Nugua Meng had a plan.

Or more accurately, she had been working on a plan until a cannon had gone off, snapping her out of her thoughts - a cannon that meant one less person less between her and going home.

Four of them still stood in what remained of this Arena. She was so close to home, and yet still so far. Because at the end of the day, Nugua wasn't a fighter. She knew she couldn't beat most people out in a sheer battle of strength, and there was at least one Career left in the mix.

But that didn't mean Nugua couldn't be smart.

She gripped the straps of her bag tighter as she ducked into the plastic tube. It was one of the only brightly coloured things around at this point, as everything was coated in a thick layer of grey dust. It had fallen like snow the past day, mingling with the rain to create horrible grey mud everywhere Nugua went. At least here she had a moment out of the rain, to collect herself before setting out again. But soon enough, water began pooling in the bottom of the slide- the Gamemakers were clearly trying to push them somewhere.

"Shit," Nugua rasped. She'd hardly spoken since Carter had run in to try and help others after the explosion. She simply had to let him go - if he wanted to get himself killed, Nugua wasn't going to stop him. So when his face had flashed across the screen that night, Nugua wasn't surprised. But she at least hoped he was at peace- wherever he ended up.

But Carter was in the past now, and Nugua had to look to the future. To her future.

She pushed out of the tube, emerging back into the strange daytime, the rain still pouring down around her. In front of her were inconceivably large chunks of twisted metal- Nugua didn't think there was anything powerful enough in this world to cause such damage to something so big. Evidently there was though, what exactly had happened Nugua didn't know.

The only way was up, up and away from the water and towards whatever the Gamemakers had managed to scrape together for them.

The only path to victory was up.


Chiffon Shivaan was exhausted in every sense of the word.

He hadn't paused since leaving Dean. It had been… minutes? Hours? Chiffon didn't know. There wasn't any point in stopping. He wasn't tired, or sad, or… anything. Chiffon was as numb as the cold which had started sinking into his limbs. It chilled him to the very bone, a reminder of the stark world surrounding him.

A reminder there was nothing left.

Nothing left- except the reality of his decision. Chiffon could've done a hundred things differently. He could've faced Dean as he killed him. He could've stayed with him as Dean left this horrible world. Was Dean scared when he died there, alone? Or had he accepted his fate? Chiffon didn't know. He hadn't stayed around long enough to know.

Chiffon couldn't change it now, couldn't go back. He'd killed Dean. He'd fucked up one of the few precious things he had in this world, and there wasn't anything he could do to change it.

The longer he ran away from it, the stronger the voice in his mind became.

You did this. You killed him.

Was it worth it?

Was it? He should've stayed, should've given Dean the smallest bit of comfort, but all he could manage in the moment was an apology. An apology! How pathetic was that! What was Chiffon sorry for? For taking Dean out like he was nothing? Like he meant nothing?

Did he truly mean so little to you?

"No," Chiffon growled, his voice hoarse. "I did what I had to."

Tell yourself that. Do you want to live with this for the rest of your life?

"I don't fucking care!" Chiffon exclaimed, nearly tripping over his own feet. Chiffon paused for a moment, regaining his bearings. He couldn't do this right now. Chiffon couldn't afford this weakness, not yet. He could mourn when he won- or when he was dead- but until then he had to keep pushing onwards. There was no choice left but victory.

If he died now, what would Dean's death mean? Nothing. Chiffon couldn't let him mean nothing in the end.

Chiffon had to live, just as Dean had to die.


Verity Blanche could see the end.

And maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. It'd all be over soon enough, and Verity was glad for that. No matter how much she didn't want to think about it, death could be right around the corner. Her chances looked grim, sure, but that didn't mean Verity couldn't give it her best.

Her best was all Verity had to give.

She didn't dare poke her head out of the nook in the concrete, instead curling herself into a smaller ball. Verity had made her way to the courtyard in her attempts to escape the worst of the flooding, and she figured the other tributes would do the same soon enough. After all, there weren't many places left to go in the flooded arena after all. But the mere prospect of encountering another tribute was nearly as terrifying as being alone.

But that didn't mean she wasn't capable herself. She wasn't useless; Verity knew she had a few tricks up her sleeves. The small knife clasped between her shivering hands was just one of them.

She could be strong. She would hold her head high no matter what would come. There was little hope, but Verity would cherish what she had- make it last as long as she could. It wasn't much, but it was something, and something was better than nothing in Verity's books.

At least if things went wrong, Verity would get to see Diesel again- after all, she had so many things to tell him.

No matter what came next, Verity knew she'd be okay.


Morrigan Meadowlark couldn't feel a thing.

Not a bit of remorse. Not a single scrap of sadness, or pity, or anything.

Maybe it would be better this way, if she went into the end without any worries, without any care. Either she'd die or she'd win, and neither option seemed so bad to Mor. Was it so much to ask for something as simple as a break, as small as some fucking rest?

Mor had been fighting for so long, she couldn't remember what it was like to be at peace.

All her life, she had given and given every single bit of herself to her family to support them. And oh, how Mor wished she'd been selfish, wished she'd pushed back against everything they'd used her for. If she had, maybe Mor would've had something to herself for once.

It would never last, though. It never did. The one time Mor was selfish, the one time she acted for herself, the one time she tried for something she wanted, it was ripped away from her.

At least Jasper was at peace now. At least he could rest.

But Mor couldn't. Not yet.

She pushed her soaked hair out of her face, surveying the massive fountain in the distance, as she paused on a block of concrete. The end was certainly upon them, and yet Mor hadn't seen anybody since the One girl a few hours before. She'd just been wandering and wandering with nothing to show for it, until she'd arrived here. She crouched down, resting for a moment on the ground, the courtyard in front of her was entirely void of life.

That was, until a dark haired girl stepped out of the treeline on the edge of the courtyard.

One last fight, Mor told herself, as she took off towards the girl. For life or for death.

Just one last fight.


Nugua barely knew what hit her as a heavy punch connected with her face. She stumbled backwards, hands flying to her nose. Tears sprung to Nugua's eyes, blurring her vision as she scrambled for the knife at her side. As she found the hilt of her knife, swinging wildly with it, Nugua felt her opponent grab her free wrist, twisting her arm until Nugua dropped the knife.

It didn't stop there, though. The girl kept twisting and twisting until a sickening crack rang through the air.

Nugua's left arm fell limp as the girl standing before her swung with another punch. Before it could connect, Nugua turned and fled. She just needed a moment, a place to hide out for even a few seconds. But Nugua quickly realized how close behind her Seven was. Even though there were chunks of debris scattered around, providing cover, Nugua still couldn't shake her pursuer.

Nugua would just have to think on the fly.

Ignoring the shooting pain in her arm, Nugua darted behind a block of concrete. Seven rounded the corner, grabbing for Nugua, but she was already gone, running again. Her breaths came raggedly, each one a struggle, but Nugua pushed that down. She had to keep going- with every footfall she could feel Seven getting closer and closer. Nugua wove around another block of concrete, the fountain directly in her line of sight now. If she reached it, perhaps she could use it to her advantage, and Nugua was very nearly there now.

Until she felt herself trip.

And Nugua Meng was falling.


Mor grabbed the girl, jabbing her knee into Nine's stomach. Nine growled, swinging desperately for Mor, but she easily dodged her assailant's blows. Mor eventually caught hold of Nine's arm, holding it still as she landed a punch across Nine's face. Her opponent cried out in pain, attempting to squirm out from underneath Mor. She continued attacking, landing punch after punch in an effort to still her opponent, but Nine refused, continuing to struggle.

Maybe Mor didn't want to do this anymore. Maybe she didn't want to fight any longer.

But was there any other choice?

Hissing in frustration, Mor shifted her weight, pinning down the other girl. As she did, she wrapped her hands around Nine's neck, squeezing as tightly as she could manage. Nine gasped loudly, clawing desperately at Mor's hands and arms, but Mor didn't relent. She ignored the pain, her grip holding steady watching as Nine's face turned bluer by the second. Steadily, Nine's efforts grew weaker and weaker until her hands fell from Mor's. She fell limp. Mor waited for a cannon. And waited. And waited.

But none came.

Mor loosened her grip ever so slightly as she searched for something to speed up the process. After a moment, Mor's eyes landed on a long thin piece of metal, about the size of a baseball bat, stuck in the mud nearby. As Mor reached out for it, she lifted her hands off of Nine's throat just enough to give her an opening. A shove connected with her chest, sending Mor to the ground hard. She quickly regained her bearings, finding herself right next to the piece of metal.

Mor grabbed the piece of metal and lunged for the girl, who was still gasping on the ground, Mor brought the makeshift weapon down on her head. The girl yelped in pain as it landed with a sickening crack. Mor swung again and again - two, three, four times - until Nine fell silent and still.

A cannon.

Three left.

Mor spun around, trying to spot anybody else in the clearing. In the distance, she could've sworn she caught a flash of dark hair and a green jacket disappearing around a corner. But at the same time, what if she hadn't seen a thing?

The metal rebar slipped out of her slick, bloody hands. Mor didn't want to keep doing this. She didn't want to keep fighting. She just wanted to rest.

Morrigan Meadowlark couldn't go on like this much longer.


Chiffon paused, watching as the bloodied Seven girl took off across the clearing. She must've been chasing their third opponent. Chiffon hoped she was. He'd considered stepping into the fight between Seven and Nine, but saw no point in doing so - if Seven was going to take care of an opponent, Chiffon wasn't going to complain.

Are you just going to hide out like a coward?

And now, he was one step closer to getting home.

But what is home going to be? You'll be alone. You killed the one you loved, and you can't even face it.

Face it.

You are nothing.

Chiffon grunted, pushing down the voice in his mind as he followed the girl, slipping between blocks of concrete. He watched Seven for a moment as she looked around. Every death was another step closer to survival; if he could only kill this girl, that would put him so much closer to home.

So much closer to the stars he'd left behind, waiting to be finished.

Can you finish them? Can you truly finish them? Leave the stars in the sky, where they belong. You don't deserve to reach them, anyway.

Chiffon stepped out from behind another block of concrete, not bothering to keep quiet. Seven turned, finally realizing he was there. "There you are," Seven said, her voice raspy.

"I'm glad to see you," Chiffon replied wearily.

The rain poured down around the two as they circled each other. The girl tiredly raised her fists. Chiffon didn't feel the need to make the first move; in fact, the longer she stayed away from him the better. Sure enough, Seven darted towards him. He pulled a pair of throwing stars from his pouch and threw them; the first sliced through her arm, but she dodged the other. She swung a punch at him, but as she wasn't attacking with the same ferocity as before, Chiffon easily sidestepped her attack. The moment he dropped his guard, though, Seven kicked his arm. Chiffon stumbled backwards as something cracked unnaturally in his wrist.

Are you going to lose that easily? What kind of fucking Career are you?

"Fuck," Chiffon hissed. He managed to hold onto the sword, whirling it around and bringing it down on the girl. It dug into her shoulder; before she could react, Chiffon followed that up with another blow to her side. Seven growled, swinging with another punch, but they were slowing down significantly, enough that Chiffon managed to slice across her arm. Seven hissed, backing off again as they continued circling each other.

But before Chiffon could make another move, the girl was on him again. This time she latched onto his free arm, twisting it behind his back as he struggled to throw her off (after all, pure strength had never been his strong suit). He could feel his arm getting closer and closer to the point of snapping as he desperately tried to free himself. Gritting his teeth, Chiffon lashed out, jabbing his elbow into her midsection. She gasped loudly, releasing his arm. Chiffon whirled around, but the girl was already on the move. She kicked out, connecting with the back of his knee. Chiffon landed in the mud hard.

Get up. Get up.

Chiffon Shivaan wouldn't stay down. Not yet.

Dragging himself back to his feet, Chiffon could feel his leg threatening to give way beneath his weight. But he was determined to push through the pain; as long as he could stand, he could fight.

Chiffon turned, catching sight of the girl darting for him again. This time, he didn't bother trying to move out of her way. Instead, he grabbed her by the jacket, yanking her off her course. She stumbled, nearly falling into Chiffon. Seizing the opportunity, he slit her throat in one clean motion.

Another cannon.

Two left.

Chiffon shook his hands out as Seven crumpled to the ground in a heap before him. His wrist didn't feel right; with every movement, it made an odd cracking noise. But he couldn't let that slow him down. He was so close to home, to victory.

It was all his if he could just finish this.


Verity Blanche had never been so terrified in her life.

Verity watched as the Seven girl crumpled at the feet of the one person standing between her and victory. She paled at the sight of the blood-covered Career, who clearly had the physical advantage. Verity didn't know how she'd fare against him - after all, the blood that covered him had to have come from somewhere. Still, Verity was smart. The boy could fight, yes, but if she could keep just a few steps ahead of him, then Verity could keep fighting. She had to say she'd fought for herself. For Diesel.

Just as he'd fought for her.

She watched as One looked himself over. As he was distracted, Verity pulled the music box from her pocket, pressing her lips to the top of the box.

"Come on," Verity whispered. "Work for me."

She ducked down, darting to the next outcropping of rock and then behind the fountain. She crouched down, the basin high enough that Verity fit under it with ease. Searching around, Verity found a small divot in the ground, perfectly sized for the box. She held onto it for now, though, putting it back into her pocket- she just needed somewhere to hide it when the time came.

Verity sucked in a deep, shaky breath. Her only option was to take the chance and hope she succeeded. This would work. It had to.

At least if it didn't work, she could tell Diesel she'd tried when they met again.

Verity let the breath out and popped out of her hiding spot. "Come and get me!"


Chiffon blinked at the girl as she grinned at him from across the courtyard, her bright smile a stark contrast against the grime of the Arena.

"Come and get me!" Six yelled, spinning on her heel and running. Chiffon took off after her without thinking twice, running past the fountain in the center of the courtyard. But somehow he had already lost track of her, giving him no choice but to go the way he thought she'd gone. Rounding a corner, he paused for a moment, searching for the girl. As Chiffon stopped, a sudden pain dug into his back. He hissed, spinning around on his heel, but he only caught a flash of dark hair before she was gone again.

He didn't dare drop his guard. The next time the girl appeared, Chiffon was prepared. He lashed out, catching the girl across her face, but he wasn't fast enough. He cried out as a shooting pain ran up his leg, forcing him down to one knee. Chiffon looked down; blood poured from a gash in his leg, mixing with the puddled water beneath his feet.

Was this how Dean felt when you left him there? Bleeding in the water, afraid and alone?

Get up.

Chiffon staggered to his feet again, sighing in frustration. He couldn't keep doing this cat and mouse chase forever. He just wanted it all to be over- he just wanted to go home, even if home had nothing left for him. His family renounced him. Dean was dead by his own fucking hand. All he had left was Pomela. But maybe by the time he got home he'd be so different that she wouldn't recognize him, wouldn't know how to be his friend any longer.

All he had left was himself, and Chiffon didn't know how to face the truth of what he'd become.

You are alone.

You are unloved.

You will never amount to anything.

You will never be forgiven.

You will never be worthy of it.

Chiffon Shivaan was broken, shattered into a hundred little pieces by these Games. And what was he supposed to do - piece himself together again, bit by bit? Maybe he didn't want to put it all back together again though.

Maybe he wasn't strong enough.

Maybe he would die here, nothing more than a fool. It's all anyone saw him as, anyway.


Verity drew in ragged breaths as she ducked under the fountain once again. She frantically wound up the music box, placing it into the alcove she'd found earlier. Diesel wouldn't let her down- he never would.

It's gonna work. It won't fail now.

She scrambled out from under the fountain, ducking behind another piece of debris. Verity didn't see the boy, so she locked her sights on the fountain instead. Hopefully, she'd slowed him down enough to actually be able to kill him now.

Kill him. Those were such odd words to Verity. She'd have to kill somebody to leave this arena. That was the ticket back home, but what was its price? This boy's blood on her hands, his death on his consciousness?

It's gonna work. It won't fail now.

Who was this boy? Verity didn't know, and maybe she didn't want to. Perhaps not knowing would make this easier, but still she couldn't help but wonder what kind of life led him to this point. What did he have waiting for him back home? Friends, family, siblings? A partner who loved him, or any other number of people who cared for him, who wished to see him come home safe and alive? Verity would have to steal him away from those people, from that life he'd led.

But if that was the price she had to pay, then so be it. Verity would do it or she'd die trying.

It's gonna work. It won't fail now.

Pausing, Verity watched the fountain, trying to even out her ragged breathing. She didn't see anything- not even a single flash of One's gold jacket- but that was okay. Patiently she'd wait, a dagger clasped between her shaking hands.

Verity would do it.

Diesel would never fail her.


Chiffon stumbled into the courtyard for what he hoped would be the last time.

Strange, soft music was coming from nearby, the melody sweet. It sounded like something Pomela often danced to. Chiffon couldn't tell if it was real or if it was his own mind playing tricks on him- but where would music be coming from at a time like this?

Face what you've done, Chiffon.

Face your actions like you couldn't face him.

"I don't know how," Chiffon whispered, his voice cracking. He began to search the courtyard, limping heavily. Blood was still streaming down his leg, but Chiffon hardly noticed.

You loved him, and you killed him.

"I did. I fucking did it! What more do you want from me!" Chiffon exclaimed, his voice echoing through the courtyard as he wandered towards the fountain. The music grew louder as he approached, eventually coming to a stop before it. Peering in, his own reflection looked back at him in the water. Chiffon didn't catch more than a glimpse, though, as he quickly recoiled away from his own image.

If you want to live, you'll have to face your own actions eventually. You can't outrun what you've done.

In due time, you will face Dean, just as you'll face yourself.

"I can," Chiffon muttered. "I can do it."

Prove it.

Chiffon shook his head, letting his sword drop from his hand. He couldn't. He couldn't do it. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing his hands on the edge of the fountain.

You are not worthy of his forgiveness.

Chiffon Shivaan would amount to nothing because he couldn't face what he'd done.

The sharp pain that dug into his back moments later was perhaps a kindness. He didn't want to go on like this. He couldn't live out a life full of this.

Chiffon Shivaan was not worthy of victory.

The next time he opened his eyes he was staring into the face of a pale girl. She had her hands on his, but Chiffon didn't see much more of her before his vision went blurry with welling tears. The pale girl was replaced instead with a familiar, soft smile, and brown hair, and he knew…

Maybe there was still a chance for Chiffon to be forgiven.

"I'm so sorry," Chiffon cried, struggling for breath.

"I'm so, so sorry."

And then he was gone, snuffed out like a match in the dead of winter.


4th: Nugua Meng, beat to death by Morrigan Meadowlark.
3rd: Morrigan Meadowlark, throat slit by Chiffon Shivaan.
2nd: Chiffon Shivaan
, stabbed to death by Verity Blanche.


Victor of the 211th Hunger Games: Verity Blanche, District Six.

Verity sniffled, clutching the boy's hands tightly. They went slack in hers as the light that remained in his eyes dimmed. She exhaled, shakily, as she reached over to close his eyes. Verity wished she knew his name, but no matter how hard she racked her brain, she couldn't seem to find it.

Tears streamed down her face, mixing with the rain. She couldn't help but mourn a boy she'd never known. No, she wasn't just mourning that boy, she was mourning everything she'd had ripped away from her in that arena. But despite everything, through it all, Diesel had stayed with her. Verity only won because he'd been by her side every step of the way.

As she wiped the tears from her face, more and more replaced them. For the first time, Verity had to search for something to comfort her. She finally found it, a small warmth in her chest. It was almost as if she'd been wrapped up in Diesel's warm arms. If she listened hard enough, she could even hear his gentle, soothing voice in her mind.

"No one will ever have to mourn you, Ver."


Kills:

Diesel Malstrom: V

Reign Legatus: V

Chiffon Shivaan: IIII

Morrigan Meadowlark: III

Dean Karafanda: I

Verity Blanche: I

Arena: III


*steps on phobie until he is a small brown stain* *taps on microphone* have you heard about our lord and savior verity blanche?

surpriiiiise~ ;)

ʟᴀɴᴇʏ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ғᴜᴄᴋ… ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵏᶦˡˡ ᵐᵉ ᶦⁿ ᵐʸ ᵒʷⁿ ᶠᶦⁿᵃˡᵉ.

do what i want. this is my finale now. this is what happens when my daughter wins.

ⁿᵒ ᶦᵗˢ ᵘʳ ᵈᵃᵘᵍʰᵗᵉʳˢ ᶠᶦⁿᵃˡᵉ. ᵖᵘᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ʳᵉˢᵖᵉᶜᵗ ᵒⁿ ʰᵉʳ ⁿᵃᵐᵉ.

ur right that's my bad i should humble myself. all hail our rightful ruler verity blanche may she never die

ʸᵒᵘ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ᵖᵒᶦⁿᵗˢ. ⁿᵒʷ ᵈᵉᵃʳ ᵈᵉ ˡᵃⁿᵉʸ, ʰᵒʷ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ˢᵘᵇˢᶜʳᶦᵇᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵛᵉʳᶦᵗʸ ᵛᶦᶜᵗᵒʳˢ ᶜˡᵘᵇˀ

since february 16th in the year of our lord 2022 when u gave me her epi and i proceeded to say "what the fuck" and then "i really am the whole circus"

*ᶦ ʷᶦᵖᵉ ᵃ ˢᶦⁿᵍˡᵉ ᵗᵉᵃʳ ᵃʷᵃʸ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵐʸ ᵉʸᵉ* ᶦⁿˢᵖᶦʳᵃᵗᶦᵒⁿᵃˡ... ᵖᵒˢᶦᵗᶦᵛᵉˡʸ ᶦⁿˢᵖᶦʳᵃᵗᶦᵒⁿᵃˡ... ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᶠᵒʳ ˢʰᵃʳᶦⁿᵍ ᵗʰᶦˢ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ ʷᶦᵗʰ ᵘˢ ˡᵃⁿᵉʸ, ᶜᵃⁿ ᶦ ᵇᵉ ᶠʳᵉᵉᵈ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗᶦⁿʸ ᵗᵉˣᵗ ʰᵉˡˡ ⁿᵒʷ

*unsquishes u* yeah ig u can be free bc of ur great acts for this country

Thank fuck. I Am Free. Umm… yeah thats a finale I Guess. Everyone clap for verity she deserves it. My little meow meow

*claps really enthusiastically* LET'S GOOOO I LOVE MY LITTLE MEOW MEOW! rip to all those people that died tho

Ah yeah. That sure did happen! We are left with but a single little meow meow. And umm.. Yes laney has known since february, she's just been the best actor to ever exist. Actually she's known like 90% of everything thats gone down before it went down. Nobody be shocked. I have no impulse control. Are we really surprised? No? No surprise?

i'm surprised u lasted that long without telling me in the first place. also i love helping to edit np things and then pretending like i didn't see it coming

Yknow what thats fair. Goldie added the oscar emoji to her server For A Reason. Laney is such a good actor… ummm i feel like i have something else to say but i can't remember what. Umm. next chapter is victor epi 1. Theres three more chapters left? Three? Thats batshit innit. Umm. subs are open for hoty? Ill post the form to verses whenever i remember to. ummm ….. I hope everyone had a good time!

uwu i hope u enjoy the epilogue next chapter i know i like it! sub to hoty or ur lame and gay

Thank u for the psa laney. Umm yes i quite enjoy the epi.. Hehe… umm and thats it! Thats all folks! That Sure Was A Finale… stan verity.

stan verity! ~de laney is out

-pith out, phobie :D