Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. They belong to Suzanne Collins.
Note: Another canon and one whom I think was kind of underutilised in canon to be perfectly honest? I feel like me saying those exact words is becoming something of a trend at this point, haha. Anyway, Blight! Johanna claimed he 'wasn't much', but just how true was that really? Was there perhaps more to this guy than we ever learnt through Katniss' narration? I'm of the mind everybody has a story to tell and I'm more than eager to tell the tale of Blight to you all. Read on folks, I hope you enjoy this one!
"Not much, but he was from home," Katniss repeated. "You know, Johanna always did care a lot for her district… maybe saying Blight was from home was more of a compliment than either of us realised at the time?"
"Yeah, I can see that," Peeta agreed. "You know, there was one thing I did notice about Blight now that I think about it."
"What might that be?" Katniss asked.
"His hand. His left one that is, it was a fake. Saw him take it off to use as a back scratcher when we were being prepped for interviews," Peeta explained. "Not sure how he ended up losing it."
"I guess that's another mystery to add to the pile of stuff we don't know," Katniss remarked, soft and light.
53rd Annual Hunger Games
Name: Blight Jordan
Gender: Male
District: 7
Age: 16
Kills: 6
A Sting In the Tail: Five Times Blight Got Stung By Tracker-Jackers
#1
Blight was somebody who was hard to forget once he'd been met for the first time. Between his endlessly cheeky attitude, his talent for self-deprecative comedy and the boyish attitude he simply loved to dish out to his superiors and peacekeepers alike it added up to him being quite a stand-out in any room.
Naturally this sort of behaviour was not very well tolerated by the powers that be. He never did quite enough for anybody to have him killed or whipped, not technically. Naturally, the only logical thing to do was to dump him into one of the hands down most dangerous jobs his district had to offer. One that the higher-ups sincerely hoped would lead to Blight being killed, ideally before he was out of reaping age.
Removing tracker jacker nests.
Numerous nests remained from the Dark Days over fifty years prior, left as a showing of the Capitol's power. The terrible insects bred rapidly and for every nest taken out it seemed one would soon form to replace it. They were generally allowed to live undisturbed unless they were getting in the way of work and therefore the Capitol's labour quotas.
It was a sunny day in July a mere two days before the reaping of the Forty Ninth Hunger Games when one such nest was to be disposed of. The nest was atop one of the tallest trees in the forest, a massive redwood that the Capitol demanded be cut down for use in some fancy new wardrobes that were in demand in those days.
Of course, being so high up the issue was obvious; most of the disposal crew were far too big to get up that high and they lacked any tools that would work from a distance. They, along with all of District Seven, lacked one gun between them.
It fell to twelve year old Blight to remove the nest. He made it up to the top of the trees easily enough, a cheeky look on his face as he made sure to 'accidently' send a few twigs and branches to the peacekeeper observing him from the base of the tree.
"Hey! That was deliberate you little brat!" The peacekeeper shook his fist, scowling behind the helmet.
"Only if I don't like you, sir. Only if I don't like you," Blight called downwards.
A moment passed as the Peacekeeper tried to understand what he had he told. A few of the removal crew, most of them having run afoul of peacekeepers as well, started to discreetly snicker.
"…Hey!" the peacekeeper shook his fist again. "I heard that!"
"Why thank you, I'm glad that my voice is still working and at its correct volume," Blight laughed as he finally reached the nest. "Ok… careful now, nice and slow…"
Blight took a large hacksaw from his work belt and began to carefully saw through the branch. He paused once he was halfway through it, gazing downwards at his older work mates.
"Hey guys? You miiiight want to get running so you don't get tracker'd and jacker'd to death," Blight said, resuming his sawing.
The others of the removal squad and their peacekeeper 'guides' quickly vacated the area. It made it easy for Blight to speed up his sawing, no longer having a reason to be wary, and send the nest falling right down to the ground below.
The nest exploded and the tracker jackers flew away in a mad rage and panic. They'd not even realised that Blight was there in the first place.
All except one of them. The angry little bastard buzzed indignantly and made a charge right to where Blight was sitting.
Blight took one look at the incoming wasp and made a mad scramble to evade it. The wasp, of course, tracked him and intended to jack him, or failing that just sting Blight to buggary.
Blight swung through the trees like a sort of monkey with the furious tracker jacker in hot pursuit. On the ground far below they were hopelessly tailed by the rest of the disposal crew and the peacekeepers. Some wanted to save Blight and others wanted some cheap tea time entertainment. No prizes would be awarded for anybody who guessed which was which.
The haphazard and crazy chase lasted for five whole minutes before the tracker jacker finally managed to sting Blight upon his left arm. It left soon after that, if only because it had started to rain and like hell it was going to stay out in the downpour. It might die!
Blight fell not long after that, the sting all too agonizing for his young body to handle. Luck was on his side as he fell into a river that slowly flowed through the forest, slow enough for Blight to scramble out and start to wander around in a complete and utter daze.
From the perspective of his fellow removal staff and the peacekeepers it seemed like Blight was either drunk, drugged or both as he stumbled around in a mad circle. He soon eyed them the same way a cow might look at an oncoming train.
From Blight's perspective it seemed like a crowd of jelly babies standing upon an island made out of toast were giving him the evil eye.
After all, tracker jackers did cause particularly powerful hallucinations…
"Go jump off a cliff general jelly!" Blight slurred, pointing accusingly at the peacekeeper he'd been messing with mere minutes ago.
He then collapsed and entered what would be a week long coma. On the one hand his actions and success in the nest removal earned him a higher pay check and job security on the team in the weeks ahead.
On the other hand Blight was in total agony. Tracker jackers hurt like hell!
#2
Four years had past since the first time Blight had been stung by a tracker jacker and a lot had changed in that time.
Not only had Blight been stung twelve more times – a record low for somebody assigned for disposal duty of tracker jackers – but at the age of sixteen he was now in charge of his own removal crew and was starting to become one of the richest youths in the district. Big stakes, big pay and all that.
He was also one of the most cocky and reckless boys from around the district, often getting himself into trouble and not just with the genetically engineered wasps. Peacekeepers were practically on a first name basis with the boy who would talk back, pull highly petty pranks and sometimes prank call the peacekeeper barracks for the simple fact he was bored.
Alas, the fact was he'd destroyed a tracker jacker nest that had almost gotten Fir into a heap of trouble just a few months ago. It was an agreed fact of Seven that local Peacekeepers wouldn't do anything that would lead to Fir being upset. She was, after all, one of them in a sense. The boy would live just so long as he didn't resort to insulting the peacekeepers' mothers.
Blight was surprisingly on his best behaviour at the reaping for the Fifty Third Hunger Games. He was a troll, but not to the point of risking execution for showing up the authorities in Seven on live television. For the half hour or so he'd be stuck in the sixteen year old males section he'd behave.
That had been the plan at least, until he noticed a massive tracker jacker hive growing upon a tree right next to the twelve year old girls section of the reaping square. He knew all there was to know about those damn bugs and their gives. At best he'd give the nest five minutes before it fell, probably not even half of that.
Only one girl had to be taken to her likely death on that day. Blight was not going to let it be over a hundred. Of course, he had to avoid being seen leaving his assigned place or he'd be in heaps of trouble.
"Cover me," he whispered to the boys around him. "I'm going for that nest."
"Gonna chuck it at the stage?" one of the boys asked, curious.
"Almost. I'm gonna get rid of it before it can hurt anybody," Blight replied.
"…How is that 'almost'?" another boy asked, moving out of Blight's way.
Blight didn't respond. He moved fast and silent, almost like a sort of clean shaven ninja, towards his goal. He moved through each section containing the younger boys right under the noses of the peacekeepers. All it took was to point out the nest for the boys to not do a thing to rat him out.
Blight didn't even react as a girl from the sixteen year old sections was reaped to her almost certain doom.
He did, however, react when his own name was drawn not even a minute later.
"I'll be there in a moment!" he called, giving a wave. "Just getting rid of this nest before it stings all of these girls to death!"
The nation watched as the cameras focused on Blight carefully taking out a specialised sack and knocking the nest into it with a crooked branch. It seemed like the job had been taken care of and the day saved with almost no effort required.
That was when Blight noticed one lone tracker jacker had escaped falling into the sack and was practically glaring at him.
"Oh you've gotta be shitting me…" Blight muttered, groaning.
The nation went from watching in quiet awe to staring in bewilderment as Blight ran around the reaping square in a mad panic, shoving through the crowds and leaping over the barriers in all directions to try and evade the buzzing wasp. It ignored literally every single one of the hundreds of other targets in its path, as if Blight was the only thing in its world at that moment.
Blight evaded the tracker jacker for a grand total of seven minutes and ten seconds before it stung him in the back of his right leg. He collapsed moments after that, letting out one final curse to the vile mutt.
A peacekeeper stepped in to finish it off with a large fly swatter. He was soon carried to the reaping stage and dumped upon in in a graceless heap. Naturally nobody wanted to volunteer for him and so Blight's fate was sealed.
When he regained consciousness on the tribute train roughly five hours later his mentor, Jack, couldn't help but eye him in amusement. He grandly shook Blight's hand, laughing.
"You're a crazy son of a bitch, you know that?" Jack asked him, offering Blight a handshake. "You're also the fan favourite after that reaping. I think we're gonna get along just fine, you and I."
"I have that same feeling," Blight agreed, grinning widely as he shook Jack's hand. "Nice to meet you Jack… and who're you calling crazy? You're the one who smuggled a peacekeeper's taser into the arena and cheated."
"Cheating is such an ugly word," Jack said, putting on a loom of mock offense. "I prefer to claim that I took a few… creative liberties."
The pair began to laugh their asses off.
#3
Blight had to admit, he had really enjoyed the pre-Games events at the Capitol. The glamorous parade, the high adrenaline training days, the verbal banter with the careers (he was sure the boy from One was actually genuinely enjoying it, change his mind) and his particularly witty interview with Caesar Flickerman… all of it ended up being experiences he had nothing bad to say about.
Well, nothing aside the fact the Hunger Games were brutal, horrific and just plain cruel. But Blight was the same as pretty much anybody from the outlying districts in that regard. It was redundant to speak of what was a given thing.
His enjoyment was partly the fact he enjoyed the spectacle of it all and how he had so much leeway in what he was able to get away with saying – so long as he didn't say 'the Capitol sucks' it appeared he could pretty much tease and troll to his heart's content, and troll he did! – but it was also for another reason. A reason that was, admittedly, oddly specific.
Being indoors and playing the role of a celebrity meant he wasn't at any risk of being stung by a tracker jacker. It was literally the longest he had gone without seeing one of those buzzing monsters since he was twelve! Since then he normally saw them at least twice a day.
He was still smiling from his 'week off' even as his launch plate finally clicked into place and the countdown to the start of the Games began steadily ticking towards zero.
It was another forest arena that year, one that was densely filled with flora and with sunlight gleaming through the canopy of the woodland. The entire place was stuck in a state of endless autumn with leaves casually falling from the trees to be blown away in the wind.
The gong rang loudly and the Games began.
The career pack of four made a charge to the cornucopia with the outliers either running away, going midway in or making their own rush for the horn of plenty. The boy from Six didn't even make it halfway to the horn before he was stabbed by the girl from Two.
Blight managed to make it to the cornucopia before most of the others did, hoisting up a backpack over his shoulders and taking hold of an axe that had been leaning against the exterior of the silver horn. He ran off before the careers could turn their attention towards him.
Halfway towards the launch pedestals he was attacked by the girl from Nine, a spear clutched in her hands. She fought hard to try and take Blight down, even managing to puncture his left shoulder.
She was, however, a thirteen year old in over her head and it wasn't hard as all for Blight to swing the axe upside her head and smash it through her skull.
It was much harder for him to try and justify the murder to himself as he resumed his retreat, even as self-defence. With how easy it had been to disarm her he knew he could've gotten away without a kill. Alas, he hadn't done so.
"Focus, focus, focus," Blight told himself as he jogged through the forest. "Ack, fucking shoulder, oooooo it doesn't tickle! This bloody hurts!"
Blight kept on moving until he physically couldn't anymore. By that time eleven cannons had fired for all living tributes to hear with a twelfth cannon firing around half an hour later.
In any normal year it was a sort of unspoken rule that the gamemakers would not bring out the mutts until the first day had come to an end. No sense losing too many tributes too fast after all. However, Blight had gotten so far from the cornucopia in such a short amount of time that he had ended up coming across one of the tracker jacker hives that filled the forests. More would spawn as the Games went by and it just so happened he'd found one that had accidently been added by a soon-to-be-fired junior Gamemaker.
Naturally, one of the tracker-jackers had been lazily hovering near the ground when Blight walked past the tree.
Of course it had.
Yet another mad chase began with Blight trying his absolute best to evade the damn insect before it could do a thing to hurt him. Alas, tracker jackers are about ten times more persistent than an average career in most cases and eventually Blight was simply unable to keep himself moving fast enough to evade the tracker jacker.
He fell down in agony from the sting to the dirty ground while the tracker jacker swooped ahead and prepared to turn around to keep the 'fun' going.
It turned out to be a lucky thing indeed that it had stung Blight at that moment. It flew on mere meters before it hit itself into the forcefield. Touching the forcefield would kill a tribute in an instant in nine out of ten cases, so what hope did a wasp have?
Blight dragged himself away in the opposite direction while babbling absolute nonsense about strawberries of friendship and something about seeing four dozen peacekeepers in flaming bikinis. Yanking the stinger out from his arm only gave the most mild of relief.
He soon passed out in a bush, motionless aside soft and dazed breathing. He would remain unconscious within that bush for the first three days of the Games. By the time he finally woke up again he saw two sponsor parachutes beside him, one with a container of sting relief cream and the other with a set of tracker jacker handling gloves.
"Ha, was that all you guys had?" Blight asked as he set on his way not long after that. "My Grandma hit me harder than that when I was a baby!"
Blight did not actually have a Grandma, she having passed before he was even born, but nobody needed to know this.
All that was needed to be known was how there gamemakers had plenty more still to dish out. They always had more.
#4
It was a week and a half into the Games when the tribute count was knocked down to eight. Blight idly wondered what his family would say about him when they were interviewed about his progress within the games.
He wondered if they'd be sickened by the fact he'd murdered a young girl.
He didn't dwell on it much, both because he wasn't the sort to overthink things and also because he had quite a problem going on. The career pack was intact and naturally they now had half the numbers on their side. After what had happened the previous year they accepted nobody outside of One and Two, and their districts had made sure to only send in the most loyal of all the candidates they had. The pack was not going to break early this time around.
Blight knew he needed an ally. Of course, having missed a few days earlier on due to being stung by a tracker jacker had no idea who among the outliers was actually alive, only a few who weren't.
He hoped his list of potential allies wouldn't suck.
He wandered on and on without any sort of destination for over a day before he managed to find another tribute. In this case it just so happened to be the boy from Eleven.
"Greetings comrade!" Blight exclaimed as soon as he saw the boy. "Wanna be allies? There are four careers out there who need a good killing and I think if we work together one of us might be able to fuck the reaper and, you know, live."
Blight would later admit he probably should have seen it coming when the boy tried to murder him then and there.
The fact the boy had been holding a short sword soaked in blood probably should have served as a slight giveaway.
The chase lasted over fifteen minutes as Blight tore through the forest with the boy from Eleven pursuing him. Blight kept trying to sell the idea of an alliance to him as the boy closed in, only to no avail.
"Come on you silly bastard, you're gonna have to take on four careers alone if you kill me! Are you suicidal or something?" Blight asked, absolutely lost.
Eventually the boy from Eleven caught up to Blight and a particularly savage fight ensued. During the brawl Blight ended up losing his left hand after a particularly deadly swing of the boy's sword.
On the other hand the boy lost a whole lot more when Blight roughly threw him into a tree and a tracker jacker nest was dislodged.
Blight managed to evade the agonisingly stingy death of his would-be killer, but he didn't manage to evade the tracker jacker that had chased after him. It stung him in the back ten minutes later, leaving Blight to have to yank the stinger out and stumble around half-conscious.
He passed out not long after that, but thankfully not before he'd been sent some medical gear to at least somewhat take care of the stump where his hand had been.
"Nrrggghhh!" Blight bit into his sleeve as he tried to cauterize the wound. "To burn is to live! To bleed is to tell the reaper to suck it!"
The blood loss and the pain ended up making Blight pass out for a further five days. He woke up twenty minutes before a feast was called back at the cornucopia.
He didn't miss how the voice had addressed the 'final five tributes'.
A short message from Jack was all he needed after that to confirm his dread that it was just himself and the careers left.
"…I'm such a lucky bastard to have made it this far," Blight remarked. "Sure would be nice if my luck held out just a little longer."
#5
The career pack made it to the feast first, all of them more than fine to kill the last outlier first and only then start on each other. They casually ate the food on offer and drank down the water, making casual conversation as they waiting for their final opponent to show up.
"What if he doesn't show up?" the boy from Two asked. "For all we know he might be laying in a coma from the tracker jackers somewhere."
"Same rules apply, no breaking the alliance until his cannon goes off," the girl from Two replied, munching on a corndog that had been one of the many things available at the feast.
The careers were fine to agree to this and returned to their discussion about hover ball to pass the time until Blight finally decided to show up. It wasn't like they really had anything else to do.
Blight was keeping them waiting, but he would swear to the fact he had a good reason. He didn't want to die, duh!
He was also gathering ammo for the looming showdown against the careers. With one hand gone he needed all of the advantages he could get to level the playing field a bit.
It was why he'd been sponsored a special sack and a long wooden pole. To most tributes a near useless combination of items, but to Blight it was all he needed to win the Games.
Well, to be specific it was all he needed to be able to acquire the ammunition he'd need to stand a chance of winning.
He was only allowed so long to stall before the gamemakers began to make trees fall to ensure he picked up the speed a little. Or, rather, a lot.
Blight arrived at the cornucopia forty minutes later, around the time the pair from One were having an argument over who was the best hover ball player between Teff Withers and Davy Beckham. One shrill whistle caught their attention.
"Hey guys, having a good Games so far?" Blight asked, amusement flickering in his eyes. "For the record Teff is the better hover ball player."
"Told you!" the boy from One sneered at his district partner. "He gets it!"
"Ignore Admired, he's an idiot," the boy from Two grunted. "It's going well enough. Yourself?"
"Eh could be better," Blight said, raising his stump. "I gotta hand it to you, the gamemakers didn't make any of it easy this year."
The careers all groaned over the terrible pun, none moreso than the girl from Two.
"I say we gut him for that pun alone," she moaned, practically offended by the awful pun.
"What's your game Seven?" Admired asked. "You're one hand down and all alone. Why reveal yourself?"
"I was driven this way by the gamemakers. Not like I had a choice," Blight said, shrugging. "Besides, I needed to be here anyway to stand a chance at winning."
"What makes you think you have a chance?" the girl from One asked, readying herself to fight with a dagger in each hand."
"Well, I'm still alive aren't I?" Blight asked, giving the girl a wolfish sort of wink.
Blight waited for the careers to make it halfway towards him, tightly gripping the sack held securely in his hand.
"Oh, and I have this too," Blight added as he tossed the sack towards the careers. "Get fucked!"
The sack practically exploded into a cacophony of buzzing and fury as the tracker jackers flew out from within in one furious swarm. The girl from Two was overwhelmed instantly and stung to a terrible death about three instants after that. The pair from One screamed and wailed as they, too, were left to the mercy of the tracker jacker swarm. Neither lived to see the start of another minute.
The boy from Two was the exception. Ferrus had the good sense to run from the moment Blight through the sack, even before he knew what was contained within. He had been far enough away to not take the brunt of the swarm like his bloated, deceased allies had.
He was, however, still in range of the nasty insects.
As it turned out, Blight was as well.
Both boys suffered several stings before the swarm flew off into the ether, recalled by the gamemakers to avoid a complete wipe-out situation. The nation watched as the pair staggered around in a complete trance, taking swings and swipes at things that were not there.
The boys didn't see the lack of anything that the nation did. They believed they were fighting against disco raptors that only spoke in morse code as the sky turned into fire around them. It wasn't long before the 'fight' came to an end, the two teens collapsing to the ground in a dying daze.
One sting from a tracker jacker was bad, but anybody could tell you that five stings was an insane amount to suffer.
Ferrus was far bigger and bulkier than Blight was, so the poison of the stings wouldn't affect him quite as fast as it would to Blight.
Blight was smaller and lacked a left hand, but he'd been stung over a dozen times by these terrible wasps in his lifetime. He'd built up something of a resistance to the force of the stingers.
Both boys lay dying and absolutely out of it as the stingers did their worst to them. In all the panic and pain Blight managed to tear out two of the stingers before, like Ferrus, he passed out.
This was all it took to ensure that the cannon wasn't for him.
Blight awoke a total of two weeks later, the effects of the venom finally out of his system. The first person he saw was Jack, the thief having stopped by to check on him. The pair exchanged identical grins and a hi-five.
"Blight, I take back what I said on the train," Jack said. "You're not a crazy son of a bitch… you're THE crazy son of a bitch!"
Blight let out a loud laugh, feeling more alive than he had in weeks.
"Don't forget ridiculously attractive. The world needs to know that part," Blight said, still laughing.
"Rest in piece Blight," Peeta whispered. "You know, seeing Blight's portrait down there… it makes me realise how lucky I was."
"How do you mean?" Katniss asked. "As in, specifically."
"I hit the forcefield too. I'm only still here because Finnick was there to save me," Peeta gazed down at Blight again, bereft. "It's just too bad Finnick wasn't there for Blight as well."
Katniss gave Peeta's hand a comforting squeeze. They remained holding hands as they made their way to the next victor immortalised on the long street.
The face of an awkward looking boy stared back up at them. His mop top of hair was somewhat stringy, and he almost seemed a little startled by something unknown. His smile seemed strangely wide, as if he was trying to force a look of coolness.
"Bentley," Katniss read. "The 'male morphling' I called him. How could I not know his name?"
"In fairness he didn't really say his name to us. We were… more occupied with our own lives," Peeta said, squeezing Katniss' hand.
"I guess so," Katniss paused to look at the sky, wistful. "But… you'd think we'd have at least heard the name of the most famous rapper in Panem once or twice over the years. That diehard fan of his won only two years before we did, and we all know she loved to chatter about him."
Tracker jackers have always been a thing of this series that have both intrigued and discomforted me. Naturally it was only logical to have a chapter where they play a central role. The Capitol may leave them in the districts, but it strikes me as likely they'd want nests removed if they are slowing down work. From there the concept of removal crews and thus Blight's backstory fell together perfectly, just like dominoes. Hope you all liked reading about the cheekiest victor from Seven and all the trouble he got himself into, and directly caused. It was a lot of fun writing this crazy chapter, haha. Next time we visit Seven things won't be quite so fun… but until then, stay tuned for the next victor. Time for D6 to show us what they're made of once again! :D
Stats
District 1: Peridot Gaudy (8th Games), Crystal McCree (14th Games), Bronze Marley (19th Games), Crown Martins (24th Games), Dollar Dettwieller (32nd Games), Mascara Court (41st Games), Platinum Twist (44th Games)
District 2: Baron Overwhill (4th Games), Runa Peace (7th Games), Olga Machete (10th Games), Rook Valiant (17th Games), Boulder Atherston (20th Games), Vercingetorix Carnby (25th Games), Dragon Batofel (27th Games), Rhyder Overwhill (39th Games), Mercy Gregor (46th Games), Brutus Gunn (49th Games), Lyme Rabe (51st Games)
District 3: Honorius Perthshire (5th Games), Pi Orbit (22nd Games), Beetee Latier (37th Games), Wiress Plummer (47th Games)
District 4: Museida Selkirk (3rd Games), Mags Flanagan (11th Games), Tide Luther (23rd Games), Librae Ogilvy (35th Games), Anchor Paddock (52nd Games)
District 5: Shunt Gaspar (12th Games), Isobel Sparks (18th Games), Crimson Flanders (29th Games), Porter Tripp (38th Games), Neon Erg (48th Games)
District 6: Chassis Macalister (31st Games)
District 7: Pliny Aransio (2nd Games), Fir Buzz (9th Games), Jack Tylos (21st Games), Snag Nakamura (34th Games), Blight Jordan (53rd Games)
District 8: Woof Casino (16th Games), Paige Murphy (30th Games), Spool Nylon (42nd Games)
District 9: Mizar Aldjoy (1st Games), Gwenith Rosebud (13th Games), Teff Withers (28th Games), Laurel Flamsteel (36th Games), Tabbock Summers (43rd Games)
District 10: Stallion March (26th Games), Lammy Phyronix (40th Games)
District 11: Bear Redfoot (15th Games), Seeder Howell (33rd Games), Chaff Mitchell (45th Games)
District 12: Duke Saint-Rose (6th Games), Haymitch Abernathy (50th Games)