Chapter 21: "Starts With A Bang"


July 8: Morning of Day Two of the Games

In the Arena


The sun hadn't even risen yet when the cannon sounded, loud and jarring and way too close for comfort as Kitty startled awake at the noise. It took her a few seconds to realize where she was, and the adrenaline rush of waking up to the cannon still hadn't left her as she glanced immediately over to where her district partner was still laid out against the far wall.

She had to bite her lip when she realized that he hadn't moved a muscle when the cannon went off.

"Alex?" she called out to him, stretching sore muscles from sleeping on the ground as she climbed over to where he was. She'd slept fitfully checking up on him, waking up almost every hour to be sure he was still breathing, but he hadn't ever woken up since he drifted off way back when they first found their hiding spot. When — when — he woke up again, she had plans to tease him about lazing around.

But this was different from all the times she'd woken up to check on him. He was too still. No ragged breathing or …

She was honestly scared to approach him, knowing he was gone already but not quite processing it as she finally got up the courage to press her ear to his chest and listen for breath, for a heartbeat that just wasn't there.

She pulled back quickly, skittering a few steps back away from him with wide eyes as she pressed a hand to her mouth. She'd tried, she really had….

In a rush, she just got mad as she picked up the nearest loose rock and chucked it at the wall, though the sound echoed dully in the small space. But it helped, and she grabbed up another rock, the dull thunk echoing over again a few more times before the anger passed into something softer and she slid to sit with her head on her knees, taking deep breaths that she couldn't quite hear over the whine of a transport engine overhead.

It had come to take Alex.

For a moment, she got irrationally angry at the transport, turning her rock-tossing on the sleek black transport, though the first two rocks clanged loudly, and she stopped after that. Even upset as she was, she knew better than to give her position away like that.

But she didn't think she could have let it pass, the emotionless black thing coming to collect a thirteen-year-old kid, and even as she quickly gathered up her pack, knowing she had to get somewhere else or risk the Careers coming to investigate all the noise she'd made, she wasn't the least bit sorry. Someone should know how stupid this whole thing was.

She stuck around long enough to say goodbye to Alex, but… she didn't think she could stomach watching the whole thing. Her decision made, Kitty turned her back on the transport and started to trek across the desert, so that her last memory of Alex wouldn't be a limp body in a metal arm.


Along the ridge over where Kitty was walking, Brock was following along as silently as he was able, helped along by the high-pitched whine of the transport as it picked up her district partner. He could see that she was distracted, wiping at her face and eyes, so she wouldn't see him coming until it was too late, and he had a score to settle.

"Hey, you got a thing for picking on little girls?" a new voice called out, momentarily distracting Brock from the girl he was after.

Rumlow turned on hearing it and readjusted his grip on his mace, breaking into a wide grin as he saw Bucky climbing down to meet him. "Just seizing the opportunity."

"Right. I've heard that before from scumbags just like you," Bucky replied, his eyes narrowed as he put his fists up. "Always going for the little guys."

With a cry, Rumlow rushed forward, mace held high as he simply meant to bash the life out of Bucky. He didn't need to hear the goodie two shoes lecture. This was the Games. "Wanna move up a spot?" he sneered when Bucky managed to catch his mace before it could connect with his head. "I have no problem with that."

"Except I'm not gonna be that easy, ugly." Both boys had a hold of the mace with one hand, and Bucky didn't wait to see how that was going to turn out before he cracked Brock quickly with two fast shots to the face with his free hand. The grip Brock had loosened, and Bucky wrenched the mace free, only to swing it at Brock like he'd seen done to Alex at the bloodbath — cracking him hard in the chest with a hollow thump that knocked the wind out of him.

Brock tried to get back the upper hand by rushing Bucky to get the weapon back, wheezing horribly. But Bucky had much more power to his swing than Brock did, and he wasn't about to let Brock get hold of the mace again. He booted Brock back, leaving a print across the older boy's face.

Brock went sprawling in the rocks and sand, and although it took him a second to catch his breath, Bucky was a lot like Steve in that he waited for his opponent to get back to a fighting stance before he attacked again. Another goodie two shoes weakness for Brock to exploit. And that was all Brock needed to get a handful of sand and chuck it into Bucky's face before he dove at him and tackled him around the middle.

As Bucky fell backward, he brought the mace down on Brock's back hard, nearly in the middle of his back — and with the hollow whomp that echoed the red cliffs, there was an unmistakable crack that went along with it.

With that, Brock went mostly limp, though it was clear that he wasn't entirely sure what had just happened. It had all gone down too fast.

Bucky shoved him off hard and scrambled to his feet, mace raised high … but Brock just … lay there. Both boys were panting in the already scorching heat as they stared at each other.

"What's… the holdup?" Brock wheezed out. "Scared already?"

Bucky frowned as he stared down at his opponent. It was increasingly obvious that Brock couldn't get back up. The fight was over — or at least, the winner was already decided. It wasn't really over until a cannon sounded, and they both knew it. "Just trying to decide if I should end it or leave you for the buzzards to clean up."

"Didn't take you for the type."

"Well, I'm sure not going to feel bad either way," Bucky replied as he tucked the mace into his belt. He took a few steps past the immobile Six boy and peeked over the cliff. "That seems more fitting." He headed back over to Brock and grabbed a hold of the back of his jeans and the nape of his shirt. "You ready for a flying lesson?"

"You gonna follow through or punk out on me?" Brock spat out.

"Don't tempt me into leaving you here in the sun," Bucky said. "As it is, I'm doing you a favor." He set the Six boy down for a moment, just to make sure he wasn't going to fall over with him, before he rested his foot on Brock's hip and shoved hard, tipping him over the edge … though if he was going for merciful, he would have done better to throw him over. Thumps and cracks could be heard all the way down, though halfway down, the cannon went off.

Bucky felt a deep sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. Creep or no, that was on him. And even if it was in defense of the mourning girl … it wasn't merciful at all.

He frowned over the edge for a moment longer until he heard the whine of the transport, but he wasn't about to give Rumlow anything like a sendoff. He turned his back to the scene, climbing back over the rocks away from Kitty, since probably the last thing she needed was to be hanging out with a guy holding a bloody mace who had just… done what he'd done.

Not to mention the last thing he needed was to be around people. He'd rather just find a nice quiet hideaway up high and keep an eye on things.


Clara was taking her turn resting in the shade while Scott and Kamala finished their quick perimeter walk to keep an eye out for other tributes — and to see if there was anything useful in the immediate area.

She'd finished her last watch just before they left, and she was already tired again. She'd never dealt with heat anything like this before and it was, quite simply, awful. She closed her eyes, wishing she was back in the soft, moss-covered forests of Seven, though she'd never admit she was missing home. No way. Not here.

Her two allies were in better moods than she was, mostly because Kamala was impossible not to smile around, and Clara watched as the younger girl all but skipped over to their hiding place, something silver in her hands. "Guess what we found while we were out?" she asked in a nearly sing-song tone.

"Something useful, I hope," she replied as she sat up and stretched a bit.

"No idea. Scott said it was for you, so we figured you should open it," Kamala said as she handed over the box marked with a large '7', still trailing the silver parachute.

"How do you know it's for me?" Clara asked as she looked up at Scott. "Could be for you."

"Yeah, I already know I'm not getting anything from my mentor. Just open it," Scott said with a wave.

"If this is for you, I'm going to expect a loud admission that you were wrong," Clara said, shaking her head as she opened the box and frowned for a good, long moment before she finally looked up at the other two. "Okay. So. How are you with staves, Scott?"

"Are there staves in there?" he asked, sounding surprised and almost disappointed, as that might mean he had to follow through with the loud admission of being wrong.

"No," she said as she handed him the staves she had nearby that she'd gotten from the bloodbath. "But it turns out my brother can talk to people." She pulled out what looked like a glove of sorts — with long, shining silver claws like a lion's on each of the fingertips. "I guess he agreed with you, though. We needed another weapon."

She had almost missed the little note tucked into the package between the gloves that read 'cut the dead weight' in Victor's messy scrawl, but as she pulled on the gloves, she saw it, frowned at his sentiment, and wadded it up before she handed the other glove to Kamala. "What do you think?" Clara asked, pulling the first glove on to try out.

Kamala tried on the other glove for herself, tipping her head to the side as she studied the sharp edges. "I think anyone who makes you mad is going to immediately regret it," she said, making a face before she peeled the glove off and handed it to Clara.

"Pretty sure that was the whole idea," Clara replied. "That big guy yesterday would have been in a whole world of hurt if I had these."

"There's still time. This is only Day Two," Scott pointed out. "Though… things are moving pretty quickly, it seems. We heard two cannons while we were out."

"Scott likes to get up before the sun, which is stupid," Kamala whispered to Clara.

"It's smart," Clara defended. "Have to see what's coming. And everyone will be sleeping in if they can. I know I'd like to."

"You're welcome to if you want," Scott pointed out. "Sun's getting high enough that it'll be smarter to stay in the shade for a while."

"I'd rather find some water," Clara said. "But I'm not stupid enough to go out there when it's just getting hotter."

"Water would be nice, though," Kamala had to admit, staring forlornly at the empty water bottle.

"We'll go looking once it gets closer to evening," Scott promised. "But it's only going to get hotter out there until we hit midday, and if we don't find anything, that's a lot of water wasted."

"If we stay still for too long, we'll be targets," Clara pointed out.

"I think we can risk it until evening, but I don't want to sleep here tonight," Scott agreed. "Two cannons this morning means something's going on out there, so as long as we don't get caught up in it, I think we can stay put a while longer while someone else does the entertainment work."

"And there we have it," Clara said in a teasing tone to Kamala. "Our fearless leader has spoken."

Kamala giggled when Scott frowned at the nickname. "Well, what I heard was 'we're staying here to take naps', so I'm all for it," she teased. "Fearless over here has longer legs than me. He's hard to keep up with."

"We'll just have to take an arm each when we go. Hold him back a bit," Clara agreed.

"Oh good. I thought you were going to suggest I carry you," Scott said with a smirk.

"Is that an option?" Clara asked. "Piggy back rides?"

"No."

"No, he just picks you up and slings you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes," Kamala said, making a face. "I'd know."

"So my turn next then," Clara decided with a little laugh. "Sounds like fun."

"Those were special circumstances — doesn't count," Scott said, shaking his head quickly as he held up both hands.

"I don't think he likes me much," Clara said in a stage whisper.

"That can't be true, or he'd be madder at your nicknames," Kamala replied with a giggle in the same whisper.

"Oh, come on," Scott said, shaking his head at both of them.

"Relax, Scott," Clara said as she stretched out a bit. "We're just picking."

Scott shook his head at both of them. "I like you both just fine, or I wouldn't have allied with you," he muttered.

Both girls shared a look and shook their heads together. "It's alright, fearless. We know you love us," Kamala called out, and Scott simply looked resigned at that point to the new nickname — seeing as both of them had latched onto it with both hands.


Remy didn't mind working alone in the least, since that was how he got his best thieving done. And considering the fact that he hadn't been able to get anything in the way of water or food from the Tesseract, it was time for a little thieving.

He knew that the Tens would have had their pick of supplies from the Tesseract at the bloodbath, since everyone had given them such a wide berth — and besides, if he was going to steal something as vital as water in a dessert, he'd rather steal it from someone who wasn't tiny. He'd already spotted his district partner and her little spider friend with their tarp camp setup, but he'd passed them by. If Gwen had found water, she needed it.

In fact, if those two were still there when he was through here, he might bring them some of his spoils. With the Eleven girl gone, that little spider boy was the youngest out here, and Remy needed the practice anyway. Maybe he could slip them a water bottle while they were still sleeping through the hot afternoon sun.

That was the real challenge with this arena. Everyone slept in daylight and moved at night if they had any brains. So the best time for thieving was the middle of the day, and that simply was not what he was accustomed to.

Not that he couldn't adjust.

He found the Tens' camp easily enough; they weren't exactly trying to hide. Why should they? They were terrifying enough to take on whoever came their way.

But Remy had to grin to himself when he saw how they had positioned themselves, backs to the cliff wall rather than to each other, weapons within reach. They clearly didn't trust each other in the least. The Ten girl was awake, on watch, but her partner was sleeping lightly, and when she stood up to take a look around for intruders — like Remy — Arkady woke up, watched her go with a glare, and then fell back into his light sleep.

This would be a challenge. But on the other hand… the Tens had more than one backpack each. Surely one of them had food or water in it.

Remy was perfectly quiet as he slid down the side of the cliff face. In the dusty sand, it was impossible not to disturb something with every movement, but he was as quiet as was possible on this ground. When he came to a stop, he frowned at the backpacks for a moment. The safest move would be to just take a couple and get out of there before he was caught, but he didn't have any guarantee that he'd take a pack with water or food. For all he knew, they were full of knives. Or the blood of their enemies. That seemed like a Ten thing to do.

He was careful as he unzipped the first bag, and when it was full of just rope and a light blanket, he set it aside and searched through the second. That one had a full water bottle, to Remy's delight, and he had just zipped it back up when the zip caught, and the sound, even if it was slight, was enough to wake up Arkady.

As Remy stood, he heard the sharp crack of a whip, and an instant later, the tail of it was wrapped around his neck. In a second, Remy had fallen backward, both hands tugging at the whip to give himself a little space to breathe.

"You cannot steal from us," Arkady said as he hauled on the whip handle, slowly reeling Remy closer, his tone one of almost disbelief.

"Remy kin steal from anyone," he replied easily, though the light tone was hard to maintain with the whip around his neck. Still, as Arkady gave one more hard tug, Remy's hand went to his

pocket, and he pulled out the little surprise he'd found at the Tesseract, the bo staff extending in one swift movement as he cracked it across the side of Arkady's head.

As Remy tried to get some distance, a knife went whistling past his ear, missing him by enough of a margin to have just sliced through his hair before it found a new home in Arkady's shoulder.

The other Ten tribute had arrived.

With a curse in Russian, the big, heavy-set boy yanked the knife out of his shoulder, shifted the grip and pulled hard on the whip handle to get Remy closer again.

But that was clearly a mistake, because as soon as Remy was closer — gasping but still grinning confidently — he rammed the end of the staff into Arkady's shoulder, taking advantage of the injury there to get Arkady to cry out. He didn't pause as he spun and cracked him again, this time hard enough in the arm, just at the elbow, that Arkady was forced to let go.

And from there, with more space to work, Remy fell into a smirk.

He almost couldn't help throwing in a little flourish as he spun his staff and unwound the now ownerless whip from his neck, grinning over at Yuriko. "Thanks for de assist, but Remy kin take it from here," he called her way as Arkady, enraged, made a grab for him and missed, getting a bo staff in the nose for his trouble.

Remy moved with the momentum, twirling his staff to crack Arkady over the head and send the big guy sprawling. He wasn't as fast as Remy was, and now that the young man had a good rhythm building, Arkady simply couldn't get a hit in as Remy simply started to spin and twist, cracking the bo staff against bone as the hits got harder and Arkady got slower.

The bigger, bulkier boy stumbled and fell to his knees — and Remy took the opportunity to bring the end of the bo staff up, cracking him under the chin and knocking him onto his back. As Arkady stumbled, Remy followed him, the bo staff under the bigger boy's chin once more as he drew back and grinned a moment before he jammed the end of it into his neck.

The cannon boom echoed in the desert mountains, and Remy left his staff where it was for a moment as he grinned down at Arkady. "Bang. You dead," he said before he pulled back, twirled the staff, and looked to Yuriko, who had apparently been content to let the boys fight it out and see who came out the winner.

She strolled over to pick up her own packs, though she never took her eyes off of him, and simply walked away from the scene, leaving Arkady's packs behind. "You have earned his, Cajun," she called out.

Remy didn't argue but just smiled that much wider as he shouldered the pack. "Well alright," he said as he opened the second and took out the water bottle, taking a good long drink.


"Hey, Spider-Gwen. Rise and shine; the sun's starting to set," Miles whispered, shaking Gwen's arm. He had been on watch for the second half of the long, hot morning, and he was itching to get moving now that things were about to cool down. His lips were starting to crack from a day and a half without water, and he knew they weren't going to find any here — it was time to move on.

Gwen mumbled a bit in her sleep, but when he kept shaking her arm, she finally sat up and stretched. "What'd I miss?" she asked sleepily, and he just shrugged.

"Oh, you know. Nothing much. I think I saw a tumbleweed?"

"So … shall we go in search of water?"

Miles nodded and offered her a hand up. "That would be great. People aren't built to go this long without that stuff, you know. I've been told it's important."

"People aren't built this long to go without a chocolate cone, who are you kidding?" she teased before she bumped his shoulder.

"Oh, don't tease. That sounds like heaven right now. Cold ice cream?" Miles put a hand over his heart. "Now that's all I'm going to be thinking about. All day. I hope you know this. That was pretty much my favorite part of the whole 'stuck in the Capitol training for three days' thing. And now it's just… sitting there. In my head. Forever."

"Just thought I'd share my misery," she said with a little smirk.

"You're mean-spirited, you know that?"

"Well-known," she said with a ghost of a laugh. "Gwen Stacy, terror of District Eight."

"The district must have a bad, bad case of arachnophobia," he said, grinning wide, though the action split his cracked lips.

"Oh, it's terrible," she agreed with mock severity.

"So, what kind are you? Red all over... " he teased, gesturing at her bad sunburn.

"Do not tease, and I have no idea. Roasted recluse probably."

"Don't worry; you'll hit your molting phase soon," he teased, gesturing at her peeling skin. "Seriously, that looks painful."

"Blondes were not meant to live in the desert."

"So you're a jungle spider. Maybe a yellow-haired tarantula," Miles decided. "I don't know if that's a real spider, but until someone shows me a book and proves me wrong, I stand by that."

"Pink-edged jumping spider," she decided. "Which totally is made up, but it sounds cute."

"And terrifying. Jumping spider?" Miles shook his head as he shouldered his small pack on the way out of their small shelter. He pulled down the tarp they'd been using for shade and started to fold it up. "Spiders shouldn't be able to jump. That's just wrong. We've got some nasties in District Eleven in the orchards and fields, and if they could jump too?" He shuddered. "No thank you."

"Well, what are you, then?" Gwen asked, holding her bag open so Miles could stuff the tarp into it.

Miles frowned a bit as he thought it over. "Wolf spider," he decided. "Big and scary looking but doesn't really move much, but if you bug them in the field, they are scary fast and chase you." He frowned for a moment as Gwen winced on sliding the pack onto her shoulders as the pack scrubbed at her flaking, burnt arms. "You want me to carry that?"

"Don't they bite?" she asked as she handed the pack to him.

"Some of them do," Miles said. "But generally, if you leave them alone, they'll leave you alone. It's the black widows you really have to worry about. My friend found one under the window at the school, and I have never heard him scream that loud, or that high-pitched, in my life."

"So you two have a lot in common then, huh?" Gwen teased.

"Yes, I could totally be a widow spider," Miles said with a crooked grin. "I too could scare the heck out of Ganke and make him scream like a little girl."

"Yes. You're totally a black widow," she said with a flat tone. "Until you start screaming like a girl yourself."

"Hey, I haven't done any screaming these whole Games. That time I squeaked when the cannon went off earlier wasn't even that high-pitched," he added before she could bring it up.

"A hawk answered you," she said with a grin.

"He did not. He was just… startled by the cannon," Miles defended himself.

"He thought he found his soulmate," Gwen laughed. "That's why he kept circling."

"He just knows a couple spiders when he sees them. Hawks eat spiders, you know," Miles argued, following after Gwen at a leisurely pace as the two of them searched the tops of the cliffs for any sign of water. They weren't making much progress — but the cooling evening air was a nice relief, at least.

"I think we might be in the wrong place," she said as she slowed to take a seat for a few minutes.

Miles let out a long sigh and dropped down to sit next to her, but before he could agree, they heard a new sound, like a bell chiming, and he glanced up at the sky to see the silver parachute coming toward them. "Maybe not," he said, the grin widening as he jogged over to catch the parachute, not at all surprised when there was a big number '8' on the box. "It's for you!" he called over his shoulder.

"You're kidding," she said, wide-eyed. "What the heck did I do?"

"You probably just got it for being an awesome pink-edged jumping spider," Miles told her as he handed her the box. "Go on — whatcha got? Anything useful?"

Gwen pulled open the box and couldn't help the loud sigh of relief when she saw the two water bottles inside — and when she touched them, she could feel the cool condensation. Not only was there water inside, but cool water. She didn't say anything but to hold the bottles up and toss one Miles' way, and he broke into surprised and relieved laughter.

"Norman loves me," she said with a little smile.

"Clearly." Miles took a long drink of the cool water and sighed happily. "I mean, we should totally save this stuff, but… this…. This is heaven."

"Yes. Go easy, and enjoy it. Make it last," she agreed.

"Think Sam pitched in at all?" Miles asked as he screwed the cap back on. "I mean, there are two, after all…" He smiled crookedly. "Unless…. you think Norman Osborn wanted you to have both and leave me in the lurch, but I'm going to say Falcon helped until someone proves me wrong."

"Until someone says otherwise, that's what I'm going with too," Gwen agreed, even if she knew that simply wasn't the case. At all.

"Well then. To our mentors," Miles said, toasting her with the water bottle and a grin.


"I'm sure glad I didn't go running for anything crazy like a pack or anything." Billy was just watching America with a smug expression on his face. He had been a pain ever since figuring out how he could use their supplies to their advantage, and America almost wanted to hit him for it — if she wasn't so grateful for the fact that it was keeping them both alive.

America rolled her eyes Billy's way as she snatched the full water bottle from him. "Alright, alright, shut up, Billy. I get it. You're a smartypants."

"Good looking, well-hydrated smarty pants."

"Do you hear me complaining?" America shot back. The two of them had been travelling under the sunset for a while now, headed for the next hiding place, and she even had to admit that Billy was a good keeper for the water bottle, which was full of all the water he'd collected with his ingenious tarp system. "But for the record, I got the pack. You got the knuckles. Not my fault the supplies were switched."

"We're just well-paired, that's all," he replied. "Now all we need to do is come up with something to eat."

"I'll find us something," she promised. "Gotta be, what, jackrabbits or lizards or something out here."

"Probably," he said with a shrug. "Unless you want to try going back to the Tesseract. Might be able to pick something up…"

She reached over and smacked him in the back of the head. "If we do that, I know you'll do something stupid," she told him with a stern look. "So we're not doing that."

"Well, their two big guys are out," he argued with a little glare.

"Tell you what," she said. "If I haven't found us anything by the time another Career shows up in the sky? We'll go to the Tesseract."

"That … actually sounds like a reasonable plan," he said with a nod. "For now."

"You sound so surprised."

"It's just that you're always saying I'm the thinker," he teased.

"And you are," she laughed, punching him lightly in the arm as they picked their way over the rocks.

"So... what are the chances that one of those three cannons was for another Career, do you think?" Billy couldn't help but ask, and America turned to give him a glare.

"Dunno, but we'll find out in a couple hours anyway, so why not try patience on for size?"

But if America had hoped to shut Billy down with that one, she got the opposite reaction — he just started laughing. "Wow. We must have slipped into some kind of alternate dimension. A patience lecture from America Chavez. That or it must be the end times."

"Shut up, Billy," she said, but there was no real bite to it as she shook her head at him.

"Seriously, though, you're going to eat those words when it turns out, like, both Ones and the other Two are dead," Billy insisted.

"You're an eternal optimist, Billy Kaplan."

"I bet they strangled each other," he said, nodding to himself. "Over who had the prettiest hair."

"Oh, if that was the fight, then it was Four's girl who started it," America chuckled. "I have never seen someone that full of themselves."

"And the One boy lost."

"Obviously," America couldn't help but laugh.

The two of them made their way through the rocky valley, with each of them coming up with increasingly ridiculous suggestions as to which Careers they would see in the sky that night and why they had died, though Billy's suggestion that One's girl had spontaneously combusted was America's personal favorite, and by the time they'd found a spot to rest for a moment to watch the parade of faces, she almost wanted Billy to be right just so they could say that was how she died.

24. Monet St. Croix, District Eleven Female, Killed by Arkady Gregorovitch

23. Jessica Jones, District Five Female - Killed by Zebediah Kilgrave

22. Skurge, District Four Male - Killed by Clara Creed

21. Brian Braddock, District Two Male - Killed by Giuletta Nefaria

20. Giuletta Nefaria, District Three Female - Killed by Elizabeth Braddock

19. Alex Summers, District Nine Male - Killed by Brock Rumlow

18. Brock Rumlow, District Six Male - Killed by James Barnes

17. Arkady Gregorovitch, District Ten Male - Killed by Remy LeBeau