w w w. settleascorehg. blogspot. c o m
w w w. halloffamethg. blogspot. c o m
Nathaniel Bayle
District Eight Male, 18 Years Old
Morning of Launch
"Are you scared?"
"Scared?" I ask, turning around to look at Claire. She's standing there, brushing her hair in the mirror. She looks at me in the reflection, frowning. "Scared about what?"
"Stuff," Claire says, shrugging. She places the brush down on the dresser and leans back on it. "The Games. Dying. Not living to see another day."
"Oh," I reply. "That kind of stuff."
Leaning over, I tie my shoes, nervously tapping my other foot. Ever since I woke up, I haven't been able to sit still. If anything, I just want to get on the hovercraft already. I just want to get all of this over with. I sit back up, stretch my back, and look back at Claire. She doesn't look away; she simply stares right at me, her eyes bespeaking some sense of melancholy.
"I'm not scared," I say, which is a half-lie, half-truth. "What's there to be scared about?"
Claire shrugs again. "Nothing in particular."
"Is something wrong, Claire?"
She shakes her head quickly, turning back and around, grabbing the hairbrush. She tugs at her hair, her hands shaking as she pats it down. "Nothing's wrong. I just don't like waiting… It makes me feel worse."
"I agree," I say, sighing. "Just a little bit longer."
"Yeah," she says, focusing on her hair in the mirror. "Just a little bit longer until one of us might get a sword through the chest."
I chuckle. I've gotten used to Claire's dry sense of humor, but of all days, she should keep her remarks to a minimum. "Must you? I have a lot more to worry about than a sword through the chest."
"Like an arrow through the neck," Claire says, and I catch her smirking in the mirror. "Or a club to the head."
"A snapped neck sounds pretty awful to me."
In the doorway is Wallace, his arms crossed as he leans on the wall. He smirks, nodding his head, letting Lonnie slip past him and into the room. They both take seats near the wall, leaning into each other.
"Hi, guys," I say, patting the spot next to me on the bed for Claire to come over. She walks over slowly, the brush still in her hand, and she begins to pick at the little plastic needles on it. "How'd you sleep?"
Lonnie laughs, smiling. "We didn't. It's a tradition Wallace and I have; every night before the Games, we don't sleep. Like everyone else in the Capitol, we watch the reruns of some Games that the Capitol plays the night before."
"Whose was on last night?" I ask.
"Tyson Capper of Nine," Wallace says. "We asked him to watch it with us, but he respectfully declined. It's a shame, too, since he's all alone up there."
"Alone?" Claire asks, finally speaking up.
"He's the only surviving victor from Nine," Lonnie answers, pausing before she continues to speak. "I'm sure it can get lonely."
The room goes silent, with Claire still picking at the hairbrush. Lonnie and Wallace exchange a glance, and I look at the two of them, quickly averting my eyes. I don't mind the silence much, but at a time like this, I'd rather them talk. I'd rather them distract us from where we're headed off to.
I don't want to worry about the Games.
Yet, I still am. I'm worrying about all of the things Claire said. I just hope that Gerri, Claire, and Cailen make it out of the Bloodbath… It's not just about me anymore – I have allies. I have others to pay attention to.
It's something I'm not used to.
Having other people to worry about.
"So," Wallace says, breaking the silence. He stands up and so does Lonnie. They both come closer, their hands reached out in front of them in fists. "As you know, we like traditions."
"What's this?" I ask, both Claire and I unsure of what's going on.
"It's stupid, we know," Lonnie says, shrugging her shoulders. "Just stand up and put your fists in the middle."
Both Claire and I stand up, our fists out in front of us, and we form a circle with the two of them, all of our fists touching. Wallace has a smirk on his face and Lonnie closes her eyes. Claire's eyes are narrowed, and we stand there silently. When Wallace closes his eyes, I close mine as well, only hearing all of us breathing.
"It's time District Eight gets a new victor," Lonnie begins. "Don't you think, Wallace?"
"I do, Lonnie," he replies. "Don't you, Nate?"
"I do."
"Don't you, Claire?"
"I do."
"So, let's do it," Lonnie continues. "Let's bring one home. Let's bring another victor back to District Eight."
One.
That's all that can survive. Both Claire and I can't; only one of us can. I don't mean to be selfish, but I put myself before Claire, and although I will protect her, I want to go home. I want to go home just as badly as everyone else here. I want to be that new District Eight victor.
"Good luck," Wallace says, and Lonnie echoes him, repeating his words after he says it. "We'll be watching."
We all open our eyes, and Lonnie and Wallace back up, leaving the room with a nod and a smile. Claire goes back to the mirror, and I fall back onto the bed, my eyes still closed as I rest my head on my hands.
I want to go home.
I want to be that District Eight victor.
I will fight for that title. I will fight for the chance to survive and to go home.
I'm not going to go down without a fight.
The Capitol might have tried to deter me by reaping me, but it's not working. I'm here and I'm going to fight. If the Capitol wants to quell the Rebellion, then they have to quell me, too.
They'll have to kill me first.
Caden Glite
District Five Male, 15 Years Old
Boarding Hovercraft
"Everyone, everyone! It's time to go!"
Pushing open my door, I walk through it, coming out of my room at the same time as Anaise. She tilts her head, smiling at me, and I walk the other way. I meet my escort, stylist, and both of our mentors at the door, all of them watching Anaise and I. When we approach them, our escort opens the door, letting the two of us walk out first.
They all walk in front of me now, letting me fall behind as we walk to the elevator. Anaise takes her time, too, but we don't walk side-by-side. As far as our relationship goes, we haven't really had one.
Not that I'm complaining, though.
I don't want any relationship with her.
"Can you guys walk any slower?" My escort says, rolling her eyes. "Hurry up you two."
"Sorry," I say. "I was busy making sure I look good out there today."
"Don't be snide," Caleb berates from ahead of me. "We have places to be."
"I do," I say, correcting him. "You don't."
Anaise picks up the pace, but I still take my time, and when I finally reach the elevator, I push my way to the back of it. Anaise stands next to me now, but I choose to ignore her. I like pretending she doesn't exist.
I get some satisfaction out of it.
The elevator ride is rather silent. They stand around me, blocking my view of anything. Besides me, Anaise stands there, picking at her nails and flicking the nails on the ground. She chuckles at one point, making me step to the side and away from her.
"Caden," she whispers, still picking her nails. I don't respond at first, so she repeats my name. "Caden?"
"Anaise."
"Are you excited?"
"I'm only excited to get away from you," I sneer, laughing under my breath. "For all we know, we might come across one another in the arena."
"That's funny," Anaise says, snorting. "I never knew how funny you were."
"I never how grating you were, either."
Anaise chuckles some more, but after a while, it softens and turns into a simple breath out of her mouth. It sounds like she has something caught in her throat. It's an unappealing sound, really.
"Deep down," Anaise whispers, staring down at me. She towers over me, but I look up, narrowing my eyebrows. "I've always wanted to kill you."
"You don't frighten me, Anaise," I reply, looking away from her and staring ahead. "You might have scared Alumax into allying with you, but it won't work on me."
"We'll see about that."
"Is that a challenge?" I ask, a grin forming at the corner of my lips. "I like challenges, Anaise."
Rhona looks over her shoulder, making the two of us go quiet. I glance at her one last time, my hands tingling from the eagerness. I would like to see her die.
She'd probably like to see me die, too.
That won't happen, though.
The elevator comes to an abrupt stop, making me jerk forward. They all exit the elevator, and Anaise lets me go first, not feeling small as she still towers over me. She might be tall, but she doesn't nearly have the same intellectual capacity I have.
We're on two different levels.
We reach a large hangar with a hovercraft waiting for us. My mentors, stylist, and escort all stay behind us, letting us walk to it. They take a different hovercraft to the arena location. I notice other tributes are walking towards it as well, but I can't find my allies anywhere. They're probably already on the hovercraft.
I just can't wait to see them.
To see the looks on their faces.
Walking up the ramp of the hovercraft, I take the first seat I find. It's between the girl from District One and the boy from District Seven. The boy sits there, his frame too large for the seat, while the girl from One is rather lean. Neither of them looks at me, though, even as I stare at both of them.
A Peacekeeper begins to walk up and down the rows, holding out tribute's arms and gripping them tightly. They shoot the tracker into their arms, some of the tributes yelping while others remain completely silent. The Peacekeeper's first victim is the girl from District Twelve. She seems unfazed by the shot, simply looking away and blinking once. I watch the blue flashing light travel through their arm, and the next person the Peacekeeper goes to is Amias.
He sits there obediently, and when he catches me watching him, he smiles. I remain expressionless, watching him wince at the needle piercing his arm.
How does he expect to do well in the Games if he can't even endure a little pinch?
I look around for the rest of my allies, and in corner, I see both Reanine and Marlon. Lonan is at the other end of the hovercraft, staring directly at Reanine.
I already can see the cracks in this alliance.
Lonan doesn't like Reanine.
And Marlon doesn't like Lonan.
I just have to pick a side in it all. Reanine goes with Marlon, that's obvious. Amias would go with Reanine, so then he's automatically with Marlon. But, me?
Lonan has the strength. He has the mental capacity that I find intriguing.
He's the one I would go with.
The Peacekeeper passes me, and I feel the smirk grow even wider on my face. It's rather obvious that my alliance will crumble in the Bloodbath. One, perhaps two, will die. I'll be there to witness it all occur, while standing on the side lines, waiting for the moment to add my own effect.
What if Lonan doesn't do anything, though?
What if they all survive?
I shake my head.
That can't happen.
If Lonan won't do anything about it, then I will.
I'm not afraid to throw things for a loop. I'm not afraid to do what everyone else is afraid of.
And if that means to kill, so be it.
I will kill if no one else will.
Otrera Hale
District Four Female, 18 Years Old
Final Moments
"You haven't said a word to me since we got here."
"Get the hint," Evadne snaps, bidding Tigris and Jonah a good-bye as they into his room. She stands there, her arms at her side, waiting for me to move to the side. "Move."
Evadne walks into the room, and I follow her, shaking my head. The doors close behind us, and in the room, there is a table, a locker, and a few hooks. It's a small, metal room, making me feel rather uncomfortable. I don't like being this close to her – especially when there's no one else around.
She'd probably kill me if she had the chance to.
"You can't treat me like this," I say, trying not to sound too desperate. "I am your tribute. You're supposed to help me."
"I can't help you," she replies, looking at herself in the long mirror. "You already ruined any chance of that by joining the Rebellion."
"For the last time-"
"It was your aunt," she interjects. "I'm more than aware."
"Then why are you treating me like this?"
"Your mere relation to her brings me discomfort."
"I can't do anything about that."
"That's your problem, then."
Evadne sits down in one of the metal chairs, crossing her legs. She stares up at the ceiling, tapping her fingernail on her knee, the silence making me feel uneasy. I force myself to find a seat too, waiting for my escort who should be here any moment.
I still don't like being here alone with Evadne.
I don't trust her.
It's not like she trusts me, either.
"So, your ally, Ceylon," Evadne says, ending the silence. I know her by now; she's only starting conversation to either mock me or prove a point. "What's he like?"
"Why are you asking?" I ask defensively. "Why are you interested at all?"
"I just want to make a list of who might kill you," she says, looking at her fingernails. She turns her hand, looking at the palm now. "He's high up on the list. So is Jonah."
"Jonah wouldn't kill me," I say a little too quickly in response.
"What makes you so sure?"
"What did you tell him?" I snap, getting even more defensive. She probably brainwashed him into thinking that he should kill me.
Jonah wouldn't. He couldn't kill me, could he?
No. He wouldn't.
"I told him to do what he has to," she says nonchalantly. She knows what she's doing is messed up. "I'll see what happens."
Before I can come up with a response, the doors open, and my stylist enters. Her and Evadne exchange eye-contact, and she walks swiftly out of the room, gripping her hands along the door hinge before she leaves. She waves her fingers, winking at me. The doors close, and I sit down in the chair she was sitting in. My stylist taps her pen on her clipboard, and I watch her, dissatisfied with everything had just happened.
Having tension between Evadne and I wasn't my intention. I never expected that there would be any in the first place.
None of this is what I expected.
No Careers. Me allying with only the boy from District One.
If I knew that this is how things were going to turn out… Then maybe…
No.
You had to volunteer. You didn't have a choice.
"How are you doing today?" My stylists asks, looking up from her clipboard. She walks over to the corner of the room, taps on a locker, and then opens it.
"I've been better," I admit, being completely sincere with my response. I have been better. This isn't normally how I feel or act. "How about you?"
"I am wonderful," she says, placing the clipboard. "Now, let's make you feel wonderful, shall we?"
I nod my head, complying as I stand up and walk over to the locker. She takes out an outfit that's covered with a black case, and as she unzips it, I'm eager to see what it's like. Perhaps getting myself dressed and convincing myself to focus on the Games will distract me from Evadne.
Probably not, but it's worth a shot.
I'll do anything to get my mind off of her.
"Here you go," she says, passing me the hanger. It's a dark gray outfit with maroon cuffs around the neck and ankles and a maroon collar. She places black boots down on the ground and then bows her head and leaves me to it. Picking up the boots, I walk over towards the mirror, examining myself one last time.
This is it, I say, staring at my reflection. After this, I will be in the arena. And once I'm in the arena…
I shake my head.
I won't think about that now.
Putting on the suit, I zip it up along my chest. It fits comfortably, without being too tight or loose. The boots fit around my feet perfectly, and I tie them tightly. I stand back up, look at myself again, and I let out a sigh.
I was never supposed to be this girl.
A girl who's afraid. A girl who's uncertain of what's to come.
A girl who isn't confident in herself.
I was never supposed to be that girl. Those types are losers.
I am not a loser.
Turning back around, I face my stylist who's already standing at the tube I have to step in. She holds her hand out to the side, welcoming me into it. I smile at her, but it's a feeble smile. One that doesn't convey emotion or sincerity.
I only smile because I don't know what else to do.
Do you know what you have to do?
Fight. Win.
For my family. For the deal.
Approaching the tube, I curl my fingers into fists, and when I reach the tube, I stop in front of it. I glance at my stylist who's staring at me with wide eyes, and when I step into the tube, I nod my head.
I'm doing this for all of them. For my father and mother and for Phobos and Deimos.
I'm going to win for them.
I have to think of my family.
I have to think about everything that they're going through as well. It's not just about me anymore.
It's always been about them. It's why I'm here in the first place.
I have to win for them.
I have to win for their safety.
Ceylon Lanier
District One Male, 17 Years Old
Final Moments
"Why did you want to mentor me?"
"What?" Thane says, flinching as he turns to face me. I must have startled him. "Why did I want to mentor you?"
"Yes."
"Who asks that kind of question?"
"I just did."
Thane shifts in his seat, fixes the collar on his shirt, and his upper-lip twitches. He opens his mouth to speak, but he remains quiet, and I lean forward, making him looking even more put on the spot. When I raise an eyebrow is when he finally answers.
"I thought you were interesting," he says, nodding his head as if he's trying to convince himself. "I thought that you had potential… I still think you do. You just have to… You just to become more focused."
"You didn't want to mentor me, did you?" I ask, not believing what he's saying to me. He might be able to convince himself, but I don't believe he ever really wanted to mentor me. I wouldn't want to mentor me, either. "Why didn't anyone else?"
"The others are dead," he says flatly. "Which is partially your fault."
"What about Cashmere? She's still her spunky and trampy self. Even in her fifties she's still doing her thing."
"That's enough, Ceylon."
"Why did Affinity want Leilani?"
"Ceylon."
Slumping back in my seat, I lean my head back and close my eyes. I tap my foot on the ground, expecting Thane to leave soon, but I still hear him breathing. He's sitting there, presumably staring at me as he takes in deep breaths and from the sound of it, it doesn't even sound like he's exhaling.
Do I make him that nervous?
That would never be my intention. I want him to be comfortable around me.
"Can I make a request?" Thane asks, leaning back on his heels as his hand grips the doorknob. I look at him, still resting my head on my fist, and he turns around, the look on his face evoking pity in me. He looks so desperate. "Just don't kill Leilani."
"Why?"
"Come on, man," Thane says, the desperation now obvious in his tone. "She's your own District partner. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"
"Not particularly, no."
"That's all I ask of you, Ceylon."
"Is it because you still want to get inside Affinity's pants?" I ask, suppressing a chuckle. His face twists into some choleric expression. "I don't think she would be too happy with you if your own tribute killed hers."
"Ceylon."
Holding my hands up in the air, I open my mouth, swinging my head back and forth. He rolls his eyes, opens the door, and as soon as he takes his first step out of the door, I concede. For now, anyway.
I can't make any promises in the arena.
"Okay, okay," I say, and he looks over his shoulder, still not looking too happy with me. "I'll do us both a favor. I won't kill Leilani and you might get some. Does that sound good?"
"Are you kidding me?"
"Does it?" I say more forcefully.
"Yeah, sure. Whatever."
Before Thane closes the door, my stylist slips in, closing the door behind him. He stands there, looking at me, the same look on his face that he always has whenever he sees me. It almost looks like he's about to roll his eyes or maybe even laugh at me. Although, I admit, I don't do anything to him.
He's more tolerable than the rest of the Capitol idiots I've dealt with.
"I always look forward to seeing your shining smile, Ceylon," my stylist says, walking over to the corner of the room with his clipboard. "It truly brightens up my day."
"Do you know what's brightening up my day?"
"What's that?"
I point to the clock that's ticking down the minutes and seconds until the Games begin. He glances at it, stares at it for a moment, and then glances back down at his clipboard. He rushes over to the locker in the corner of the room, swings it open, and pulls out the outfit I'll be wearing in the arena.
"I have an idea," I say, leaping off the table. I begin to take off my clothes piece-by-piece, beginning to strip down in front of him. He stands there uncomfortably, the clipboard pinned to his chest tightly. "How about you request that next year the tributes don't wear clothes at all?"
"Why would we do that?"
"To humiliate us," I say, slipping off my socks now. "I think the Capitol would like that. Don't you?"
"I cannot speak on behalf of the Capitol."
"Well, would you?"
"No, Ceylon."
"I don't believe that."
Grabbing the outfit from his hands, I stand there, staring at him. He looks away, and I shake my head, the smirk already on my face growing. Looking at the clock one last time, I decide to put on my clothes. I don't want to waste any more time now.
I'm getting bored of tormenting the poor guy.
On the clock, there are only a few more minutes remaining until I am supposed to go into the tube to be launched into the arena. Only a few more minutes until I can actually enter the arena.
I'm almost there.
It can't come soon enough.
After a while, the Capitol got tedious and boring. It was the same tributes over and over again – who, frankly, I wouldn't mind seeing dead in the next few hours – and the same people. Even Thane got on my nerves at some points. Leilani, too, but she's funny.
I like the way she dismisses me.
It's endearing.
Walking up to the tube, I stand in front of it, giving my stylist one last flash of my smirk. He stands there, still looking uncomfortable, not saying anything else to me. I nod my head, and as I look back at the tube, I lower my head, staring right into it.
I'm almost there.
I'm almost out of this boring place.
I don't want to be here. I want to be somewhere exciting.
The Games are exciting, after all.
There's simply so much opportunity. For sabotage. For betrayal. For cruelty.
For murder.
Doesn't that sound thrilling? Doesn't that sound fun?
I would never have this much fun back in District One. Not even with the Rebellion.
The Games are where it's it at.
And, if I die, so be it.
At least I'll go down while having fun.
Cailen Arkley
District Eleven Female, 18 Years Old
Launch
"It's almost time, sweetheart."
Nodding my head, I walk forward, approaching the tube. My stylist stands there, the look of panic on her face, and I try to smile, but I feel my lips trembling. I feel my hands and legs shaking, too. I feel everything shake.
Once I step into that tube, I'm going into the arena.
I'm going where I've always dreaded of going.
I knew that, once I was reaped, the Games were inevitable. But, it didn't feel real until now. It didn't really feel like I was headed off to the Games while I was in training. I did enjoy training, in a way; I spent time with my allies. I liked that part of it. It's the rest I don't like.
Like being reaped in the first place.
I remember what it was like to be in my first Reaping. The two kids pulled out of the group, dragged up to the stage… It was awful. As the years went on, I saw another two kids, and then another two kids, and so on it went. With each year, I felt myself becoming sadder.
I became angrier.
I would watch the Games each year, trying to support them. District Eleven is known for having Bloodbaths, and every time a tribute from Eleven fell, I fell with them. I cried for them. I watched the Games to pay some respect to the families that lost children.
It's not fair… The Games, the loss of a child.
And I blame the Capitol for that.
I blame them for the Games. For what they do to the Districts.
All of this… It's their fault.
"It's time, dear."
I walk up to the tube, stepping into it. My stylist grabs my hand before it closes, and I hold it tightly, the look in her face a mixture of sadness and insincerity. She's probably like this with all of her tributes. She probably doesn't like seeing them die.
I don't enjoy seeing people die, either.
My stylist lets go of my hand and the tube closes itself off. The plate begins to move upwards, a vibrating sound coming from underneath me. I hold my hands together, clasping them tightly together. The plate moves up and up, eventually stopping abruptly, and I jerk forward, regaining balance on my feet. My eyes widen as I take my first look.
Where's the Cornucopia?
The center only has backpacks. Some are bigger than others, while some are smaller. They're all different colors too.
I dart my eyes around each tribute, trying to locate my allies. To the right of me is the boy from District Twelve and I look around the circle, trying to find someone. Then, I locate Claire who's biting her lip and playing around with her hands.
I look for Gerri. I look for Claire. I look for Nate.
They are the ones that I can't see die… The ones I have to protect.
Next to her is Gerri. We make eye-contact, and she smiles, and then she gestures to her right. Nate is a few tributes over, and for a moment, it seems unfair. To me, at least. They're all close to each other.
How am I going to get over there?
The boy from Twelve won't cause me any trouble I don't think, but on my left is the boy from District Three. I don't think he'll cause me much trouble, either.
After weighing my chances of getting to my allies, I look at the arena. It's an indoor arena.
It's a large room, with high-ceilings and with glass-paneling in a patterned design on the ceiling. The floors are a wood, with each panel being polished and all shiny. There are four pillars in the room made from a stone with designs carved into them, all stretching up to the ceiling. On the walls are large glass windows with red curtains, all looking out into an open field with trees and flowers.
Only if I could go out there.
Around the room are different glass boxes and showcases. There are some items in the large cases, mostly looking like pieces of art or other stone statues. Are those from the Districts? What are they supposed to be?
I look up, seeing a large glass and gold chandelier hanging from the ceiling. When I squint my eyes, I try to see what's hanging from it, and then I see that those are backpacks. There are backpacks draped over the chandelier, hanging from it.
How are we supposed to go get those?
Directly across from me, behind Claire, is a large staircase. The railing is also a shiny wood, with a red carpet draping the staircase. The staircase leads to a balcony that wraps around the whole room, high above everything else. There are also a few doorways and entrances up on the balcony, and when I look back down, I see that there are a few on this level as well.
Then, right next to a door, I see something.
It looks like a plaque.
But, on the plaque is a sword. I look behind other tributes, seeing that everyone has one. Looking over my shoulder, I look at the plaque that's directly behind me, and I see that it's a knife. The knife is stuck on the wooden plaque that's shaped like a five-sided shape.
Am I supposed to go after that?
After I take one last look of the arena – the pillars, the chandelier, the balcony, the plaques, the showcases – I realize that this is a museum.
I'm in a museum.
I begin to fanatically look around, trying to see how much more time we have left. Just as we left the room with our stylist, there were a few minutes left. Were we supposed to count down on our own? I've never been good at counting.
In one corner of the room, though, I see blinking light. It's in one of the glass showcases, etched into a statue of some animal. It shows the number '10', blinking down to '9', then '8', then '7'…
Then '6'.
These are my final moments.
Then '5'.
These are my final moments of being the girl who left District Eleven. I won't be that girl anymore.
Then '4'.
I am going to change. I am going to change in order to help my allies.
Then '3'.
I am going to help them. I am going to help them survive.
Then '2'.
I am going to help my whole alliance. We will make it out of the Bloodbath alive.
Then '1'.
I can't let them down.
"Let the Hundredth Annual Hunger Games begin!"
Author's Note:
I always love Launch chapters. It just means that I'm closer to the Bloodbath and the Games. Yes, yes, I know, no Cornucopia is a theme in my SYOTs. I like the idea of having none and making the tributes go out and look for more supplies (Five times, though. Really, Teddy?). Yes and I will keep doing so.
I'll get right into questions:
What do you think about the arena?
Who do you want to die in the Bloodbath? Who do you think will die in the Bloodbath?