XXXVIII. Fool's Gold

Then, as in striking upon burning logs
Upward there fly innumerable sparks,
Whence fools are wont to look for auguries.

The other Tributes aren't going to know what the fuck hit them.

They stand at the edge of the island housing the Cornucopia with a sinister grin on their face. It's hard for them to not laugh as they eye the marble walls up and down. So much has changed since Mal was last here. So much has changed, yet with Mozi at their side and a projectile explosive in their arms, it's almost as if nothing changed at all.

"You ready for this?" Their ally whispers, equally unable to hold in her laughter.

Malin nods. More ready than the big bad wolf was when he blew down those pigs' house…

They cradle the small bomb that the two of them spent the previous day constructing with electricity generators and excess wiring. Soon, the past week of being a sitting duck will quite literally be blown to ashes and dust. Nobody is going to talk about boring 'ol District Six who showed so much promise before the Games then sorta' just sat there. Instead, legends will be told about the duo of rats with enough audacity to blow up the fuckin' Cornucopia.

(A legacy as a disaster is far better than rotting in prison without any legacy at all.)

Mal takes one step closer to the Cornucopia, and then another, when suddenly it dawns on them, how exactly am I supposed to detonate this thing?

They tap Mozi on the shoulder then move their lips to ask the same question.

"Good fuckin' question," she says, Mal unable to tell if her voice is laced with sarcasm or annoyance. "You got a lighter?"

"Why the fuck would I have a lighter?" They mouth in response. "Judas had one in the Capitol, but it got confiscated, remember?"

"Right." Mozi sighs and begins pacing in front of the cathedral. "We really should've thought this aspect of our plan through, huh?"

Mal nods.

"Sike!" She exclaims, her voice nearly loud enough to explode the cathedral without their bomb. She digs into her pockets and pulls out a book of matchsticks. "Got this way back in the bloodbath. If only the 'makers knew what they'd be used for."

"If only they knew," Mal moves their lips, echoing her. "Well then, let's get on with it."

There's something oddly jubilant about being in this moment, here with Mozi. The Feast of the Hunger Games isn't exactly the best place for somebody to be, but with her at their side, it's beyond tolerable. Hell, it's shaping up like it's about to be one of the best moments of Malin's sad, pathetic, little life. They know that they're in the Games of their own volition, but never in a million years did they think they'd be having this much fun.

Mal always imagined that their death would be a slow and subtle burn. First their kidneys would give out from taking too many drugs on the streets with Orsino. Then, their heart would start to falter from loving the wrong people too much. Finally, their lungs would run out of air, since they always took up too much space anyway, and just like that, they'd be gone. They never were happy with the idea of a slow death though. Malin's always wanted to go out like a fuckin' supernova.

Not that they're prepared to die right now. That would ruin all their fun, after all.

They walk into the cathedral with that signature bastardly smile painted on their face. Neither them nor Mozi make much noise as they crawl through the pews, but even then, they catch somebody's attention.

"What makes you two vermin think that you can just waltz up to my Cornucopia like you're grocery shopping?" The dashingly handsome boy from One stands up from his spot and addresses the two of them.

"We're here for the feast, you silly piece of ass," Mal mouths, but they're too far away from One for him to read their lips.

"You know what? You're right. We shouldn't be here." Mozi deadpans whilst preparing to light a match. "We'll just get out of your hair then. Have a great day, sir!"

"What the—" the One boy hisses in confusion before barreling towards the two of them.

Mozi taps Mal on the shoulder, signaling them to drop the bomb to the ground. She throws her lit match at the box, then grabs them by the wrist and runs with them outside.

"That was really funny," she admits, their bomb ticking through the walls. "Now… let's cover up."

The two of them run to one of the bridges and duck, watching with wild eyes as the cathedral's roof blows off and into the air, bricks and shattered glass raining from the sky. The wall closest to them collapses to the ground, giving them a viewpoint of the building's interior. Inside, the wooden benches have come askew, and the Cornucopia has collapsed in on itself, destroying all of the supplies that it contained. Next to it, the One boy lays on the ground, covered in dust. The lack of a cannon means that he's not yet dead, but he's passed out enough to no longer be a problem.

Mal extends their in the air and smiles as Mozi gives them a high-five. They mouth, "Okay, so now what?"

She pokes their cheek, prompting them to turn their head until their eyes land on the red-headed girl from Three. "What do I do with her?"

"Get her," she commands, though Malin knows that it's more of a friendly suggestion 'cause the two of them are a team. "I'll find someone else. Just trust me… Get her and bring her back to our base. More specifically, the hospital building."

"How the hell do I do that?" They move their lips.

"Just knock her out," Mozi suggests, her voice somewhat encouraging. "I'll see if I can find some rope when I dig through One's shit. Don't worry, Mal. I'll be back."

They nod and mouth, "I'm not worried. I'll see ya' soon bitch!"

She tilts her head down and laughs.

Mal waves then runs off, full speed ahead towards Three. They crouch down towards the grows and begin chasing after her on all fours, like a deranged crocodile in a sewer. Right when they're about to approach her though, she looks down and shrieks.

"You really think that you can mess with me?" Three taunts.

Unfazed, Malin returns to a bipedal position and grabs ahold of her shirt. They crumple the fabric beneath their palms as they squeeze their hands into fists and jerk Three back and forth.

When they stop, they notice that her eyes have gone dizzy. She mutters, "What the actual fuck is wrong with you?"

I'm so glad you asked, Mal thinks to themself. A lot, actually.

They swiftly pull her towards them, smashing her nose on their chest. She begins sneezing blood on the ground, but Malin doesn't particularly care. They need to keep going so that they can make her pass out and then see what interesting plans Mozi has.

Letting Three go, Mal looks her in the eyes to decide what the best place to strike next is. She continues to bleed as the bridge of her nose swells and she stammers, "I think you broke it, you little freak."

Again, Mal doesn't acknowledge her. That's somewhat because reading lips takes practice and they don't really have the patience to explain to her, especially when they're supposed to be beating her the fuck up.

They curl back the fingers on one of their hands and swing the heel of their palm towards the girl's chin. Her head jerks back and she falls to the ground, her eyes shut. Mal waits a moment to ensure she's just passed out and not actually dead. The fact the ground's made of light clouds is reassuring. Another minute goes by without a cannon, ensuring them that they did their job properly.

Mal sighs, then leans downwards to scoop Three into their arms. She's relatively lightweight so thankfully, it isn't much of a challenge. She's still lifeless as Mal begins to carry her towards the bridge they took to get to the Cornucopia in the first place.

As they carry her across, they can't deny the fact that they're just the slightest bit nervous. Mozi is their friend, their best friend even, at this point. Whatever it is that she's doing, it's got to be in the two of them's best interest. A part of Malin hates themself for even doubting that Mozi would be doing anything but good, especially after all the nice things she said to them.

I don't have anything to worry about, they try to reassure themself. I just need to focus on getting Three back to the base and making sure she doesn't wake up before Mozi gets back.

Everything is going to be fine. It has to be.

Yet Mal can't help but shake as he carries her.

Maybe they're just afraid that one of the better parts of their life could soon be coming to an end. Maybe, Malin Mardari doesn't want to admit that their habitual trust of the wrong people could once again be their doom.

The feast isn't what he was expecting.

The last time Calsin was here, the cathedral was standing tall and mighty and it was so loud, he could hardly even hear his own thoughts in his head as pandemonium crashed in crimson waves amongst the shore. There were twenty-four Tributes circled up around the Cornucopia, and now there's only eight, and somehow he's one of them.

It almost feels like he shouldn't be here. There's bricks and rocks piled up on the ground and some of the stained glass windows have been shattered and marred. It feels incomplete, feels unfinished, with the roof blown off and ashes and rubble laying on the ground inside. If it weren't for the several bodies askew on the ground and the blood and guts splattered on the walls, Calsin would think that the arena was still under construction.

He walks into the room and immediately one of the cadavers catches his eye. The dust from— whatever happened here. Was it an explosion? Was that the noise I heard that was loud but not a cannon? — what must've been a recent incident marres the color of his face, but Calsin can still make out who he is. The skin on his shoulder is slowly rotting away, pieces of his bone exposed to the daylight, and the hole in his stomach has only gotten larger, his insides now green and rotten.

Five. Calsin bites his lip. How funny is it that just a week ago I was skewering out this kid's guts and wishing they were Atlantis', but now I'm… here to get her.

It's still weird for him to think about it. It's still weird to him that the past few months of his life were dedicated to loathing the very girl he's now hoping doesn't hate him too much. I guess she can hate me though. I kinda was a dick to her…

He slaps himself in the face. "No," he whispers to himself. "She's not going to hate me. Everything is going to be fine."

Next to the Cornucopia, Icarus St. Augustine lies flat on his back. Calsin can't tell whether he's dead or alive, but he can recognize his devious smile anywhere. He doesn't recall seeing the One boy's face in the sky, but perhaps the boom from earlier in the day took him out, and it was so loud, it masked the sound of the cannon completely.

It does tell him one thing though, Atlantis is here.

Or at least she should be here. Last Calsin saw her, back in the Capitol, her and Icarus were as thick as thieves with one another. Granted, he and Ellie were probably closer than the two of them were, and he killed her, but there's still a good chance she's here. He couldn't find her anywhere else, after all.

A part of him feels indebted to the Gamemakers if this feast very well is going to be the thing that brought the food together. Even if there's no supplies, Calsin's got quite a bit for himself, so Atlantis is really all that he needs.

He tiptoes around the cathedral's rim, hoping for a sign that she's nearby, but there's little hope. He did see a flash of a girl with black hair from behind him, but she was gone before he could even make eye contact with her. It's not her, he assumed. If it was, she'd either run into his arms or tear them right off.

(Calsin still isn't sure what's going to happen the moment he sees Atlantis again. It could very well be the last thirty-seconds or so of his life 'cause she'll plunge her sword right through his heart, or it could be the start of something different and good. He isn't sure what's ideal anymore. Getting Atlantis on his side could be a powerful message to District Four, a message to Shane, that the two of them are one in the same and if you mess with one, the other falls. If she attacks him though, it's retribution for everything wrong to her that he did before.

She'd probably say that she doesn't need retribution though. That's what he always used to say.)

The back corner of the cathedral seems to be the least damaged from the morning's wreckage. The brick walls are still perfectly unison and the cobblestone floors are still even enough that his shoes make a satisfying clack with every step.

There's a doorway at the end of the corridor, two large dark oak wood doors pressed together and a golden lock securing them tight. Intrigued, Calsin walks closer to it. Again, his shoes clack against the ground and echo throughout the room.

He swears he hears a loud gasping sound.

Calsin calls out "Is anybody in there," with his mouth positioned towards the two towering doors.

His response is a wordless cry, but he recognizes it instantly. It takes him back to the night before he entered the arena.

(He's in his room alone when he hears a guttural scream. He thinks to himself, What the hell is Atlantis bitching about now? He lays back on his bed and closes his eyes. He doesn't do anything. Why didn't he do anything?)

(This time, he'll do something.)

clack—clack—clack—clack—clack

Calsin sprints towards the door. Again, he calls out, "Is anybody in there?"

He practically collides face first with it before fiddling with the lock, cursing under his breath until it comes undone.

A deep breath, and then another, Calsin feels his palms begin to sweat as he works up the courage to push the door open.

This could be the end, he thinks. But, something tells him that this isn't the end. A voice inside his head (it sounds like Sevilin, it sounds like Adrian) tells him this is not the end. It says that it's the beginning. Their beginning.

The door swings open and the abysmal black room quickly absorbs the light from outside. Immediately, a vile smell seems into his nostrils, causing him to cough. There's two large cells with metal barbs inside and blood on the ground, the first one empty, but the second—

"Atlantis!" Calsin screams, running towards her, fragile and numb and hunched over on the ground.

Immediately, she responds to him. "Wait!"

He stops still in his tracks.

"Be careful," she continues. "If you trip over the rope in front of me, you'll send a machete down on my neck… unless that's what you want to happen."

"I don't," he stammers. "I don't. I don't. I don't."

He walks towards her and notices that her hands are cuffed together behind her back. "Oh my fuck… I am so, so sorry."

"Don't be," she whimpers. "I should be apologizing to you."

"Yeah, yeah, we both have a lot of apologizing that we need to do," Calsin says, reaching over and behind her. "Let me get you out of these first."

"There's no need." Atlantis looks up at him with remorseful eyes. "I'm going to die in here, and that's fine. I've accepted it."

"Not on my watch you are." He begins wiggling with the handcuffs, hoping that he can force them loose. She tries to speak again, but Calsin cuts her off. "Nope! I don't want to hear it. You deserve better than whatever's happened to lead you to this spot, okay?"

"That's not true," she whispers. "I did something horrible."

"So did I," he responds. "Remember Ellie? Yeah, well… I killed her. I didn't want to but I did, and ever since then, I've had this shaking feeling that maybe I'm just like you."

"That shouldn't be something for you to aspire to." Atlantis jerks away, causing the handcuffs to once again lock up. "I promise, what I did was worse."

Like her movement meant nothing, Calsin once again fiddles with the cuffs, this time smiling as they click open. "Look, we can have a pissing contest about it later if you get up and get out of here."

She looks at him for a long time without speaking a word. Three minutes pass before she asks, "why aren't you leaving?"

"Because you're not with me yet," he answers. "It's as simple as that."

Atlantis sighs, then extends her hand out of her cell. "Mind giving me a hand?"

Their fingers intertwine as she crawls over the rope and into the main portion of the room, stretching her back once she's able to stand up straight.

Calsin leads her through the doors and into the main room of the cathedral, letting the light shine down from the hole where the roof once was and onto their faces. Atlantis takes a deep breath and looks around the room, clearly pleased, even if she doesn't outright show it. He digs through his bag until he finds a bottle of water, which he opens and then gives to her.

She looks him in the eyes, takes a sip, and slightly grins. "Alright, where are we going?"

He points outside. "Wherever the winds wish to take us."

Their entire body aches and trembles with each and every step. They're not sore or injured or anything, but there's a voice in Verdigris' head telling them, "You shouldn't be here."

It sort of sounds like their father's voice. Viorel was always protective of them, sometimes too much so. He never wanted his child to see things a child shouldn't see, an impossible feat for anybody living with Mayuko Aoki, and never wanted them to get in trouble either. A shame the Games have broken both of his desires…

His voice is right too. Verdigris really shouldn't be here. They shouldn't be tiptoeing over a bridge towards the cathedral's shattered frame, but they're running low on supplies, and it's best that they get food and something to drink before it becomes too urgent. Almost everything they've consumed thus far has been from them and Hedy's initial bloodbath haul, meaning the arena is low on natural resources, and this could very well be Verdigris' last chance at getting food and clean water.

They wonder what happened that led to the cathedral basically ripping at the seams. Like probably everybody else, they heard what sounded like a cannon but not less than an hour ago, and they can only assume that it was some sort of explosion inside of the building, forcing it to fall apart. Hopefully there's still supplies though… Verdigris knows that Gamemakers can be cruel, the corpses that still haven't been lifted into the air are a reminder of that, but surely they wouldn't arrange for a feast without supplies. The Games are first and foremost a matter of entertainment, and eight kids dying of dehydration and hunger is hardly that.

As they get closer to the building's frame, Verdigris begins devising their strategy. It'll be a quick trip inside the room, just in and out, no harm or foul. Luckily, they've always been fast enough to get away from trouble when needed.

More than anything, Verdigris just hopes that they make it in and out of the feast without running into Hedy.

They're still somewhat scared from their interaction with her just two days ago. Her face was redder than a tomato and her eyes nearly seemed to be popping out of her skull. She was smiling, yet she still seemed so incredibly angry. It was like nothing that Verdigris had seen in their entire life before… nothing except— No! Stop it! You can't afford to think about that incident right now.

They sigh. It's going to be okay.

Or at least, it should be okay so long as they don't have to be face to face with Hedy Lovelace again.

What's scary though, is the probable reality that Hedy could not even be the biggest threat here. There's still four Careers left, and of course they're going to be horrifying. At least none of them know Verdigris' weaknesses the way Hedy does. That automatically makes them less of a threat, right?

Just get it over with, they coax themself into stepping closer to the cathedral. In and out; it's going to be fine.

They still tremble with every step, their eyes darting side to side as they examine the building's rugged interior and the skies and clouds outside it. As soon as they think that the coast is clear, Verdigris runs into the cathedral, straight towards the crashed Cornucopia in hopes that there's something, anything, that they can easily pull out from under the rubble.

Verdigris is nearly there when they feel a pull from the back of their shirt.

Quickly, they turn their head around to see a tall girl with black hair staring them down.

"Well…" They stutter, their throat shaking, "Can I help you? Did you need anything from under the Cornucopia?"

"It's all gone," the girl says curtly, still not letting Verdigris go. "Do you want to know what happened to it?"

They ignore her and try to free themselves from her grasp, but they still struggle. "It doesn't matter to me."

"I'll tell you anyways," the girl, who Verdigris now recognizes from training as being from District Six sneers. "My friend and I… we decided to have a little fun. Do you know what that's like?"

They don't quite understand what Six is saying so they just awkwardly nod, and whisper, "let me go."

"I already made it clear that I won't be doing that." She wraps her hand around Verdigris shoulder and tries pushing them to the ground. They curl their toes in fear and bend their knees to prevent them from falling. Six pushes again, this time with more force, sending Verdigris to the floor, their elbows thankfully bracing their fall.

Before they can get up, Six steps on their chest with the heel of their boot. Verdigris begins to panic, their entire body shaking and trembling in frustration and dread. A few tears escape their eyes and run down their cheeks.

Six leans in close to Verdigris' face. "If you keep moving, I'm going to break your ribs."

"And what if I stay still?" They ask.

She sighs. "I won't kill you. Not yet, at least."

Somehow, they're not quite reassured. They still feel like… well... They feel like hell.

"As I was saying," the girl from Six continues, the smile on her face only continuing to grow. "My friend and I… we had a little fun. We made a little bomb and well… Now all the supplies are destroyed. What a fucking shame!"

Verdigris sighs. I knew I should've not gone here. Why didn't I listen to myself.

No. It's not my fault. How was I supposed to know that there'd be an explosion and everything would be gone.

Even though Six still hasn't pressed her foot fully down on their ribs, Verdigris still feels like the end is near. They're just as nervous as they were when there was a gun in their hand and the girl from Eight in front of her, but now they're worried it's going to be their end, not someone else's.

The girl from Six is taller than them, and stronger too. With her raven-tinted hair and hateful eyes, she reminds Verdigris of somebody they would rather forget. This entire incident reminds them of something they would rather forget…

(They were just seven years old when they caught their mother in the act.

Perhaps they shouldn't have been, but Verdigris was walking in the backyard and eyeing the shed that Mayuko never let them inside before. Truthfully, they were just curious what Mai was hiding in there. Kids are supposed to be curious, it's just their nature.

They tapped at the door, once than twice before pushing it open to see large wooden crates.

Before Verdigris could even open one up to see what was inside, they felt their mother's grasp on their shoulder.

"What are you doing in there?" She asked, her voice harsh like nails on a chalkboard.

"Just... looking." They tried their best to sound innocent as Mayuko pulled them back outside.

She strengthened her grip, so much so that Verdigris could nearly feel their shoulder bones breaking. "What did I tell you about sticking your nose where it doesn't belong?"

They knew she would get mad if they said anything, so instead, they just mumbled something that resembled "I'm so sorry".

That of course, did not satisfy their mother. Instead, she shook them by their arm, her eyes hardening as she stared into theirs. Her grip on their arm tightened as she pulled them closer until their noses almost touched.

"You are not to get involved in my business until you're older," She told them sharply. "Do you understand?"

Verdigris simply nodded.

"Good..." Mai hummed. "Now, just to teach you a lesson..."

She moved her arm to Verdigris' neck and began to squeeze. Their breath hitched as they tried to move their hands to cover their throat, to no avail. They only succeeded in making things worse.

As Mayuko squeezed harder, Verdigris' vision went blurry, and before they knew it, their entire world had faded into black.)

They should've known that something similar would happen here.

Six brings one hand to Verdigris' collar and pulls them upwards. "It's been nice talking to you. Don't worry… we'll be talking again soon."

She wraps her arm around their throat and squeezes the same way Mayuko did, not even ten years ago. This time, they don't struggle. They learned the hard way that struggling just makes it hurt even more. Instead, they simply grit their teeth together as Six's grip tightens.

Once again, Verdigris' vision is blurry before anything worse can happen. Once again, it feels like a relief when everything fades to black.

She's maybe a bit less nervous than she should be as she walks towards the cathedral. Over the years, Lethia has learned that confidence is something that you have to fake until it suddenly becomes real, so she's made a habit of doing just that.

In the past twenty-four hours, practically everything has changed for her. Just a day ago, she had two hands attached to her arms, and more importantly, she had hope. She hadn't yet heard the cannon that she'd later learn belonged to Wulfie, and she had plans to take out Vancouver and then happily return to him. She was full of hope, optimistic that the best was yet to come, but now Lethia knows that she was so fucking wrong.

She doesn't have her left hand and the boy she could've loved is dead at the hands of lord-knows-who. The only thing Lethia has to her name is a sword and the fact her shirt is stained with Vancouver's blood.

All she can do is hope that soon Icarus' blood will join it.

It still feels surreal to her. It took Lethia ages to wrap her head around the fact that Icarus was never who he said he was, and the fact that she's possibly moments away from killing him almost feels like a fever dream.

Ever since he crushed her hand, Lethia's whole life has felt like it's been disconnected from reality. Maybe if she kills him, her existence will finally be hers once more.

As she walks into the wrecked cathedral, part of her is expecting Icarus to just poke his head out from the pews and jump-scare her, so for that reason, she's on red-alert. Lethia darts her eyes from side to side, yet there's no sign of the golden boy she's grown to loathe with every fiber of her existence.

Vancouver was merely an obstacle in getting to this moment. She was merely a test where Lethia proved that she could no longer be manipulated and is finally ready to take down her biggest enemy. Besides, if the Twelve girl was a mere succubus, Icarus St. Augustine is Beelzebub himself. He's not cowardly enough to gag at the sight of blood, and he knows the way Lethia fights like he knows himself. Luckily, she can say the same about him.

Next to the Cornucopia, she sees a figure lying down. Part of her wonders, is that him? Is he… no— he can't be dead. He can't be…

Icarus being dead would theoretically be a good thing, but Lethia is selfish enough to admit that the thought of anybody or anything killing him besides her is abhorrent.

She walks closer to the body, enough so that she can see his chest rise and fall.

Fucking classic… Lethia muses. She rolls her eyes and calls out to him, "You can stop playing dead, Icarus. You're not a fucking possum."

His eyes snap open at the sound of her voice and his head turns in her direction. He quickly stands up and brushes the dirt off his clothing before saying, "I always forget that you're actually smart. At least it makes things interesting."

"Smarter than you'll ever be," she fires back. "Glad to see that things haven't changed and you still have an attitude though."

"Glad to see that things have changed and your left hand is somehow worse than I left it," Icarus sneers. He reaches his own left hand under the Cornucopia and pulls a sword from the rubble. "How the hell did you manage that?"

"None of your business," Lethia snaps. She looks down at her stump, the wound now scabbed over and overall less gnarly looking than it was yesterday. "Are you going to fight me or are you too busy monologuing like some sort of a movie villain?"

"Well yes, believe me, I'm overjoyed that we're soon to fight," he begins. "But, there's something that I wanted to show you first."

"What is it?"

He walks behind the Cornucopia and returns with a spherical object in his hand. Lethia bites down on her lip— that better not be — as he turns it around to reveal what's perhaps the most morbid thing she's ever seen.

The mortified expression on Wulfie's face is enough to haunt her for the rest of her life. His eyes are lifeless and his jaw is dropped. There's an undeniable look of fear on him, a fear Lethia can only imagine consumed him for a long time before he died. The base of his severed head appears slick with blood, and everything about it makes Lethia wish that she was never born in the first place.

Perhaps the carefree look on Icarus' face as he holds it is the most terrifying thing about it.

"What the fuck did you do to him?" Lethia screams, trying her damndest not to let herself cry. "What the fuck did you do, Icarus? Tell me, Icarus, what did he do to deserve this? Why did you think he was worthy of this?"

She sighs, and mutters, "Why couldn't you have just killed me instead?"

"Don't worry, Lethia dearest, soon you'll be able to join him in the afterlife," he replies, dropping Wulfie's head to the ground and not even flinching when it splatters and cracks. "I just thought you'd want to see him one last time before you did."

"What the actual fuck is your problem?" She tries her best not to stare at the mangled skull, instead making eye contact with Icarus. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

He sighs and nods his head side to side. "I guess you never did learn to control that temper of yours."

"Shut up." Lethia grits her teeth and raises her sword. "Shut the fuck up."

She sucks back air through her teeth, hoping it'll prevent her from crying. She can't let Icarus get to her head yet again. She can't let him win now, not when she's lost to him time and time again. It's just about time Lethia Aphelion gets even with him. It's just about time Icarus' skull joins Wulfie's on the ground.

She swings her sword in his direction, expectedly being blocked by his own blade. It doesn't deter her though. Lethia swings again, her knuckles white against the handle of her weapon as metal meets metal. While her eyes are fiery with determination, Icarus' look cold, almost like he doesn't care.

She can't let him get to her again.

"I would've expected better from somebody who was predicted to come in second place," Lethia scorns him. "It's like you're not even trying."

She swings at him once more, but he blocks again and she lets out a growl.

He laughs as he stands his ground, the smirk on his face making her hate him all over again. "Wise words from somebody predicted to be the next to go."

His mocking is practically poison to her ears, making her blood boil with pure unadulterated loathing.

Icarus lunges at her, bringing the flat of his blade up under her chin before delivering an uppercut that sends her flying backwards. His laughter fills the room, and she tries to shake off the pain of the blow.

Lethia's vision blurs momentarily as she regains her footing. "That was cute of you."

A scoff. "I know. I'm fucking adorable. You once were too."

She grunts, then brings her sword to Icarus' side. She makes the slightest bit of contact with his wrist, causing his skin to flay and bleed. He howls, his expression contorting into one of fury. She takes this opportunity and thrusts the tip of her sword through his stomach.

The sound of it puncturing skin is like music to her ears. It's more beautiful than anything either of them could've played on the violin. She steps back, watching as Icarus falls to his knees, gasping for air and clutching his stomach. Blood seeps out between his fingers as he snickers.

Lethia isn't quite sure what's happening. She watches in horror as Icarus' laughter fades into a noise that resembles a feral screech. Is he dying? Is he finally fucking dying? Just thinking that feels unreal. However, something churns in her stomach that tells her it isn't quite the end.

"Do you really think this is done?" He looks up at her with a macabre glare and a cruel smile plastered across his lips. "Come on. Finish me off."

That's something Lethia has wanted to do for what seems like her entire life. "The pleasure is all mine."

She smiles at the idea of her never-ending nightmare finally coming to an end. At long last, Lethia Aphelion will be able to say she's had her vengeance.

The brazen expression on Lethia's face nearly makes him want to cry laughing.

She really thinks that she has this in the bag. Icarus rolls his eyes as he continues to press against the wound on his stomach, hoping that soon it'll stop bleeding. Pathetic. She's so fucking pathetic.

He sighs, then returns to his feet. "Come on Lethia; I'm all yours!"

Lethia charges forward, aiming straight for him. She swings her sword, but without even thinking, Icarus blocks it.

"I guess not." He laughs, striking down on her.

She ducks to dodge the attack, but still seems relatively shaken up. Icarus watches as Lethia's breath hitches slightly and her grip on the hilt weakens. Like the cat that ate the canary, he hisses at her. "You had a chance to kill me, you know. It's a shame that you didn't take advantage of it. Maybe if you were better at this..."

He's lying. Lethia never had a chance. Nobody has ever had a chance at killing him, for Icarus St. Augustine won't die until the stars and sun align, declaring it his time. That's not today, though.

"Just shut up already," she grunts.

He chuckles, the sound dripping with malice as he attacks. His sword collides with Lethia's thigh, sending her sprawling backwards and to the floor, her own weapon falling beside her. He doesn't give her time to recover though, instead rushing towards her and pressing his hand against her throat. Her eyes bulge as she struggles against his hold, clawing desperately at his forearm in the hopes of freeing herself.

Icarus only smirks at her futile efforts, keeping her pinned underneath him. She coughs, struggling to breathe. He leans in closer to her ear. "Oh, relax Lethia. Don't you realize? It was always destined to end like this."

From the day they first met, Lethia was always doomed to be second-best in comparison to him. Sure, he taught her everything that she knows, but that doesn't mean that Icarus taught her everything he knows.

He raises the sword again and plunges it downwards, feeling it pierce through her guts. As she groans in agony, all Icarus can do is cackle at her. Her blood stains his shirt a beautiful stain of crimson as the pathetic life that she lived drains from her.

Lethia tries to say something, but all that comes out is a choked sob of pain and defeat as her lifeblood runs from her body and pools around the two of them on the ground.

She swings her knee at Icarus' chest, knocking him off of her and giving her time to recover. Still, he isn't too concerned, even when she picks back up her sword. She's losing blood at an alarming rate, soon it'll all be over.

Good fucking riddance. He chuckles.

If there's one quality in Lethia that Icarus actually admires, it's her relentlessness. Anybody else would just let themself die on the floor, but Lethia just continues to fight on. Even though her strength is fading rapidly, she manages to swing her sword at Icarus' ankle, causing him to stumble.

"Oh, welcome back to the fight." He teases her.

"Fuck you," she spits back venomously.

Even though his ankle weeps in pain, Icarus lunges towards her. He drives her blade deeper into her stomach, ripping open her skin further. He twists the hilt, blood pouring from each side of the wound and staining her clothing. She screams in agony, trying to pull the blade out, but ultimately, she can't.

She does however, use her own sword to slash at Icarus' chest, though he hardly bleeds. "If I die, you're coming down with me."

As if.

C'mon wings, time to fly, he thinks, letting go of the handle of this sword. He inhales, feeling the wings behind him begin to unravel and lift him into the air.

"What the fuck is that?" Lethia gasps, her voice croaking.

"Don't you get it?" Icarus says, spinning around in the air so that the blood splattered on him rains down and onto the floor. "I'm an angel, and you're going straight to hell. Everything awful I did, you fucking helped me. You're just as bad as me, you sycophant."

He hovers above her and regains his grip on his sword. He watches in amusement as her guts begin to spill out of her wound and onto the wooden floor.

Lethia lets out a strangled laugh, staring up at him in horror. "You're a monster."

Before she can say anything else, she gasps one final time and falls to the ground. Immediately, a cannon sounds off through the air.

"Well, then… boo," Icarus deadpans as he returns to the ground.

He kneels beside her and watches as her skin turns pale. Not bad… not bad at all…

Icarus coughs. It's a shame nobody's going to come and pick up Lethia's body. It's a shame that the entire nation's going to remember her as the girl who tried so hard, only to lose in the end.

He uses his index fingers to close her eyelids, then tends to his own wounds. Really, she didn't get him all that bad. The wound in his stomach has already stopped bleeding, and all of the other damage she dealt barely broke his skin.

Pathetic, she was hardly a good fight. Then again, what was Icarus expecting from a girl who only had one hand.

He walks over to his bag and grabs an antiseptic wipe, hardly flinching when it stings against his stomach. As he stares into the sky, all he can do is wonder what Aelia's been thinking throughout this whole affair.

Mommy's little angel finally slayed the devil. Icarus laughs. Eh, who am I kidding? I'm the bad guy here, aren't I?

There was never a shadow of a doubt in his mind that that was the case. Icarus has always known that he was a bad person. He's always relished in the fact that he's… just like Lethia said… a monster. After all, it's much better to admit that you're an atrocity than it is to hide it and feel guilt.

His mother did not raise him to be a good person. Aelia raised him to be a traitor who holds his cards to his chest and doesn't let anybody get too close. She raised him to be vicious and selfish, and to never fall to somebody so unequivocally lesser than him.

(She raised him to be a reflection of the person she wished she was.)

Icarus doesn't feel guilt for killing Lethia the same way he didn't feel guilt for killing Beowulf and the girl from Nine. Life is just a game, after all. Somebody has to win and the end of it all, and he's determined to reign victorious. Sure, Lethia was once a friend to him, but she's proven herself to be a foe, and therefore Icarus was given no choice but to completely demolish her. Why wouldn't he enjoy bringing doom upon somebody he so desperately wanted to see fall?

His mother must be so proud of him. He's so stunningly proud of himself.

He bets she'll be even prouder of him once he deals with Atlantis.

She really is a pity of a girl. It's a shame she couldn't embrace the fact she's a monster just like him. If she did, maybe he'd have kept her around longer.

As he walks to the cell where he kept her, he catches a glimpse of himself in a shard of shattered glass. He's covered in blood, mainly Lethia's blood. It's practically covering him head to toe, his face painted red like he's a kid in a carnival.

Maybe Atlantis will like the makeover.

Icarus arrives at the door and knocks twice. "I'm finally back! Did you hear me earlier? You're going to love my new look."

There's no response, so he continues. "I did it, Atlantis! I finally killed Lethia. No thanks to you though."

Again, nothing.

He swings open the door and gasps at what he sees. Or rather, what he doesn't see.

She's gone?

He's without a doubt confused. Icarus never heard her or any noises that slightly resembled her when he was playing dead for Lethia. How the fuck did she get out of here?

His handcuffs are flat against the ground and the machete's blade is still raised above her cell. He doesn't know if he should be impressed or royally pissed off at her. There doesn't appear to be any wet blood on the ground either, so the entire thing is quite confusing.

She's lucky I'm in a good mood today, Icarus muses. He glances around the room to see if she's hidden anywhere, but he's without luck. What the actual fuck…

Such is life. With one big win comes another major loss. Regardless, Icarus isn't incredibly worried about Atlantis' location. Wherever she is, he'll find her eventually, and when he does, he'll be able to finish what he started.

Sixteen down, seven to go.

Onwards and upwards, Icarus St. Augustine will soar into victory, no matter the carnage he leaves in his trail.

8th Place: Lethia Aphelion, District One - killed by Icarus St. Augustine

*ducks from the tomatoes surely about to be thrown at me*

What if I said… that I wasn't sorry…

Never in a million years was I going to let Lethia get her paws on Icarus, my little meow meow. That's a lie actually. Originally he was going to die here but about a month ago my brain told me that I was brilliant and that I should keep Icarus alive longer as a treat because again, I'm brilliant. Lethia was also going to die in this chapter, Vancouver was going to kill her. It was going to be a whole thing but none of it matters because I did this instead.

Laney, I'm not sure if I should be apologizing to you right now considering you're probably the only person happy with this decision of mine besides me. The hold Icarus has on both of us is so fucking embarrassing…

I promise, this is good for arcs! We are doing arcs!

Also… so much other shit happened this chapter like jesus fuck, what is my problem?

This chapter is dedicated to Haiden because it is his birthday btw. He gave me a birthday chapter where it was revealed one of the victors in his verse is now dating me, and I brutally injured his child. That… seems about right. The good news is, I initially planned to get to a chapter where one of his kids died by now so I could kill them on his birthday, but I didn't. Jokes aside, Haiden, dude I hope that today is great. I love you so much and you're the best older brother I could've ever asked for.

But yeah… shit really went down. Deadass nothing is the same as it was last chapter. We are reaching the home stretch of these Games, and I'm so hype to continue writing all of the fuck shit that's yet to come.

INCLUDING ICARUS BC HES STILL ALIVE FUCK THE WORLD!

Fuck this shit, I'm out,
Linds

The Leaderboard:
Lethia Aphelion: II
Icarus St. Augustine: III
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