Disclaimer:
I do not own the Hunger Games book series. It is the property of Suzanne Collins and the publisher Scholastic Press. The movies are owned by Lionsgate and other associated producers and creators. I am simply a humble fan, writing this for the enjoyment of other fans. Please support the official release.
Arena - Day 10
Katniss Everdeen
Co-Victor of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games
The lights danced all around her, moving to the beat of the music. She was in some rich citizen's giant ballroom that had been converted to a dance hall. Katniss vaguely remember excepting the invitation of some pretty boy telling her about a house party he had been invited to, and how it would be so much more fun if she would come.
Alcohol, drugs, and food flowed freely. She learned the drink she had was a mixture of spirits and a drug that lowers inhibitions... Whatever that meant. It lasted for hours, and whenever she started to consider returning to Mentor Headquarter's, she downed another glass.
The mass of bodies moving around her was warm. Katniss was the center of attention, everyone wanted to dance with her. Shower gifts on her. She was already wearing the most revealing dress she had ever worn, exposing her bust and legs more than she would have been comfortable within any other situation.
Despite the effects of the drinks, Katniss stayed away from the clear liquid. Something in her refused to drink it. Watching people stuff themselves, throw up, and then continue eating made her skin crawl. In the state she was in Katniss couldn't put her finger on why, nor did she care to try and find out. Instead, she avoided the table all the same.
The music changed, the base higher, deeper. The tempo picked up and suddenly the mass of bodies moved quicker. A sea of people was dancing to the beat, and for a while, Katniss moved with them. More drinks were offered, more food, more pills, and powder. The flashing lights above her started to blue into a strange rain of color. Katniss couldn't see if that was an effect, or if it was just something she was seeing. Not that it mattered.
"You should go up," a handsome boy called to her. He was dancing next to her, completely naked. He was very nice to look at.
"What?" She asked, moving to the beat.
The boy pointed at the table she was dancing by. A few of them were scattered around the hall, but she hadn't paid them much attention. A girl was already on top of the table, dancing for the crowd. Being cheered on.
"You should go join her!" The handsome boy said.
Katniss grinned her carefree smile and asked a few of the people to help her up. When the other girl saw her she glided straight at her, all without missing any steps. Other than the very tight leather of her small shirt and shorts, the girl wore nothing. She did come to dance a lot closer than Katniss would have been comfortable with.
"You're Katniss Everdeen," the other girl purred, pulling closer to her.
"So they tell me," she answered back, flirting just a little bit.
The girl pulled forward again until she was only inches away from Katniss. "I watched your games last year. I was rooting for you and your pretty baker's boy."
"Thanks. The president didn't like the ending."
The girl snorted. "He doesn't like anything."
The crowd of people around them began to cheer, encouraging them to dance more. Katniss noticed many of them stopped shaking, instead of just watching the two. Not that she cared. More fun for her.
"I never did get your name, sweetheart," Katniss whispered, using the name Haymitch always called her.
"Johanna Mason," the other girl purred. She wrapped her hands around Katniss and pressed herself against her. "The last person in my family died nine days ago."
Katniss didn't understand why Johanna would bother telling her. It was depressing, and she didn't want to think about depressing things.
Katniss almost jumped when she felt Johanna's hands grab her butt. "Mm. Soft. I can see why baker boy likes you."
Even under the influence of god-knows-what, she felt a little uncomfortable. Before she could ask the girl to please let go of her, Johanna pressed her lips to hers. Peeta was the only person she had ever kissed. He was all she knew. Whereas Peeta was kind and gentle, Johanna was rough and quick. Katniss might have yelped when she suddenly felt Johanna's tongue, but whatever was in her system was already taking effect. Peeta was back at that horrid black building, doing his best to help his brother. So what if she fooled around with an attractive friend? It wasn't hurting anyone.
Margaret Cresta
District 4 Female Tribute
"Are the doors still locked?" Gleam asked, casually holding his scythe on his shoulder. Margaret tried pushing open the elaborate doors, but they didn't budge. Since the start of the games, they had been open every day, only closing at night, which meant that they were in the end game now.
She turned around and shook her head. "No."
"Merde!" Gleam hissed, cursing in that strange language of his. Gleam had told them it was called French, and every child in District 1 was forced to learn it. It was a matter of pride for the district, something that set them apart from all the other districts. Well, all of them accept Ten, which Margaret remembered also kept alive an otherwise dead language.
For what Annie told her in her sisters fleeting moments of sanity, numerous languages other than English were spoken in the Capitol by the academic's, wishing to keep them alive.
When Gleam turned around, Margaret turned to look at Cassandra. The other girl met her eyes and an understanding passed through them. At this point in the games, Gleam was the most dangerous tribute to them. He was strong enough to lead the pack, and keep it together. He got the highest score in training, an eleven. Like Katniss Everdeen did last year, and she won. Margaret had seen the way he used that scythe. She knew he was deadly.
He lost his only ally. Now it was two on one. They'd both have better chances of taking him together. Then the two of them could clear out the rest of the field, and duke it out when they were the last two.
Then Margaret could finally go home. She missed her sisters dearly. Her mother and father. The scent of saltwater. Swimming in the ocean. Her life back in Four. The life the stupid quell took from her.
Hopefully, unlike Annie, with her sanity intact.
Cassandra slowly pulled out the curved sword from its sheath. Margaret mimicked her, drawing out three throwing knives. With his back turned, now was there best chance-
"Margaret," the sickeningly sweet familiar voice called. She could almost feel the blood drain out of her face when she heard his voice. Her head snapped right and she looked just in time to see a monstrous Neptune hurl a trident at her.
Margaret barely managed to duck, seeing Helene and Ryker (suffering the same kind of distortion) sprint out from behind him, running towards their district partners.
Neptune rushed at her. Margaret pulled back in time to weave out of the way of his claw. She brought up one of her knives, slashing his wrist. Neptune hissed but the attack didn't seem to faze him. His other claw raked across her chest, causing a deep stinging pain.
She twisted around him, grabbing the larger short sword. When Margaret turned to face him, Neptune had a hold of his trident again. She quickly glanced around the room, seeing Gleam and Cassandra locked in battle with their deceased district partners, refusing her attention on her demon.
A loud cracking sound of thunder filled the room before the green gas shoot out of the walls. Margaret had taken enough Games History glasses to know avoiding gas was the smartest option. It was even more deadly than Neptune.
Margaret turned around and ran to one of the hallways leading out. She could run towards the Cassandra, but the room was filling too quickly with gas and she didn't know if she could make it to her ally.
Heavy footsteps followed her. "Why are you running?" Neptune's mocking voice called from behind her. "I'm just here to bring you back to the hole! You didn't come to join us last time."
She turned the corner into another hallway and quickly turned around. Margaret stood her ground as Neptune turned the corner, and she slashed her sword out at him. The blade cut through his skin and the creature that was one her district partner howled.
It hurt her more than she would have liked to admit. Throughout the train ride and their time in the Capitol together, she had grown to like him. Margaret wished she had spent more time with him back in Four before they were both condemned to their fate. Margaret would have liked him, though if she might have followed in Annie's footsteps she didn't know.
It was too late for all of that. All that she could do now was shove her feelings somewhere deep down inside her and put Neptune out of his misery. How the Capitol could do what they did to him she would never understand.
She pulled the sword back and swung again, but Neptune caught the blade in his thick hand. Bloodshot out from where it made contact, but it didn't go in as far as she would have liked.
He brought his trident to her side, and Margaret quickly let go out her short sword, jumping out of the way. She couldn't avoid the tip ends of his weapons, slicing through the stomach of her skin.
Margaret pulled out another knife from her belt and stabbed it into Neptune's neck. It sank into his skin like butter, Neptune's body offering no resistance. When Margaret ripped it out, his hot blood soaked her face.
Breathing heavily, she slowly backed away from him. Margaret remembered one of the most basic combat classes she attended back at the center. The neck was one of the weakest spots on the body. One good cut or stab and that would end a life. They wouldn't die instantly, but it was a fatal wound...
Well, she thought that's what the instructors said. In the heat of the moment, remembering some combat lesson she attended years ago.
Was the thing in front of her Neptune? Now that Margaret had a chance to stop and think about it, she felt stupid for even considering it. There had been a few times in the games where mutts were made specifically to mimic the tributes. Like last year at the end confrontation, they had done just that. The mutt in front of her might look like Neptune, but it wasn't.
The mutt grabbed the spot where she cut into his neck, glaring at her. His bright blue eyes began to bleed, the iris's becoming red. In a grotesque display, his teeth extended into fangs, his face becoming more animalistic.
Letting out a screech, the mutt leaped towards her, faster than something with a fatal wound had any right to be. The mutt slammed against her, knocking her to the ground. The thing leaned down and bit into her neck.
The pain flared through her body, but she did her best to ignore it. Margaret slammed the last knife as hard as she could into the mutt's neck. The mutt died with a gurgle of pain. Its jaw loosened, and she pushed the body off of her.
Now it was her turn to grab her neck. She pressed down hard against the wound, recalling her survival training. Margaret knew she had to push pressure on the wound. Stop the bleeding.
A shadow passed over her head, and she looked up in time to see a parachute falling. Coming right at her, she reached up and grabbed it, pulling it out of the air. She didn't waste any time opening it. White gaze, and a small black box. She grabbed the box and opened it, finding a clear cream. Margaret dropped her fingers into it and whipped it on the wound on her neck.
The pain vanished, and she had just enough time to sigh in relief when a new pain shot up through her back.
Rye Mellark
District 12 Male Tribute
Rye walked slowly down the hallway, wondering if he looked as bad as he felt. He had spent the last two nights being haunted by Rance. Her ghost (or whatever it was) never letting him have a moment of peace. It was his fault she had died. How could he let her leave alone?
On and on it went, throughout the night. Rance only dissipated when the sun came up and illuminated the room they had stayed in. Rye had thought the day Peeta covered for him when he got into the flower was the worst day of his life. Watching his mother hit his brother had been seared into his mind. Even that didn't hold a candle to the hell he had gone through.
It was torture, unlike anything he could have ever imagined. More than anything though, he just wanted it to stop. Wherever he went, Rance followed him.
If that wasn't bad enough, her phantom had taken to hunting him during the day. Rance's image would appear anywhere. From standing in empty hallways, to her reflection in mirrors when it wasn't there. She would laugh and taunt the whole time. Leaving Rye with little a moment of peace.
He stopped at the end of a hallway, catching sight of a figure in the next room. At first, he thought it was Rance, and he waited for her to start speaking again, wondering if maybe this time a knife would finally silence her. Then he got a look at who it was. The girl from Four was sitting on the ground, her back to him. She was reaching up for a parachute.
As she started rummaging through it, Rye raised the make-shift gun Rance had created for him. A few days ago, he would be shaking at the thought of taking someone else's life. But the last two nights Rance had made his life miserable. He was tired of it and more than anything he just wanted it to stop. He wanted to go home, see his family and his girl, and just have a good night's sleep. The only way that could happen was by winning the games. The only way to win was to kill.
Rye pulled the trigger. The broken glass and metal shoot forward. A cannon fired.
Author's Note:
I hope you have enjoyed the eighteenth chapter!
I'm really iffy about this chapter. Not sure how the non canon Joniss scene will go down tbh, but... Well, I think could have possibly have happened, if the rebellion hadn't kicked off. This doesn't mean the end goal wouldn't be Peeta, but... Well, if I told you all the end game, that'd be spoilers XP
In case anyone was wondering, I ship both Everlark and Joniss. I'll just leave you with that little tidbit :3