Tempest O' Malley, District 4
"Now tell me, what have I done?
It seems I have stolen a horse."
Joanna Newsom, You and Me, Bess
That O'Malley kid was the bane of Head Peacekeeper, Decius Camphouse's life.
Every time someone's purse went missing or a rich lady's earring disappeared, Tempest O'Malley was bound to be responsible. The worst part was that he was an academy kid. He stole for fun instead of out of desperation and, whenever he got caught, Surf Depthell would swoop in to bail him out and avoid a scandal.
But when the rascal stole one of Decius' prize horses for a joyride, it was the final straw.
"That boy is a menace!" Decius told Surf, after marching into his office. "He deserves to go to the gallows, academy or not."
"How about we put him in the games?" Surf asked. "It would be easy for me to stop any volunteers this year if you make sure that he's reaped."
Decius thought for a second.
"Wasn't there a horse-thief in the Quell?" He asked.
"Yes. She died in the bloodbath."
That was all Decius needed to hear.
Even when he was doomed, that boy annoyed Decius half to death.
Tempest O'Malley had taken being reaped surprisingly well. He was incredibly confident, which managed to win the crowds over, even though he wasn't the volunteer they'd been hoping for. O'Malley's score of eight, while less than all his allies' was a sobering reminder that, even though he wasn't the chosen volunteer, he was still an Elite. And Amber LeClerc had proven twenty years ago that rogue Elites could be just as deadly.
After the relative disaster of the Fortieth Games, Hercules Knott had been replaced by Belleros Crane. The new head gamemaker had chosen to take the Hunger Games to the beach. The tributes launched in a shallow pool, surrounded by rock pools and Decius cursed his own bad luck. O' Malley would be in his element.
Things got even worse when he survived the bloodbath. This year, there was no surprise outlier like Webb Liarwhipp to take out an Elite early in the games. All six of them survived, including O'Malley.
Never mind, Decius thought to himself. He's so annoying. He'll probably be the first target in the split.
He comforted himself with the thought of his nemesis facing off against five fully-trained Elites.
Days wore on. Outlier after outlier fell. O'Malley never stopped joking but strain began to show in the eyes of his allies with every long-winded anecdote. Decius knew that the boy's time was running out.
The Elites were chasing after the boy from Seven - the last tough outlier - when the lumberjack fell victim to a giant crab. As his cannon fired, all of Decius' dreams came true. The girl from Two glanced at O'Malley, reached for her sword...
And found nothing.
"Huh..." she muttered.
The other Elites reached for their weapons and felt their hands close around thin air.
"Oh, that's a shame." O'Malley drew his two cutlasses, his weapons of choice. "How careless of you all to lose your weapons! I wonder where they could be..."
"You stole them, didn't you?" O' Malley's district partner began to back away. She must've known about the things he'd done before he was reaped.
"I did," O'Malley confessed. "It was easy. Almost boringly so. I must say, I expected the Hunger Games to be more of a challenge. Now who wants a piece of me?"
Decius watched all five Elites charge at O'Malley, hoping that sheer numbers would be enough. It wasn't. With the agility of a cat, O'Malley dodged away from his former allies. Where the others stumbled over the rocky terrain, the boy from Four was nimble and graceful as he slashed at the other Elites.
And he didn't stop talking.
"Honestly, guys, I feel like I'm not being appreciated as an ally right now. You were plotting to kill me, weren't you, Metamorphica. It's not a very good look on you. As for you, Shanty, shame on you for not expecting this of me. I have quite a reputation as a gentleman thief and I'd like to think that an intelligent girl like you would realise that I am a very bad boy indeed. Crassus, you turned on me as well? But I thought we were friends- oh, never mind, now I've got your blood all over my nice shirt. Would you say I look good, Darling? I think you look good. Your hair's never looked better. You're not much compared to your absolutely dishy district partner, though. Now it's just you and me, Porcelain. Alone at last. Unfortunately, the great love between us would never work out. I don't know about you but I think being in the Hunger Games together is not a healthy way to begin a relationship..."
Decius clamped his hands over his ears, trying to drown out the sound of the boy's chatter. It didn't drown out the sound of five cannons as the five other Elites died.
It would take a miracle to stop O'Malley now. He was going to win. He was going to win and come back and be a victor and be able to steal whatever he wanted and get away with it.
Decius made a plan then and there. Two days later, when Tempest O'Malley was crowned victor of the Forty-First Hunger Games, he made a very important call.
"Hello, this is Decius Camphouse. I'd like to transfer to another district please. Are there any positions available?"
He didn't care where he was going. Anywhere was better than the same district as stupid, indestructible Tempest O'Malley.
District 4 was due another victor but definitely not the perfect Career Surf was expecting. Tempest is definitely one of the wilder victors. He's a pretty good thief but he definitely doesn't know how to shut up. Almost a fifth of the words in the chapter were in his monologue, which just goes to show how short this chapter is. Maybe it's just because he's such an open, talkative character that it's pretty easy to get the spirit of Tempest across with just a few words. He is incredibly lucky that he isn't a rebel. He's just a bit of a troublemaker.
Another reason why this chapter was so short is that I have something major planned for next chapter. If you've been paying attention to the chapters that are particularly heartbreaking, you will have noticed that victor prostitution was founded twelve years before next games. Turbin Bloodhawk - whose chapter flashes forward to Luka's death - won eight years before next games. Palomino Burton won four years before next games. Following that pattern (a pattern which I was completely unaware of when I wrote my first draft) something incredibly sad shall happen next chapter. Consider this chapter a bit of a breather before we plunge right into the Mariana Trench of tragedy.
