Chapter Sixty-Five: Do it Like Nobody's Watching

Still Day Six

Maxxer "Max" Bent, District Twelve

I'm still missing half my field of vision, and at this point I've more or less confirmed this change is permanent.

In the increasingly-unlikely event that I make it out of this hellhole Arena alive, I'm sure there's some surgery that I can get that'll give me a replacement eye or even some kind of bionic eye or something equally ridiculous, but for now, I'm going to have to make do with this. While I keep having to turn my head to see the same things I could normally with two good eyes, I can't say this is that much worse off. Even the pain has started dying down after a while, or maybe I've just gotten used to it. I'd accept either at this point.

Still have to keep walking. If I'm not moving, someone else will find me, either on their own or through Gamemaker intervention. And I doubt any of them are going to be willing to ally with me the way Romeo was.

A lot of aimless wandering later, I find another stream, or at least the bed where another stream used to be. Once I get close enough, I can see that it's still there, but it's only flowing with about half the strength it might be capable of handling. Don't know, don't

Maybe the stream's being drained or maybe something else happened, because the water level's a lot lower than I remember it. There's still enough water and it's still clear enough to drink from (at least I hope), but I'm guessing within a day or two all the water here's going to be gone. Might as well stockpile some while I still can.

Whatever containers I have (which aren't that many) get filled. I make sure to drain every last one of them and then fill them again, even though I'm not thirsty. Good. Now I'm probably clear for at least two more days no matter what happens, and at this stage of the Games there can't be much more to go.

Now to settle my second biggest concern, which is finding a shelter for the night, if any even exists at this point. While I'm not worried yet about it raining again (and even if it did, getting wet is so low on the inconveniences list here that I honestly don't care) I also need a place where getting found is less likely. I'm still one of the weakest links, doubly so with only one functioning eye, and unless I pull out some master plan at the last second, my best shot is to reach the finale and get lucky. It's happened before, it can happen again.

Clara Ridley, District One Female

I notice the landmarks of an area I settled in earlier before long. A quick walk through it, checking constantly to make sure nothing else is alerted to my presence, and I'm ready to hit the road once more.

But halfway through, something catches my eye, causing me to stop.

"Wait," I mutter to myself. "Didn't I put three traps down here, not two?"

The conclusion doesn't take long to draw: one of the traps must have gone off. Time to see what it caught. Or who. It could be anything, and I wouldn't really care.

Follow the blood. That's easy enough, considering it looks like someone was drawing a line with their finger for the most part, only the occasional break warranting a bit of searching. The line's thin, so maybe whatever this is isn't dead yet, but that'll either snag me another kill or food or at least some prestige if I tagged a mutt somehow, so I'll take either of those as well.

Finding the trap doesn't take very long. And once I see what it's attached to, I feel the urge to whoop with triumph before I smother it for now.

She seems halfway between conscious and not, her eyes bloodshot beyond all belief and her face pale. Her clothes are ripped mostly to shreds, her hair filthy and tangled. One of her legs seems to stop at the ankle, the missing trap clenched tightly around its prize, stained deep red with all the blood it's extracted.

I smile. Perfect. All of my fucking problems to this point, presenting themselves to me with a neat little bow tied up over everything. She thought she may have been so badass taunting me at every corner and getting Galadia killed and evading me at every single turn, but now her reign of terror has come to a swift and succinct end, and she's all but admitted that she could never match me no matter what she tried.

Her eyes meet mine, and the terror that results is delicious.

She releases a halfhearted scream, but then I tackle her and she hits the ground. The ground in this section of the woods is pretty soft, so I don't think I hurt her much, but that part's coming later. She's mine at the end of the day no matter what happens, so who cares just how I get the job done as long as it's done?

And in spite of every single clue smashing into her skull indicating it's over for her, somehow the girl still has it in her to tell me off.

"This means nothing," the girl says. "Someone's going to kill you. Lacey, or the other Careers, or someone. The Gamemakers aren't going to let you out of here alive."

I snicker. "Please. Don't patronize me. Do you really think the Gamemakers are going to kill their golden goose this early? I'm not sure how the highlight reel is coming along so far, but chances are I'm pretty well-represented. I've still got it, and no one is going to convince me otherwise."

Her face remains stoic. "How many victors are sadistic fucks like you?"

Another laugh. "They're all killers! How they do it doesn't matter, they still do it! Who cares if I'm having a little fun in the process? Games is in the title!"

Before she says anything else, I decide the best course of action is to just cover her mouth. I leave her nose free, though: I don't want to suffocate her. At least I think so. That just doesn't seem fun at the moment.

"Nope," I say. "I'm done hearing whatever sarcastic fucking comebacks or pieces of goddamn life advice you have to say. You've been nothing but a thorn in my side this entire time, and this is going to feel better than a single thing I've ever done in my fucking life. And both of us deserve every single second."

I make my first cut, a long one crossing both her cheeks, but then the girl begins to fucking smile like a goddamn masochist. If she's one of those fucking whack jobs, I swear I'm going to bash her head to a fucking pulp. "Do you mind? I am trying to kill you!"

A wet, hacking laugh escapes the bastard girl. "Hey. If I'm going to die anyway, the least I can do is make sure you don't get to enjoy this."

Even in her final moments, the girl has it in her to be a massive pain in the ass. Any other time, I might have at least given her credit there. Now, it's nothing more than a nuisance. And it will be ripped out of her before long if I have anything to do with it.

"Fuck that," I say, spitting on the ground. "This is going to be fun."

Godric Runestone, District Two Male

Today's been surprisingly mundane thus far: not much has happened. Either the Gamemakers are asleep at the wheel, or the action's focusing on other tributes today. That could be a good sign if the Gamemakers are satisfied with us after the whirlpool incident or a bad sign if the Gamemakers feel other tributes are more interesting than us.

Sienna and I are quietly conversing as we walk to try and stave off boredom, making sure to keep the volume minimal so we don't alert anyone that's not already in point-blank range, weapons drawn. We're shaping up for a beautiful sunset at this rate, the sky slowly turning a vibrant shade of orange overhead.

All that immediately goes out the window when I see movement on the other end of the field we're crossing. Putting a finger to my lips, I point it out to Sienna, and then the two of us start hurrying towards the other end of the field as silently as we can. Unfortunately, stealth goes out the window before we manage to reach our destination.

We identify that our target is a tribute at the same time he sees us. The boy's carrying a backpack and nothing else, including any weapons. Unfortunately for us, even if the guy has the boldness to take on two Careers, everyone's smart enough to know not to do that without a weapon or at least some kind of trap to work with, and so he bolts, Sienna and I starting to sprint at the same time.

Within the first few seconds of the chase, I can tell that this guy's fast. Really fast. Fast enough that we're on relatively even ground with him even though we've trained and chances are he hasn't. He's clearly been in some chases in his lifetime, because he's following all the advice I remember from my training when you're trying to lose someone behind you: swerve constantly, don't take risky routes unless you have no other choice, stick to areas you know well. I don't have a weapon made for throwing, so that's out, and this guy's agile enough that even if I did he'd probably just dodge whatever I sent his way.

This continues for a few breathless minutes, but then I notice he's slowing down. Not by much, just a hair, but we finally begin gaining on him. A few more minutes of this, and we've got him for sure.

Then the boy swerves once more, manages to open the bag he's carrying, and then dumps everything out behind him before picking up the pace once more. In my infinite wisdom, I step on what I think is a can and immediately face-plant, probably looking like an absolute klutz on national television to boot. Sienna dodges all the supplies and keeps up the chase, so I get to my feet and make sure to do the same, though.

Sienna's fast as well: I can't catch up despite pushing myself to the limit, perhaps even more so with my bloody, possibly-broken nose sending me jolts of adrenaline between the jolts of pain.

"I'm sorry," Sienna says. "I lost him. Should we keep looking?"

"It's too dark," I say. "We're not catching him tonight."

Sienna releases a frustrated groan, punctuated by breathy sighing. "At least we tried, I guess. It's something."

"More than something," I say, starting to move once more. "We got his supplies, so that'll be nice for a little while."

Retracing our steps, made easy enough by the blood trail I happened to leave, brings me to our target's bounty: a few cans of food, three bottles of water, and a small object with a weird shape that reveals itself as a can opener once I get close enough. It'll provide a nice boost, if one that's a bit less than I would have wished for. No point in complaining too much about free stuff, right?

This is still a success at the end of the day. We've had an interesting incident happen, and now it's almost certain the Gamemakers will leave us alone. We should still be the most important group remaining in the Games unless Clara's formed some freaky alliance we don't know about yet.

I'm not sure what she's doing at the moment, but I just have to hope it's not plotting to get rid of us, at least not yet.

Zari Morelett, District Six Female

I hear it first.

It's not much, something that sounds like a weak moan. The noise immediately sets my hair on end, considering the time and place, but it's there and I'm not sure how to even react to it. Toren doesn't seem to notice anything, however. "Hey, what's the holdup?"

Another moan. Toren catches this one. "Wait, did you hear that?"

I nod. "Any clue on what it is?"

"Probably a trap," Toren says.

If this were a cartoon or even if the trapper in question felt poetic, they'd have burst out of hiding now, but the woods are still silent, and I can't see any marks that indicate someone was here recently.

Two more steps forward in the fading light, and then I see it reflecting the last sunlight of the day.

Blood. Not much, but still blood. There's another couple of droplets about fifteen feet in front of me, and a larger splatter in front of that.

"Oh, boy," I say. "That can't be good."

Toren rolls her eyes. "I assumed that already. Maybe we should go the other way."

Another moan interrupts anything else I had to say, louder and clearer than before. Someone clearly wants us to follow whatever clues this left.

I hear Toren calling me a fucking idiot under her breath, but she follows me nonetheless. The blood splatters just keep increasing in both size and frequency, staining the ground in filthy patches. Then the stench kicks in and my stomach starts turning uneasily for more reasons than one. Everything just builds and builds and builds until finally—

What the fuck happened to her?

Naturally, my first reaction to seeing a body mangled like that is to lose whatever's in my stomach and probably some other stuff on top of that, emptying what little remains into a bush. Judging by the gagging noises coming from next to me, Toren's struggling mightily not to do the same. The girl from Three is making some kind of noise, but I can't understand a thing she's saying, and I doubt she's in any position to do sign language again even if my hands weren't shaking so badly.

She's got cuts all over her face, forming so many lines her skin resembles a jigsaw puzzle. While I can't see what's under her clothes, there's enough blood and… other things staining them that it can't be any prettier. On top of all that, both of her middle fingers look like they got chopped off, what looks uncomfortably like bone sticking out of the stumps left behind.

"Whoever did this is fucking sick," Toren says. "Do you remember who did this to you?"

The girl manages the most imperceptible of nods. Then, struggling with every infinitesimal motion, she holds up a single finger.

That has to be a clue of some kind. "Girl from One?"

Another nod.

Now I feel even more nauseated than before. The girl from One split up Lacey and I, meaning that at the moment, Lacey wasn't in much of a state to fight her. Sure, she'd just gotten out of another fight, so that might change if both of them started in an ideal place, but that probably wouldn't have been a fight Lacey would have won. And given how incredible a fighter she must have been to earn her eight, that's not a comforting idea.

I kneel down next to her. "I'm not sure we're going to be able to get her, but I'm sure we can try."

The girl's expression doesn't change. Maybe she doesn't think we can do it or something. I don't blame her.

I'm not sure what the hell our plan is for this girl, but I'm sure Toren has one, she's been pretty reliable with that for now. "What do we do now?"

"We can't just leave her like that," Toren says. "And I'm no doctor, but she's not recovering from that. We're going to have to do this eventually, let's get this over with."

Okay. She may be right, but this still isn't going to be easy. Even if I'm not even sure whether the girl will feel it anymore, she's so out of it.

I take one knife, and Toren takes another. We find where we guess her heart is supposed to be quick enough, and both of us stab in tandem. A sigh escapes the girl's body, a single convulsion shakes it, and then she goes slack.

While I can't say I feel proud of myself as the cannon fires, at least in this case there's a sense of relief.

Unfortunately, there's going to be a time I have to do it again. I can't say I'll be ready.

Eulogies:

-Sotia Vance, District 3 Female, 10th Place (Killed by Clara, Zari, and Toren): Sotia was just a lot of fun to write whenever she had her time in the spotlight, with both her sarcastic attitude and her complete lack of fear. Any interactions between her, Clara and Galadia were just a joy to handle, and she bounced off most of the other tributes just fine as well. However, it looks like Clara finally got the opportunity she needed to exact her revenge. Thanks for sending her in, Professor R.J Lupin1.

Kills:

-Other: 3 unassisted (Aryion [suicide], Catarina [mosquito muttations], Odysea [drowning]), 1 assisted (Artesia [bear muttation])

-Galadia: 2 unassisted (Fox, Vick), 1 assisted (Alexa)

-Clara: 1 unassisted (Remi), 3 assisted (Faolan, Alexa, Sotia)

-Godric: 3 assisted (Faolan, Marius, Spark)

-Lacey: 1 unassisted (Galadia)

-Sotia: 1 unassisted (Romeo)

-Odysea: 2 assisted (Nascar, Artesia)

-Sienna: 2 assisted (Marius, Spark)

-Artesia, Thomiah: 1 assisted (Nascar)

-Zari, Toren: 1 assisted (Sotia)

Author's Notes:

-Quick turnaround this time around. One more downed tribute and we'll be in the homestretch.

-Originally, more of what happened to Sotia was shown explicitly, but, uhhh... I don't know if it's ethical to call a gruesome torture scene complete filler, but it felt a hell of a lot like it. Thus, just about everything that happens to her is implied (except the middle fingers, of course, about which I think you can draw the conclusion there).

-That's everything I have to say. Thanks for reading, and I hope to see you next chapter!