Chapter 28: The Right Bait


July 11: Day Five of the Games

In the Arena


It was hard to tell what time of day it was, really, when it was such a solid downpour, but Kitty felt like she'd had the first decent night's sleep since the Games started now that she had joined up with the Twelves. It felt amazing, and she hadn't realized just how badly she needed sleep an relaxation until then.

Now, it was America's turn to sleep, and Kitty was more or less patrolling the area around their little cave. She didn't want to go too far and risk getting lost in the rain, but she also didn't want anyone to sneak up on them. She felt like she had completed a good circle in her patrol and was headed back when she spotted something along the edge of a ridge nearby.

When she got closer, she saw that it was a tarp, draped clumsily over a ledge to try and keep out the rain, and as she approached, she noticed that there was a boot sticking out the end of the tarp that didn't quite cover its occupant.

She crept as close as she was comfortable and carefully reached out to give the booted foot a little tap. Just like that, the boot withdrew, and she watched the young boy from Eleven thrash until he was out of the tarp, both hands raised in fists and looking ready to fight — if he could get out of his shelter properly.

She had her fists up as well, though she was more entertained by his wrestling match with his tarp that lasted far longer than it should have before he was even in an approximation of a fighting stance, halfway on top of the crumpled tarp. "Miles?"

He blinked at her for a moment. "Kitty?"

She let her fists down with a little laugh before she bounded forward and gave him a hug. "You goober, what are you doing fighting with your tent?"

"Um ... I was having a hard time setting it up last night, so.. I was like, half sleeping on it to keep it in place?"

"You decided to punish it for its insolence more like," she said with a little laugh.

"Yes, that," he agreed.

"Are you alone?" she asked, starting to walk backward.

For a moment, Miles' expression fell, and he nodded. "Yeah."

Kitty matched his frown for a moment, knowing what a painful question that could be if he'd lost someone, before she decided then and there to adopt him into the group. "Well, come on — I ran into America and Billy," she said. "And … they can use the help."

"Yeah? What's up?" Billy asked, carrying the tarp in a bundle under his arm. "I've got… some food and a couple water bottles in the packs. Maybe they can use it?"

"I think it's more that they can use more people for shifts. Billy … isn't doing too well. And America …"

Miles winced in sympathetic understanding. "Yeah, say no more. Sounds like they could use a little cheer, right?"

"Yes. Lots of it," she agreed and tipped her head the way she'd come. "Let's go where you can dry off."

"That would be great," he agreed, looking down at his muddy clothes as his knees knocked together. He followed Kitty as she led the way back to where America and Billy were both sleeping — though America woke up the second Kitty was in the entrance of the little cave.

"Hi honey, I found a stray," Kitty teased.

America smirked despite herself and looked beyond Kitty to see Miles standing there shivering. "Come on in, chico. We don't have any blankets, but Kitty started a fire, so…" She gestured at the remnants of the previous night's fire and poked at some of the embers.

"Dry wood is kind of a hard-to-find item," Kitty said with a shrug. "But tumbleweeds are a little easier to come by."

"Dry anything is hard to find right now," Miles pointed out, nodding to himself as he took a seat close by the fire. He glanced at Billy, who was mumbling a bit in his sleep. "He okay?"

America shot Miles a look for a moment before she shook her head. "No, he's not," she said simply.

"Is it time for another pill?" Kitty asked. "I'm losing track with the weather."

"Me too," America admitted. "We gave him one last night sometime, I think… and he does get sort of restless when it starts wearing off."

"When what starts wearing off?" Miles asked, looking between the two girls with his eyebrows raised.

"Pain medicine," America explained. "Billy's tracker broke."

Miles' eyes widened, and he let out a low whistle. "Gotcha."

"I don't want to use it all too fast, though," America said with a frown as she looked at the bottle.

"It said every twelve hours," Kitty said.

"Yeah, but… by that math, the Games had better be done by Day Eight," America said.

"I still think we should let him take one," Kitty replied. "He's not hurting … and I think it's taking longer before he starts to mumble too."

"Is that a good or a bad thing?" Miles asked, completely new to the situation and watching all three of them with wide eyes.

Kitty covered her face with one hand and shook her head, knowing that Miles was poking the bear without realizing it. "I think it means he's healing — or at least coping with whatever is in that thing."

"Well, that's good. Maybe he'll be up and telling jokes soon," Miles offered, and America let out all her breath and gave him a hard look before she turned her attention back to Kitty.

"If the rain hasn't stopped tomorrow, I'm not going to let it stop me. I'll go out hunting if I have to, but we can't just wait here," she said.

"Agreed," Kitty said with a nod. "I'll help you."

"We'll need to move anyway. If we stay still, we're just asking for mutts or something," America said. "And we've been here since before you found us."

"Ah, home sweet no-longer home," MIles said, looking around the cavern walls.

"Are you ready to start cross-stitching the sign?" Kitty asked.

"I see how it is. Just because I'm a spider you think I can weave and sew and stuff," Milles said, grinning her way.

"Yeah," she said with a nod. "So, what do you have in your bag of tricks, Spidey?"

"Well, there's the stupid tarp," he said, gesturing at his crumpled shelter. "And then there's some food… dried blueberries and stuff mostly. And I've got three water bottles." He grinned. "Me and Gwen had some real luck with supplies before… well... "

"Yeah," Kitty replied quietly. She knew better than to ask for more details with that, especially since, by the look on his face, it looked like it was a recent loss.

"Mind if we steal some of your food?" America asked. "We've got plenty of water to spare, but food? Not so much."

"Be my guest," Miles said, unzipping his pack to show the food inside. "Gwen and I were rationing it to last the Games, so there should be plenty in there."

"I'll get you more when I kill what's left of the Careers," America promised him as she took a handful of dried berries. "We can have our pick of the Tesseract supplies."

"That's a plan I can get behind," Kitty agreed as she held her hands open for Miles to pour her some dried fruit.

"It'll be a feast," Miles agreed. "We'll throw a party."


The rain hadn't let up all day, and it wasn't showing any signs of stopping, either. But the problem was — it looked like that meant the tributes all had the same idea and were staying inside, in shelters, hiding from the weather.

And no one had died yet.

It was hard to tell time, but Kamala was sure they were coming up on evening. The sky was sort of darker, and the watch shift lined up right. Which meant the parade of faces was supposed to start soon — and there hadn't been any deaths yet.

Clara had fallen asleep, huddled up against the back wall of the cave with her arms around herself, not paying much attention to what was going on, though she was listening for her teammates. And Scott was restless, getting up every few minutes to check the knots on the traps he and Kamala had made, or to go to the cave entrance and listen to the rain ... Kamala was sure he was just looking for something to do.

"So," Kamala said at last, breaking the silence when she couldn't stand it anymore. "What happens if it's one of us?"

Scott stopped checking knots and tipped his head her way. "What?"

"What happens if one of us is the one they kill? I mean… no one has died all day," Kamala said, and with every word, she wrapped her arms tighter around herself.

"You're too cute to die like that," Clara said as she picked her head up. "There would be riots in the streets."

"That's sweet," Kamala said. "But it's random, isn't it? So it could be any of us."

Clara laughed at that. "Sure it is," she said, shaking her head. "If it's me — take my claws and tear someone up."

"I'll let Scott do that," Kamala said with a slight frown.

"It's not going to be any of us," Scott said firmly.

"Right, because I got here on accident, right?" Clara said, though Scott was already shaking his head before she'd even finished saying it.

"You've killed two Careers; they're not going to get rid of a heavyweight fighter when you're giving them the kills they need," Scott reasoned.

"You underestimate how many people my brother has pissed off," Clara said.

"You piss him off all the time," he argued. "They've got to appreciate that."

"Don't count on it," she countered.

"I'll expect an apology when I'm right," he said with a little smirk.

"Well," Clara said, sounding properly insulted. "That's not ever gonna happen."

"I live in hope anyway," Scott said before he tipped his head Kamala's way and softened his expression toward the younger member of the team, even with his eyes shut tight. "I'm telling you — it's not going to be one of us. Clara's too good at fighting. You're too sweet; people like you. And me… I guess I ... well. It wouldn't be dramatic to kill me off after all that went down," he said with a shrug. "They'll want to do it with a little more flash."

"I guess so," Kamala said, though she was still rubbing her arm absently and kept glancing toward the sky.

Clara looked thoughtful as she stared out of the opening to the cave. Even if Scott was right on all that … their alliance would be better off if she could just … deal with the rotten Careers before they caught up to them. And when the anthem started to play, it just solidified that thought for her — since nobody else seemed to be dealing with the problem of killing the kids that needed to die.

"Maybe we missed a cannon in the thunder," Kamala said as she rushed to stand by Clara and watch the faces, her arms tightly wrapped around herself — though when there were no new faces, her expression fell into a wince, and she was practically holding her breath.

And yet… nothing happened.

Kamala peeked one eye open and then the other, glancing at the other two members of her alliance as she looked around. "So… not us then?" she asked finally, tentatively.

"Looks like," Scott said, and he didn't try that hard to hide the triumphant tone.

Clara looked his way but didn't say her mind. All she was thinking was: 'not tonight anyhow'. First thing in the morning — once those two got settled in — she was going to go hunting whether the rain had stopped or not. She wasn't going to wait for the Gamemakers to hit one of them with the poison. They'd gotten lucky that night, but that was no guarantee for the future.


"Dis place real cozy, but if we gon' see de faces, we gotta get out a little bit, cher," Remy said, gathering up the packs when he had returned from a little scouting.

"Tired of waiting for soap, aren't you?" she teased as she got to her feet.

"Mebbe dey can't get the parachute trough de rain," he said with a shrug.

"Clearly that's got to be the problem," she replied with a little smirk. "There's no other reason we wouldn't have it by now."

"You jus' gotta be optimistic, cher," he told her, offering her his arm as they headed out into the rain for a moment, just to get moving.

She kept one hand on the hilt of her sword as she kept close to him and was sure to hold on to him when she saw how slippery the footing was outside. He kept one hand over hers, and for a long while, the two of them looked like they were just a couple of normal teenagers out for a walk — in the pouring rain.

They followed the path of flowing water, seeing as it was the easiest thing to see in the dim light. The ground was getting terribly saturated, though, and the once bone-dry desert had turned into what amounted to a swamp instead, with standing and running water all around them. They had to slow down a bit when they realized how much the water hid from them as Betsy positively clutched to Remy when she took a step and nearly fell into a hole.

"Watch your step, cher," he told her as he pulled her back to her feet.

"I thought I was," she replied, looking irritated that she'd missed that deep spot.

"Don' worry 'bout it none. Ain't no swamps in Two," he said with a little grin.

"Do you have them in Eight?" she asked.

"Down in de southern border," he said with a nod. "Right close to Four."

"Ugh. I hate Four," she grumbled.

"De people or district?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"The ones I've had to meet here," she replied. "They're awful."

"Well ... dey Careers," Remy said with a shrug.

She paused and looked his way with an arched eyebrow. "Sorry to hear that you're slumming."

He laughed and shook his head. "You ain't a Career. Sure, you from Two, but did you volunteer? Non."

"No," she agreed. "That much is true anyhow."

"So — you ain't a Career," he said and then grinned lopsidedly her way. "Remy don' 'slum it', cher."

"I'm sure that won't be the story when you win," she said with a shake of her head.

"If dat's de case?" He looked her way with one eyebrow raised. "Dey gon' say I rode in on some very pretty coattails."

"Pretty words," she said with a sigh.

"Dat ain't what I'm sayin' is pretty, cher," he countered, still grinning.

"I was assuming you're delirious from the soggy-ness of this um … moonlit walk?" She held one hand palm up to the sky and looked up, smiling in spite of herself and the misery of the situation.

He shook his head and laughed lightly. "You in denial, cher."

"No, I'd just rather be in top form to do this properly," she said, biting her lip as she gave him a clear once-over. "Not looking like a drowned rat in the rain."

Remy shook his head, though he had clearly picked up on the obvious signals and was grinning wider and wider. "You look good in de rain," he told her. "And I tell you why — you don't gotta lean on dat purple and primping de Capitol gave you. De rain, it wash dat away."

She thought about it for a moment before she pulled on his arm to stop him, then wrapped her arms around his neck to kiss him. He didn't even hesitate to return the favor, wrapping his arms around her waist — but almost as soon as they started to get involved, a horrible, wracking scream rent the air and startled them both.

In a heartbeat, both of them had their weapons drawn and ready, and without another word spoken, they started to creep toward the sound, though Remy had to look twice as Betsy seemed to simply disappear into the shadows in the blink of an eye.

She was the one to find the boy from Five — who was in a horrible spot. It looked like he was pinned underneath a large tree, and from the state of his clothes and the way the tree was wedged, it looked like he had been there for a while. But more concerning was the fact that he was simply screaming — not trying to push the tree off of him but instead doing his best to curl in on himself, shaking in pain.

She sheathed her sword and rushed toward him. "It's okay," she tried to tell him — but it was clear pretty quickly that she wasn't able to move the tree in the least. "What's wrong with you?" she asked, but when he was totally unable to do anything but writhe and scream, she called out for Remy and started digging in the soft, red mud to try and free the young man.

When Remy arrived and took in the scene, he frowned on seeing Betsy digging in the mud, his head tipped to one side for a moment before he planted his bo staff and started to use it as a lever to help lift the tree. Between the two of them, they finally made enough headway that Bucky could move a little better, though Bucky still wasn't even trying to help. It took absolutely everything Betsy had to drag him out from under the tree as Remy held it up with the bo staff.

When Bucky kept screaming, Betsy looked entirely flustered trying to find a way to stop him. When nothing came to mind, she took one look at him and, with a frustrated sound, threw an elbow into his face to knock him out — finally ending the screams.

"Remind me not to ask you to do any patchin' up work dat might need doin' after a fight," Remy said, frowning down at the unconscious young man.

"He's going to draw more people in screaming like that," she defended before she looked down at herself and let out a little groan at the amount of mud she had nearly from head to toe.

"Don' worry, cher. We gon' get dat soap soon 'nough," he teased her gently as he sat down on the nearest log after the strenuous work of lifting the tree.

"Joke's on them," Betsy countered as she pushed her muddy hair out of her face. "The ladies in the Capitol pay top dollar to get slathered in mud like this." She leaned back with her arms supporting her on the ground and tipped her face up skyward. "How many tributes can say they got a spa treatment?"

"Jus' mebbe three, if we countin' Five," Remy said, gesturing at Bucky. "You know why he screamin'? 'Cause there ain't nothin' broken."

She sat back up and started to look him over a bit closer before she shook her head, but then she frowned and looked back to Remy. "Was there anyone new in the sky?"

Remy's eyes lit up with understanding as he shook his head and glanced at his own arm with a small wince. "Somehow, I ain't surprised," he muttered low to himself.

"Do you think we can move him away from here?" Betsy asked. "I don't want him to have to deal with one of the Careers or … if the Ten girl comes across him... He doesn't deserve that."

Remy paused and tipped his head her way. "You gon' rescue de tribute dey tryin' to kill?" he asked, a funny sort of smile creasing his features.

"I wouldn't mind killing One or her district partner," Betsy said. "That guy is a total creep."

"If we run into de Careers, you take de Ones," he agreed, still smiling at her before he moved to help her lift Bucky. "You sure ain't a Career, cher."

"I guess not," she said as she struggled to get a decent grip on Bucky. "But I am a model citizen." She gave him an over-exaggerated grin for a moment before they started to trudge forward.

"Dat's horrible," he laughed.

"The joke or the smile?" She asked, laughing under her breath.

"Cher, if you don' know by now, you best get your ears checked," he chuckled.

"Oh, now you want to play doctor too?" she couldn't help but tease.

"You de one bringin' in strays," he said, starting to laugh in earnest as they pulled Bucky along. "You can't be suggestin' tings like dat and bringin' company home."

"He's not going to stay that long," she said through her giggles.

"Who knows? Mebbe you like him better'n ol' Remy."

"This guy?" she asked with a little frown. "Not clever enough."

Remy let out a delighted sort of laugh at that. "You got good taste, cher."

With that, the little trio found a spot that looked dry not too terribly far from their mudbath in time for the rain to at least start to lighten up — a bit. It was still pouring, but not in the torrential heavy sheets that it had been.

"Oh, now it stop," Remy said, gesturing with one hand at the rain. "Dey got a wicked sense o' humor."

"And still … no soap," she said, shaking her head. "I hope you don't mind your partner being mildly dirty."

He laughed out loud. "Oh, mildly," he teased, leaning back easily with a crooked smile that rang with all kinds of trouble.