to get them both killed if she continues to provoke Vancouver, and he doesn't know if he has it in him to kill her. He doesn't know if he can consciously kill somebody who's story he somewhat knows, even after everything cruel that she's done. Sure, what she did to the boy was atrocious and vile, but she did fulfill her promise of keeping their supplies safe. She genuinely confuses him, and whatever grand scheme she seems to be planning, he doesn't want any part in it.

He promised Ludovicus that he would win these games for himself, and not for anything else. If that means winning alone, well, it's better than suffering from the presence of a tyrant. With or without Lethia, he has to get away.

"I just want us to stop the fighting," Beowulf says, finally answering Vancouver's question. "Please."

He's stuck on a journey that he never should've embarked on, doomed to a trail that should have his mother's feet on it instead. Beowulf Haleot may practically feel his mental stamina dripping through the holes between his fingers, but maybe there's a way for that end.

If he's alone, he doesn't have to deal with the conflicting opinions of others.

(If he's alone, the only demons he has to face are his own.)

Icarus is frightening her more and more with everything that he does. Or maybe "everything" is the wrong word, because he hasn't done a thing, yet Atlantis is still terrified. The more he does nothing, the more afraid she becomes that he'll soon ruin everything.

That, or she's just being paranoid. If there's any place for such feelings though, the arena's it. If Atlantis wasn't feeling just a little bit on edge, then that would be weird. Yes, her eternal dread is completely normal, for once in my life.

The main issue is, if she asks Icarus why they seem to be sitting around, practically playing dead for the better portion of a week, obviously he'll suggest that she go out and kill Calsin, and that's not something that Atlantis can afford to do.

Not before she talks to him at least. She can't afford to not at least talk to him after everything that she's put him through. Even if he kills her immediately after the fact, all she wants is a chance to explain. It won't be enough, she's sure of it, but she needs to have hope for something.

(As much as she doesn't want to, Atlantis Seasbane deserves to die. She'll only accept her demise if it's at Calsin's hands. He's the only one who deserves to directly make her suffer, besides herself.)

She can't let Icarus get to her first.

As she stands with her back leaned against the cornucopia, her gold-haired ally approaches her with a smirk. It's a menacing expression she's grown familiar with over the past week. Maybe she partially enabled it, but she'd prefer not to think so. "So are you just planning on brooding all day, or do you actually want to be productive?"

"Very funny," Atlantis deadpans. She looks him in the eyes and squints. "I'm fine with being productive; what did you have planned?"

"Oh, something thrilling!" Icarus licks his lips and begins pacing back and forth. Light seeps in through the stained glass windows, casting a multicolored shadow at his feet. "You may remember the little toy we built a few days ago…"

"The guillotine?" She furrows her brows. It seemed like a good idea in theory, but the idea of actually using it to kill somebody is rather daunting. Especially if it's somebody she knows…

Then again, she is in a murder pageant, and her past behavior has proven that she doesn't actually mind killing. She shouldn't have a problem with this, especially because conducting a gory death with a homemade trap is the sort of thing that the Capitolites would eat up. Maybe she's just… perturbed by the fact that it seems a bit severe.

Really? So that's severe, Atlantis? A guillotine is a short death compared to what you put Madelyn through. A guillotine is nothing compared to the way you planted seeds of doubt in her head, told her that you heard Meridian say she never really loved her, but that it didn't matter 'cause, "She's dead now; what a shame." You were too much of a coward to express your inner rage by killing her yourself, so you had to drag her mind through the gutter. And then you had the audacity to act like a hero when you found her body hanging from a noose in the Academy. You had the guts to pretend you were surprised when there was never a shadow of a doubt in your mind that she'd kill herself because of everything cruel that you've done. A guillotine is no different from what you did to that Avox. If you're going to be a monster, just fucking stick with it.

Icarus' voice breaks her out of the prison that is her own mind."Yes, of course, the guillotine. It's kind of pathetic that we haven't used it yet, don't you think?"

"I guess," she answers him. "I guess my question is, who are you suggesting we use it on? It's just the two of us here, and if you're planning to kill me, well honestly you're being way too polite about it. Just cut to the chase, seriously. And if you plan on us killing Cal—"

"I'm killing you, nor am I suggesting we kill your District partner." He cuts her off.

"Oh."

"I mean, if you wanted to, we could, but I know by now that you don't." His voice trails off as he speaks. He coughs twice, then returns to full volume. "I was however suggesting that we finally pay a visit to Lethia and her friends…"

"So you want to behead Lethia?" Atlantis asks. "I can support you in that."

She's still unsure if she believes everything that Icarus has said about his partner, but getting rid of her is better than the alternative. Killing Lethia is better than dying herself, and more importantly, it's better than killing Calsin. Atlantis can't let him down and be the reason he dies, no ifs, ands, or buts.

"I mean, that's an idea," he replies with a snicker. "I was going to suggest that we take out one of her allies, actually."

"And the point of that is?" She questions him. "If you want to piss her off, wouldn't killing her be the most effective way for you to do that?"

"You don't get it!" Icarus shouts, then runs towards her, slamming his hands on the cornucopia and touching his nose to hers. "Killing Lethia now would be boring. If I kill her now… she's gone! That's it! Just… boring, dead, and without a head. What a boring conclusion to our contention."

"I don't get it," Atlantis mutters. She tries to tuck her head under one of Icarus' arms so she can free herself, but he wraps his hand around her wrist. She isn't… scared, per say. She does trust him when he says he isn't about to kill her. She's just… confused by the guy.

"I'd rather she suffer a bit," he says. "Her and her little allies seem relatively close to one another. It really would be a shame if she had to mentally grapple with one of them's death. I wonder if she'd be able to handle it…"

"I'm sorry that I just got heated, by the way." Icarus lets go of her and sighs. "You know what its like to be a person like us… our brains are always turning and sometimes it's hard to put our thoughts into words."

What does he mean, "people like us?" Atlantis wonders. Idiot… you know what it means. It means you're both monsters. She shudders, and then says, "I understand. Apology accepted."

"Thank you." He nods. "Do you agree then? Do you think we should go and capture one of them?"

She thinks for a moment. Atlantis never really got the opportunity to know Beowulf or the girl from Twelve. While she could initially tell that Beowulf was riddled by insecurities, she never got close enough to evaluate the full extent of them. Twelve also fascinates her with the two ruthless kills she made during the bloodbath. She can't say she'd feel good about killing either of them, but she wouldn't feel bad about it either.

"Which one of them were you thinking?" She asks him.

"A wonderful question!" Icarus replies. "They both have their flaws, don't you think? Beowulf is a nervous wreck. Sure he's trained, but he's much less of a threat than say… yourself and I. Twelve on the other hand… Well, we saw her in the bloodbath and her performance was shocking to say the least. I wonder what Lethia thought of that, by the way. She could've liked it, but her being scared shitless would be equally feasible. So I guess what I'm saying is… they both have their weaknesses, and their deaths both could have some sort of an impact on Lethia. What's your opinion?"

Atlantis sweats. The more her ally talks about the two of them, the more she realizes how much they have in common. Just like Beowulf, she's trapped in her head and will be until the end of her days, and just like Twelve, she's vicious, even if she doesn't necessarily want to be. Killing one of them could be symbolic to killing one of the hideous parts of herself…

"I think I know."

If she wants to get out of Icarus' clutches and into her own safety, there's parts of her that she needs to get rid of forever. She needs to destroy the weaker parts of herself if she wants to come out on top. Atlantis can't succeed if she's still so—

"Which one?" He breaks her train of thought. "I was thinking we could mess with them a bit too before we kill them, by the way."

She nods. Creating the suffering of somebody else has always endeared her. Making others feel pain is the only reason she's still alive now. Maybe it's time for her to give into her unhealthy coping mechanisms if she wants to live long enough that some of her problems can be solved.

Stop hiding the fact that you're a tyrant. You know what you want to do, Atlantis.

Just fucking admit it.

She's had the utter displeasure of spending nearly an entire day with Judas, yet she haven't even seen the slightest glimpse of Verdigris. It's disappointing, to be completely honest. Hedy could tolerate being with the bastard for a few hours, but now he's begun to grate on her. He's pretentious and highfalutin, and virtually everything that he says makes her want to rip her eardrums out of her ears.

(Judas is more similar to her than Hedy cares to admit. He's told her about his past, how he burned down his father's forrest when he was livid with revenge. She laughed a bit, well… a lot actually. Mass destruction is never something she intended to resonate with, but she also never intended to have a drunken asshole for a father. There's something about how Judas is so… comfortable in his vices that Hedy's pitifully envious of. She wishes that she had it in her to admit that she's slowly falling to pieces, or worse… that she's already too far gone.)

Maybe I should just kill him.

She slaps herself in the face as punishment for that intrusive thought. Obviously, Hedy can't just kill all the people who inconvenience her— that would make her too similar to… Hugo. She already bears the burden of sharing half his DNA, she can't also share the fact he only ever had half a heart.

That doesn't change the fact that Judas is seriously pissing her off. Perhaps Hedy's anger is an overreaction, as most things have always pissed her off, but still, she never asked to suffer the way she does whenever he opens his mouth.

"Today's going to be the day we find that little shit, I'm a hundred percent sure of it," Judas says as they begin their hunt, his voice more scathing than nails on a chalkboard. "Well… I can't be a hundred percent sure about anything… but we sure do have good chances! I mean, you've got me helping you out. How could you possibly fail with somebody so handsome yet intelligent at your side."

"Shut up, arsonist whore." Hedy scoffs, then begins crawling over the roof of the ice cavern, hoping that this time Verdigris will actually be there. Even if they aren't, walking over the cave is quicker than figuring out all of the mazes inside for the umpteenth time. Hedy's pretty sure that Verdigris is far, far, away, from the caverns, but a quick journey across will make it easier to explore the rest of the arena.

"Bold considering you murdered the only remaining member of your family," Judas retaliates, biting hard on his lip. "And hey! There's nothing wrong with being a whore, I'll have you know. You're allowed to tell me that the only reason you're so hellbent on killing Verdigris is because you have a crush—"

"I literally do not feel even an ounce of attraction for that little cunt!" Hedy cuts him off, then scowls in frustration. "You're a lot like a fart, you know? You're loud and smelly… and literally nobody asked for you to make noise."

He frowns then sniffs at the collar of his shirt. "Well, first of all, I'm not smelly."

"Still loud and annoying." She rolls her eyes.

"I could say the same about you," he says, then continues on with his climbing until they're both standing tall on the cave's roof. "Do you see your little friend yet?"

"If you can't see her, why would I be able to?" Hedy responds.

"No clue, but it's worth asking." Judas shrugs his shoulders, then points into the distance. "All I see are those little birds…"

She squints her eyes until she can see the small flock of doves, then laughs. "Yeah, I can see them too."

"They're cute, aren't they?" He chuckles, continuing to walk with the utmost of care. "When I was younger, I'd pull birds just like those from a hat."

"How the fuck?" Hedy rolls her eyes.

"Magic!" Judas smirks.

She doesn't respond for a minute, instead focusing not falling off the side of the cave. Without Judas yapping in her ear like a dog, she's forced to listen to her own thoughts instead, and that's oddly just as miserable.

"You know, I never believed in magic when I was a kid," she says, so low that the sound of the wind nearly drowns her out.

Judas whispers back, "Why not?"

Hedy takes a deep breath, not sure how much she wants to open up to him. "It's hard to believe in anything besides reality when your life sucks so bad, every waking moment is a reminder of why you somewhat wish you were dead."

"That's… personal of you," he responds, a confused look on his face, like he doesn't know how he's supposed to talk to her now that she's showing actually humility. "I think the reason I believe in magic though was because I want an escape, you know? Like yes, being alive is fucking awful. It's nice to pretend that you can change the unchangeable."

"I guess." She sighs. "Life has just been awful from the moment my mother died, and I never knew her the way you knew your mother. I never knew having somebody who would actually support me instead of using me. Having a hobby was never an option when I was too busy barricading myself in my closet 'cause dad was going on another drunken rampage about how badly he wants to kill me. Maybe I'd be happier though if I had something to believe—"

"Hold that thought!" Judas grabs onto her shoulder, cutting her off.

Hedy sneers."Mad that I actually have a soul?"

"No, it's just—" He points at his foot, Hedy now noticing that the leg of his pants has been trapped in the mouth of one of the doves. He shakes his ankle, but the bird doesn't let go. "Fuck! "

Hedy kneels down, trying to shove the bird off of him, but another comes and clamps onto his other leg.

"Why the hell are you trying to save me?" Judas laughs, still trying to shake the birds away from me. "Don't you hate me or something?"

"I don't know!" Hedy kicks the dove on his left leg away, but slips and falls back on her thighs. "What the fuck Judas? You can't fucking… get me to open up to you and actually sympathize with you, and then get attacked by fucking birds!"

"So sorry, your majesty," he deadpans as another dove flies onto his arm. It opens its beak and starts gnawing at his shirt. Trying to break away, he puffs out his chest, but the bird stays affixed to him. Even though it's tiny, it's able to dig a small hole in his sleeve.

Hedy grabs the back of the bird's head, prying it off of him. In turn, another dove grabs onto her hair, and starts to pull. "What the fuck? Can people— and animals please stop fucking getting rid of my hair."

She looks over to see that another dove has pecked a hole into Judas' arm, a small trickle of blood dripping onto his side. Reaching up, she grabs her hair out of one bird's mouth, and in the same movement, she knocks the other bird off Judas.

"So you like me after all," he says, another dove flying towards him, this one at least ten times larger than the rest. "I don't blame you— wait! Fuck… what is that?"

"A giant dove, you fucking idiot." Hedy ducks. The bird flies over her head, but loops around and fastens it's beak around the back of Judas' neck.

Grunting, she rips at the birds feathers, trying to get it off of Judas, but its beak is still closing in, pinching Judas' flesh and beginning to make him bleed.

He kicks his leg backwards with a scream, making contact with the bird's stomach. It's not enough though, and the dove just continues to tear away at him. Hedy grabs Judas by both his arms, struggling to tear him away as her feet begin to slip.

She pulls again, harder than all of her previous attempts to free him. Judas launches out of the bird's grasp like a bullet from a gun, pushing Hedy back as he falls onto the ground, his head being the first thing which makes contact with the rocks.

Hedy kneels down closer to him, pushing the now grounded and now dead bird aside, and asks, "Are you okay?"

But he doesn't answer.

His eyes are stuck open and his jaw is left agape. There's an indent in his temple, his skin peeled back and blood gushing through the wound and onto the ground.

"Judas, are you okay?" In spite of the truth, in spite of reality, Hedy shakes his stiffened body. "Oh my— fuck! I never meant anything that I told you I—fuck!"

A cannon fires and Hedy hunches over, her body filled with her least favorite feeling… defeat.

She wonders if in his final moments, Judas thought that she was an awful person, and she was just like her father.

She wonders if he was actually right.

(She knows he would've been.)

Hedy throws her hands into the air with a blood curdling scream. She sees her reflection in Judas' cold dead eyes and sighs.

There was never a chance for a girl who could never even believe in magic.

They're startled out of their comfortable silence by a cannon followed by a scream. The dove that had been resting atop their finger flies up into the air, closer and closer to the sun, until it disappears completely from their sight.

"Goodbye then," Verdigris says, their voice somewhat filled with grief. They look down at the other dove, this one sitting by their foot. "You won't leave me, right?"

The bird nods its head, almost like it heard what Verdigris said and understood. They smile, rubbing their thumb over the top of its head. "I wouldn't blame you if you did leave me, for the record. But thank you for staying."

It's been two days since they killed the girl from Eight, two days of hating themself because they killed the girl from Eight, and the grief still weighs down heavy on their shoulders. They've been repeating to themself every few hours, "I'm a horrible person," as they'll never be able to prevent their tears from falling.

(Seeing her face in the sky made them relive the whole thing over again. The sky may have been bright, the same way it always is, but seeing Eight's face dimmed it to pitch black inside Verdigris' mind. The gun that was barely in their hands… The way Eight screamed and begged for mercy… and the way they ignored it all, in favor of fuckin' Hedy, when they pulled the trigger.)

They really should've done more to kill her, but hindsight is always perfect.

(Hindsight would've advised them to do better than shooting the gun and watching the bullet fly into Eight's stomach. It would've told them that there was only one bullet in the gun, and it should've been used to make a hole in Hedy's skull. Hell, hindsight would've told them not to even speak to Hedy when she approached them on the first day of training.)

But again, hindsight is always perfect, and reality never is.

Verdigris learned that the hard way, being told time and time again by the kids at school that they were worthless, that they were, nothing. Even before they even interacted with kids their age, their memory was marred by their mothers maniacal laughter as she dressed their father up like a doll, coo'ing as she sold him to anybody who'd take him. When Mai was finally asleep, Viorel would run over to Verdigris and cup them in his arms, promising "Someday, we're going to get away from here, 'bun."

They'd watch as he cried the powder-white makeup off his face, cursing under his breath because he never wanted to cry in front of his child. Verdigris would tell him, "You're allowed to cry, it's okay. I love you daddy. I promise that I love you from the sky to the ground."

Later on when they were the one who was tormented by tears, their father would tell them the exact same thing, "Verdi' I promise that I love you from the sky to the ground." And then he'd wipe the tears away with a purple stuffed bunny and whisper, "Nuitnuit loves you too."

None of that matters, though. Because yes, the two of them ran away, and yes, Verdigris was able to find happiness in some of life's little things, but all of that has been written over by the fact that they did a terrible thing and they're still a terrible person.

If life were hindsight, Verdigris would spend every night under the stars with their father and Viridian and Halcyon at their side. Nuitnuit would be tucked under their arms and they'd pretend the clouds were dragons that were in charge of protecting them.

But instead, life is reality, and Verdigris is nothing just like all their bullies said.

Instead, life is reality, and they hear a familiar voice whistling in their ear.

"I should've known it was you!" Though they can't see her, the sickly sound of Hedy Lovelace is devastatingly recognizable.

Ignoring her, Verdigris goes back to patting the dove. They look at the caverns, a few yards away from them, and tilt their head upwards to notice a figure drenched in red staring down at them. Still, they don't say a word.

"Oh, very funny, Verdigris," Hedy says, her voice more like a hiss. "You think you can just pretend I don't exist after you fucking tried to kill me?"

Again wordlessly, they cup the bird in their hands and make sure their knife and some food are in their pockets before getting up and running.

Unsurprisingly, they hear footsteps following them after thirty seconds. They look back out of the corner of their eye and catch a glimpse of Hedy. Still, they keep running until they see a bridge in sight and the cornucopia's cathedral on the other side. They're unsure if they want to go there, afraid that Careers may be nearby, so they stall for a second or two, but that's all it takes for Hedy to throw a rock from inside the cave at their back, sending them to their knees.

They try to get up, but Hedy's standing over them with a wicked grin. "I should've known that you were behind it…"

"What do you mean?" They stammer, their legs shaking in fear.

"Don't play coy with me," she says, looking down at the bird still nestled in Verdigris' arms. "I know that you're the one who killed him."

"Killed who?" The girl from Eight was indeed a girl, right? They weren't seeing things now were they?

"You idiot!" Hedy grabs the bird out of their hands and wraps her fingers around its throat. "I know that you fucking sent the birds who killed Judas."

"I… I didn't…" Verdigris tries to get up again, but Hedy knocks them down with her foot. "I don't even know who Judas is…"

"Your replacement," she scoffs, as if all their time together meant nothing. "Or… he was your replacement before you and your stupid pet here killed him."

Hedy continues to squeeze on the dove's throat, despite Verdigris' pleading. It tries to fly away, but her grip is too firm. At one point, she removes one hand from around its throat and reaches into her pocket to grab a knife. Verdigris again screams, but it means nothing as Hedy drives the blade through the dove's stomach, dropping it to the ground like it's an inanimate object.

"I promise, Hedy…" Even though the bird is dead, Verdigris continues to plead. "I didn't kill your ally. I don't know why you think I'd even do such a thing after you saw my reaction to killing Eight. Just… why did you do that to the bird? What the fuck is your problem?"

"Don't you get it?" Hedy screams, eyes nearly bulging from her school. "I'm not a good person, and neither are you! Why the hell are you still pretending that you are. You've fooled nobody. The whole nation saw you kill Eight. They don't give a fuck about the golden child they saw during Pre-Games. They think that you're fucked in the head so why are you pretending—"

Verdigris cuts her off by putting their hands on her mouth. Through gritted teeth, the hiss at her, "I'm not the one who's fucked in the head; that's you! And to think that I called you a friend."

As they stand up, Hedy grabs onto one of their wrists and says, "At least I didn't kill a child…"

With a swift kick, Verdigris sends their leg flying into her stomach. It's not enough to knock her down, but it's enough to leave her disoriented enough for them to get out, "At least I don't go around acting like I'm all high and mighty for killing my abusive father, when I'm the exact same person."

Hedy stands still, like she's in disbelief at Verdigris' words. They watch as her face turns red and she drops her own knife to the ground. They swear they see a tear form in her eye, right before she says "Go fuck yourself," knocks them to the ground with a push at their shoulder, and runs across the bridge before they can get up.

Verdigris mutters to the ground, "I'm so sorry."

They never intended to make an enemy. They just wanted some form of camaraderie, but instead they've made a terrible mistake and now they're sure that they'll pay the price.

Verdigris lies flat and look at the sky. There's no stars above them and there's no family at their sides. There's no clouds that they can pretend are dragons who will protect them no matter what, no, instead Verdigris has to protect themself.

It's up to them to turn hindsight into reality.

11th Place: Judas Nazario, District Seven - killed by bird mutts

I took 10 days to update but guess what? I'm allowed to do that. No complaining sorry. You will never know what I did in those 10 days but it was not updating.

As per usual, thank you for reading and sorry for killing a child blah blah blah I will be honest besties there's teriyaki chicken for dinner and I really don't want to write this A/N.

Fuck this shit, I'm out,
Linds

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