It is time for the Cornucopia bloodbath. Who will live... and who will die?
60
A plain was doused in silence, just for a moment, as twenty-four plates rise simultaneously from the underground to the above ground in the arena. Unbeknownst to them, though surely the tributes can imagine it, there are crowds gathering all around Panem to watch the spectacle. However, between these vastly different areas will be multiple irregularities among the crowds. In the Capitol, there are screaming fans, pretty much every Capitolite witnessing the events that are about to unfold. Most are in the public squares or public viewing theaters, with picture clear quality of the Cornucopia bloodbath about to happen. Many carry money, where their fortunes are on the line because they bet that this Career or this low-life tribute will be decimated.
In the districts, it was a stark contrast, however, for many of them. Most will have a decent sized crowd in front of the Justice Building, looking up at the televised screens put up by the Peacekeepers the night before. Many in the crowd will have their hands above their eyes to try and blot out the sun, despite the lack of good it will do. In the Career districts for One and Two, this audience knows deep down that their tributes will be safe, an air of electricity cackling about from denizen to denizen. For the others, a somber mood sets over the crowd as the countdown initiates, a number off to the side of the screen shown for those who are hard of hearing. Had someone been able to see the two differences side by side, that being the Capitol and the districts, their heart would've given out.
The 99th Hunger Games were about to begin.
50
This was what everyone had been talking about, he realized. The adrenaline flowing through your veins, the same that built up the heartrate and accelerated your intake of details from your surrounding. Arman's hands couldn't stop twitching, desperate to get themselves wrapped around a delicate spearhead, to send into another tribute's neck. It'd only be a matter of time when hell would be unleashed. He had nothing to fear, he was a Career. Careers were well-polished, smart in battle, good on their feet, quick with their tongue... it was the others who needed to be worried. Even Lone's posse did not bother him, perhaps the way it should've. It sat in the back of his mind, for a moment, that there could be another threat here besides yourself, but Arman batted it away.
He had a plan. Target whomever seemed distracted; there'd be one or two tributes that would be so caught up in the mad rush that it didn't matter what they did, they were dead meat. Arman planned on using that to his advantage. He wasn't going to be a victor who'd win with a low kill count. There have been victors, and he's seen them, with a zero kill count. How low can you get? How terrible of a tribute do you have to be? The whole point of the Hunger Games were to kill people to make it back home to your family... even if Arman didn't want to necessarily go back because of them. If you're the victor of the Hunger Games, you should have a high kill list.
Arman will make sure to have one, at the very least. Jonathan Crimson, of District 12? He's the topper.
40
Were their parents watching? Rachel wondered this, once the plate had clinked into place. Despite her mentor, like her brother's, being the oldest of the bunch, in their mid-sixties, they weren't stupid. The last bit of advice she heard this morning rang inside her voice... 'Don't step off your pedestal before the countdown. The Gamemakers will blow you sky high by then,' and now the girl is standing as still as she can, having actually prepped herself into the running position beforehand, with her stylist rolling their eyes. Rachel didn't care what anyone else was going to think. If it helped her stay alive, she'd be fine.
She was going to do just fine, she had no doubt in her mind about that. With a high training score, better than twenty-one out of the twenty-four tributes... only eighteen of them were in her way between victory and an early grave. Her only threats were the Careers and that strange pairing from District 12; Rachel could write the others off however she wanted to, they weren't going to scare her. It made things easier, actually, knowing what she had to do to stay alive, and how she was going to plan that. All she needed was an axe.
Once she got that, she'd be set.
30
If any camera were to fall on Lone's face, which he was sure there were some doing just that, he liked to imagine the crowd would be terrified by what they saw. He was smiling, genuinely smiling at what he was seeing. An arena, with opponents, people to kill. It didn't bother him, he'd do his duty, get his glory, and then forget about it. That wouldn't be hard. His mentors, the old sots, they were stupid. They lived because they camouflaged themselves into hiding, waiting till they died. However, and apparently this went for both of them, his mentor and the older hag who trained his sister, that whatever they experienced in their own arenas caused them to have PTSD about... something, and have been self-medicating ever since.
When Lone was old enough to comprehend the games and their severity, which had been pretty young, advanced for someone older, he made a promise to himself. District 6 does not win like cowards. Most of the other districts don't. District 12, when they've won before, it had been fighting; actually fighting, and killing. The Careers won their years by killing. District 3, for the nerds that they were, used strategy, and strategy was not something employed in games all that often. There would be no hiding to then need to self-medicate. What kind of weakling thinks they'd live with that at all? He wouldn't. He knows his sister wouldn't. He'd win these Hunger Games head on, like everyone else did that wanted to be remembered.
He'd not just a page in some history book on tributes for the Hunger Games.
He was going to win the damn thing.
20
Despite Rev's final words of preparedness, Katie hadn't actually thought them over. Her mind was still a jumble from last night. What happened between her and Jonathan wasn't anyone's fault but hers... yet she still, deep down, wanted to inflict harm on him for her actions; her scapegoat. It gave Katie a sick feeling down in her stomach, so she tried to avoid thinking about it the best she could. Her mind was swamping with information, swamping with pain, confusion and a myriad of other feelings. The sunlight temporarily blinded her after coming out of the underground, the tube left behind along with Rev's blue hair. She didn't sleep well last night, but she imagined most of the tributes were in the same boat.
Something Henry had asked her in a one-on-one time earlier in the week came back, at exactly the perfect and worst moment in time. What was she going to use to defend herself? Every tribute had a specialty, truth be told. With Jonathan, it was archery. For the District 6 siblings, axes. That Arman guy: a spear. She needed something, and standing there on the plate after the gong rang out, trying to come up with a defense mechanism wasn't exactly going to work. Searching the collected pile of goodies, not many seconds left for her to do this - 20... 19... 18... 17... she was running out of time - her eyes landed on a quadruple set of knives, tucked into a long row of sheaths bundled up. The distance between her and those knives, should someone bless her running speed, could take ten seconds from launch to grabbing them.
Katie tied her hair back into a ponytail, steadying herself.
It was go time.
Jonathan could forgive her bloodthirstiness just this once.
10
I gazed the arena the first free second I had after my plate rose from the ground, raising my hand to block the sun. I still wanted to see where all of us tributes were, however. We were in a plain, the Cornucopia resting a bit higher, since it seemed to me that we were on a hill. To our right, seen from down below, was a lake and alongside it, a valley. To my left, which almost required me to turn around on my plate - not something I'd advise, ladies and gents - was an ominous mountain, although I can't remember exactly how high it was... a good thousand or more feet, at the very least.
Alright, affiliation down.
I directed my attention back to the center, back to the Cornucopia.
Technically there were no real rules with this, but in essence the Cornucopia was to run like hell to the golden ovation in the middle after the gong rang out, symbolized by the countdown being finished. Should you reach any of the perimeter successfully, grabbing a weapon - or rather anything, truly, at this point - you were directed to kill a few tributes and flee before you died. The largest bulk of tributes would die at this point, and if I was not careful... so could I. So could Katie, and so could many of my allies. Speaking of... where were...?
I, for the first time, noticed the other aspects of my surroundings: the other tributes. It mattered heavily who you were close to, since they could be the difference of life and death. To my immediate left was Leeane, and to my immediate right was a tribute I don't remember the name of. Maybe it was Felice's district partner? Katie was seven tributes clockwise from me, about a ninety degree angle. However, to her left and right was the girl from District 9 - a member of Lone's alliance - and another Career... the boy from District 2, I think. That wasn't good. Between me and Katie was Lone, and then opposite that, between me and Katie from the other side would clearly be Rachel.
Katie and I locked eyes for a brief second, causing me to frown. She was looking at something... but what exactly? Trying to follow her line of sight, there was a pile of knives, nestled just outside of the Cornucopia mouth. Uh-oh... dammit. She was eyeing the set of wicked blades; surely she wouldn't be the only one to notice it. I, in a very bereft manner, stole a glance at Lone, his eyesight downing a pair of axes actually inside the horn. I assume, if Rachel could see the inside of the Cornucopia as well, she'd be aiming for it. The blades looked sharp, causing me to gulp.
Then... aha.
Jackpot.
A bow and arrow glinted in the sunlight, the bow already strung, thirty arrows in the quiver. I hadn't seen a ranged weapon anywhere close, and oddly enough, this was closer than the knives Katie had been eying. It was perhaps ten yards away from me, while Katie's weapon of choice was beyond that. Another bow, if that's what I assumed the feather sticking out of the grass were for, was just barely in my line of sight in the corner of the Cornucopia, to the right. Maybe it would be the same size... or perhaps shorter. I was not going to go with that one, should I somehow, you know, want to live.
The Careers were poised to attack, their hands twitching, fingers dying to touch the cold metal of a blade handle. Tension could be cut with a knife, my eyes darting up at the Cornucopia clock.
5
The air stilled.
4
If any tributes still hadn't prepared to run after the gong, they wouldn't change their mind now.
3
My eyes flitted back to the bow. It wasn't a mirage... it was still there.
2
I really hope my brother wasn't watching.
1
Let's not die, Jonathan.
0
And then the gong rang out, from where... I don't know. The plain which was a peaceful, tranquil area for only a minute, was now filled with blood curdling screams and sounds of battle. I sprinted forward and lunged for the bow, my gaze on it the entire time, wrapping the taut string around my fingers, drawing an arrow from its accompanying quiver.
Air whistled in my ears as I ran, the bow heavy in my hands, the arrows light. I heard a snap behind me, a twig perhaps, and that meant someone was behind me. Instinctively, I turned, ducking all the while. I am very well glad I did, as a knife went flying towards my head. Had I been anywhere else, that knife could've grazed the side of my head or worse. I didn't need to deal with worse. The girl who threw the blade was from District 8, but I didn't remember her name; I don't think I ever heard anyone besides Louis say it.. but it didn't matter. We stood off for a second, me eying her, she eying me, perhaps stunned from the fact someone just tried to kill me and the fact she missed. I went to load an arrow when the girl charged. Before she could reach me, however, something went darting in front of me, blocking me off from her. Arman slammed into her, the two falling into the grass. Without even having enough time to let out a cry, he slit her throat with a spearhead, not wasting the time to impale her. The gash was cut cleanly, it dripping ruby red with blood. Arman must've been in an adrenaline rush at the fact he didn't look for me next, instead barreling off of the dead girl and running after someone else... Thatcher, I think.
Felice's district partner ran into the Cornucopia for a sword, having gotten the item he wanted. When he emerged, after parrying a tribute that I couldn't see, pushing them further into the horn, he was about to run to safety beyond the tree line. His plans are cut short when Altha threw a knife into his chest, she having eyed him since the moment he dashed inside. He went down, almost in a moment of static confusion, choking on blood beginning to spurt out of his mouth. In a dose of irony, Altha beheaded him with the same sword he was carrying, dropping it behind her without looking to where it fell, already distracted by the next big and shiny object.
Feverishly, I scanned the arena for something else I'd need, still not even having moved. My eyes spotted Katie... and oh god. That girl from District 9, who had been alongside my district partner, was now wrestling with Katie in front of the knives. Wherever my district partner had been before this moment must've been racing this other tribute, and a member of Lone's alliance for help. I still had an arrow drawn, unsure whether or not to use it.
The girl from Nine managed to snag a knife free, slicing outwards with the blade. I heard, from my spot, a cry rip from Katie's lips, causing me to step forward some, my mind screaming at me. Shoot the girl, you idiot! Shoot her! Katie was clutching her shoulder, the girl from District 9 towering over her with the knife, the blade a ferocious cardinal. I didn't hesitate now, I shouldn't have hesitated earlier. I shot an arrow at the girl's temple, it hitting dead on. The girl crumpled to the ground, perhaps not even ever knowing what killed her. There was a belabored pause between the two of us now, Katie scrambling to her feet. Only one person in the arena, that she knew of, was an archer... and I just saved her life. Katie grabbed the girl's knife, bundling up the rest. We locked eyes, and despite the fact I just saved her life, my district partner looked at me in shock, all the color leaving her cheeks.
"Get out of here!" I screamed. "Go! Run!"
Katie nodded fervently, stumbling to her feet. She tucked the knives underneath her arm, snatching up what seemed to be a backpack, already reaching the edge of the gale. I didn't move - stupid, I know, being exposed and out in the open - until I saw the last strand of her chestnut hair vanish into the emerald collimation. Off my district partner ran... safe. I sighed in relief, and I didn't even realize the fact that I killed someone. You mess with my district partner? You get an arrow to the temple.
No more funny business; I turned to run again, to escape into the woods, this time closer to the lake and valley - Katie had gone into the direction of the mountain - when someone slammed into me. Being out in the open like that just caught up with me... dammit. After the pain from hitting the ground hard receded, spots blinking in and out of my vision, I saw that it was Arman who collided into me.
"No more District Twelve!" he snarled. Still not saying my name... and did he not even notice Katie surviving her attack? It probably didn't matter.
He dove the spearhead down, and trying with all my might, I raised my arms up to block his. A croak of surprise emerged from my lips when my own wrists blocked his, the spearhead just a few inches away from my sternum. Arman grunted in frustration, probably about to cuss or say something arrogant. He wrestled down again, pushing hard, hard, harder still. It was getting painful for my wrists; he outweighed me by a good ten or twenty pounds. He raised the spear again, and is about to plunge the shaft into my chest when the axe entered his back.
A wave of blood splashes over my face, Arman having just coughed it up, and I screamed. I go to shove Arman off of me, when someone else does it for me. His body flopped to the side, and then I saw Lone, who must've thrown the axe at him, rush forwards. However, as if he isn't even seeing me, he wrenched the axe from the Career's back. Flipping Arman over, Lone drew the axe blade in quick one-two across Arman's throat, turning it into wrapping paper, to ensure he was dead, I guess.
Then, as I scrambled to my feet, I tripped over my bow, my own weapon flying from my hands when Arman had tackled into me. That drew Lone's attention my way, swinging his axe down. I yelped, doing a roll, the blade killing grass instead of a tribute like he probably wanted. After I made my way to my feet, in a matter of time that should win some bloody records, I was a few feet away from Lone. I don't know why - and I don't think I want to know why - Lone didn't just throw the same axe at me. I wasn't far from him and I wasn't exactly close to the tree cover... but he didn't throw the weapon at me, instead diving back into the bloodbath.
There's no way, with the score that I have, that I wasn't a valuable target. However, it wasn't in my prerogative to try and argue. I didn't need to be told a second time what to do with this situation.
I turned on my heel and ran away, grabbing a backpack rested against a tree, unattended to as I ran. I slung the pack over my shoulders, disappearing into the mesh of trees and leaves.
The sounds of the dying filled the air behind me, fouling the smell with the copper taste of blood.
Lyon wrenched a backpack away from the boy from Eight, knocking the tribute into the Cornucopia. Screw this whole pacifist argument he had tried to uphold; that was going to get him killed, and killed fast. He didn't bother to see where the male from District 8 landed, but it didn't matter. There was no opportunity to 'waste' time in the Hunger Games. Wasting time meant death and Lyon didn't plan on dying today.
Where was Leema? He couldn't find his district partner... there's no way she could've already been dead!
Struggling to put a strap around his shoulder, he forgot about it, feet hitting soil, Lyon running away from the action until he reached the bottom of the hill, on the outskirts of the Cornucopia, away from anyone targeting him. He turned around, watching the pandemonium unfold, his body swamped with sensory overload. Colby and Thatcher were fighting, knife and spear. Colby ducked underneath Thatcher's swipe, still balanced by his crutches. How he even made it past the first thirty seconds surprised Lyon. The cripple from District 3 slammed his crutch on his enemy's foot, before he slammed his head against Thatcher's. Thatcher slumped to the ground, taken out of the moment, somehow not dripping blood from his nose. Lyon was about to call bullshit, however, the clever dog...
Colby, the moment his immediate threat was vanquished, dropped his crutch. His foot wasn't broken at all, the liar. He ran away as fast as he could, something strapped behind him, although Lyon couldn't quite see what it was.
Where was Leema? Where was she?
All by her lonesome, never having even stepped away from the plate, neither to the forest, mountain, lake, valley, or Cornucopia... was Madison. The twelve year-old seemed to be having an argument with herself about something. In what may have been a moment of stupidity, Madison ran forward with enough bravery mixed in to grab a bow and arrow set. It was much smaller than the one Lyon had seen resting up against a few crates. He assumed Jonathan must've taken the larger one. Madison reached the weapon, having enough time to sling the quiver over her shoulder, when Rachel wheeled on her, having been rummaging through a box stuck inside the horn. The poor girl didn't even look up fast enough before the girl from District 6 readied her throw, and sent an axe into the twelve year-old's chest. Madison fell with a cry, her district partner, Ramon nearby. The immediate scream in agony, and then silence... it meant one thing. Death.
He was clutching a sword in his hands, and not thinking, he swung his sword outwards in silver arc. He didn't catch Rachel like he wanted to, instead someone ran right into the swipe. The girl from District 3 got caught in the slash, it cleanly swiping through her stomach. The two tributes looked at each other for a moment, the girl stumbling forward, one hand pressed against her stomach, the other outstretched towards Ramon as an offer of helplessness. She made it another two steps before faceplanting into the grass, a look of petrified shock and horror on Ramon's face.
Where was Leema?
Lyon was about to join his ally - there still was that mega-alliance between Colby, Felice, he and Leema, Madison and Ramon, and Jonathan and Katie... although it seemed Colby, Jon, and Katie forgot all about it entirely - and protect him: he, Leema, Ramon, and Felice the only ones left out in the field.
The boy from District 10 lunged for Altha, who gave him a side kick to the temple. The boy from District 10 went flying to the side, colliding into the Cornucopia via the temple. Lyon winced in pain, hearing the reverberation over on his side of the plain. The boy fell on his face, either unconscious and knocked out, or dead... since he didn't move. Altha, seemingly one of the two last Careers left, picking up another backpack and ran off.
Where the hell was Leema?
Lyon's answer had been staring himself in the face the entire time, his district partner, like Madison, still stuck to the plate. However, since he could see her face, something was taking place, the brewing of a thought. He connected mind to matter, following Leema's gaze. There was a single axe left on the battlefield, unclaimed, someone able to take it should they want it. However... what did Leema plan on doing with said weapon.
"What are you doing Leema? Get out of there..." Lyon whispered to himself.
Then, in a sequence of absolute disbelief, to Lyon's horror, Leema leaped off her plate and raced for the axe. However, she didn't just grab it and run away, like he expected it to her. Lone had just finished threatening and intimidating a tribute off of him, the last Career left in the plain. Oh God. She was going to try and kill Lone. How stupid could she be? Lyon wanted to scream something, but it'd give his position away. She threw it at Lone and she missed, not even having enough efficiency to make the throw anywhere near him. A grin danced onto Lone's face, while Lyon's district partner's changed to one of terror. She had seconds to run, only making it ten or eleven steps when Lone came up from behind hands gripping her jaw and head, and with one clean, swift motion, he snapped her neck.
Lyon gave a guttural cry of pain. White. All he saw was antagonizing white. Jonathan's words from the night before, whilst waiting for Louis, came back in a tidal wave. Protect your district partner... and Lyon couldn't even do that. No. She wasn't dead... there was no way. Completely forgetting his pacifism, Lyon picked up the sword that was not being used on the ground, it next to Felice's dead district partner, his head somewhere nearby. Maybe he - Lyon, that is - could do what his partner couldn't. He has the sword aimed for the back of Lone's head, the District 6 male's back turned. Lyon was just about to lash forward when the dumb boy from District 8 leaped out from behind the Cornucopia. He must've been standing there, hiding, waiting for the opportune moment. Without blinking an eye, Lyon slashed his neck wide open.
Whatever came over him ended there, Lyon dropping the bloody sword to the ground. He had completely bypassed Leema's dead body. Lyon, numbly, returned to her, Leema already gone, her last breath moments prior. He dropped to his knees, cradling her in his arms, and within seconds, sobbing buckets over her corpse.
Lone grabbed his axe, sighing in relief, and settled it on the ground, kicking the corpse of Arman over. The male from District 1, who seemed to cause everyone trouble, was dead. A top notch Career dead in the Cornucopia battle, what rubbish. Pride can lead to arrogance... and arrogance can be a double edged sword of foolishness. Thatcher, behind him, was gingerly touching his nose from his head bash by Colby, surprised to see nothing coppery left behind. Up against the Cornucopia was the District 10 male, one of Lone's allies, and if he remembered his name correctly... it was Huron. Huron snapped awake, shaking off the dirt from his face, his district partner Amelia helping him. Rachel tossed her axe in the air, smiling proudly. Lone didn't think there was too much to be proud about.
She only killed one person. Arman may have been dead, but he killed someone as well.
"That was a good Cornucopia, Lone. You killed two people," Rachel commented. He ignored her. Her opinion was irrelevant. It should've been more. It could've been more. Lone didn't care, deep down, what his sister thought. It never had, and it never will. Caring what other people thought, good or bad... it'd only bring him down.
"How many are dead?" Thatcher asked.
Lone surveyed the battle, corpses and carnage everywhere, the grass a ripe ruby red with blood. He shrugged. "At least eight, no more than ten."
Huron looked at his elbow, scuffed and bleeding slightly. "While I was down on the ground, I got trampled." Yeah, you useless piece of crap.
Amelia laughed. "Yeah, I had to fend off unwanted enemies." And did you kill anyone, Amelia? No? Then shut up.
Her district partner broke a weak smile when Lone locked eyes with him, the latter's warped into a poisonous glare. Lone wasn't going to stand for slackers. "Hey, Lone do you have any unused axes Amelia and I could have somewhere with you?"
Lone rummaged through a crate, the crate in the very back of the stash of boxes he collected, tossing the two remaining bladed axes out of it. "Rachel and I keep two, for emergencies. You and Amelia can have one. Thatcher prefers the spear."
It was eerie, he noted, how quiet everything had gotten. Eight tributes dead, and only one of them was even slightly a threat, that being Arman. This didn't make for a good bloodbath like Rachel so wanted to crow. He failed. Highly sought after targets for murder were left alive, meaning they could murder him. His allies? Forget them. Lone wasn't going to die.
Thatcher joined his side, looking around the carnage. "Lone... where's Annie?"
Ah, Annie. That's who Lone was forgetting. He wondered why there was only five tributes including him left on the plain. She wouldn't be stupid enough to leave the alliance; once you left, you were not getting back in it, no second chances allowed. Lone knew, if the District 10 idiots that they were, wanted to leave, he'd behead them on the spot as a nice form of poetic justice, just so Amelia and Huron wouldn't have to worry about dying at a later moment and time.
Lone looked around the carnage, and there, just slightly overturned, body facing the sky, the only other dead tribute he hadn't seen. Upon stepping forward, observations came to conclude...
Thatcher's eyes widened in shock. "Oh my god, that's Annie!"
The axe-wielding maniac let his ally race forward, stepping up at a slower rate, and sure enough, dead on the ground was Annie; Thatcher's district partner with an arrow in her lowered his head in respect out of the dead. Dead or not, in his way or not, they were still allies, and an ally died. Chances are, Annie's killer was still living. With a sound like that of a bone snapping, Thatcher removed the arrow from his district partner's head, the tip of the arrow died a putrid scarlet. "Someone shot her with a bow and arrow. Who uses a bow again?" he asked.
Lone's mind worked at the question. There were only two bows placed for the bloodbath. Madison had gone to grab one, but his sister killed her - what an easy kill - and the other, much larger, was nowhere to be seen. Besides Leeane, the girl from District 1, who wasn't nearly as proficient with the bow as she pretended to be, there was only one person left with that trademark weapon. He remembered. The boy from 12, Jonathan had grabbed a bow and shot someone because they were going to kill his district partner. One of two thorns in his side. "Jonathan Crimson, the boy from Twelve," he answered, with venom lacing the syllables.
Jonathan Crimson, the only tribute to score higher than me. He'll die for besting me there. Annie? Maybe that as well.
Thatcher's face clouded, before curling his hand into a fist "Next time I see him... he's a dead man."
Lone opened his mouth to give off a rebuttal, wanting to say that it wasn't his call to make on whether or not Jonathan Crimson died via spear or not, when he was interrupted by his sister. That bitch! Rachel was shouting incessantly, pointing wildly at the inside of the Cornucopia. "I found someone, Lone! I found someone!"
He rushed over dutifully, fingers already gripping the handle of the axe by his side. "Who is it?" and then, to round off with a better question, "And why aren't you killing them?"
Rachel put her hands on her hips, softening for a moment. "He is really distressed, holding his district partner, blood all over him. You killed the girl, Lone. It just didn't seem right."
A lightbulb went off in Lone's head. He only killed two people: Leema and Arman. The girl for Arman was alive, that Career kicking and somewhere else in the arena. By process of elimination, that left Leema... and if the person Rachel found was hugging Leema was also her district partner, then that meant... an asset.
Lone looked inside the Cornucopia to see Lyon, the male from District 7 crying, holding Leema's dead body in his arms. The boy's arms were stained cardinal with blood, dried flecks on his face like demented freckles, a sword thrown lazily away from him. Lone, in a soft tone, said "Hey, Lyon, look up for me."
Lyon looked up, blood staining his face, tears clinging to pale cheeks. "What do you want?"
What Lone wanted to do was send an axe into Lyon's chest, to end him and his misery. However, with the asset... a wicked smile played onto his face. It'd be more of a misery for poor Lyon, who perhaps all he wanted to do was die would be forcing him to endure agony by living. This alliance rule would work, in his favor, actually.
Lone looked back at everyone, Thatcher leaning on a spear, Huron and Amelia irrelevant, and his sister's expression the most amusing of them all, her eyebrows raised in expectancy. The male from District 6, with the confidence of a celebrity, smiled.
"I've got a proposal for you."
Tribute List (Boy - Girl)
District 1: Leeane (District 1 Female)
District 2: Unnamed D2 Male (District 2 Male) - Altha (District 2 Female)
District 3: Colby (District 3 Male)
District 4: Unnamed D4 Male (District 4 Male) - Unnamed D4 Female (District 4 Female)
District 5: Felice (District 5 Female)
District 6: Lone (District 6 Male) - Rachel (District 6 Female)
District 7: Lyon (District 7 Male)
District 9: Thatcher (District 9 Male)
District 10: Huron (District 10 Male) - Amelia (District 10 Female)
District 11: Ramon (District 11 Male)
District 12: Jonathan Crimson (District 12 Male) - Katie (District 12 Female)
That was the Cornucopia bloodbath, you guys. Eight gone... District 8 wiped out. Arman, Madison, and Leema have died, and it looks like Lyon might become entangled with Lone: will that end in his benefit, you think?