II. CROWNING CARNAGE PART I


CHIVALRY CARPENTER - DISTRICT ONE
THE 90TH HUNGER GAMES


It's just her and Pertinax now. The District Two boy is an entire three feet away yet Chivalry can still feel herself sweating.

One more, Chiv… One more and then it'll all be over. You can finally rest.

She feels the leather grip she reinforced her sword with beginning to peel off the handle in her palm, shit. Is this an issue? It seems like an issue. Chivalry won't let it be one. She's come too far to make an issue over the fact that she can't quite hold onto her sword with the same tenacity that she wishes she could. She's trained for this from what seems like the first moment of her life. No, this is her life now.

(Because Chivalry Carpenter doesn't know what life is outside of Elysium's golden gates and ivy trim. The palatial walls have become her home over the years, and she isn't quite sure what she'll do once she's unleashed back into reality. That's always been foreign to her.)

She can't be thinking about after now. Chivalry has to get out first.

"Come here pretty princess," She looks up from the blade's reflection to see Pertinax charging towards her, a spear in his hand, "Don't you miss your mommy?"

Shit… I shouldn't have told him that.

When Chivalry told Pertinax about her mother, how she gave birth to Chiv when she was just sixteen, only to die in the war at the hands of a general from Thirteen, she didn't think he'd ever get the opportunity to use that against her.

This was why Chivalry never opened up to anybody. Weakness, vurnerability was a plague, its only intention being to destroy her. What she told Pertinax was so simple too, just a casual remark, an off the cuff statement that she didn't have a mother, yet he was using it to taunt her.

"I never even knew her," Chiv spits at the ground, slowly lifting her legs to make what she assumes will be an escape from Pertinax, "I'm not going to meet her now," her volume increases.

The arena is a dustbowl and Chivalry is coughing up a storm. She's certain something is in her lungs, she's felt it for the past few days. But she won't deal with that now. She has a Games to win.

"Sorry, what did you say?" Pertinax, her former ally now a permanent foe tries once again to chastise her, "Come closer, I'd love to hear you better."

The only way Chivalry is going to "come close" to Pertinax is if she's examining his body for stab wounds she inflicted.

He doesn't wait for her, Pertinax just walks closer to Chiv, his voice slightly cackling.

Pertinax enjoys killing. Everyone from Two does.

Chivalry doesn't have time to think, she needs to trust her gut instinct. Pertinax tries to begin taunting her once more but she takes another step closer, and then a few more. Her sword is still firmly in her hand and he's readying his spear like he's ready to attack but she won't let him.

She's always been the type to close her eyes before a kill, no real desire to see the light leave somebody's eyes right before they crash to the ground, so that's what Chivalry does this time. She just closes her eyes and runs towards Pertinax, only snapping back to reality once his cannon fires.

"Presenting Chivalry Carpenter of District One. The Victor of the 90th Annual Hunger Games."


DYNASTY FORGE - DISTRICT TWO
THE 85TH HUNGER GAMES


Dynasty has always considered himself a good person.

His mother and father told him the same thing growing up, "Dy, we'd want nobody else but you as our son. You're so compassionate and caring and we're happy you have a good heart."

It was hard at first, being the only son in a family that clearly wanted dozens of children. Dynasty never felt like he was enough. But his parents always told him that he was a good person, and being good would always save him at the end of the day.

He wasn't so sure he could consider himself a good person anymore.

The District Five girl's severed head was in his hands, the rest of her body cold and rotting in between Dynasty's feet. It had been several moments of this sort of struggle between the two of them, well actually it was more than just the two of them.

"You're the best axe-wielder we've seen in decades," was something Dynasty often heard at Leon Academy, yet he never really believed it until he was on the golden fields of the arena and he had to use an axe to kill, not that he hadn't done so before.

Even when the bloodbath came and left, Dynasty taking out a few targets along the way with his axe in hand, he failed to believe it. His own inferiority complex tended to humble him from time to time.

Four. That was how many people Dynasty had just killed within the span of ten or so minutes. The girl from Five, her partner, and then their allies from Seven. And it was easy too, almost too easy. Dynasty had no idea how they even made it to the finale, especially when the other Careers didn't, yet they all tried to ambush him.

Dynasty wasn't even scared. He just grabbed his axe (the only thing he was good at doing) and then raised it above the Five boy's head, and he practically ran into it. Dynasty barely had to swing and the boy was already dead at his feet.

While the Five girl cried, it was easy for him to take out the Sevens. Their bones were fragile and practically shattered upon the faintest impact with Dynasty's weapon. He barely had to try and they fell on top of one another, cannons ringing of their death immediately.

Dynasty's final enemy got up and realized what she had gotten into. Yet it was too late for her to go back.

Part of Dynasty wanted to mutter an apology before he bought the axe down onto her neck, but no words could leave his mouth.

Dynasty Forge was no longer a good person, but he was a god of his own creation.

"Presenting Dynasty Forge of District Two. The Victor of the 85th Annual Hunger Games."


ATHLON PENTIUM - DISTRICT THREE
THE 93RD HUNGER GAMES


If the Capitol wanted a show, then Athlon wouldn't hesitate to provide. There's a somewhat manic grin on her face as she stands at the top of a pile of rubbish, crushed up bottles, paper, and dreams all beneath her feet. She's claimed the arena as her palace, and on top of her man-made mansion, Athlon Pentium is queen.

She'll make everybody else pay, even if that's just one more Tribute now. She's always been a bit of a rogue, never the sort to agree with the people around her. So they never really bothered her back at Three. Everyone always let her keep to herself, knowing that the chemical prodigy would have no issues smiting them without hesitation. Athlon never liked being messed with, or even just spoken to in general.

(That of course, made things rather hard for her in the arena, especially since the whole point of being in a Career pack was teamwork. But Athlon was willing to play the long game, even though that meant poisoning her allies food so that they would decay day by day until it just took a quick stab to remove them from the world.)

It was all a show. Athlon could've killed them easily on the first day. Just a quick mix of everything in the wasteland arena around her and they'd be gone before they could say their prayers to her. It was the same case back at the Institute… Linux, Davis, Lenovo. All gone with the wind.

It was deserved too. Athlon needed somebody who would listen to her easy for her District Partner, and those three boys were too blunt. Avery wasn't, and that's why he was perfect for listening to her plans and not saying a thing. As smart as he was, he was too much of a coward to ever stand a real chance. Athlon almost felt bad when she had to kill him last.

Almost.

The boy from Nine tries to climb up her pile but Athlon's still marked it as her own territory. She stares at the bucket of toxins and acid in her hands and smirks again.

This should be easy.

He comes closer, looking down at her someone petite figure, probably wondering whatever the fuck could be in her bucket. Chemicals will always speak for Athlon when words can't.

She flicks the bucket at his torso causing him to instantly wince in pain as the liquid burns through his shirt and starts touching his skin.

"Can you not handle your hydrochloric acid?" Athlon taunts before kicking him in the shins to send him tumbling to the ground.

She pours more of the acid on him, this time covering his face. And now all she needs to do is wait for her salvation to ring through the speakers.

"Presenting Athlon Pentium of District Three. The Victor of the 93rd Annual Hunger Games."


SAILOR CRUISE - DISTRICT FOUR
THE 84TH HUNGER GAMES


Like a fish out of water, Sailor manages to free himself from the riptide that wrecks the arena with a flop onto the cold, hard, concrete floor.

Shit… He rubs his head and notices a bleed from his temple, Yeah… this really doesn't feel good.

He's lightheaded. The world around him is spinning, the metal poles in the urban jungle appearing in duplicates.

How many of them are there? Shit… what's real any more?

Sailor has no way of knowing.

He looks out into the flooded riptide that previously entangled him and notices a head bobbing up and down under the water.

"Miami!" He's able to mutter out a scream for his sister, even if it's the last thing he'll be able to do.

(Because Sailor is convinced he's dying. He's certain that the only reason he doesn't want to yell in anguish just yet is because of adrenaline, yet that'll soon fade and he'll be left with the pain as he bleeds out on the ground.)

"Sai—" She screams back before the water engulfs her again, twisting and turning as she appears to get closer to her.

Sailor reflects; maybe it was stupid of his parents to send both twins to the Games in the same year. They had to know that only one of them would come back alive if they were lucky, right? Then again, Veranda and Ravine Cruise were never really known for their intellects. The laughing stocks of Four who were convinced they needed a Victor if they wanted to be respected.

And now Sailor was unsure that it would be him.

Throughout the Games he'd been feeling pretty decent. He didn't usually think about all the horrible things that were bound to go wrong. Never in a million years did Sailor think it would be down to just him and Miami, and he'd be conscious to hear her screams as she hit the ground harder than he did.

"Say something to me," Sailor shakes her body, even though she appears to have already given up. She's trying to close her eyes yet one lid stays hinged open, almost as if she's trying to hold on for dear life but she knows that's not a possibility, "Miami, please."

"G-go …on," She mutters, a tear welling in her one open eye.

Sailor remembers it all, the times when they were kids and he would joke that if they ever somehow made it to the Games together, he'd be dead in an instant and she'd have to wear the crown for him. Miami would laugh too, say that they had equal chances.

They came to the conclusion that neither of them wanted to die in order to guarantee the other lived yet the Surf and their parents had different ideas.

Two kids means twice as high the odds one comes out…

"I love you," Sailor sighs as Miami closes her second eye, "Everything I do from this day forwards is for you."

A cannon sings her lullaby.

"Presenting Sailor Cruise of District Four. The Victor of the 84th Annual Hunger Games."


Hello! It is me again he he! I hope you enjoyed this second prologue and a look at half our mentors in their crowning moments before they won it all. You'll meet the second bunch in the next prologue, along with the announcement of our Tributes, so look forwards to that on March 15th since I extended the deadline because I'm nice. I've been loving the kids I've received so far and as you can see one of the spots is already closed. Looking forwards to all the others, though! I just know this cast will be amazing. Let me know what you thought of this chapter though! Who your favorite mentor is if you feel so inclined. Opinions are fun!

Fuck this shit, I'm out,

Linds