Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. They belong to Suzanne Collins.
Note: Time for another decade to begin! A decade full of careers and canons, the former fact certainly a good thing to make up for the general lack of them in the decade just gone, but as it happens this chapter's victor is neither canon nor career. He's something wholly different and not exactly viewed kindly upon. What could Logger have done to earn such a bad reputation, considering all of the victors have killed at least one tribute, whether out of self-defence or a mercy kill? Read on and witness the tale of the 'District Traitor'.
"Part of me hopes he didn't make it through the rebellion alive," Katniss said, a cold look in her eyes. "I know, it's probably messed up to hope he went down, but… you remember what he did, right?"
"I can't forget it," Peeta agreed. "I'd not wish him dead… moreso that he'd leave and never bother anybody else again. I just can't support him."
"Nobody would blame you for that. Not when his own district hated him," Katniss said, shaking her head. "Do you think the Games caused that nasty side of his to break out, or do you think his cowardice would've had something like that happen eventually anyway?"
"I honestly don't know," Peeta replied. "All I know is the Sixty First Games were even worse than most Games normally were."
"Here, here," Katniss agreed.
The pair held a brief moment of silence, more out of principle than any particular liking towards Logger. The district traitor had very few fans, especially amongst his fellow victors from Seven.
61st Annual Hunger Games
Name: Logger Barlow
Gender: Male
District: 7
Age: 18
Kills: 2
Cowardice and Bravery
Betrayal and Loyalty
Logger and Librae
The 61st Hunger Games
In District Seven the youths tend to be on the stronger side, even those of little money and much hunger. Living in a district where swinging an axe at trees for more than forty years is just a fact of life inevitably builds up plenty of muscle in the children and teenagers, easily putting them in good shape for when they grow into full time forced lumberjacks and lumberjills.
Well, at least until some nasty accident inevitably happens on the job anyway.
Logger was certainly one of these people. He did, after all, stand an an impressive six feet and five inches with a particularly solid set of abs to go with it. He looked like one hell of a prime specimen physically and he wasn't dumb either. He seemed like a solid young man with a perfect set of skills.
Perception is not always reality. After all, Logger was something very few in Seven could be described as and even fewer would admit to being.
He was a coward, all the way up to the levels of a dirty rat. Many of the young tree choppers of Seven were, if not incredibly brave, at least willing to stand up for family and do what was right when the chips were down.
Logger was the sort to crack under any sort of pressure and sell out anybody to save his own skin, even if just slightly. He'd do it whether it was selling out people who once called him a friend to Peacekeepers, backing up a hooligan in something morally ambiguous to evade being punched or even getting his own uncle send to the stocks after stealing a slice of bread, all to try and win a little favour with the new, stricter peacekeepers who had been deployed.
Needless to say, but it shall be henceforth said anyway, Logger was an unpopular piece of shit.
Logger didn't care about how unpopular he was, not when it meant he was alive and well. Popularity wasn't any good if he was dead. It was every man for himself in a nation like Panem.
All of this made Logger an outcast even within his own home. His family were upstanding and loyal folk, third generation owners of a fine shoe store. More than that, they were brave and loyal. They weren't happy with Logger's constant displays of cowardice.
"There's a difference between safety and cowardice," his father had said once or twice or thrice… or a dozen times.
Logger never saw that difference. As far as he was concerned the only way to remain safe, alive and well was to side with whoever had power at any given moment and do whatever they said or anything it took to impress them. It had helped him live to the age of eighteen and gotten him safely through six of his seven reapings.
It didn't get him through his last reaping.
It was a very eventful reaping that year, not only from the distant boom of thunder amongst the grey clouds, but for the reactions when the female tribute was reaped. The escort – this year dressed as a can of tomato soup – pranced over to the girls' reaping bowl and, after taking an eager gander down at the pens of children, plucked a name from within.
She didn't even pretend it wasn't a fix.
"Bloom Nakamura!"
From the twelve year olds section emerged a little brunette, shaking from her shoes to her blouse. Her three elder sisters in the fourteen year olds section could only sob, horrified for their sister but none quite brave enough to volunteer for her. Off in the audience to the side their mother, Paisley, was already sobbing.
On the stage with his fellow victors Snag almost had a heart attack.
Her daddy may have been able to win and become exempt from four of his reapings, but this didn't spare Bloom the process all children of the districts were forced to go through. She stood on the reaping stage, not a volunteer to be found, and tried not to cry.
She, despite what many would be forgiven for assuming, did not shed any tears. She put on her bravest face, knowing her daddy won with far worse odds than whatever she had. If he could do it, so could she.
The escort said some simpering words, calling Bloom 'cute' and moved over to the boy's reaping bowel. Logger prayed with all his heart that any of the boys around him would be taken away to the Capitol. Anybody, from the youngest to eldest boy in the reaping square. Just not him!
"Logger Barlow!"
Logger lacked any of the soft sort of dignity that Bloom had shown. He openly wept as he slowly shuffled his way towards the stage, openly pleading for somebody to take his place before it was too late. Why should he have to go when others objectively had a better chance to win?
His only answer was a soft howl of the wind and several glares being sent his way. Few were fond of the well known self-serving coward of their district and lacked a reason to take his place in the arena.
Bloom held herself together throughout the goodbyes within the judgement building, assuring her sisters that she wasn't mad at them and telling her mama she loved her. She felt as ready as she could be for what lay ahead. After all, she had the best mentor there ever was, didn't she?
Logger didn't hold himself together at all. He cried and snivelled for the whole time his family were there, shrieking in fear and accusing his younger cousin for not taking his place. He hadn't much hope at all in his mentor of the year, Fir.
Normally twelve year olds were quickly written off by the Capitol and the burly eighteen year olds were seen as the obvious frontrunners at the reapings, but in that year District Seven broke tradition. Brave little Bloom already had plenty of fans and support while Logger had been written off as an unpatriotic cry baby.
The cry baby part was right. He stayed up all night doing exactly that.
Librae had not chosen to go to the Capitol that year. She waved off Tide and Anchor, the mentors for that year, with a slightly goofy smile on her face until the tribute train had left the train station.
She let her smile drop as soon as she was back in her own house. It was a year without volunteers of any sort, so it was unlikely that the tributes were going to get along with the most greedy and arrogant of Fours victors. They'd entered the Games for fame and fortune, after all.
The two thirteen year olds were doomed.
Librae felt bad for them, but she couldn't go along to the Capitol that year. The official excuse was that the team simply had not needed her and that she was going to practise surfing for an upcoming championship.
The real reason was fuck the Games, she had Peacekeeper pirates to deal with.
It had been years now since several Peacekeepers, pissed off with their poor wages and having to obey very scant amounts of rules in their duty, had broken away from Capitol rule and stationed themselves off shore in stolen boats. Every so often they'd come to the shore somewhere in Four and pillage, burn and otherwise just cause terror. The Capitol, being located far inland from what the pirates could actually do, were content to do nothing and just act like the problem was not even there. Not like it was really effecting quotas, just District Four's quality of life.
Librae had decided that if the Capitol would do nothing… she would. It had all been worked out pretty well overall. She and a squad of others who cared for their home and opposed the pirates would be heading out to open water and taking the fight right to them. A couple hundred homemade bombs and firearms would see the job be completed.
Librae left her home unseen and without any suspicion cast upon herself as she made her way through the streets of Four, her typical doofus expression firmly upon her face. She's perfected it ever since her own Games ended.
She didn't want to meet the fate that Orion and her dear escort Tuti, even if she strongly believed Orion had deserved what terrible death had befallen him.
It was this training at pretending to be a total goober that made it so easy to reach the boat as planned and meet up with her fellow anti-pirate squad.
"Hey dudes!" Librae explaining, waving to them in greeting. "Ready to bring the gnarly fight to those bastards out at sea?"
"Yes dude yes!" her squad replied, all saluting and cheering eagerly.
With Games season being the focus of everybody nobody really noticed that an extra fishing ship had left the docks that day. None among the Capitol staff located there had noticed the papers and permit for fishing far out at sea were forged.
The training centre was a place that tended to bring out the very best and very worst in tributes. The Sixty First Games were no exception to this whatsoever, whether it was the girls from One and Two massacring dozens of dummies with their daggers or the girls from Ten and Twelve sobbing off in dark corners, already resigned to death and crying for their parents.
Logger and Bloom demonstrated both sides of the spectrum this year and left an impression upon the other tributes and the gamemakers.
Bloom left a strong impression. Despite being the youngest tribute she refused to let anybody see her cry. She spent the training days working her butt off trying to gain muscle, skills and some kind of an alliance. The boy from Six, one year her elder, was agreeable enough and the two youngsters had things seemingly worked out, at least for the opening seconds. The gamemakers had to hand it to Bloom, she'd really adapted to being rigged into the Games and was showing herself to be surprisingly adept with a short scimitar. A twelve year old victor had never happened – only the little bastard who escaped a few years prior – but it certainly was not intended to be something impossible.
She scored an eight.
Logger left a terrible impression. He was scared to go near most of the other tributes aside the very young ones, paranoid that any of them could kill him at a moment's notice. His bulky form and intimidating fists soon became useless when it became so obvious to the rest that he was a complete coward. That, and a big suck up.
Logger followed the careers around, trying his best to buddy up with them and get them to like him. If he could fit into the powerful pack then his worries were gone, at least for a while. The careers found him to be a desperate, annoying pest. The boy from One mostly just found him amusing, like how one might look at a goofy pet. They made it clear, through the use of thrown food and plates on the third day of training, that he was not welcome in their pack and that they had no use for such a pathetic sell-out. They didn't want somebody who would fold so easily and likely betray anybody in sight to get ahead. Logger could only weep, his plan falling apart under himself.
He scored a four.
The interviews, similarly, showed tributes at their best and worst. The careers left the audience eager and slightly intimidated. The Fives really didn't manage to do much of anything aside garner a few awkward coughs.
Bloom won the hearts of the audience with her tales of her family, how amazing her daddy was at being a mentor and that she was gonna go down as the youngest victor there ever was. She wasn't afraid and she was ready to survive! All this and her dress smelt of fresh forest fruit. She was an easy stand-out for many. Sponsors were sending in pledges before her interview ended.
Logger won the dubious honour of being the most hated tribute by the audience. A bad boy or a big villain was one thing, but a cry-baby begging for his life and promising outrageous things in exchange for sponsors? So unpatriotic and pathetic. Caesar felt really bad for him, not that he could allow himself to be biased, and tried to bring things around. Alas, even the mighty charisma of Caesar failed to do a thing to help Logger. The cowardly lumberjack hadn't so much shot himself in the foot as he had nuked his toes into dust.
He spent the last night before the Games locked away in his room, trying not to cry. He failed on all accounts.
He didn't leave his room. He didn't want to see Bloom spending the night with Snag, father and daughter watching the TV together.
He missed the broadcast that the largest Capitol bank had been robbed and the culprit had vanished. He missed how Snag silently facepalmed, torn between exasperation and glee. True to the promise he'd made on the last night before the second quell Jack had robbed the bank to get sponsor funds for Snag's offspring.
What's a thief without keeping his few legit promises?
Librae's mission was ongoing and wasn't exactly going as fast as she had assumed. The Peacekeeper pirates were far offshore, far beyond the most distant of oil rigs the Capitol had set up and left in semi-disuse.
Librae was starting to wonder if she should have packed a GPS.
"Dudes, what do we do?" Librae asked her crew. "We've been out here for almost a week now. We only have enough supplies for three more weeks."
"Keep the boat moving, that's what," the Captain replied. "We'll have to come across them eventually."
"Maybe we could make some kind of a beacon? Something to draw them in a bit closer?" Librae suggested, gesturing to one of the large harpoon guns set up on the tip deck. "Close enough to nail 'em with that?"
"Let's give it three or four days. After that, why not?" The Captain nodded, turning to gaze down at the crew. "Think this lot are gonna be able to wait things out for that long?"
The Captain and the surfer looked at the crew below, the lot of them singing some kind of a goofy song across the top deck complete with dancing and an awkward amount of dancing.
"We've got cabin fever, we lost what sense we had! We got cabin fever, we're all going mad!"
The Captain facepalmed while Librae could only force an awkward grin, a helpless sort of groan escaping her lips.
"I'm really starting to worry about this voyage, dude."
Logger was sobbing before his launch plate had even clicked into place. The countdown was halfway over before he'd wiped away enough of his tears to get a good look at the arena around him. It was a tiny mercy, but at least this it wasn't anything like the vile swamp of the year prior.
It was another grand outdoor arena full of nature's majesty. Beautiful grassy mountains were all around, a distantly visible wind billowing up at the highest peaks. A grand forest covered much of the low ground, all of the trees fresh and rather fragrant. A big clear lake was to the east of the silver cornucopia and, though none of the tributes could see it, it was just one of seven gorgeous lakes within the arena. Clearly the gamemakers had been thinking ahead to when the arena would open as a tourist hot spot after the Games were over.
Logger glanced around, trying to work out what the hell to do. The girl from One was to his direct left while the tough boy from Eight was to his right. Bloom was a distance away, gazing intently at a backpack a few meters from her own pedestal. She, unlike Logger, seemed determined.
She wasn't close to wetting herself.
The girl from One gave Logger a rather sinister smirk. "Ready to get chopped up like a tree?"
The gong ran only seconds later. The threat, and all of Logger's other fears, was all it took for him to let out the most high pitched scream in the past eight years of the Games and run for his life into the forest, blubbering as he went.
He was so fast that he he'd already make it a hundred yards before the first splashes of blood were spilt upon the ground. The screams of agony and despair only made him thunder even faster through the wild forest.
Logger may have chosen to run for his life, but Bloom had not. She ran to grab up the backpack and then made the careful charge towards the side of the cornucopia where a short scimitar had been placed down for her. She dodged the brawl between the boys from Four and Eight, jumped over the corpse of the boy from Twelve, rolled right under the boys from Two and Five who grabbled hand to hand and, to top it all off, ducked under a thrown axe from the girl from Three.
She managed to grab her bounty and speedily run for her life into the forest as well. Unfortunately her ally from Six did not manage to make it out with her.
He'd had his head smashed wide open on his launch pedestal by the boy from One. Bloom could only sympathetically weep at the sight as she fled the carnage going on at the silver horn.
The bloodbath finally ended twenty minutes later when the boy from One finished torturing the little girl from Four, having grown bored of knifing her all over. As her body hit the ground the cannons began to fire.
Ten cannons overall. A sombre sound to Bloom's ears, the loss of innocent life being a terrible thing.
They were music to Logger's ears, confirmations that he was already much closer to home than before.
Librae hauled herself back onto the boat, taking the time to make sure the crew member who had fallen overboard safely got back on first. She approached the captain, ringing her hair out, with a slightly exasperated look in her eyes.
"That's the sixth crew member to fall overboard since our voyage began," Librae said, slightly bewildered.
"It's not a good look. Honestly, I'm amazed we've got lost anybody outright just yet," the Captain paused, as if doubting her own words. "Actually, I'm not so sure we haven't."
"Maybe we should do a roll call?" Librae suggested. "Not like we got anything else to do. No sign of those pirates yet."
It wasn't long after this that the crew were all gathered together on the top deck and the Captain had a paper pad and pen to start taking attendance.
"Alright, so lately I've noticed some of you have been falling overboard. Librae's been going a great job keeping you all alive, but she's just one women. We want to be sure she's not missed somebody," the Captain explained.
"Right on. So, like, just yell something out to confirm to us that you're still here," Librae added. "Or, if you can't speak for whatever reason, jump up and down like a total goober."
"Yeah, basically that," the Captain looked down at the list. "Alright, first up, Fisheggs Malloy."
"Here!"
"Bandy Andy."
"Here!"
"Clueless Niel."
"Here… I think?"
"Black eyed pea?"
"Here!"
"Old Tom?"
An old man raised his hand. "Here!"
"Dead old Tom?"
A withered and bony old man weakly raised his hand. "Here…!"
"Dead Tom?"
One of the crew members held up a skeleton and made it wave to the captain like a sort of puppet.
"…Okay, I think?" The Captain awkwardly cleared their throat. "What the? … Big-Fat-Ugly-Bug-Face-Baby-Eating Barracuda?"
"I'm rIghT HerE!"
The Captain gave Librae a helpless sort of look, looking like she regretted the voyage oh so very much.
"Who hired this crew, Librae?" she asked.
"Beats me. I just asked who wanted to assist in getting rid of the pirates and, boom, here they are. I didn't pick any of them specifically," Librae managed to lightly giggle. "Might as well have one last laugh before the battle begins right?"
"…I guess so," the Captain replied.
Logger stumbled through the darkness of the arena during the third night, covered in all kinds of grime and filth from the forest. His eyes were twitching madly, his breath was shaky and far from sounding normal and, most of all, he was sobbing.
He'd hardly stopped sobbing in terror since the Games had begun. He'd not seen any other tribute since the Games began, but that did nothing to ease his terror. He was convinced all of them wanted to kill him.
Ten were left aside himself, the entire career pack among them. Thoughts of their sharp weapons and deadly sadism had him sobbing without much time required.
"Why… why…" Logger sobbed as he made his way over a few logs on the forest floor. "I wanna go home…"
Terrified Logger may have been, but he wasn't unobservant. He had keen hearing and heard the shadowy figure slowly approaching him before they were faintly visible within the darkness.
Logger reacted instantly, pure panic and survival instincts driving his actions. He grabbed one of the logs laid upon the ground and, without looking to see what weapons his adversary was holding, lunged at them with a frantic screech.
It was over in seconds. A few smashes of the log was all it took for the agonised screams and sobs to come to a sudden end, but Logger's panic and cowardice ensured he did not stop for another three minutes.
The corpse of the girl from Nine was hardly recognisable by that point. A small thing indeed, the girl had no weapons on her and had clearly been slowly dying of hunger. She'd only approached Logger in hopes of him being willing to share even a single grape with her.
With bits of brain and splatters of the girl's blood staining his shirt Logger took off through the darkness once again, all the more desperate to find some form of safety within the terrible arena.
It was late at night out on the ocean, the crew having still not yet located the pirates. Librae sat below deck watching transmission incoming from the mainland of Panem. For the most part it was just Fiona and Lawrence reruns.
Specifically, the arc where Lawrence turned into a flesh eating zombie.
"Too bad we didn't get any popcorn before setting sail," Librae mused, kicking back and laying her feet upon the desk she was sitting at. "Would've been great. Ah well."
It wasn't long before Librae got bored of watching Fiona and Lawrence, instead starting to flip channels on the old television. Alas nothing was on.
Nothing aside a breaking news bulletin.
Librae watched the recap of the Hunger Games with sadness, nothing but pity in her heart for the dead children from District Four. Neither had lasted long, just as she had predicted.
It was the report from a Capitol newscaster that really got her attention.
"Breaking news. Thanks to reclaimed public records thought to be lost and recently obtained footage from sunken ships far out to sea from District Four, we can now confirm the identity of the leader of the Peacekeeper pirates. Once a Peacekeeper and later a Gamemaker, Rutile North has been spotted leading his fellow pirates into raids aboard cargo ships, stealing Capitol supplies and leaving the crews aboard the boats feeling slightly inconvenienced."
Librae was partly focused on being annoyed that the poor dead sailors of Four had not been properly acknowledged, let alone even been named. But it wasn't just that which held her attention. Her eyes were wide, a sort of horrified recognition within them when little bits of footage were played on the screen, all the gory parts removed to ensure the Capitol citizen's bubble would not be popped.
The very old man looked hateful and sadistic, that much anybody could figure out. But Librae saw something even worse about the man from only a second of observing him.
It was the same man who had beaten her dad into a coma he'd never woken from before he died. The same one that had her mother killed. The same one who observed her private training sessions almost thirty years ago. The same one that dragged her away from the party where Orion met his horrific fate.
"…Rematch," Librae whispered, starting to ball her fists. "Revenge."
It was the afternoon of the seventh day in the arena and Logger was exhausted. He was out of supplies, out of options and all but out of luck. It was a miracle that he'd managed to survive to the top eight tributes of the Games.
He staggered weakly through a forest clearing, branch in hand. He'd not drank anything in almost two days and by now his body, strong as it was, had begun to shut down.
"Please… please…" Logger weakly gazed at the sky high above the canopy of the breezy forest. "Water, please… I'll do anything… I don't wanna die…"
No parachutes came down. It was only a few minutes later that Logger finally collapsed on the ground, starting to slowly die in the mud. He could only let out the most pitiful of whimpers.
He would have been dead before sundown if Bloom hadn't been the tribute who found him. The little girl, still maintaining her humanity and kindness even a week into the Games, did not hesitate to drag her district partner out of the mud and press her metallic bottle of water to his lips.
Logger awoke two hours later, a little of the life within him restored. He still felt like shit, that was for certain, but at least he was somewhat able to think clearly now. Gone was his thirst and… did he smell meat?
His gaze landed upon the small figure sitting on a stump, watching him with a contemplative look and a knife in her hands.
"…Bloom?" Logger choked out.
Bloom dropped the knife and any attempt at being serious. Tackle hugging Logger was clearly the more important thing to be doing at that point.
"Oh my gosh you're aliiiiiiiive!" Bloom squeaked, hugging Logger tightly.
It was a few moments of shrill screaming and panicking before Logger realised that Bloom was not trying to kill him. On the contrary she was being downright friendly to him, practically acting like a little sister would. At least, how he imagined one would at any rate.
"Uh… hi?" Logger eventually said. "What happened?"
"You nearly died, but then you didn't die," Bloom help up her water bottle up proudly. "I gave you water!"
At around the time the audience were awwww'ing over the little girl from Seven Logger was starting to wonder if she was a threat to his safety or might have gone a little crazy. He'd hardly spoken to her before the Games – was she always so perky and playful, even in such a horrible situation?
"Why did you save me?" Logger asked, dusting some dried mud off of his shirt. "It's kill or be killed, every man and women for themselves in here. Bloom, it's the Hunger Games, last one to scream wins."
"Uh huh, I know that," Bloom replied, cheeky enough to practically roll her eyes. "I've twelve, not dumb… but deathmatch or not, leaving you to die would be rude. Rude Logger! Mama always said it's bad to be rude!"
And that, seemingly, was that. Logger had lucked into gaining an ally and being saved from death. He could only try to keep up with Bloom as she led him in a random direction through the forest, the plan being to find a cave or something similar.
He kept himself alert for any sign of trouble nearby. He wanted to be sure he could alert Bloom and ensure both of them could run like hell the second things looked bad.
And if things looked really, really bad… well, it would not be the first time he'd leave somebody behind to whatever fate had in store for them.
Bloom was nice, sure, but only one could live. It had to be him.
It just had to.
There had been no sign of the Peacekeeper pirates even after a week out at sea and the crew were beginning to get impatient. None moreso than Librae. The surfer woman had decided that enough was enough and it was time to lure the pirates over to the ship.
To that end she'd set off a few rafts, each oi them set ablaze with fuel and firewood. After that all it took was anchoring the ship and waiting for Rutile and his pirates to make their way towards them.
She'd be ready for them.
"You sure this is a good idea?" the Captain asked the victor.
"Uh huh. Totally dude… and hey, we came out here to fight the pirates. Not to sail around and sing sea shanties," Librae replied, her focus remaining upon the object she was fiddling with upon the table.
"I guess you're right. I'll keep a guard rotation going on. They won't be able to sneak up on us," the Captain glowered a little. "I'll take pleasure sinking their damn ships. After all the people they've murdered…"
"Got that right dude," Librae agreed, her voice uncharacteristically cold.
The Captain glanced at the vengeful look on Librae's face and then down at the object upon the table. It was Librae's surfboard, a set of bladed spikes almost attached to the front just like how it looked in the finale of Librae's own Hunger Games.
"…Okay, something is bugging you. What's up?" the Captain asked. "I mean, aside the obvious stuff. What's bothering you specifically?"
Librae attached the spikes onto the front of the surfboard. They fit together with a metallic click of absolute finality.
"Their leader is the one who killed my parents. He took my family and my childhood away from me," Librae replied, clenching her fists until her knuckles turned white. "Simple surfer or not, I'm giving him hell."
The Captain laid a hand upon Librae's shoulder.
"We'll all give them hell," the Captain said, a dark smirk on her face.
The eighth night in the arena was a night that nobody could ever forget, not even long after the Hunger Games came to their end.
It was the night Logger crossed a line that nobody could forgive.
He and Bloom had been making good progress through the arena, making a beeline for a mountain. The idea wasn't a bad one – seek high ground and prevent tributes from being able to sneak up on them.
The cannon that had fired during the day gave them the extra push needed to keep moving. Logger had been nothing short of delighted to see that the boy from One had been the tribute to meet his demise. It had been a nasty bear mutt that did it, not that Logger knew this.
They'd planned to just take a two hour rest in the depths of the forest. It was only meant to be a power nap before the journey to the mountains resumed.
It was all the time the careers needed to track them down. Even after taking a few scratches and hits from the bear they were far from unable to hunt and kill their prey.
It seemed that the Sevens had no chance whatsoever before the careers began hacking them to pieces with their sharp weapons. They were forced onto the knees as the career trio circled around them, laughing mockingly.
Bloom kept her head held high. Even in the face of her death she would not let anybody see her cry. She took the time to look at a nearby camera and tell her family she loved them. She was terrified, just like anybody would be, but she was still herself at heart right to the end. She wasn't going to be anything but herself in her final moments.
Logger had quite a different plan. He begged and sobbed for his life.
"Please, please! Don't kill me!" he begged, breaking down and wailing. "I'll do whatever you want me to! I'll be your servant! I'll give you anything you want! Money, fame, treasure, power, your own galaxy, please!"
The careers exchange a few awkward looks. How exactly did the cowardly lumberjack plan to give them a galaxy of all things? That was something even the Capitol would freely admit was impossible.
Logger didn't cease his crying and pleading. Not even Bloom's quiet attempts to comfort him did anything. His voice was cracking and reaching an almost impossibly high pitch as the boy from Two stood over him, a large axe gripped in his massive hand.
"I'll do anything!" Logger sobbed. "Anything!"
The boy from Two put a hand to his chin, thinking this over. Sure, Logger was clearly a coward and a sell-out, but he did have some muscle. He'd be a good pack mule. But did he really mean it when he said anything? The boy from the masonry district doubted it very much, but since when was it no fun to give somebody an impossible challenge?
Not like the coward would actually do it.
"Anything, you say? Alright, we'll let you join us if you can do one little thing for us," the boy from Two teased.
"Anything!" Logger whimpered, tears welling up in his eyes.
The boy from Two pointed to the knife fallen at Logger's side and then towards Bloom. "Cut her to pieces and you can join us."
Logger did not hesitate. Not even for one second.
The careers watched, stumped and perhaps even a little bit horrified, as Logger instantly tackled Bloom to the ground and began stabbing and cutting away at her tiny body. Her pleads for mercy,. her cries of betrayed despair, her sobs that she had trusted him… all of it quickly turned into bloody gurgles as Logger kept stabbing and slashing away at her without a moment's delay.
By the time Logger was finished doing the deed he was covered in blood, Bloom was hardly recognisable anymore, the careers were wide eyed…
…And District Seven were nothing short of sickened. They no longer wanted to win the Games. They wanted Logger dead. He was no longer welcome home.
That was to say nothing of Snag's own despair or that of Paisley and Bloom's sisters. All of them were screaming, vomiting and close to passing out.
Logger hardly seemed to even register what he had done, simply lowering the bloodied knife and turning back to the careers.
"Was that good enough? I know she's dead, but I can cut her up even more if you need me to? You're the boss! I'll do anything!" Logger exclaimed, shaking from head to toe.
The boy from Two let out a low whistle. "That was pretty brutal, even by my standards."
"Got that right," the girl from Two added, stunned. "Well… no backsies I guess. Fine, you can join us Seven. Kick the body ten times and carry our stuff."
"Anything you say!" Logger agreed, relief filling him up. Against all odds, he's secured his survival. At least for another day.
All it cost was his little district partner… but surely she'd have done the same. Only one could live in the end. That's what he kept telling himself as he carried the carers equipment for them, doing his best to keep pace with them through the dark forest.
He received his first and only sponsor at sunrise of the next day. A simple note from his mentor, Fir.
'You're on your own now. I have no words. Shame on you.'
Logger shuddered. Not out of guilt, but out of fear of how no sponsor gifts would be coming for him. That was a problem, a big problem.
His district thought the bigger problem was Logger coming home.
"What do you think we should do once the pirates are dead?" the Captain asked.
Librae considered the question for a moment, unsure. "What do you mean dude?"
"Well, Four will be safe once they're all dead… but what then? We return to the country ruled by the Capitol?" the Captain shook her head. "Why do that when we could just sail away to our heart's content? There has to be more land out there besides Panem. The Capitol says there's nothing, but that's just it… they're probably lying."
"Well…" Librae paused, tempted by the idea. "We don't have much left in the way of supplies. Could we even survive such a journey?"
"We can if we steal everything that the pirates have aboard their ships," the Captain replied. "Just think about it, alright? A fresh start, a country without any Games or impossible laws or… or so much depravity… to me, that's paradise."
"It sure sounds nice," Librae agreed, longingly.
Librae didn't continue until the captain left the room and headed for the top deck. Only then did Librae let out a soft sort of sigh, a weak smile on her face.
"Too bad I'm such a softie. Heh, I'm soft as a jellyfish," Librae mused. "I could never abandon Four, not when the people there need me. Not when the Capitol is still needing people to fight against it. Leaving them? That'd be… uncool."
And so, with that said, Librae went back to preparing her board and her body for the encounter that was surely looming very near. It wouldn't be long now until the pirates finally found them.
It was just a matter of time.
Logger followed the careers around like an obedient pet of sorts, doing absolutely anything they asked of him, no matter how humiliating or ridiculous. He lacked the nerve to get on the bad side of the deadliest tributes in the arena… for that matter, he lacked the nerve to get on the bad side of a tribute in general.
The pack had made decent progress, tracking down the boy from Eight and showing him no mercy. There had been some issues when the boy from Two lost his left arm from a bear mutt, issues that only worsened when a terrible infection left him immobile and abandoned by the pack.
In the end the pack, meaning basically just the girls from One and Two, took out the tough cowgirl from Ten on the tenth day of the Games. The careers moved away, letting the hovercraft take the body out of the arena. They rested up by the side of a river, the only sounds being the flow of the water, the chirps of distant birds and Logger's soft panting from all the running he'd had to do.
They were the only ones left.
"Come on One, we can take her!" Logger exclaimed, already trying to hide behind the beautiful killer from One and toady up to her. "You and me, the final two. Please! You know I've served you well, don't you trust me? Don't I deserve a chance to help you?"
The girl from One was not stupid, knowing that Logger was only siding with her as she was ever so slightly more beaten than the girl from Two. She did not hesitate to stab Logger in the gut with her dagger.
"That's all the reward a traitor deserves," she replied, spitting at his face.
Logger was shoved over into the mud, left forgotten and slowly bleeding out. The blade had missed anything that would be fatal, but he was bleeding out fast. He had truly been rewarded as a traitor deserved. The careers paid him no mind at all as their own vicious battle at the riverside began in full, blade against blade. They'd already written him off like he were nothing.
Logger whimpered and sobbed, barely able to keep his eyes open. This was it, his end was nigh. He did everything the careers demanded and they killed him anyway. It wasn't fair, he told himself.
Two breathless gasps filled the air, through by then Logger had passed out. The career girls each staggered a few steps and fell to the ground. The girl from One collapsed into the mud while the other fell into the river and was swiftly washed away.
Both had struck each other right in the heart at the same time.
The girl from Two drowned quickly. The girl from One bled out pretty fast, her vitals shutting down in a quick sequence.
Logger bled, he bled a lot… but he still bled slower than the girl from One had. That was why the final cannon to fire wasn't for him.
Logger was taken from the arena as the nation's newest victor to light applause. He was never the most popular tribute within the Capitol and many saw his win as a let-down.
District Seven were outright disgusted. The one year they did not want a victor and now they had one. All of them, even Logger's family, wanted nothing to do with the traitor who butchered his little district partner. The girl who saved him from dying of thirst.
Snag was silent, physically ill from horror and hatred. His family would have to live only a few doors down from the monster who killed the youngest member of their family…
The battle was on.
The pirates had found Librae and her crew shortly before dawn had arrived over the world that morning. The onboard gattling guns and harpoon launchers did their part to cause plenty of damage to the ships of the Peacekeeper pirates, even sinking one of the four boats, but inevitably the gap had been narrowed.
From there it was pure chaos, sailors and pirates alike jumping to each other's ships and getting stuck into combat. Some used blades, others reported to their fists, but many drew blood and were made to bleed in return. It was hard to tell who was winning at first.
What was easy to tell, however, was that the waves were picking up in strength and becoming incredibly rough and wild. Too wild for the second of the pirates' ships, already damaged from the opening gunfire, which swiftly began to sink under the waves and took some of the pirates out with it.
"Man the cannons, keep the pressure on these bastards!" the Captain yelled. "Show no mercy! They showed us none! Remember all those who peacekeepers, pirates and not, have killed!"
Librae watched her fellow sailors and surfers battle it out against their adversaries, but her fight wasn't against them. Her score with Rutile was the central on her mind.
He stood at the very back of the biggest of the pirate ships, watching the carnage unfold. The very old, cruel man held a pistol in both hands. It was obvious he'd already claimed several lives and was more than ready to claim several more.
Not if Librae could help it. She easily vaulted her way over to his ship, her surfboard strapped onto her back, and was quick to engage him with a scimitar. He blocked the would-be killing blow with a blade of his own, his reflexes ever so fast for a man his age.
"It's going to take more than that to kill me," Rutile hissed.
"You took everything from me," Librae hissed, putting more force against Rutile in hopes of winning the blade lock. "I'm getting my revenge, in this life or the next!"
Rutile just eyed Librae in disdain, a little bit of confusion filling his eyes as he looked over the surfer women.
"I have no idea who you are," Rutile replied, trying to kick Librae in her leg. He succeeded, but Librae bared the pain.
"You kill my mom and beat my dad into a coma when I was a kid. You 'silenced them', said they deserved it," Librae began to push Rutile back towards the edge of the boat. "You became a gamemaker, you dared lay your hands on me when Orion died."
Rutile still looked lost, managing a brief sort of shrug.
"I've ruined lots of lives. You can't expect me to remember all of them," the old pirate replied. "Who cares?"
"I care!" Librae yelled, going for a second strike at Rutile.
The boat rocked wildly at that moment, the pair falling to the ground. Librae leapt back from Rutile's swing of his own sword, and back some more when some of his remaining henchmen close in on her. With nowhere to run the surfer made a leap over the side of the boat.
"Ha, stupid women," Rutile muttered, letting one of his crew help him back to his feet. "Same as the rest of those district animals."
The remaining two boats broke away from their clash and were soon circling each other under the mighty storm that was billowing through the night. Both factions eyed the other, waiting for them to make the first move and, they hoped, the first major mistake.
Neither ended up making a move. Not when a figure was riding the horrific waves between the boats. Rutile could only stare, stumped.
"What the hell?"
Librae was putting her decades of surfing prowess to good use, surfing with ease across the wild water and gradually making her way towards the last boat of the Peacekeeper pirates. She narrowed her eyes, unusually focused. Gone was her normal spaciness and slightly goofy look. All that remained was a women finally able to avenge her dear parents.
The pirates tried to gun her down with one of their own gattling guns, but the speed Librae was going at and how the pouring rain kept getting in the way of aiming made hitting her an impossible task.
"Holy shit! She's got a bomb!"
Indeed she did. Librae gripped the bomb in her grasp with both hands, twisting both sections of it sideways. In one instant it began to glow. She didn't hear the desperate warnings of her own crew, their pleading to stop, that the bomb was way too strong for such a close attack.
Librae hit the biggest wave of her life and became airborne.
"Cowa-fucking-bunga!"
She descended right towards Rutile. In one motion she tossed the bomb towards the centre of the pirate ship and leapt off of her surfboard, doing a few flips in the air.
The surfboard's spikes skewered Rutile right in the chest, the evil pirate collapsing to his knees and then to his side. Blood oozed from his mouth as his breathing began to slow down.
Librae had figured that it would be easy to remain in the water and wait for pick-up from her ship, perhaps grab onto debris if she had to. Being in freezing water was nothing new to her.
She only realised the error she'd made when the bomb went off, far more powerful than she had thought it would be.
The pirate ship was vaporised within the massive fireball and the onboard fuel began to explode moments later. Driftwood and debris were sent flying all around. The rest of the sailors and surfers who were still alive were safely out of range.
Librae was not.
She was struck on the back of her head by the flat of her surfboard and soon began to loose consciousness. The last thing she could think of as she was washed into a crate was how her parents were finally avenged. Everything faded away into something deeper than darkness after that.
The Captain could only watch, too horrified to savour the defeat of her enemies, and call out fruitlessly for Librae.
"Get us over there!" she yelled, desperate. "Come on, we have to find her! Quick, there's still time!"
They searched.
They searched for quite some time.
They did not manage to find Librae. It seemed like there was to be no denying what had happened. She'd died as a result of her final attack, her display of perfect surfing and pirate exploding leading to the brave surfer exiting the world for good.
It was with heavy hearts that the crew made the decision to return to Panem. People deserved to know that the pirates were disposed of and what had become of one of the dearest victors of the district. Not just that, but maybe Librae had been right… maybe fleeing Panem while there were still people in danger from the Capitol was not the right thing to do. There was still work to be done.
"Do you think the Capitol will tell the real story of what happened to Librae?" one of the sailors asked the Captain.
"I doubt it. They'll probably just say it was a 'freak boating accident'," the Captain said, a depressed look already filling her face. "I say we tell the truth to anybody we can. Many will probably only hear the Capitol's version, but if at least a few people know the truth… well, that's good enough for now."
"Do you think we did any good out here Captain?" the sailor asked, sniffling.
"I think we did. The pirates are gone. Four is going to be a bit safer from now on," the Captain said, a relieved look in her eyes. "It's just as well. My little girl's only nine… she deserves to grow up without the threat of pirates… and if we're lucky, maybe without the Capitol one day. What's say we make this a regular thing, these vigilante missions? I think being rebels… it suits us."
"Right you are Captain Cresta," the sailor agreed, saluting.
Logger was rewarded fittingly for his cowardice.
He returned home and was greeted with absolutely hatred and coldness. Nobody wanted anything to do with him whatsoever. He'd been unpopular before the Games, sure, but maybe one day such issues could've been forgiven if he'd outgrown his cowardice. But what he did to Bloom? That could never be forgiven.
The crowd booed him from the moment he left the train, throwing produce and tree sap towards him. It was clear he was no longer welcome in Seven. He was no longer a Seven himself. He was just an unwelcome guest in their home.
The victors were not happy to share a village with him. Pliny was firm and displeased, Jack made his coldness no secret, Blight would cuss out Logger's name any chance he got, sweet and all loving Fir could only say she couldn't forgive him for what he did.
Snag… Snag never spoke to Logger nor acknowledged him. He genuinely thought he may kill Logger if he did. Paisley and Snag's remaining children similarly hated Logger and kept far away from him. He was nothing but slime in their eyes.
Logger had tried to insist it was not his fault. He'd only wanted to live, it was an impossible situation, anybody would have done the same. That was the one and only time that Snag broke his vow of silence.
"Bloom would never have done what you did. She'd have rather died than cross that line. She saved you… she showed you kindness and mercy, something that was sadly her one mistake. Seven does not kill Seven," Snag had clenched his fists, trying not to punch Logger. "You did not look guilty. You did not even look a little conflicted. You did not even hesitate before you killed her! You're dead to me and this entire district. You're alive… so, enjoy the life you've earned for yourself."
Snag never spoke to Logger again after that. Few in Seven did, not unless it was needed. He was forever labelled as the 'district traitor'.
It was why Logger ended up throwing his lot in with the Capitol. They treated him nicely, they did not blame him, they assured him that he did the right thing. They told him whatever he wanted to hear, wanting to have another victor firmly on their side for the future.
Logger, as he always did, clung to the strongest side and did whatever the Capitol told him to do. Anything that'd ensure he'd live just one more day and avoid getting into trouble.
He was the obvious choice for Snow to have kill the family of the last victor Seven would ever have, a fiery women that refused to be whored out after she won several years later.
It was little surprise that when the second rebellion broke out Logger was not among those the Capitol attacked or interrogated. He was known to be on their side and was used to try and gain an advantage over Seven in any way, shape or form. Who would know the district better than a person who grew up there?
It was going fine for Logger… up until it didn't. His entire squad of peacekeepers that had been protecting him were killed by rebels up in the trees faster than he could react and soon enough he was running for his life.
He ran until he could not run anymore, sunset filling the forest as he finally collapsed.
He was swiftly apprehended by the rebels and interrogated for any information on the Capitol. Logger didn't hesitate to tell them anything and everything they wanted to know. He even few in a few things unprompted in hopes it would spare him.
"There, I told you everything!" the young man pleaded hours later, finally running out of information to spill. "Please, let me go! I could be your spy. They don't know I sold them out, I could gather any information you need. Please…"
The lumberjacks who held him just looked at him in disgust.
"A traitor only deserves one thing," the leader amongst them said.
Logger was beaten, but ultimately left alive and tied up to a tree as the forest became dark. He figured that once the pain stopped and his vision wasn't so blurry he could untie himself and find his way back to the Capitol, one day at a time. He could still be useful to them.
Only then did he see why he'd been left alive this long. He promptly lost control of his bowels.
The glowing eyes of several vicious, starving wolf mutts stared at him from within the darkness.
Librae was rewarded fittingly for her bravery.
She was unconscious for quite a while, the crate she'd been knocked into just barely managed to bare the pressure of the waves and weather going on around it. It eventually broke, but by then it no longer mattered. Not when land was not even half a mile away.
Librae was washed up on shore, absolutely exhausted but nonetheless alive. She awoke just as the sun rose on the horizon.
"What… I'm alive…?" Librae looked down at herself in disbelief. "Righteous! …Where am I?"
Librae took in the site around her, amazed by what she was seeing. As far as her eye could see was a tropical paradise, untouched by people for hundreds of years. There was pale and soft sand, hundreds of fruit trees, chirps of wonderful birds and even a village, long abandoned but nonetheless hospitable, in walking distance.
"What is this place?" Librae whispered, slowly picking up her surfboard as it washed up beside her. "…This is paradise!"
Librae slowly managed to stand up, swaying for a few long moments. She glanced back, seeing only the ocean extending to the horizon and the sunrise beyond it. No sign of Panem was in sight.
"Where is everybody?" Librae whispered. "…Did they die… did they make it home?"
With little else she could do Librae decided to make her way into the nearby village in hopes of finding human company, or at least supplies. Maybe then she'd be able to work out where she was and what was going on.
And even if she couldn't, at least she'd washed up in what seemed like a wonderful place to live for a while. A long while, as she had no idea how to get off the island.
She didn't know what Hawaii was, after all, nor where it was in relation to Panem.
"Guess I might be here for a while," Librae mused, carefully taking a pineapple from a tree on her way into the old village. "Well, at least I won't be going hungry. If all else fails, I build a boat."
One day Librae, assumed deceased by the rest of Panem and added to the list of dead victors before the third quell, would finally assemble a boat that would be able to safely travel across the rough waves towards Panem.
One she would make it back home, safe and sound, to a grand homecoming.
One day things would become a bit awkward when it turned out her presence may have been able to spare several families from something truly awful… but that's another story.
Katniss gave one final glare down at Logger's imprinted face before making her way further down the street, Peeta right behind her. Even the boy with the bread found it hard to sympathise with Logger.
It was only a few moments before they reach the sixty second face along the massive street. The face who looked back at them was that of an almost feral young lady, a wild look in her eyes and her teeth bared for all who observed her. The sharp fangs were unmissable.
"Enobaria," Peeta quietly hummed to himself, thoughtful. "It's such a distant memory, but… she was so different before the Games. She came out as a totally different woman."
"What do you mean?" Katniss asked. "I can't remember that. I always had bigger things to keep my mind on."
"It's a long story," Peeta replied. "Let's just say she got stung."
"…What?" Katniss repeated, flatly.
There we are, Logger the district traitor! I feel like, for the most part, a lot of the outlier victors in this story are either nice people or clearly moreso good than bad. Not many are really, well, scumbags you know? So, enter Logger, a dirty coward and one who'd sell out anybody to save his own hide. Suffice to say I'm not fond of a dirty coward character (lovable cowards maybe, but imo it's a big distinction) and Logger himself is somebody I do not foresee topping many favourite lists. That said, it was a fun sort of plot to write – especially with Librae sharing the spotlight! – and serves as the reason why, in my canon, murdering one's own district partner if it's not a mercy kill / the final two is such an extreme taboo. Hope you guys liked seeing the last of Librae for quite some time. Originally she was among those who are confirmed dead before the 3rd quell and, well, 'officially' she is for now… but you know me, I'm a serious softie at heart and couldn't do it. Good thing I worked out a way to spare her and technically not break canon either haha. Stay tuned for more guys!
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), Yohan Fairbane (58th 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), Wattzon Holmes (55th Games), Arendellian Spinner III (57th Games)
District 6: Chassis Macalister (31st Games), Bentley Corduroy (54th Games), Porsche London (56th Games)
District 7: Pliny Aransio (2nd Games), Fir Buzz (9th Games), Jack Tylos (21st Games), Snag Nakamura (34th Games), Blight Jordan (53rd Games), Logger Barlow (61st Games)
District 8: Woof Casino (16th Games), Paige Murphy (30th Games), Spool Nylon (42nd Games), Cecelia Mog (60th Games)
District 9: Mizar Aldjoy (1st Games), Gwenith Rosebud (13th Games), Teff Withers (28th Games), Laurel Flamsteel (36th Games), Tabbock Summers (43rd Games), Trevy Vex (Escaped 55th Games)
District 10: Stallion March (26th Games), Lammy Phyronix (40th Games), Pasture Gallows (59th 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)