IMPORTANT NOTE AT THE BOTTOM/END OF CHAPTER: PLEASE READ (AND NO I'M NOT DISCONTINUING THIS STORY.)

Chapter 4

The following morning started out the same as always for Tak. She had her daily routines; everyone did, but this morning ritual of hers... Only a past winner of the Defective Tournament would understand where this routine started; only if that winner felt prior remorse.

After waking up to the morning sun bursting through the window in her room, she'd sit up in bed and stay in that position for five, sometimes ten minutes. It was worse before; after winning the Defective Tournament, she would sit there for thirty minutes on end, sometimes even more than that, and simply let the silence and the memories take over. Now a year later, she was at least able to shorten the minutes. It was progress, somewhat. A slow, steady progress that would take extra years to heal completely before she could sit up and get out of bed completely without recounting the events.

After sitting there for about five minutes, the covers still draped over her, she pushed herself completely out of bed, letting the covers fall beside her as her bare feet met the floor. She stood there momentarily before moving forward toward the door, almost numbly. The sleep wore off a bit, her stomach growling. Once she made it out the door, -it opening immediately after she stepped in front of it-, the sweet smell of pancakes overflowed through her senses, washing over her. Her stomach growled a bit more as she moved down the narrow hallway. The chefs had a big breakfast being cooked in the kitchen, she realized. But during Tak's ritual, breakfast didn't come first. Even when the hunger twisted her squeedly-spooch painfully, she'd ignore it the best she could. One thing came first; it had to come first. Always.

Another door opened automatically. Tak stepped into the dining hall, her eyes immediately locking on the flat screen hanging on the large wall across from the dining table. Almost trance-like, she reached for the remote sitting in the middle of the table before seating herself down in a random spot. Her mind went black as her fingers hit buttons on the remote, buttons she memorized by heart so she could turn the TV on in no-time flat. Before she knew it, the TV was on, ready for any command to be made via remote. More buttons were hit, menus appearing and disappearing on screen. This was a pattern. She knew by heart where to go.

And just like that, the familiar wastelands of a foreign alien planet appeared. Round One it read on the top of the screen. This was Round One of the 4th annual Defective Tournament, she remembered, coming back to reality. Memories... Horrible memories... Why did she force herself to re-watch all four rounds of the Tournament she won the year before? Why did she force herself to remember when she wanted to forget?

It was simple, really. Despite a part of her wanting to forget, another, more stubborn part of her wanted to remember every detail. Why? Because despite feeling remorse for killing four other defective irkens that wanted to kill her, she knew deep down she was a survivor. She had survived the unthinkable, and not only won her life, but won her freedom as well. That Tournament would forever haunt her, yes, but it would always be a reminder of her strength: of her determination to live.

Her muscles tensed as she pressed play. She simply froze in place and watched as Round One from last year's Tournament played on screen, letting the memories take her back to that first day...

The buzzer went off, blaring loudly as she ran straight for the portal. It only took ten seconds before she burst through the portal and into a barren alien wasteland. Grey skies, brown dirt, dry shrubs of dead plants. The planet seemed familiar, though she couldn't be sure where she had seen this place before. Maybe last year's Tournament? She wasn't sure.

Her eyes locked with the table sitting right in the middle of the open, dirt-ridden field. Weapons. There was so many weapons: a variety of knives, swords, shields... Though it was possible she'd be there for three days or less, the Tallest didn't provide any other items for survival, like food or matches to light a fire. All the contenders were provided with only weapons and their uniforms. The Tallest only cared about the cat and mouse game between two opponents in each round. They didn't want to be bothered with footage of someone setting up camp or lighting a fire.

She went flying forward toward the table without a second thought, without wondering where her first opponent might be.

She skidded to a halt right before the table, eyes glancing around wildly, searching for her opponent. Whoever it was, Tak couldn't see him anywhere. There was a three-day deadline: after three days, if neither opponent is dead, the Tallest can allow the Irkens who control the Tournament to unleash any mega-weapon or creature they wanted... to 'spice' things up. Three days were all that was available, and it suddenly worried Tak, the realization dawning on her that her opponent was nowhere to be found. If there was only three days... She'd rather get everything over with now.

Her hand reached forward, gripping a large knife that looked identical to a sword in size, only the blade was thinner, a bit lighter than the usual. The blade was perfectly thin enough to make a nice, clean cut. She kept that in mind as she lowered the knife by her side, still gripping the handle. Her palms felt wet and clammy, her breathing rapidly escaping her lungs as she glanced around once more. Nothing but barren wasteland. In the distance she could see large rocks and hills; no forests in sight. Not many places to hide.

She wanted to grab more weapons, but she didn't think much of it as she ran off in the distance of the rocks and hills. In the Tournaments before, Tak remembered how most components would only grab a single weapon that seemed to suit them best. The blade in her hand had been similar to the sword she used during the short training process before the Tournament officially began... That was only a day ago; training had been for three days, eight hours each day. Yesterday was the final day of training.

But Tak already knew how to fight from her past training in the Irken Academy, when she had been on track to become an Elite soldier, maybe even an Invader. Alas, neither happened: just a week before her final exam she was taken; sent to Prison 15 as a defect. So close, yet so far...

As she ran toward the distant hills, she laughed bitterly. Now look at where her luck got her: Fighting for her life on live TV. For Irk's entertainment. By now the betting tables were surely opened. She could only guess how many Irkens were betting on her, if any were at all.

What happened next wasn't like your average suspense movie. There was no one watching Tak, following closely behind in the shadows. No... The only ones watching her were the millions of 'normal' Irkens who were at home, watching the live broadcast. Only they could see what she couldn't see: a pair of nimble feet running noiselessly toward Tak; gliding over the dirt effortlessly. She barely had a chance to turn her head when the figure, her opponent, pounced on her.

She was slightly dazed when she hit the ground. The air had been knocked right out of her from the rough impact. Tak erupted in a coughing fit, realizing what had happened and who's face it had been that suddenly appeared. The knife was still locked in her hand, she realized, but barely had time to glance over her shoulder and prepare an attack before the knife was kicked out of her hand, flying a few feet away where it came to a halt. She felt the weight of someone's knee digging into her lower back and quickly, instinctively reacted.

Tak swung her fist at her opponent, -a defect from Prison 16 named Vandul-, hitting it's mark. Vandul was caught off guard and, startled by the weight of his opponent's fist slamming into his eye, stumbled back. Tak took the opportunity to scramble forward toward her knife, like a frantic crab in the sand. She was barely inches away from the knife, just a finger's length in reach, when he grabbed her leg, dragging her away from her only weapon.

"I like my girls with purple eyes," he chuckled menacingly, dragging her back to a certain spot in the ground so he could straddle her if necessary.

She mentally slapped herself for only grabbing a single weapon when there were so many other options. And now her ignorance would surely lead to her demise.

'No... I still have my fists,' she realized, suddenly overcome with an odd sense of bravado and courage. All that prior fear, anxiety, discourage and doubt faded away, replaced with a stamina she never felt before, not even during her Academy days. She quickly struck his squeedly-spooch with her leg, sending him flying back into the dirt. She stood up, taking notice of the array of knives attached to the sides of his Tournament uniform. He was well-armed yet went into the fight unprepared. She fought back a smirk as she jumped on him, sending her fists into him, in any and every place on his body possible. Blood went flying as teeth were shattered, ribs cracked and coughs wheezed out of his lungs as she continued her violent attack.

And he laughed, his dark blue eyes cold and empty; void of any emotion. Despite the broken ribs and shattered teeth, Vandul was laughing, as though he were enjoying the pain.

Panting heavily, Tak stopped her attack, lowering her fists as she watched him laugh. 'A masochist,' she realized, 'and a big one at that.'

"Big mistake," he said breathlessly, after calming down from his laughing fit.

Tak barely had time to register his words. She felt something sharp strike her face, feeling it tear through her skin. She cried out in shock, falling back against the ground. Already she could feel the warm liquid running down the side of her face. Vandul's claws had made three long gashes across the left side of Tak's face, drawing a cascade of green blood flowing from the fresh wounds.

He was quick and agile in his movements as he quickly pinned her down, turning her over on her stomach. He straddled her, grinning wickedly. "Now I'll really give 'em a show."

For a second, -as the pain slightly subsided and her breathing slowed to a normal pace-, Tak didn't understand what her opponent meant, until she remembered his previous words: 'I like my girls with purple eyes.'

Sadism and dominance... Two qualities that were quite evident in Vandul's dark blue eyes. Tak felt her bones shudder, her muscles tensing in fear. 'Oh Irk,' she thought in a panic, 'he's going to..'

She didn't dare finish her thought. Before Vandul even had a chance to reach for the zipper of her Tournament uniform, Tak made a move to elbow him, but he caught her arm, twisting it around in it's socket. She cried out in pain as he forced her on her back, pinning her down. He reached for the sharpest knife in the collection strapped to his sides.

His hand shot out, and immediately she felt the cold blade pressing against her throat. It was pressed deeply enough to where one quick, effortless movement could slice the skin right open. She made no attempt to move. Unlike Vandul, Tak thought her plan of action through before going along with it completely. As she glared up at her opponent, different plans were frantically racing through her mind.

"I remember your interview," he hissed, that sick grin never leaving his face. "You looked real good in that dress... Maybe you'll wear that dress again when they bury you in the ground."

A plan came to mind and stuck there. He wasn't that heavy, she realized. His body weight pinning her down wasn't overbearing. He was light, almost as though he was barely there on top. "Not today," she hissed back, and was jolted into action. She wrapped her legs around his thin frame, throwing him off. The knife left the skin of her neck as she leaped at him, her hand connecting around the handle of the blade in his hand. Her movements were so quick that Vandul barely had time to fight for the knife that was snatched from his hand.

Now Tak pinned him down, bringing the knife, his knife, to his throat. Instead of wasting time to address any last words to her opponent, she made a quick, swift movement with the blade. The green skin of Vandul's neck opened up in a matter of seconds, drawing much more blood than the gashes on Tak's face had. She panted heavily, a bit exhausted from the fight as she watched Vandul gag and choke, the blood leaking out of the deep wound. He was staring at her with wide eyes. There was no fear behind the dark blue eyes; only an empty, almost satisfied glint. Was he enjoying the pain? The feeling of warm blood running down his neck? Tak couldn't tell, but didn't think much of it as she watched the life drain from his body.

It only took a minute before he went still, lying limp in the dirt floor. His eyes were lifeless now, though the dark blue orbs were still locked on Tak's purple eyes. She stared at him for a moment, the memory so fresh that she was nearly overcome with a variety of emotions. Guilt, anger, sadness... She turned away, letting her thoughts wander as she stood up, waiting for the announcement that Round One was over, that she had won.

The announcement came, loud and booming over the barren wasteland, but Tak couldn't hear the exact words. For now, she wouldn't focus on the life she had just taken. She had survived the first Round, and even her first opponent was ruthless and menacing. Vandul had wanted to cause her pain. Thinking that over made her a bit more prepared to take three more lives. Three more lives in order to keep her own life. In order to win.

As the portal appeared to take her back to Irk's capital, Tak could only hope that her next three opponents were as violent and insane as Vandul. That way, it'd be easier to kill them and save herself without the guilt.

But even then, there was a hint of guilt that lingered...

That was her first time ever actually killing someone. She paused the video at the end, where the camera was locked overhead on the two figures; Vandul, lying in a pool of blood in the dirt, and Tak standing over him, not looking directly at the body, but at the sky. The Academy trained irkens to fight and conquer, not actually kill people. But she had done it knowing that her opponent was bloodthirsty and insane. That in itself explained why Vandul was from Prison 16, where the most defected irkens resided. It made it easier for Tak to kill Vandul from just knowing that he was sadistic and wanted to watch her bleed.

But there was still guilt. She couldn't help it, knowing that Vandul too had been fighting for his life, for his freedom. He might have been cruel and murderous, but he was still a living being that was killed because the Tallest ordered this entire Tournament to be required every year by law. This was the Tallest' fault for putting this entire event together. But it wasn't the Tallest who put the knife to Vandul's throat. Tak was the one who made that clean cut on his neck. The Tallest just watched and cheered while stuffing their fat faces with junk food...

Her hand tightened over the remote; clenching it, squeezing it. Now her close friend was being sent to face the same fear, guilt and torment she had faced a year before. She wasn't frightened at all for Zim's life, -she knew he had a chance of winning-, but for his peace of mind. Guilt associated with killing, even when forced to kill had many possible affects on one's mind. And Tak could only wonder which affect it would have on Zim's mind.

The possibilities were endless and overwhelming. So overwhelming in fact that she didn't notice the new presence that had entered the dining hall secretly from behind, until she heard his voice, "You did what you had to do."

A/N: Vandul belongs to Devil's Writer. :)

OMG I UPDATED. *is shot* I had seriously bad writer's block with HOW to start chapter 4, so I apologize greatly for the long wait!

Anyway, there is many of you who reviewed with OC info AFTER I said that the OC submissions for this story were closed. So the OCs I have down to compete in the Tournament Zim's competing in (WHO HAVE A PRISON CHOSEN) are:

Hans - Prison 1

Kip - Prison 2

The OCs who I have not chosen a Prison for yet (BUT WILL SOON) are:

Zis

Quin

Nyx

Rin

Fang

Drone

Sheeta

Malik

Lun

Cor

Min

Ket

Tianna

These are the 15 OCs chosen to compete in the 5th Annual Defective Tournament. Vandul was submitted after the 15 OCs were chosen, so I picked him to be Tak's first opponent from the 4th Annual Defective Tournament.

So please, no more OC submissions! For the people who submitted OCs after I closed the OC submissions, I'll try to find a spot for your character, maybe as Tak's three other opponents or as some other flashback of past competitors. I'm really sorry. :( But I will try to put your character somewhere else since there's no more room in the actual Tournament.

Oh, and btw, the defects competing in the Tournament all wear the same uniform- a black one-piece suit with the number of their Prison printed on the back.

And also: the ending will obviously be nothing like The Hunger Games, and here's why - there's an underlying plot behind the actual reasoning as to why the things that have happened and will soon happen to Zim. There is a bigger spectrum as to why, completely opposite of the Hunger Games. There's a small hint of it back in chapter 2, but you have to re-read it to find it. ;) It's so small I don't know if anyone will find it, but still.

Anyway, please review, and I'm really sorry for the long update!