Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. They belong to Suzanne Collins.
Note: Ah, Ron. When I first came up with him he was kinda just 'another D4 victor, except kinda moody'. Yet another name taken from that old victor list of very ambiguous actual canon value lmao. But here, I feel like I've managed to give him one hell of an 'origin story' of sorts. These Games have been hyped up as particularly grimdark and brutal, even by the standards of the already cruel Hunger Games, so… let the bloodshed begin!
Oh, but before we begin… naturally, I wrote other HG stories before this one. As in, before I ever had a full list of victors really worked out. Hence, it can be hard to keep checking that everything is lining up properly. As reviewer Red Thorn helpfully pointed out, in Burning Snow it is detailed that Museida should be dead by now. This isn't quite the case anymore, he's still alive for now, so that part has been given a bit of a hasty edit haha. Feel free to point out any inconsistencies ya'll find and I'll fix them up to ensure the canon works properly.
Lastly, to answer the questions of N.C.s 1 Fan, Glimmer being Augustus' niece was mainly whim based. Just sorta clicked in the moment as 'hey, that'd be a neat detail' y'know? As for who the young romantic at the end of Finnick's chapter was… stay tuned. After all, as it said, that was another story. ;)
"You ever wonder why his reaping transmission got cut off so suddenly?" Peeta asked. "Probably means something bad happened they wanted nobody knowing about, right?"
"It would make sense," Katniss agreed. "No idea what it could be. I think the bigger point here… it's amazing Ron even managed to avoid Lothar for so long."
"I guess, since Ron openly said he wanted to die, it made some twisted sense for the serial killer to leave him for last?" Peeta paused, wincing. "Remember their final battle? Lothar didn't even look like anything resembling a human by the time Ron was done with him."
Katniss could only put on a cold look. "No less than what Lothar deserves. We're just lucky Ron was strong enough to take him down and prevent him becoming a victor."
"Got that right," Peeta agreed. "Imagine, that monster being pardoned of everything and being free to wreak havoc with victor status. I'm not saying I approve of murder, but what Ron did to him… it felt like a cruel yet understandable form of justice…"
The pair cast away all thoughts of the monster from Three in favour of holding a respectful silence for the boy who managed to defeat him.
68th Annual Hunger Games
Name: Ron Stafford
Gender: Male
District: 4
Age: 15
Kills: 2
RON
I wish I was dead. After volunteering it seems like I might just get my wish after all. There's nobody left for me to come home to nor live on to support.
My big brother Fenner had his name pulled, but it was me that took the chance to volunteer. How could I not? He's always been what some might call simple. He doesn't understand much nor just how much danger he was in. He's always smiling and waving to everybody.
He was, at least. He tried to follow me into the judgement building when I mounted the stage to take his place… some peacekeeper thought he was trying to break and enter or some shit. They shot him through the pack of his head like an animal.
The tears fall thick and fast. They burn my eyes as they trickle down my face. I wonder how long I've been sitting here crying.
I wonder how long I'll have to sit here all alone. I already know that nobody is coming for me. How can they? Mom and dad died in a fishing accident, my sister Coralee was killed by muggers and I don't want to think about what happened to uncle Finbarr.
I hope they're proud that I held on this long without killing myself. But now poor Fenner is dead and I've got nothing to lose. No hopes, no dreams, no anything.
I might as well just jump to the landmines. I honestly do not care anymore.
Best I can do is buddy up with another tribute and help them win, offing myself at the end so they don't have to. But I doubt such a thing will come to pass. Panem isn't fair and neither is life.
The clock tells me I still have ten minutes until it's time to get on the train. I wonder how many tears will fall in that time.
I wonder if they'll even give Fenner a funeral.
LOTHAR
Nobody has come to visit me. That's fine with me, it's not as if I had any friends or family anyway. Any of them that I could claim to have once had are already dead in the dirt. They didn't hold out against the razor for as long as I imagined they would.
Just one more year and I'd have been out of the reaping bowl. Free to continue having fun with the citizens and the razors for years. It was always my goal to reach my hundredth kill by the time I turned eighteen. Alas, I'm twelve off.
I pace around, so excited that I just can't sit still. Most would be crying, screaming and pleading for mercy. Cowards. Fools. This is such an opportunity! The chance to spill blood and hear screams without any need for subtlety nor any legal hassle.
What the Capitol wants is death, blood and pain. It just so happens that exactly the same thing that I want as well. Who would I be to say no to playing along with their generous offer? Once I win the Games this boring district might finally start to get interesting.
Nobody has any idea what they have unleashed, and I'll be sure it stays that way… at least, until I get into the arena and see what sort of terrain I have to work with. So long as I have a razor blade, some rope and a gag, though, I don't see it making a huge difference.
This is gonna be fun.
RON
I keep my distance from everybody else on the train, even when they force me to watch the reaping recaps. Between my district partner Algae being another one of those disgusting careers and the escort chattering on about Fenner being a savage for trying to break not the building – I almost kill her where she stands for that one until Anchor restrains me – it's shaping up to be just another step in this marathon nightmare.
I sit, fuming, tied up by Anchor's rope as the reaping recap plays. Too bad for Anchor that I've been getting myself out of rope like this for years. The other dock hands have a stupid sense of humour and I'm all too familiar with it.
I'm loosen the ropes in under ten seconds. I remain silent, waiting for the right moment to get up and bolt from the carriage. If I move too early they'll just tie me up, or maybe cuff me for good measure.
The reaping is mostly the same stuff as always. Four brutes from One and Two. Some lanky boy from Three who seems just about ready to laugh when his name is pulled. Algae proudly volunteering and then myself doing the same, far more desperately.
They cut out Fenner's death entirely and the sudden cease of the footage make sit obvious it was a quick, shoddy editing job.
From there it's mostly just half starved children, most anywhere from fourteen to sixteen. The thing that catches my eye is how the boys from Seven and Eight volunteer for their younger brothers just like I did. I wonder if their brothers were killed as well.
I get up and bolt when the escort begins to chatter about how 'broken' the tributes from Twelve look. I don't want to hear anymore of her voice.
I spend most of my time on the train locked into my room. I don't leave for dinner nor anything else. What's the point? My entire plan here is to kill myself quickly.
I only leave when my hunger compels me to raid the kitchen for something filling. To my surprise I'm not alone when I get there.
Museida sits with a bottle of beer. Finnick sits beside him, engrossed in some book. They greet me with a wave and an offer of steak. Their friendliness morphs into shock when, after they ask for my plan for the Games, I flat out say I'm killing myself.
"Don't look so shocked," I say between mouthfuls. "They took away everybody I ever loved. I don't care about living anymore."
"You're angry," Museida says, slowly. Even when elderly and blind he still has a sort of spark left within him. "Use that anger in the arena. You could even use it to take some revenge."
"I'll pass," I say, putting my plate in the sink.
"Don't you want to win?" Finnick looks genuinely uneasy. "I know things look rough, trust me I know. But things can change and-."
"Forget it. Just focus on Algae. She's a piece of shit to volunteer for glory, but she's still from Four," I turn, not lingering to hear anything else.
The last thing I hear as I leave the kitchen is Museida agreeing with my read on Algae. He always did hate everybody who volunteers for anything besides saving somebody they love. For that reason he's always made his contempt for Tide and Anchor very clear.
LOTHAR
I stayed up late making notes on the reaping recap. Who is strongest? Who is weakest? Who is likely to die quickly to the razor and who may put up a fight before they begin to give into the agony? I feel like it all comes back to the same thing – I can win this and these blood sacks are going to give me quite the fun summer vacation away from Three.
The Capitol looks nice and is filled with crowd upon crowd of odd looking people – more and more targets if you ask me – but I don't think it could possibly compare to whatever the arena is going to me. The thought of all the mayhem has me, yet again, unable to keep myself sitting still, even as the prep team works me over in the remake centre.
They're annoyed at first by my movements, but when I tell them I'm just so excited for what lays ahead and that I'm too happy to stay still like a statue they're quick to let it go. If anything they become more than happy to chatter with me about the Games and their favourite kills. It's apparently rare for them to get a tribute who 'sees the Games as the honour they are'.
I don't give a shit about honour, just having fun killing. But I play along with their chattering. After all, when it comes to naming the best kills I have plenty to add to the topic.
"Finnick's final kill to the boy from Five was iconic," one of the men gushes.
"True, but Enobaria ripping the throat out of that boy – can't remember his district – was amazing," the other man adds.
"You're both right, but the best kill was when Augustus cut off the boy from Eight's fingers and then stabbed his neck," the women says, giggling as she brushes my hair. "What about you Lothar?"
"Anything Titus did," I say, a satisfied smirk crossing my face.
They seem disturbed by this, as if I'd somehow gone too far after their own casual applauding of murder. Luckily it's not hard to get these three on my side. Just a few words praising the way Spud's district partner blew herself up has them giggling and chattering all over again.
I can't help but smile at the thought of what they'll think of my own kills. I think I can do better than all the ones they mentioned. Challenge accepted.
RON
I hadn't even planned to attend training, but apparently it's in the rules that I have to. They can't take it out on anybody I love, but they claim to have a bone saw reserved for such occasions.
I end up content to just make a half assed effort at the knife fighting training station. Nobody else is around for now. It's just me and a trainer who has the good sense to stay the hell away from me. Even he seems to know I don't care if I win or die.
It's half an hour from lunchtime when the boys from Seven and Eight make their way over to me. I act like they're not there at all until they start speaking to me.
"So, you volunteered too," the boy from Seven notes.
"Whoa, so you watched the reaping recaps? What a revolutionary concept," I roll my eyes. "Get lost."
They exchange an uncertain glance, as if they expected something else from me.
"We're the same as you Ron. I'm Rottway and this is Strap," the boy from Seven gestures to himself and his ally in turn. "We volunteered for our brothers as well, you know? What you did was really brave."
I turn to face them. I don't hold back the fire in my eyes.
"It was pointless. They shot him not even a minute later. He was just following me into the justice building, so they shot him for 'trying to break in'. He's fucking dead!" I feel my voice cracking. "He was dead either way, but I shortened his life by a week. I'm jumping to the fucking mines. Just leave me alone."
They don't move for a short while, standing ridged with horror and shock. Eventually they get the sense they're not wanted and make their way over to the sword training station.
It doesn't last. They sit down with me at lunch, clearly too thick headed to take a hint.
"What?" I ask, dull.
"We want to help you," Rottway says. "I know, I know, only one of us is getting out of this thing… no reason we cannot be there for each other for now. Not like all three of us are making the top three if we're being realistic."
"Exactly. You at least tried to spare your brother. You took his place out of love, just as we did for our little bros," Strap adds, nodding. "That means a ton to people like us. We want you in our alliance, please."
"Why? What possible reason is there?" I roll my eyes. "All I can do is throw a punch and cuss people out. I'm not a good ally."
"We're not playing for allies. Sure, it's an alliance… but in that alliance are a group of friends," Rottway looks me in the eye. "Give us a chance to be your friends. You're alone, but you don't have to be."
I get the feeling that, no matter what I do, these two aren't going to leave me alone. Fine then. Perhaps if I play along and refuse them again come the end of the day they'll take the hint and bugger off.
It's with great surprise that I end up joining them for training after lunch. Maces, wrestling, running, edible plants, we do everything together up to when we're dismissed for the night. I'm stumped that so much time went by… and especially stumped because I was enjoying it.
"Same time tomorrow?" Rottway asks me.
"I'll be there," I say, before I even realise what I'm saying.
My change in attitude, even if I still don't care what becomes of me, must be obvious. Finnick asks me about it when I enter the fourth floor in much higher spirits than before.
"You seem different. What's caused the change?" Finnick inquired, a smile on his face. "It's a welcome change."
"I got the push I needed," I reply, moving past him towards my bedroom.
It's true. After all, I now have something to live for, even if it's unlikely to come to pass. If I can save one of Rottway or Strap then some little boy in either Seven or Eight won't have to see their big brother die.
LOTHAR
Training was honestly a let-down. So many blades and no chance to actually use them on anybody. Keeping myself under control around all these targets is tough work. On the other hand, nobody seemed inclined to hide anything from me when I'm acting like just another random tribute.
OK, maybe it was odd to try and talk to the girl from Eleven about blood and, perhaps, it wasn't great for my cover that she told a few of the others I'm nuts. But really, so long as nobody fully believes her I should be good.
The only problem is that I like to make my kills one on one. It's more personal that way, you really get to connect with the victim. But the alliances that have formed might cause an issue. Five careers, all joined together at the hip, and those three big brothers from four, seven and eight. I'll have to separate them somehow.
I'm sure I'll think of something. I always have been inventive. It's how I keep the money coming in during the off-season from killing, after all.
It's so close. The arena. I can always hear the screams, taste the blood, feel the horror… oh yesssss…
But the interview remains to be done. Having purposely scored a three – a three for a three, it seemed like a fun idea – nobody is really paying me much attention. Only a scant few think I could be the next Spud, not that I'd lower myself that low for bloodshed.
OK, fine, I would.
I just keep it simple, to the point and a little quirky with Caesar. He's the last gatekeeper I must cross before the Games and I'd rather not tip anybody off, not even him.
Thankfully it's over much sooner than I thought it would be. I leave with a shake to Caesar's hand and applause behind me.
No sooner am I out of sight I clamber my way up to the rafters. I might as well keep my skills sharp and learn some information while I'm at it.
It's disappointing.
The girl from Four is just another generic career. I feel like that's why those brutes don't win as much anymore, they're all basically the exact same when you get down to it. A brute is still a brute, whatever their colours. The boy from Four is grumpy with a hidden soft side, just a cliché.
The Fives don't remotely interest me.
The small boy from Six would be a great target. His screams will likely be the highest pitched of everybody.
The only one that makes me curious is the boy from Seven – Rottway. No doubt he'll scream and bleed easily enough, but that little poem – he claims it was written by his dad – just seems a little… sinister.
Look at me, calling somebody else sinister. Now there's a hypocrite in the mirror.
"Once more into the fray
Into the last good fight I'll ever know
Live and die on this day
Live and die on this day."
He's got it all wrong. He'll live for now and die within the next three to five days if I have my way.
I always do.
RON
"This is gonna suck."
I'm right. Nobody could argue it after taking a look at the arena. Another forest, but this one… I've been in the arena ten seconds and already something is sinister about it, more than a typical arena anyway.
Maybe it's the hundreds of trees and how they grow ridged and creepy. Maybe it's the overgrowth of plant life on the ground. Maybe it's the thick fog and mist, lightly tinted purple, that covers the area beyond the cornucopia's clearing.
Yeah, it's probably the fog and mist.
I can see Strap two pedestals to my left while Rottway is much further to my right. We exchange nods, ready to run into the fray. Nobody seems like they're going to run, not even the small boy from Six to my left nor the sobbing girl from Nine to my right.
The only sound beside the countdown and distant crying is the chuckles of the boy from Three. I've heard fear can make people laugh without meaning to. I don't blame him for being scared.
I'm the one planning to die and even I feel afraid.
The gong rings and I'm flying into the battle without hesitation. The plan was for Strap to gather medicine and water, me to gather food and some water if I can manage it while Rottway grabs us some weapons.
It's chaos from all around me. Shouts, cries, a scream of agony somewhere to my left and the sight of the boy from One cutting open the throat of the boy from Twelve right ahead of me. The sick bastard has the nerve to laugh about it.
Asshole.
I make a run for a bulky backpack, noting that the boy from Three is running parallel beside me. He reacts fast, shoving me down. I rise fast, but by then he's already claimed the backpack. On the other hand he's now having to evade the knife wielding Fives.
Just enough of a distraction for me to grab a backpack filled with bread and a mace laying beside it. Not my ideal weapon, but it'll do.
I hear Strap call for help. One look and I can see that he's pinned down on his front by the girl from Six. She's fumbling to raise her knife, Rottway is too far away to get there in time… and now it falls to me. One life for another. Blood for blood.
Stupid escort picking that damn piece of paper.
I smash the mace down onto the girl's head. I have no idea who she was, but she falls over dead in an instant. I help Strap up, trying not to think about the murder I just committed.
I don't want to think about her family. Did she have one? Were they close?
Rottway runs over, practically pulling us along to the dog outside the clearing. I take one look back at the dead girl, soon wishing I hadn't.
Pain explodes in my shoulder before we're out of the fray.
"Fuck! Fucking damn it!"
LOTHAR
I'll admit, the knife I threw at the boy from Four's shoulder was more for a laugh than anything else. He's last on the killing list. If he plans to die anyway, where's the fun in bleeding him dry? He doesn't care.
The field is getting smaller now. Six bodies lay on the ground, all upon such beautiful pools of blood. I had no idea the little girl from Twelve had so much fluid inside her. She was so small, just a little bird.
The careers gather around the boy from Ten, tearing him apart. Such technique, such finesse… beautiful.
Their lack of presence at the mouth of the cornucopia gives me ample time to grab up a large length of rope. The perfect tool for my plans. Now if I just had a razor…
There is much work to be done! I sprint off into the fog before the careers can see me.
That is, after stabbing the girl from Eleven in her kneecap. I'll make that kill nice and easy for the careers.
"Pay attention Panem," I say to the cameras. "I'm your victor, I'll give you what it is you desire. I'll provide you with plenty of blood. You and I want the same thing – death, and lots of it."
All I need now is somewhere to set up my base of operations. Of course, finding such a place for the fun to begin is the real question…
RON
By the time the anthem plays we're all exhausted. Luckily we found a secluded grove beyond a mass of thick bushes to spend the night in. We're unlikely to be in the worst spot of all the remaining tributes. Though for how long that'll stay true is anybody's guess.
We lay on our backs, weapons in hand and our gazes drawn to the thick canopy of the forest. There are a few holes within it, the starry sky visible far beyond. It's not a bad view.
It gave us the opening we needed in order to see the anthem. Girl from Three, girl from Six, girl from Seven, girl from Eight, boy from Ten, girl from Eleven and both from Twelve. Eight deaths, one of them my fault.
I'm glad Rottway and Strap don't say anything about it.
"Poor Yewmurr," Rottway says, softly sighing. "Only thirteen, she had no chance."
"Fabra wasn't much better. Fifteen, but… well, she was half blind. Knew it was coming, but it still sucks," Strap closes his eyes, lightly groaning.
"Were you close to them?" I ask.
"Not really, but… district loyalty, you know?" Rottway sits up. He takes three slices of bread from his backpack, passing one to Strap and I while keeping the last for himself. "Your partner is still alive. Any thoughts on that?"
"Yeah, I hope she dies. I'm not gonna be the one to do it, I'm not anything like Logger, but I don't want her to win. She's a career," I practically spit out the last word. "Freaks like that don't deserve to win."
"That's a lot of hate," Rottway notes.
"What, you disagree? Rottway, Algae willingly signed up to murder children so she can become famous. That's messed up," I lay back down, closing my eyes. "I volunteered to save Fenner, not that it did any good. I only killed that girl to save Strap… fuck, I didn't enjoy it."
"I believe you," he speaks the truth, I can tell. "The careers have been on a losing streak lately. Perhaps we can extend it if we fight hard enough."
"It's that or die," Strap adds. "…Thanks for saving me Ron."
I softly grunt. He takes it to mean he's welcome, settling down once more. Of course, sleep just can't come easy to me, can it? Rottway seems keen to keep talking.
"So, Algae is a career then?" he waits me for me to nod. "I'm confused, are Fours careers or not? You guys keep switching it up."
"I don't fucking know, I don't think about it. I guess we're halfway there? Some years we have careers, some years we don't and sometimes, like this year, only one of us is a career," I settle back down. "The district is split on it. Some people support it as it gives us a chance and spares a reaped kid, some of us like me think they're messed up shitbeasts."
"Here, here," Rottway agrees. "Well, for what it's worth, I'm glad you're not a career and that your district normally doesn't have them. I mean, four careers are bad enough, six is insane."
Rottway volunteers to take the first watch. I drift off on the forest floor, thoughts of home filling my head. Will it become a career's den after these Games? If Algae wins then maybe. The more career victors the more people who might put it into practise.
It's sick. I don't want Four's culture getting corrupted like those of One and Two did.
Right before I'm asleep a cannon fires. It's several moments before any of us say anything.
"…No screaming. Probably happened far away," Strap says.
Small relief, but it's something.
LOTHAR
Dammit! A cannon means one less person to toy around with. I better work fast, much faster than I have been, or there's going to be no way I'll spill enough blood to satisfy myself.
Probably those careers finding somebody. They're too powerful, it's taking away the fun for the rest of us. Not that it'll do them any good in the end.
The girl from One will look lovely doused in red… mmmmmmmm…
The night has been cold and slow. It was easy enough to find a place to set up my lair, easier still to find all the supplies I'd need to make enough traps to keep the meat coming my way.
A grove covered in vines was all I needed. Hiding up in the trees provides me a perfect cover and a place to sleep. The vines were the ultimate resource to create snare traps. One foot in those and nobody is going to have any escape.
And, if I have my way, I'll be expanding the reach and sheer number of the traps with every passing day. Never enough to cover the whole arena, but certainly enough to trap most of my victims.
Now, if only I could test the traps…
"Aaaarrgh! What's going on?!"
I fly through the trees like some kind of squirrel. I'm over to where the little boy from Six hangs upside down in barely five seconds. I give him a cheerful wave, sitting on the branch closest to where he hangs.
"You look stuck. Need a hand?" I ask.
He whimpers and nods. It's hard not to chuckle over how comical he looks, just hanging around like that. Well, I'd be mad to turn down this opportunity.
One punch to his head and he's knocked out. After that it all comes naturally – gagging him with a rag, tying him up with rope and making sure the vine keeping him hoisted up is nice and tight.
When he eventually wakes up and sees the razor blade in my hand he screams like a banshee… or would if he wasn't gagged.
"The last boy your age I did this too… hmm, I'd like to say he lasted three hours? Let's see if you last longer," I slice a cut into his leg. "Don't disappoint me by dying too soon."
He's still conscious after an hour, by which point his knee tendons are split and blood covers every inch of his leg. It's mesmerising to witness it.
The boy leaves me disappointed when he dies an hour later. That's the problem with small tributes, they always bleed out far too fast. Not enough blood in them for a real show.
Eventually I move away, disappointed, for the hovercraft to collect the body. But… it never comes. I move back even further, but still nothing.
It all clicks together. They can't reach the body. In this position, dangling high up in the trees of the forest, the thick canopy all around, it'd be impossible for a proper removal. They'd probably have to get people on the ground, but that would mean interference. They can't be doing that during the Games, can they?
"Looks like you're stuck here for a while," I tease the corpse. "Hope you don't mind hanging out with me a little longer."
The dead boy, of course, says nothing. But it's not hard to imagine what his family might be saying. Screams of despair, curses to my name, shouts that cannot be understood.
Perfect. Now, who will be my next target? …And how can I lure them over here? If I just add the pieces then I could build a… of course!
"Hey, anybody want to help me out?" I say to a nearby camera. "I need a few components to build a little, shall we say, trump card of mine."
RON
Another cannon went off during the night. No idea who it was, only that it wasn't Rottway or Strap. Part of me wonders if it was Algae, her aspirations of victory given a horrific slap of reality. I guess I won't know until the anthem arrives tonight.
We've been wandering through the forest aimlessly, though it's hard to say if we've been making any progress. We have no destination and the fog stops us seeing anything more than a few paces ahead of us. We saw a figure a while back, but they were gone too quickly for us to know who it was and if we should have fought them or not.
"Do we have any idea where we're going?" I eventually ask. "Or are we just wandering and hoping we find something good."
"Honestly, I don't know," Rottway shrugs. "I figure that it's better to stay moving rather than remain in one place."
"I sure hope you're right," I glance around at the fog, grumbling. "This sucks. We can't see shit."
"True, but at least the others can't either," he lightly cracks his knuckles. "Not even the careers."
Suddenly I don't mind the fog quite so much. On and on we go, wandering without a goal with the foliage cracking and crumpling under our boots. It's impossible to tell what time it is. Day or night, I'm clueless.
"How's your shoulder Ron?" Strap asks around the time we pass a filthy pond. "Still bad?"
"It was never bad, I can use it just fine," I flinch from the throbbing that ensues when I move my arm around. "Just stings like hell. I'll live, for now."
"If you need a break don't hesitate to ask," Strap weakly smiles. "We're a team, we can spare five minutes."
Rottway nods, leading us through more thick bushes and plant growths. In a sudden moment a distant scream fills the forest. It's silenced by the time our weapons are drawn. Five seconds pass. Then ten. A minute. Two minutes.
Nothing.
"What do you think that was?" Strap asks, wary.
"Another kill, though the lack of a cannon is concerning," Rottway frowns, as if trying to piece it all together. "Maybe they escaped?"
"After that sudden stop? No, I doubt it. Whoever it was probably got knocked out and now their attacker is waiting for them to wake up. Just a theory," I put my weapon away, shaking my head. "Might be the careers."
"Perhaps. If it is then let's go this way," Rottway leads us in the direct opposite direction of the scream.
All I know for sure is that it wasn't Algae. That scream was too young to be hers and chances are if anybody attacked her then the others careers would just move in to take out her would-be killer. It's doubtful they'd betray Algae this early.
Whoever it was, it wasn't a career. Just my luck.
LOTHAR
I'm kept up past the anthem – turns out the one I didn't kill was the girl from Nine - cutting away at the boy from Nine. He held out longer than the boy from Six did, but he just couldn't hang in there after he lost most of his fingers and an eye.
Well, actually he is. He's hanging beside the boy from Six, his blood left to drip down to the forest floor below. I wonder how many bodies I can get up here eventually. I bet I can get ten if I really try hard enough.
Three hours, that's how long the Nine male held out for. But, razor beats flesh and he soon died just like the rest of them. He was never going to last long. No, not like the careers. I hope I can catch one of them next. I think I might have the perfect way to do it.
I'll just have to be careful. But thanks to the music box I built from sponsored parts I shouldn't have to worry too much.
Careers flock to noise like flies to honey.
It's to my dismay that I'm forced to wait until the fourth day for my next victim. I'd almost dozed off when I hear the sounds of voices nearby. Five of them. The careers of course.
One moment I'm puzzling over how to get just one of them to hear the music box. The next moment one of them slips over something and falls down a steep slope until they're right beside my lair.
"Emblem! You alright down there?" one of the other males calls out.
"I'm fine. I'll meet you guys up ahead. This slope is too steep to climb," she begins walking towards one of my traps. My grin widens. "See you in five minutes."
The other careers move onwards while I fly through the trees above the girl from One, 'Emblem'. Any moment now…
She stops right in front of the trap, wasting everybody's time with her insistence on drinking from her bottle of water. Time is blood and I'm not losing any of it.
The soft melody of the music box fills the air around us. She glanced around, ever so confused.
"What's that?" she raises up a pair of shurikens. "Come out and die!"
She steps backwards… right into the trap. I'm on her like a spider would be on a fly. She barely gets a chance to swear before I've got her gagged and tightly bound by rope. She glares at me, struggling viciously as I roll up her sleeve and the legs of her pants.
"Mmrrrppphh!"
"It's rude to talk when your mouth is full," I have no patience for those who lack such basic manners.
"Mppprrrh… mph…" she trails off when she sees the bloodied bodies of the boys from Six and Nine. Ah, there's the panic I adore so very much. "MRRRPPPHH! MHHHH! MPHPHHH! MMMPPPHHH!"
"They didn't last more than a few hours," I flip out the razor blade. "Let's aim for ten, shall we?"
I'm impressed. Most stop struggling so much after the tenth gash in their skin, but Emblem keeps up the fight until the fortieth. By then it's such a matter of making little cuts, digging my fingers into the gashes and seeing how long she'll last.
She starts to approach death by the seventh hour. That certainly won't do, will it?
"Could somebody send in some medical supplies? She's dying and I'd rather she live," I say to the camera closest towards us.
If she dies then the fun stops. It shouldn't be too hard to fix her up and start the process over again. Who knows, maybe she'll wake up again. Wouldn't that be something?
RON
Six days in this hellhole and we've somehow avoided fights since the Games began. Rottway and Strap are happy about this, but I'm doubtful it's going to last. Any second now a mutt will be set onto us or maybe the careers will find us. They always find their prey eventually, one way or the other.
The girl from One died on the fourth night, but the two deaths since then weren't careers. Just the boy from Eleven and the girl from Ten. They still hold a number advantage. I keep jerking my head around to look at the thick fog all around us. I'm convinced the pack is going to be barrelling through the fog and sticking their weapons into our throats any moment.
Overall, not the best birthday I've ever had. Then again, the first fourteen were nothing special. Why hold out much hope for the fifteenth?
"Can we take a break?" Strap asks.
"Sure. Let's take ten," Rottway sits down on a log, chugging from one of his water bottles. "Either of you know where we are? This arena all looks the exact same to me."
"No clue," Strap says between tired breaths.
"Hell if I know," I shrug, just as lost as they are. "It's not the cornucopia, so there's that."
"Whoa, big help," Rottway shakes his head. "Honestly, raiding the cornucopia doesn't sound like a bad idea right about now."
"Careers," Strap reminds him.
"Three on one, we could win," he puts his bottle away. "Once more into the fray, and all that."
That reminds me of the poem he spoke back in his interview. I ask him where that four line poem came from, what it means… why he'd said it. Rottway smiles, no doubt happy to explain whatever the story behind it actually is.
"A poem my dad wrote," he briefly frowns, no doubt missing his old man. "Basically it means we all have to die at some point, but we might as well make the best of the life we have. It's about… I guess having courage before danger and being sure you've lived well prior. Seems fitting, what with us being in the Hunger Games."
I can't say I disagree. I'm fine to help either one of Rottway and Strap win this thing, but if I to pick between them both somehow… I'd want Rottway to go home. I feel THAT, of everybody, he has the most to live for.
Fuck, look how messed up that line of thought is. As if I have the right to call one boy more worthy of living than another.
We jump up, weapons drawn out of habit. A cannon just fired… it fades into silence. Nothing else happens to us.
"How many left now?" Strap asks.
I shrug, having lost court, but Rottway is quick to provide an answer. "Boy from One, both from Two, boy from Three, Algae, Ron over here, both from Five, me, you… well, we're all fine obviously. One of the others, no idea who. Maybe the boy from three? He was the only loner left"
"So, it might be us against the careers with the allied Fives in the middle?" I punch the tree closest to where I'm sitting. "Fuck."
"Fuck," Strap agrees, shaking his head.
"Fuck," Rottway finishes.
LOTHAR
It was a shame that the boy from Eleven died outside of my grasp – probably those annoying careers at it again – but at least the girl from Ten was fun to toy around with. I wonder if anybody will see her severed foot within the bushes on the ground.
I can't call myself lonely, not when the bodies of the boy from Six, the boy from Nine, the girl from One, the girl from Ten and most recently the boy from Five are hanging round me in my treetop home. Now it's just a matter of playing the waiting game until the girl from Five wakes up. She's bulky, she might actually hold on past ten hours. I guess time will tell.
But, the problem. Yes, the problem. The only ones left aside this girl are the four careers and that alliance of big brothers. Getting them apart may involve a bit of luck. I was fortunate that the Fives followed the music and fell into snares at the exact same time. I might not get that lucky again.
I can't dwell on it for much longer before the girl from Five wakes up. She loses control of her bowels from the moment she sees the bodies hanging around, all mostly dry of blood by this point. Her nose must not be used to the rotting like I am. Oh well, what can be done about that?
"The record is nine and a half hours. Shall we see how long you can keep playing the game?" I ask.
"MMMPPPHHHH!"
It troubles me, having to rely on luck to catch the rest of the tributes. There's a world of difference between two people and three. I ponder the problem while slicing the girl's nose off. I'm sure there's an answer, something I'm missing.
"MMMMMPPPPPPHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
"Oh, be quiet would you? I'm trying to think!"
Off goes the ear and then the other. Now then, lips or eyes?
RON
The anthem yesterday confirmed that it was the fives who died. The pair that got along so well back during training.
Their bond reminds me of what I have now with Rottway and Strap. If only I'd known them before the Games. It would have been nice. I've not really had anybody beside Fenner in so long.
It's nice.
"Think we should try and recruit the boy from Three if we find him?" Strap asks, leading us along through the thickest part of the arena.
"Why bother? He didn't look so tough," I think back to the lanky boy who appeared so very average in training. "He'd probably just run from us if we did find him."
"He's probably smart right? Most Threes are," Rottway points out a bush of poisonous flowers, the three of us diverting our path towards the left. "He'd have to know that his best shot is gaining some allies and then us hopefully taking out the careers."
"Seems like a lot of assuming," I remark.
Rottway just chuckles. "Welcome to the arena."
We wander for five minutes, nothing of any note happening. Strap starts off a simple game of eye spy to keep things from falling into a creepy silence.
It's five minutes into the game when Strap vanishes into the trees. A snare of some sort had to be the culprit.
"Strap! Strap, we'll get you down!" Rottway glances around for the best tree to climb up. "Stay calm!"
"Cut the vine!" I add for good measure.
"No! No! Get away from me!" Straps' voice cracks from up in the trees. "NOOOOOOOO!"
A screech, a splatter. Something hits the ground beside us.
It's Strap's left leg from the knee down. His right hand follows a moment later. Blood pours down like rain. My throat burns from my screams. Rottway is even louder. He's rooted to the spot, screaming for Strap between fits of vomiting.
There's no hope left for Strap but I can still make sure Rottway makes it home. I'm forced to grab him from behind, my arms restraining his own as I drag him away from whatever carnage is going on in the trees.
"C'mon, run! We have to run!" I shake Rottway a little. "Do you want to see what mutt did that? I don't! Let's move!"
Rottway comes back to his sense right as the cannon fires. We lock eyes as one, knowing that whatever did that to Strap is surely going to be coming after us next.
We tear off through the arena, sprinting side by side until it's too painful for us to keep moving. We must have run four miles, at least.
Between wheezes and sickly groans we let the tears fall. Strap was a good guy… not just a good ally, but somebody I grew to see as a friend. Now there's only one person left I can claim to care for in this world.
Rottway must make it home, no matter what happens.
Nothing else matters anymore.
Strap…
LOTHAR
It was a shame that I couldn't take my time with the boy from Eight. Rush jobs never feel right. It's just a mess to be forced to make one happen. The boy hangs immobile with several pieces missing… well, at least he served his purpose. His fallen limbs scared off the rest of his allies and they thought it was a mutt of all things.
I would almost be offended if I hadn't been called worse things before now.
With that alliance taken care of it would seem the only real problem now is the career pack. How will I break them apart? Especially before they break apart on their own and leave me without any kills?
I suppose that I could try the same trick again and hope a fallen limb scares the rest of them off.
It's a day before anybody else comes by my hideout, even with the traps becoming more numerous. I've had nothing but free time to build them after all. The voices of the careers enter my ears before I spot them.
They don't see me at all. Nor the crossbow I was sponsored mere hours ago. How very convenient.
"How does this keep happening?" the boy from Two looks ever so pissed off. "Some asshole keeps stealing our kills!"
"Maybe it's a mutt?" the boy from One says. "Not like they've never had super powerful mutts, right?"
"True, but… seriously, that many tributes dying to mutts? Or, just one of them?" the boy from two shakes his head. "This is ridiculous."
"Just be glad we have a number advantage," the girl from Two says. "Just three more to go. Those two volunteers and that oddball from Three. Algae, you know Ron. Is he somebody to worry about?"
The girl from Four, Algae, just chuckles. "He's nothing. He has nothing. He doesn't even care about winning, he wants to die."
The careers all sound stumped by this. Most blatantly suicidal tributes would just jump to the mines. The boy from One makes his disbelief known.
"I'm serious. If we kill the boy from Seven then he'd probably just give up and let us kill him," she glances away for a moment. "One of you has to do it. I'm not crossing the taboo line."
"No worries, I'll get rid of him," the boy from Two flexes his muscles. "Been wanting another kill on my record anyway."
I let the music box drop, playing its tune nice and clear. The careers all move towards it, all disappointed and a bit confused when they see it's not a tribute at all.
The girl from Two is stood a bit far back, but the rest are positioned perfectly. It's all too easy to line up a shot and shoot the arrow into the shoulder of the boy from Two. He cries out and stumbles forth, knocking the boy from One and Algae into snares. They're yanked up to my left near instantly. One look at the bodies and a whiff of the scent of rotting death has them screaming their lungs dry.
"What is it?!" the girl from Two sounds afraid now. Ah, wonderful.
"Death! It's death!" Algae is panicking. "So many bodies!"
I knock her out with a smack of the crossbow to her head. No need to give the game away. The boy from One spots me, trying his hardest to swipe at me. He manages to make a tiny cut on my cheek.
That won't go without a punishment.
A second arrow has the Twos quick to abandon their allies and flee further away into the forest. No matter, I'll catch them eventually. But until then I have business to be getting along with. Gagging and tying these two cocky careers up barely takes a minute.
The boy from One gazes at me, torn between defiance and terror.
Tracing the razor near his eyelids has him pissing himself.
"You cut me. I didn't like that," I move the razor to his leg, making a tiny cut. A taste of what is to come. "Shall we see how long you last? Three, two, one, go!"
The razor enters his eye. It enters just about everywhere else as well.
I take so long with him that I don't realise that Algae has woken up, not only she begins rocking around and screeching into her gag. Hmmm, eight hours. I really thought the boy from One would last longer. I'd not give him eight minutes at this point.
"You volunteers amuse me, you really do. But, you also puzzle me," I trace the razor along her lips. "Did you not think about what may happen if your t raining weren't enough? If an 'outlier' had a few tricks up his sleeve? Oh, don't bother answering, I'm not dying to know or anything. Now you… you're just plain dying. Let's see if you'll last longer than this lot.
Her lips are the first things I slice off and far from the last.
I wonder if the Capitol would let me live in this arena once the Games end. I have to admit, it's a far nicer place than District Three ever was. I feel alive in here. Free as a bird.
Who wouldn't want to live so freely?
RON
It's been a miserable few days since Strap died. Rottway and I were losing hope, hope that he would be the one to make it out of this hell in the end.
But then two of the careers died and suddenly we may have a chance again. Maybe. The Twos are the strongest people in this arena and who even knows what the boy from Three has been up to since the start.
Rottway doesn't even know I intend to die so he can go home. I wonder how he might feel about it… honestly, he'd be mad to have an issue with it. His odds are looking great.
Or, they would be if we had any idea where we were. We've wandered alone together ever since we evaded whatever it was that killed Strap. We're covered in dirt, dead leaves and stains of our own puke. We must look terrible.
"Should we take a rest?" Rottway asks, blankly stumbling along.
"If you want. I'm fine to do whatever you'd like," I wipe away from of the dirt from my face.
He looks slightly puzzled. "Well, sure, but I wanna know what you think."
"…May as well keep going. We've kept on the move for days, we can keep going a little longer. Not like this will last much longer," I yawn, tired out of my mind. "You'll be home soon."
"That'd be the dream," he yawns as well. "Wait, I'll be home? What about you?"
I shrug. Not like I need to hide anything. "I have nobody left I care about back home. You have a whole family. You're the only friend I've got. The moment it's just us left I'm bashing my own brains out."
It's some time before Rottway has any response. He silently pulls me in for a tight hug. It's awkward for sure, but I don't think there's any talking him out of this.
"…Are you done?" I ask after several long moments.
"Yeah, I'm done," he awkwardly laughs. Sorry, it's just… we only met a few weeks ago, if that. Now you're willing to die for me. I know you say you have nothing, but… dying… you cannot come back from that. All out of friendship… it's just…"
"I know, it's really something," I weakly let out a chuckle as we keep moving through the overgrowth. "But we're not done yet, still three left to go."
"…Might be two in a moment," Rottway says, taking out his axe. "Look."
On the ground lays the boy from Two. His shirt is gone, a nasty shoulder wound visible for all to see. It's far worse than my own was. Infection of some sort has spread across much of that quarter of his back. A nasty pus leaks from the centre of the wound and trickles down his back.
He rolls over when we approach him. He doesn't even look afraid to see us looming near, weapons drawn.
"Just do it," he whimpers. "Whether you kill me or not you're still fucked."
"…What the hell are you talking about?" I glance at Rottway, but he's as lost as I am.
The boy coughs weakly. "There's a monster in the trees and it's no mutt. I saw it, I barely got away… it's gonna kill all of you…"
"What is it?" I shake him, trying to keep him talking. "If it's not a mutt then what is it? Who is it?"
He doesn't say anything else, having fallen unconscious. I can only sigh. There's nothing more to be gained here, not when he's unlikely to wake up again.
Rottway brings his axe down and chops the tribute number down to four.
Just two more to go and he can get out of here.
LOTHAR
I'm not too torn up over missing my chance to kill the boy from Two. The anthem merely confirms the girl from Two is all alone now and that I just have one alliance left to split up.
It couldn't be easier.
Actually, it could be. Not even a full day after the boy from two dies the brother alliance come by my territory again. How unfortunate for them that the fog prevents them from realising that they're returning to the place their friend from Eight met his demise.
Not that I'm complaining, mind you.
"Any ideas where they might be?" the boy from Four asks.
"Girl from Two is probably at the cornucopia. Boy from Three could be anywhere at all," the boy from Seven leans against a tree to take a few breaths. "This might take a while."
"If it lasts too long the gamemakers will just drive us together. I'll back you up, no matter what," the boy from Four barely avoids stepping in one of the snares. "You're gonna make it home."
The boy from Seven smiles. "Thanks Ron. I'll… seriously, I'll never forget you. I won't let anybody forget you. You're solid."
How amusing that then, of all times, is when the boy from Seven steps into one of my snares. He's up in the trees with me in an instant. While he tries to get his bearings I waste no time firing a few arrows down at the boy from Four – Ron, wasn't it? – in hopes of driving him off. I'd rather he not get in the way.
How annoying that he keeps dodging the arrows. He keeps calling out for his friend, Rottway, yelling that he'll save him.
"Ron! It's the-." I knock the boy unconscious before he can say another word.
Ron's almost close enough to start climbing my tree. Urrrgh, I guess I'll have to maker this kill quick. I'd really hoped to be able to draw it out for a while.
It's easy to cut off the arm of one of the dead tributes and toss it to the ground. In the fog and the night it's too dark for Ron to know it's not Rottway's arm. He howls in despair, tears already starting to fall. With screams of agony and vows of revenge he stumbles away into the night. I fire off an arrow for good measure. Alas, I miss.
"Annoying kid," I roll my eyes, looking at his unconscious ally. "Well, better kill you fast or he'll get suspicious. Can't have him trying to save you or bother me."
One slashed throat and the cannon booms. Just a career and a nobody left. Now, whose screams do I want to hear next?
Obviously the career. Where oh where could she be?
RON
It was the worst night of my life. I couldn't stop sobbing and even now I can't stop sobbing. Everybody I've ever loved and cared about is officially dead. Mom, dad, my uncles, my aunts, Fenner, Strap, Rottway…
There's no point anymore. I have no reason to live. I've tried to smash my head with the mace a few times, but I fail to bring myself to do it. Why? It's not like I fear death or the pain that comes with it.
Maybe I'm being a coward.
Maybe I don't want to go down without a fight. Yeah, that's it. I want to kill whatever it was that killed Strap and Rottway. The monster up in the trees. The monster I've been unable to glimpse.
I sit at the base of a tree, my head in my hands. The misery is suffocating. I can hardly breath.
Just yesterday things seemed perfect. I had a friend, we cared about each other and he was certain to go home.
But, not certain enough.
I don't know how long I sit here, hopeless. Maybe an hour, maybe a day. I honestly couldn't begin to tell you. The only thing that gets me moving is the sponsor parachute that lands in front of me.
An energy drink in a glass bottle, complete with a note attached.
-Don't give up. You're so close. They may be gone, but through your victory they will live on forever. You can still win this thing.
Finnick.-
I grip the bottle tightly, almost enough for it to crack.
I chug down the entirety of the contents. It must be an energy drink of some kind because I feel completely revitalised. As if, for a moment, I don't feel like complete shit.
I feel ready for a fight.
The cannon fires.
LOTHAR
I drop the face I cut off the girl from Two. Hmmm, I really expected more of her. They just don't make tributes, least of all careers, as strong as they used to.
Well, I suppose my summer vacation is coming to its end. Just one more to go and then I earn my victor status.
Where is Ron hiding?
"I'm quite comfy where I am," I say towards the sky. "Would you kindly send the last one towards me? I'll wait for him here."
Half an hour passes without event, long enough for me to wonder if they might be ignoring me. Why would they ignore their star killer of the year?
I smile when the sound of footsteps draws near. Time for the finale to begin.
RON
Snakes. So many of them. A hoard of the bastards chasing me on and on through the forest.
Herding me towards the final battle. It's probably the girl from Two left. She scored a ten in training, she surely would've killed the boy from Three. He was just another low scorer.
That's what I thought at least. When the snakes are called off, leaving me to wander into a silent clearing, I see my final opponent up in the trees.
The boy from Three.
"Welcome," he says, almost warm… something's off about him, I can tell right away. "Welcome to my little hideout. Took you long enough."
"Let's just do this quickly. There's a monster out there, neither of us want to meet it," I frown upon seeing his grin. "…Why are you smiling?"
"How about I show rather than telling?" he vanishes up into the branches. "Just a moment."
A moment is all it takes.
Bodies, lots of them. I recoil in revulsion, horrified by the number of dead bodies – dead tributes! – that land around the clearing. The boy from Six, the boy from Nine, the mutilated pair from One… on and on it goes until what's left of Strap and Rottway fall to the ground.
Eleven bodies overall.
"You… you…" I can't get the words out.
"I bled them dry. That what you're trying to say?" the boy from Three chuckles from somewhere above me. "It wasn't hard. I've already done this to, like, eighty people already, Maybe eighty two? All about practise. And now, you're next."
It all clicks into place. The cannons, the words of the boy from Two, people vanishing into the trees… shit. This isn't just a nasty tribute, this is a serial killer.
If I die then he can just keep his rampage going.
…Not if I have anything to say about it!
"Why not just let me kill you?" he says, lowering himself back into sight. "You said it yourself, you wanted to die. You craved death. What changed?"
"I made friends," I say. "They may be dead, but something else changed… I met you. If I lose, you win. I'm not letting that happen, freak."
I only manage to run one step forwards before a vine snare yanks me into the trees above. My mace falls to the ground below, vanishing under the overgrowth.
Shit!
LOTHAR
It's amusing hearing Ron's words of scorn and then watching him fall into my traps, same as anybody else. Even moreso seeing the way he's wriggling around like some kind of huffy bug.
I'm over to him in a flash, holding out my razor towards him.
"Let me hear you scream," I say, purring.
He screams loud.
ACK! I let out a screech, blood flowing down my face as I fall backwards off the branch. By the time I stand up he's untied himself and stands himself up at the far side of the clearing.
How… how did he untie himself?
How?
"I've dealt with that at work for years," Ron says, spitting out a few drops of blood. He holds a knife, the one he slashed open my cheek with. "Did you never think about what you'd do if somebody managed to escape your ambush?"
He points his knife at me.
"I am going to kill you," he speaks with pure, utter hatred.
I just snicker. My crossbow fell somewhere out of sight, but that matters little. I made sure to grab an axe from the cornucopia just in case. Seems like I'll finally be putting it to some good use.
"You're gonna wish you'd just jumped to the landmines, boy."
RON
I stand my ground, but I can't hide my fear. I'm just about out of supplies while this maniac has surely gotten way more sponsors than I have. My mace is gone, I have no medical gear… it's just a a knife, a bottle and a roll of duct tape.
It'll do.
I keep my gaze on him. I leer at the monster as I tape the knife to one hand and the bottle to my other. One strike upon a rock and the bottle shattered, its broken remains forming a makeshift weapon for me to use.
I will kill him.
He's much stronger than me. So many kills compared to my one which was only possibly because the girl hadn't watched her back.
Still, I will kill him.
He's a monster. If I lose he'll surely draw it out for hours. Maybe a day if it's even possible.
Still, I will kill him.
He's stronger than me in just about every way. Even with the cut I just gave him he's far tougher than I could ever be.
Still… I. WILL. KILL. HIM.
"A knife? A bottle? Is that all you have?" he asks, chuckling.
"It's all I'm going to need," I hold up my fists. "If anything, you're the one who is underequipped."
He just laughs. "You think I care? No. Any last words Ron?"
I think of all those I ever loved. All those who I've managed to outlive, unfairly. All of them deserved to live more than I did.
Fenner… Strap… Rottway…
My eyes narrow, ablaze with determination.
I picture Rottway once last time. "Once more into the fray. Into the last good fight I'll ever know. Live and die on this day… live and die… on this day…"
We glare at one another for a moment.
We both roar as we charge towards each other, meeting in the middle of the clearing for a savage duel to the death. His axe strikes my shoulder and his fist meets my ribs hard enough for them to crack.
My knife digs into his arm and the glass bottle cuts his face.
Blood is everywhere and we're both screaming.
He better scream. I'm only just getting started!
With one final look down at Ron the star crossed lovers of District Twelve continued their walk down the street. They were getting very close to the end by now.
Ten steps ahead they came to the next imprinted face along the massive street, one of an awkward looking boy wearing a toque hat. His eyes were diverted to the side, his expression a mixture of awkward and curious. In general he looked fairly scruffy.
"You know, I always thought mutts were terrifying beasts," Peeta began. "…And I still do. But Skinner? He made facing them look so easy."
"I don't think he even realised he was in the Games at all. He didn't talk much and he was never hunting for tributes," Katniss could only shake her head. "He had a much bigger target all along."
Hope you all enjoyed these Games. Did they make your skin crawl at all? It sure made me feel a bit like that as I was writing. I think the fact we kept swapping between Ron and Lothar made things a lot better than it would have been had I just stuck with Ron as the narrator. If nothing else it sure gave us a look at just how vile some tributes can be, huh? Partly I feel like the chapter was more about Ron's journey from wanting to die to having a reason to fight and live, opposed to us seeing yet another duel to the death, hence why it cut out where it did. Kinda plays a touch into how some of this chapter was inspired by the general feel of the ever amazing yet tragic film 'The Grey'. Anyway, stay tuned for more, guys, we've got one of the last Catching Fire victors looming near, and a mystery of canon I intend to answer once and for all. Stay tuned…
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), Gloss Lord (63rd Games), Cashmere Lord (64th Games), Augustus Braun (67th 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), Enobaria Golding (62nd 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), Finnick Odair (65th Games), Ron Stafford (68th 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), Spud Munroe (66th Games)
District 12: Duke Saint-Rose (6th Games), Haymitch Abernathy (50th Games)