Hey everyone, Paradigm of Writing here with a brand new chapter for The Gamemakers Plan: Part I: The Winning Mistake, Chapter #13: Mechanical Warrior, where Jonathan encounters a new type of foe, gains himself an unlikely ally, and where Head Gamemaker Wyatt Crane devises the way to turn the Games on their head. Last chapter, Wyatt approved sending Gamemaker and former victor Don Terio into the Games to kill Lone, Jonathan encountered Leeane on a nightly hunt, Colby experienced Don's mercy, and Lucas discovered that Bailey is an impasse with herself over Jonathan. All of the above and more inside Chapter #13: Mechanical Warrior. Enjoy!

The bird song was starting to change in pitch. Call me crazy if you like, I suppose, but I knew I was right. When I had fallen asleep, after Leeane left me and I forgot to ask her to possibly join me in an alliance, returning to my brooklet, exhaustion taking me in a matter of seconds, it hit me then that the birds were falling mostly silent. They were fewer now, the ones joining me in the trees, as they perched there and chirped at one another. Perhaps they were Mockingjays, perhaps not, but they were beautiful birds as their feathered bodies glowed like shards of crystal in the moonlight, fluttering and flapping their wings and signing melodious songs that didn't sound so dire to me like they had beforehand.

One landed on my hand, after I outstretched it in their direction, and their tiny talons were nothing serious, the bird looking to be only about five or six inches in height, a little baby fledgling that pecked at my thumb gently, but nothing more. I let the bird fly away, a smile stretching across my lips, when the anthem started, but there was no one that died today, on the fourth day in the arena, and it simply showed our ten faces alive and well. Those ten faces would disappear into one, more than likely, if luck was anything to try and factor in. This Alliance Rule idea seemed preposterous to me, but I was willingly playing it, or trying to, clearly, as I had agreed to join an alliance of eight people, six of which I didn't even know. Not like it mattered, anyways. Four of us are left, and as far as I am aware, only two of them are actually even together. I lost Katie, Leema and Madison died at the Bloodbath, and who knows where Colby was. Maybe Felice and Ramon would win the whole thing.

Wouldn't that be ironic?

Sleep picked at me soon thereafter, when the halo of the anthem faded into the sky, blackening and dissipating, holographic in form, just another reminder from the Capitol that we were inside a domed arena. Sometimes it made me wonder if the Capitol was actually controlling every little thing, or there did actually happen to be a place that had a forest, small little brooklet, and a mountain just resting unoccupied in Panem, and they simply built an impenetrable prison around it... or was all of this artificial? Some arenas that felt like they were preexisting things in times past were just that, as told by Lee of the previous Snow's administrative practices, natural elements or parks left behind and turned into death zones.

What a happy thought, huh?

My dreams weren't comforting in the slightest, but there hadn't been any nightmares, which was a surprise, as I had been expecting some, which sounds terribly awful in hindsight, doesn't it? They simply had been filled with static. Luckily, however, for me wanting to look on the bright side, I haven't had the nightmare of Bailey being shot to death, while it had been Lee, Lucas, or Lone - all beginning with L's... huh, that's odd... - ordering the shooting. But, however, since I just thought that to myself, that means my mind will gladly give it to tonight. If I survive to tonight, of course.

I awoke to a loud noise, one that gave my eardrum a slight burst of pain, as if screaming, "WAKE UP YOU IDIOT!" Normally my body doesn't react that way, as if I had forgotten where I was. In an arena, I don't have time just to sleep in and relax. Not with Katie gone, and Lone's alliance breathing and thriving out there. I opened my eyes, turned over on my side from where the disturbance had come from, and promptly yelled. Standing in front of me was... well, actually I don't know how to describe it. Some sort of walking robot hybrid, running off like it had an engine strapped to its back, some sort of plume of smoke rising from it. It was painted silver, shining in the sunlight - how long was I asleep for? - until my eyes traveled upwards from the frog-esque legs, my mouth drying. My throat was on fire, and I needed to reach my canteen, which was sitting up against a tree in front of me, in the line of sight of the robot. Could the thing even see me? How did it see anything.

Sticking directly out in the center of the robot were two openings, placed as if they were to be arms. Although I couldn't tell perfectly well, there were these objects sticking out of it, pointed looking spots. A whirring sound came from the machine, louder than the purr of the engine, my body tensing. Where was my bow? My gaze searched the surrounding vicinity, and there it was, glowing the same silver as the machine, sticking up in the dirt like a flower. I looked back at the robot, fear creeping up in my heartbeat, as the objects inside the arms slid further out of place. Spears. The thing was loaded with spears. "Shit..." I whispered to myself, bracing myself. I fumbled away into a dive and reached for my bow, picking it up, while the machine made a groan, turning towards me. I loaded my bow with an arrow from the quiver, slinging it onto my shoulder. What- what was an arrow going to do to this?

A few birds that were perched on a branch fluttered away in terror. I saw it before it happened, the machine aiming to fire, and the next thing I knew, a spear was shooting towards my head. I hit the floor immediately, grunting in pain as my elbows skidded against the dirt. The spear flew over my head, hitting something as I heard a thump. It must've a tree. Were there more of these? Or was I just unlucky? Deciding against my better judgement, I got to my feet, wrenching the arrow free from the loaded spot. I raced towards the machine, and raised the arrow up like it was a knife, jabbing it in the leg gear of the machine, some sort of complicated mess of wires and machinery. The machine buckled under my stab, I twisting and severing a few wires that were red colored; important enough to me I guess. A splash of oil got onto my uniform, I expecting it to sting, but it was as if someone had splashed water on me, besides the obvious smell. With a screeching sound it collapsed under its heavy weight, I jerking my arm back and falling away. The arrow was lost to the grind, but it was that or a spear in my head.

I didn't trust it. There was no way I was alone. The Gamemakers don't create just one thing and send it into the arena. If there's one... there's more. I wiped the sweat from my brow, righting my quiver that had fallen off of my shoulder, before getting the canteen. I lifted it to take a sip when that familiar hiss came back. The cold metal of the canteen just barely grazed my lips, when I looked towards the direction of the sound, capping my canteen after another moment. "Are you kidding me?" I complained. Sure enough, there was a second type of these frog like robots pushing the tree mesh out of the way, coming into the clearing. This one wasn't alone. I loaded another arrow into the bow, drawing it back. Atop the second mechanical monster was a man, but I couldn't tell much more than that.

The robot came into full view, and then I got a better look at the man on top, his face hawk-like, with a beak-like nose, those militaristic blue eyes from District Two, and a buzzed dark hair cut... I remembered where this man was from. He was the Gamemaker who turned the lights on for me back in the Training Center, the one Wyatt Crane introduced me too. Don Terio, the victor from Two turned Gamemaker, obviously here to kill me. I did kinda ask for it, didn't I? I did.

Yet, despite with all the evidence in front of me, my eyes felt cheated. "This is a joke, right?"

Atop the machine, the Gamemaker smiled at me, shrugging his shoulders. "Sorry, Mr. Crimson, this isn't a joke," there was a pause, however, and he looked down at the second machine, which had long since now ended its mechanical groan. "Wyatt is gonna be pissed that I broke one of his machines," and then he looked back at me, eyes flashing a steely thunderstorm gray. "However, I'm not here for you Jonathan. You aren't the one I need to kill," I frowned at that, but I didn't lower my arrow. If he thought for a second I was gonna lower my guard... "But, I suppose I could make an exception since you wanted yourself killed yesterday after you screamed it to the world," Don grinned to himself.

I tightened my grip on my bow. I didn't lose Katie, or watch Lyon bleed to death, to have some sort of Capitol pawn murder me. "I was joking for God's sake, why can't you get a joke?" I knew my voice had risen into one of those whiny pitches, but I couldn't help it.

He gave a slight laugh, more like the braying of a sick dog, a hacking kind of cough filled with smoke. "No hard feelings kid, okay?"

I looked at Don, straight in the eye. Didn't he mock me before I made my shots? "Go to hell, sir, and all that live with you," I said in earnest.

The victor shook his head, sighing, looking back over at the destroyed robot. "If I don't kill you, Wyatt certainly will for you destroying one of his things," and he looked up again, this time keeping his face profile, eyes not at me. As far as I was aware, this model of the robot didn't have the spear cannons that the other one did, it didn't seem to me like that was the case. "You just threw your life away," Don looked back at me. That was it. That was the final straw.

I lined up my shot and fired my bow at Don's machine. He ducked, himself, but I wasn't aiming for him. My arrow went slicing directly into the same leg joint as of the other robot, splicing that cardinal trip wire like a cleaver splitting open a fresh rack of lamp. The machine buckled like its predecessor - what a legacy, huh? - and Don fell with a cry, his hands loosely holding onto the bar at the top before gravity came way. A flash of something on his right side came into view, although I couldn't tell what it was. I backed up again, but this time hit another tree, the one I had slept aside. Why wasn't I running? I should run, shouldn't I?

Brushing his knees off, as Don took a six or seven foot fall, he then turned towards me, and I saw what that flash had been as he fell. It was a sword, stuck in some fancy gem encrusted sheath... a thing of beauty, and a thing of destruction, surely. His eyes flashed again, and he placed his right hand on the hilt, fingers twitching, dancing around on the metal.

"You didn't want to do that. Now I have no choice," Don said. "You made this personal, kid."

I drew the bow again, aiming an arrow at his face. "Fine, I would like to see you try," I hissed, through clenched teeth. Yeah, this was totally normal. I was going to go and try and fight a victor from District Two. I should've run. I should've run the moment I fired my previous arrow.

Don laughed again, a laugh of thunderous appeal, like it echoing off that massive mountain, its white peak just barely visible through the glen. "Kid, I won the Hunger Games," his voice surged with power. "I was a Career, I killed four people in those games, and I got a training score of twelve," he shook his head, and his lips curled into a light smile, nearly invisible, as if he was taking pity on me. "It's unfair, Jonathan. I suggest you just... give up and die."

I matched his smile step for step, as two could play at this game. If I wouldn't let Lone or Thatcher faze me, this pretender certainly wouldn't either. "I also have a twelve in training Don, you saw me do it yourself," His bright eyes glimmered with remembrance, he knew, he knew what I could do, and right now I felt the advantage rattle in my bones. "Maybe there is one thing alike about us," I shook my head. "But I'm not you. I'm doing this to survive. You do this because it's fun," and I lifted my head, a lump forming in my throat. "I'll never be like you."

The victor gave a face, like a twisted sneer reflecting back into a broken mirror, chipped, with shards pooling at his feet. "Charming little speech..." he wagged his free hand. "But, I'd like to introduce you to something, and I think it'll change your opinion." His right hand that had been twitching for an opportunity to take out whatever was inside moved, Don pulling out this massive sword from the scabbard at his side. That weapon must've been at least three feet tall, and that's being generous. My eyes followed up the shimmering steel, singing in the wind, to the point, which contained a particle of the sun. It made my eyes cross, but I brought my attention back to the figure in question. "This is Mesa, like I told Wyatt Crane," he smirked, and then locked gazes with me. "And I told him, like I'll tell you, it will cut rock and human bones alike. It will be your undoing."

He lunged forward, almost with lightning speed. I fired at Don, he side stepping the arrow with ease. I dove to the left, out of harms way as he swung his sword down, it slicing open the tree in the spot that would've been my entrails more like. I jumped behind him, loading another arrow, when Don whirled around, something flying out of his hand. He threw a knife at my stomach, I bowing backwards with my legs underneath me, my body groaning in protest. The knife nearly grazed my cheek, and I could hear the slicing of air particles with the throw. I propped myself onto an elbow, firing at him, as Don wrenched his sword out of the tree. My shot was a bit too far to the right, it landing in the spot where his sword was, and we were back to square one.

Don lunged for me, growling, trailing his sword behind him. I twirled away, but this time I didn't load an arrow into my bow. I plucked it free from my quiver, and holding it out like how I attacked the machine, I jabbed the arrow into his shoulder. He growled in pain, cussing a word I wouldn't dare repeat. Okay, I jabbed him, what now? Seeing the singular moment of confusion and a lack of clarity, Don grinned to himself, before punching me straight in the face. Agony erupted over my entire head as I fell back with a cry, landing hard on my quiver into my shoulder blades. I groaned, trying to reach for another arrow, but I could only see glimmering spots of red and black. A shadow fell over my eyes, Don blotting out the sun, his face twisted into a glare. He gave a deft kick into my side, not hard enough to break a rib, but enough to have me curl in on myself. I felt the pain radiate in my temple. I tried getting to my feet, tried being the key word, just about to get up when Don pounced onto me.

His breathing was heavy, and that sword, Mesa an inch from my neck, just slightly so where I could feel it prick my throat depending on how I swallowed. Sweat was dripping off of his face, some of it onto my own equally sweat face, Don's purple face, his skin having gone a myriad of colors from the exertion, a wild look now replacing the steeliness I had seen just a few moments earlier.

"Now, let me just drive the sword into your neck and you'll have a painless death," Don said, out of breath, but there was a desperate edge to his voice, as if he was pleading with me. "I promise it'll be painless, don't resist and it'll be over in a second!"

"Don! You told me I am not the tribute you wanted to dead!" I spat out, panic washing over me. He said that! He did! I know I heard him, and besides, I wasn't done!

Don sneered at me, but the sneer morphed into another one of those terrifying grins. "I don't care, you asked for it. President Lee better give me a raise for this," and then, as if he had been struck by a moment of clarity, that murderous flood in his eyes was drowned out by a more serene realization. "You know, this doesn't feel different to me at all than when I was eighteen. I guess Lee was right, some things never change!"

He raised Mesa above my chest, I squeezing my eyes shut, twisting my head to the left. This was going to hurt, wasn't it? I could feel his arms about to move downward when there was a sudden choke of surprise from him, as it certainly hadn't been my voice. I peeked up at him, and then gasped, fully opening my eyes. A protuberance, about five to six inches long, was in his neck. A dart. A dart. Don's eyes drooped somewhat, he dropping his sword, hands searching his neck. The victor ripped it out unceremoniously, a bit of blood spurting from the wound. Don's grip onto my torso relaxed, I scooting away from him, reaching for my bow. He seemed to gravitate in place for a moment, kept up by nothing, his head starting to loll back and forth, before the victor and Gamemaker by design fell onto his back. Don was out like a light, his sword slumped in the dirt.

I felt my heartbeat rock against my chest. I've been up for what, five minutes, and I'm almost killed? God. The dart came from the right, and there's no way there just happens to be darts flying about, right?

I looked at my savior, somewhere in the direction the wind was coming from. Someone had to have save me, that's the only answer. A tribute revealed themselves from behind a tree after a pregnant moment of silence, it being quite the sight to see for sure. A bamboo stick was hitched under their arm and a knife stuck in a sheath at their belt. Another familiar wave of dark black hair and vivid emerald green eyes stared back at me from across the clearing. Even though I had an already an inkling of who it would be.

It was Colby. Colby Anderson, and someone who I've been dying to see since the start of the Games.

"Colby!" I broke into gleeful smile, racing towards him. The adrenaline rush in my body was still running its course when I reached him, my entire upper body in a buzz. I just nearly died. Someone almost killed me, and had Colby not intervened, I would be dead.

He looked up at me, his gaze having been directed at the ground when I reached him. He gave a faint smile, a slight upturn of his lips, they twitching at the edges. "Hey, Jonathan," he exhaled heavily. "I'm glad to see you are still alive."

I gave the boy from Three a hug, throwing my hands around him. I had about four or five inches on him, and he was a little thinner than me, or perhaps way thinner than I. He let go of me first, but I noted that he wouldn't look me in the eyes. "Thank God you saw me; I would have been killed me you hadn't saved me," my voice trailed off, looking over at the man who nearly gave me the end of my life. I gave a withering look at Don. "Did you kill him?" I tightened my grip on my bow, notching another arrow.

Colby gave a great shake of his head, frowning. "No, but he'll be out for about a week or so. Long enough for us to keep on living."

I drew back on the arrow, aiming it for his head. "I should shoot him, shouldn't I?" I could do it. I earned it, with all of my suffering, didn't I?

However, I could tell Colby didn't agree. He pushed my arm away, so I wasn't aiming towards Don. "Don't," he advised me, his voice calm, yet tense. "It wouldn't be worth it. Besides, you want to incur District 2's wrath?"

"They're dead," I said, my voice hollow. "Altha's face was in the sky last night. No one to get angry at us..." I tightened on the string. I could see it, the arrow in his head, right between his eyes, blood pouring out of the wound. It wouldn't hurt, would it?

The boy from Three pressed his hand into my shoulder, pressing down onto my clavicle. "Jonathan, don't. There's no need," he pushed down on my left arm, my arrow pointing towards the grass. "You want to piss off Head Gamemaker Crane any worse? They'll come and get him since he's in danger and he's wounded."

I grounded my teeth. He should die. Everyone in this stupid arena should die. But, Colby's right. I fire this arrow and I kill a Gamemaker - what's he doing in the arena anyways? - there'll be hellfire pouring down from above until our corpses are ash. I lowered my bow, placing the arrow back in the quiver, going to pick up the arrows that I had fired which missed him. Looking up, after getting the last arrow, trying to not look over at Don's limp body, I noticed the scar that ran jaggedly down the left side of Colby's face. He turned to look at me, I gesticulating to the side of my face.

Colby mirrored my movements, tracing his fingers across the scar. "Yeah, I had a little run in with Don. I guess I gave him revenge of a sort."

I looked back at the unmoving Gamemaker, the arrow I had placed in his shoulder leaking a steady stream was coming to a stop. "Me and you could make a great team."

He gave me a look, raising an eyebrow. "Aren't we already allies?"

I rubbed my neck, smiling sheepishly. He was right, wasn't he? We were supposed to be allies, weren't we? Katie, Felice, Ramon, Leema, Lyon, Madison, him, and myself.. and now it was just four of us, and who knows where they all were. "I guess we are... I mean we did already agree to that. Back when four of the other allies were alive that is," I said, looking down at my feet.

His mouth turned into a fine line, his face blanching. "Yeah, sorry about that..." A look of irreplaceable sadness flashed in his eyes. "I panicked at the bloodbath; I didn't know what to do," he shook his head, biting on his lower lip. "I could have found them if I knew where you were. If I did something besides what I've already done..."

"Don't get yourself down. It is Lone's fault and I'll make him pay," I said, shouldering my quiver some more. The very thought of Lone and his alliance, no matter the member, all I could think of was my hatred for them. What they stood for. Perhaps even what I stood for.

Colby gave me a look, the sadness ebbing away, a maturity I didn't know he could possess. "And what if you can't? What if you die and all of your friends died in vain for no reason?"

I didn't have an answer for that.

What if I can't get the revenge I feel I need?

Why did I want to shoot Don?

All I know is that I have an ally now, and the arena no longer feels so cold like it did two weeks ago. If I kept Colby my side forever, and he didn't run off, and I didn't do anything stupid or irrational... maybe we could win together. If I couldn't take Katie home any longer, maybe... just maybe.

I had a new plan, and this plan didn't focus just on fleeing for my life and for survival.

It was time to fight back.

Tribute List (Boy - Girl)

District 1: Leeane (District 1 Female)

District 3: Colby (District 3 Male)

District 5: Felice (District 5 Female)

District 6: Lone (District 6 Male) - Rachel (District 6 Female)

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)

So, once again a deathless chapter, but one that has forged a new step in Jonathan's tribute journey... he had an encounter with Don, nearly died, thought he could fight a victor, and now has a new (old) ally in the form of the District 3 Male, Colby, and he's gonna pick up Katie's slack. There are only just a few more arena chapters left, five, if I remember correctly, and I am very excited for what it is to come with our top ten tributes left. I shall see you all again with the next chapter, Chapter #14: Merits of the Mutations. See you all then! Love you all! Bye!

~ Paradigm