Be prepared. Now that the interviews are over, its time for the Hunger Games to begin!
I hate to admit it (sorta) but I am almost excited to kill everyone! XD I feel like such a psychopath! Have your tissues at the ready (it probably won't be that emotional XD).
Sorry I took so long to update. I have not been very word creative lately. XP Anyway, enjoy and review! Any ideas are welcome!
P.s. To the guest who reviewed, thank you for the review! :D And actually, that was brilliant thinking because I never even thought to have Sherlock deduce for the Gamemakers XD But, great job! :))
Jarem Clark had set Molly's mind at ease. She felt so peaceful that she had forgotten about the horrifying events that would be occurring the following day. When she remembered, the anxiety and fear that had always plagued her had come back so strong that she spent the whole evening in her room, skipping dinner. Almost.
She was buried under her covers, in a fetal position when there was a soft knock at the door.
"C-come in," She was shaking so hard that her voice quivered. She felt pressure on the bed as someone sat down behind her.
"You should eat," Molly almost immediately calmed at the sound of Sherlock's voice. Almost.
"I... I..." She tried to speak, but the shaking rippled through her whole body, and tears threatened to spill over the rims of her eyes. She couldn't let that happen. She had been strong for so long, she couldn't let weakness overtake her.
Sherlock put his hand on her arm and Molly exhaled loudly as if she had been holding her breath longer than humanly possible. It was like a calming, electric current flooded into her body just by his touch, and she felt just a little bit better. "I just don't have an appetite." Molly finished.
Sherlock didn't say anything. Instead, he moved so he was laying next to her and put his arm around her and she felt heat in front of her face. Her pulse quickened. Was he going to...? She could hardly see anything in the darkness.
"This will help you sleep through the night," Sherlock whispered. Molly became confused. His voice didn't come from in front of her, but from behind her and she realized that it wasn't the heat of his breath. She slowly sat up and took the warm, steaming cup from his hand. She took a sip. Herbal tea.
"Thanks," She muttered, taking another sip. She sighed, mostly to calm her heart. Why would she ever believe for a second that he would kiss her? He didn't care about her like that, but at least he was there with her.
"I told Moriarty that we would be part of his alliance," Sherlock mumbled after letting Molly finish her tea in silence.
"Moriarty?" Molly asked. "Oh, you mean James. Right."
Sherlock didn't answer for a while, and when he did, he almost sounded excited. No, that's not the word. More like eager. "He does not want us to leave the cornucopia immediately."
Molly nodded thoughtfully. She knew what that meant. It meant being part of the Bloodbath. It meant death all around her. It meant having all the supplies she needed to survive just to see others that she actually liked, be no more than ghosts haunting her dreams. And then she realized that Sherlock was not there to comfort her. He was there to prepare her. He really needed to work on his timing. That is not what she needed right now. The Capitol had been preparing her for her entire life. She didn't need him to make sure she was ready.
"I also worked some things out with John Watson," Sherlock continued. "He is a trustworthy fellow, and I believe Moriarty can be stopped with his help. But we must not let Moriarty find out about it. It could mean more trouble."
"I agree," Molly said without hesitation. She felt better knowing that John was on their side. He was a strong, smart boy. "What about Greg?"
"We can trust him," Sherlock said simply. Then, as if on cue, he said goodnight and quickly fled the room.
When Molly woke up the next morning, she was surprised when she realized she had no nightmares. She did not have any dreams at all, in fact, but a dreamless sleep was better than nightmares.
Molly almost started to wish she had eaten dinner the night before. She would not be enjoying a fancy breakfast this morning like she was used to. Instead, it would just be a small meal to get her started before being placed in the arena. She thought that was backwards. Shouldn't she have a nice, big, goodbye breakfast?
She mentally shook herself as she got dressed in her required training suit. She needed to focus on surviving, even if it was hopeless.
Mycroft met with Molly soon after breakfast and escorted her to the hovercraft. They walked in silence through the halls for a while when Mycroft finally spoke up.
"Remember, look for water," He sounded distant. Sad. It was almost heartbreaking. Almost. "I don't know what the arena will be like, but you must have water."
They stepped into the elevator when Molly spoke.
"I'm sorry you got stuck with me, Mycroft. I know you would have rather been with Sherlock."
Mycroft smiled. "Molly, you know there's no one I would rather be with."
The elevator doors opened. The sun shined in Molly's eyes and her breathe got stuck in her throat as she saw the hovercraft shining in the sun light. This was probably the last time she would ever see Mycroft, and she suddenly felt like she didn't spend enough time with him. She turned to face him, but couldn't speak. She didn't have to, however. Mycroft spoke first, seeing the fear in her eyes.
"Just remember your training. Remember everything we discussed about survival. Remember not to step off the platform too early. You'll blow to smithereens. And remember that I will always be watching out for you from this side."
Molly smiled. She was going to miss Mycroft. He was a true friend. No wonder her sister trusted him. Molly could vaguely remember Susie and Mycroft having a laugh over the smallest things while they were in the Arena. Susie was always happy, and Molly thought that Mycroft made her sister happier, even during the Games.
Molly wrapped her arms around Mycroft. There was so much she wanted to say; wanted to thank him for. But she didn't know how to thank him enough with words, so a hug would have to suffice.
Mycroft froze at first. He was not a hugger. But he soon returned the hug, and whispered in her ear, "Take care of yourself. And make sure he doesn't get himself into too much trouble."
Molly nodded as they finished their embrace. Molly gave him one last smile before turning and walking towards the hovercraft.
"And Molly," Mycroft shouted. Molly stopped and turned towards him. "If you get hurt, don't let him go too far."
Soon, she found herself seated in the belly of a hovercraft with the other Tributes. She was glad to find that she was at one of the ends, so she would only be seated next to one Tribute, and that Tribute was Mary Morstan from District 5. They smiled nervously at each other. Though, they were not good friends, Molly trusted her.
Then, Molly looked across from her, immediately regretting it. Sebastian sat across from her, glaring at her with a smirk. Molly almost couldn't look away from his penetrating eyes. Almost. A woman stepped in front of Molly, and Molly sighed in relief, finally being freed from Sebastian's gaze.
But Molly once again grew anxious as the woman said, "Give me your arm." Instead of waiting, the woman grabbed Molly's wrist and jammed a small device against her skin, right below her elbow. Molly felt a pinch and saw a blinking light enter her arm.
"What is that?" Molly asked, tugging her arm away and examining it.
"Its a tracking device," The woman said simply before moving on.
After Molly found no wound, save a small red halo around the area the woman had launched the tracker into her arm, she searched the seats for any sign of Sherlock. She located him quite quickly, seated next to John. They weren't talking, or seeming to communicate it any way and Molly almost wondered why, but it didn't take her long to see James sitting directly across from John, glaring at them the same way Sebastian glared at her, except he was trying to force the glare into a soft stare, perhaps to seem trustworthy.
Molly knew in that moment that James was worried. He was suddenly so unsure about Sherlock and Molly, and the more he thought about it, the crazier he became, and the less he trusted them. Molly suddenly felt her stomach lurch, and she knew she had to do something, but she didn't know what, and it was impossible to do anything right now anyway.
Molly looked away from James, deciding he was just regretting having volunteered to be a Tribute and was scared, and looked back at Sherlock and John. Molly knew there was something going on there, but she couldn't pick out what it was. Were they... crying? They kept on blinking at each other.
Molly saw some movement on the side of her eye, and looked to see James staring at her. She had to do something to seem trustworthy. The plan needed to go perfectly, and if James didn't trust them, or at least didn't trust her, there was no hope. She smiled warmly at him. If she acted like she trusted him, maybe the outcome would be the same. To Molly's surprise, and relief, James smiled back at her, almost seeming relieved himself.
Before she knew it, she was standing in a cemented room, Hewa getting her ready for the last leg of the journey. Hewa had a sad smile on her face, but Molly knew it wasn't because she was sad that Molly was going out to meet her death, though that was a small part of it. No, Hewa was going to miss playing dress up until next year.
"Thirty seconds," A voice boomed through the speakers. Molly's breathing became shallower and faster, like a mouse. Her heart pounded a thousand miles a minute and she looked down, not able to look Hewa in the eyes.
"Okay, dear. You're ready," Hewa grabbed Molly's shoulders, and squeezed her arms softly. "At least on the outside. How are you feeling?"
Molly could tell the difference between being genuine and just wanting to start a conversation. In this case, it was definitely the latter. Molly just nodded in response.
"Twenty seconds."
Hewa smoothed down Molly's coat sleeves and hair which she had fixed into a fish tail braid and wrapped in a bun.
"This coat will keep you warm in the cold and vice versa. Don't remove it unless absolutely necessary."
"Do you think I can do it?" Molly mumbled.
"What was that, sweetie?" Hewa asked, sounding like she was talking to a child or a dog.
"Do you think I can win?"
"Ten seconds."
Hewa stared at Molly, shocked. She swallowed then smiled. "Better get in the tube." Hewa softly pushed Molly towards the direction of the tube and backed away, chewing on her thumbnail.
Molly trudged towards the tube. She knew it was unfair to ask Hewa such a bizarre question. It wasn't as if Hewa was her Mentor or even her friend. No. Just a stylist.
Molly stepped up into the tube, shaking now. Tears threatened to pore out once again. She was so scared. Her mind was blank, and it was like she suddenly forgot everything Mycroft had taught her; everything she learned in training. She tried to recall it all to her mind to comfort her as the glass doors closed around her and she started escalating upward, but her mind was empty, except for the fear that floated around inside.
Molly closed her eyes, and tried to breathe normally. She was going to go through this whether she wanted to or not. Panicking would not make things better. In fact, it would make things worse. She had to calm down.
Light burned through her eyelids and she felt a damp air hit her cheeks and nose. She inhaled the sweet air. She heard a loud, extended roaring sound.
She felt her platform come to a stop and she slowly opened her eyes. The sun was bright and she immediately recognized where the roaring sound was coming from. Four massive waterfalls surrounded the interior of the inside of the circular wall of rock. Long vines hung down beside the waterfalls. All the vines grew from the very top, hundreds of feet up, and most touched the ground. It looked like the only way out of this hole was to climb up or maybe, go through the caves that sat in between the waterfalls. But who knew if they would actually lead to a way out.
Molly heard the countdown and looked around for Sherlock. But before she could find him, a bomb went off right beside her and she clamped her hands over her ears. The Tribute that had occupied the platform next to her was gone. She looked around, making sure no one she trusted had just committed suicide.
She saw John, Mary, and sadly, Sebastian and finally, she found Sherlock, just as a canon went off. He was not very far away from her. She blinked a few times to make sure that her eyes were not betraying her, but Sherlock seemed to be at ease; relaxed. As if he wanted to be there. He was looking at Molly, probably deducing something about her. Sherlock had the same coat as Molly. Perhaps Hewa and Fordan worked something out.
Molly looked over at the clock. 7. Seven seconds. How did this moment come so fast?
6.
Molly looked to Sherlock again, hoping to see encouragement in his eyes, but he was no longer looking her way.
5.
He was looking at James. James was looking back at him, the same expression, like they were having a silent conversation.
4.
Molly looked at John. At Mary. At Greg. She tried not to think about the Tribute who had been beside her.
3.
She looked at all the Tributes, trying not to imagine certain peoples deaths.
2.
And easily imagining killing a certain number of others.
1.
She was ready.
Bleeeeeeep.