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VIII. The Boy With The Nets & Tridents

"I'm sorry, Annie."

My voice is hoarse from crying. I don't know how long it's been since the cannon has rung in my ears but it has felt like decades. Guilt and resentment pangs at my heart and I don't think I have ever produced so many tears at one time.

I gaze down at the deceased girl in front of me, her blue-green eyes wide open, void of emotion. Using my index and middle fingers, I gently close her eyelids. She looks like a kid who's fast asleep, with the exception of the lack of movement. She looks like the girl I met when I was six. I hold onto her hands and I feel like screaming when I finally realise how cold her body has become. Placing her hands over her chest, I kiss her on the forehead, and then the lips for a few seconds. It's District Four's way of acknowledging and respecting one's death.

Gathering my trident, knives and backpack, I walk backwards. I don't allow my sight to leave Maya until I trip over a tree root and after one last glance, I bolt off to the cave we had stayed in after our fall.

When I do arrive, it's past dusk. I create a similar cover as Maya and I had woven on the first day, covering up the entrance to my hiding place and I light a fire. The anthem sounds and I don't bother to look up. There has only been one cannon today, and it was Maya's. Thinking of her death makes me feel guiltier than I thought was even possible. I murdered my own best friend. What are Mother and Father thinking right now? Rhea… Poor Rhea. And Annie. She must be devastated, hurt and most likely disgusted of my actions. I had failed to keep her promise.

I cry - no, I don't cry. I sob my eyes out. I punch the walls of the cave several times out of anger and frustration. I'm mad at myself. I scream and I claw at my own hair, as if I'm trying to pull it out. I don't know how long I end up doing this for but by the time I am feel like I'll pass out, my knuckles are bleeding and I'm covered in scratches and bruises.

I end up crying myself to sleep. I know because when I wake up the next morning, my eyes are red and puffy, and it takes a great amount of effort to slightly open them. I ignore the stinging in my eyes and notice a parachute floating down. I quickly go and retrieve it. Inside there are alcoholic swabs, bandages and a bowl of sugar cubes. The ghost of a smile crawls onto my face as I pop one sugar cube into my mouth. "Thanks Mags," I mumble softly.

I spend the next hour or so, taking care of my bruises. I end up using small bandages for my knuckles and surprisingly, they don't hurt as much as I had predicted. I can move them around fine and I spend a while practicing to fight. I carve into different spots of the walls of my cave and throw knives at them, making sure I hit the target every single time, right in the centre. Then, I practise my stance and extension of the arm when wielding my trident. I stab at nothing but air and swipe, duck and roll around, improving my throws and close combat skills. I imagine that I stab at the girl from District Six and Carter from District One. I can't help feel a sense of bitterness, especially towards the girl.

Tugging at the flimsy piece of rope chained around my wrist, I realise that I honestly have nothing to do right now. I unfasten it and tie knots to take my mind off of Maya, and untie them. I continue the process over and over again, expertly. Rope.

Tying it back around my wrist, I run over the my backpack and notice that I still have the four lengths of rope. Tying and untying. I do that for several hours, I presume, until I finally come to my senses and decide to weave a net of my own. Maybe it was the shock of Maya's death that had caused my thinking to go a little fuzzy. Maybe I still am in shock, but different emotions have taken over.

Vengeance is what I feel I need now. The girl from Six will pay back for Maya's death.

Around noon, after a sufficient amount of mind-wandering and weaving, my net is finally complete and I sling it over my shoulder. I decide that I don't need my backpack anymore. The weather doesn't seem like it will change any time soon and I intend to get out of the arena today. If not, then tomorrow. But hopefully, sponsors will be able to help me if I last that long.

My knives are belted around my waist and I hook my bottle onto my waistband. I wield my trident and for the next few hours, I manage to set up seven traps around the arena, three around the Cornucopia. It would be of good use for the final bloodbath - or what others like to call, the feast.

The sound of a trap going off pulls me out of my thoughts and I hear the sounds of cursing from a male. I realise that it's the boy from Nine when I burst into the clearing. He hangs upside down with a string of rope around his ankle and torso, and he frantically hacks away at the ropes with one small dagger, to no avail. The unnamed boy lifts his head up when he hears me and his eyes are filled with dread and terror when they land on the trident. He screams out, begging to be let go but is cut off when I release my trident.

I hear the cracking of bones as they puncture his chest and the cannon booms almost instantaneously. I jerk my bloodstained weapon out of his flimsy body, ignoring the blood that pours out of the real holes I've created in his chest, and move on.

"District One and Six," I murmur quietly. "Here I come."

I wander around the arena, aimlessly. I don't bother hunting for food because Mags has sent me food every hour or so, with a few crackers and a bowl of soup. I imagine that Shelley would probably be looking out for me as well, and I can't help but feel grateful towards the both of them. My mind always wanders to Maya and her death. I can't ever stop thinking about it. Constantly, I'm trying to persuade myself that it was the girl from Six who had caused her death, but I end up telling myself that I was the one who ended her life. The girl was just the instigator. My bitterness towards the girl has only flourished as I grow impatient over the hours I walk around the arena.

"Attention, ladies and gentleman," Claudius Templesmith's voice resonates in the arena, "I am announcing the annual feast of this year's Hunger Games. It will be at the Cornucopia at dusk. Everything you need will be there. Good luck and may the odds ever be in your favour."

Perfect, I think to myself. Of course, there's nothing that we need except for going home.

It's dusk already.

I stay behind the mass of bushes that conceal anyone from the Cornucopia to see me and I wait. It's getting dark and soon it'll be hard to see. My heart pounds erratically in my chest. This is it. It's obvious that the four of us are waiting for someone to make the first move. I reckon either the girl from Six or Indiana will go first.

A parachute lands by my feet and I notice the night vision glasses that are supplied. Thank God. I slide them on and the Cornucopia is clearer than it was before and I notice the girl from Six on the other side of the clearing. As anticipated, she sprints towards the Cornucopia, towards the crate on the table that has recently been placed there and all hell breaks loose.

Mother always told me to think before I act but I push that piece of advice to the back of my mind and rush after her. She fidgets around with whatever's inside and dumps the entire crate onto the floor out of pent up frustration and turns to me. She knows she has to fight - it's the only way out for either of us. Her bow and quiver of arrows are gone, but she wields two daggers. As threatening as it may seem, I have at least six times the amount of knives she does, with the addition of my trident.

She's tall. Taller than me by two inches. Her eyes have a crazed look; it's almost like she's gone feral, a bit like a shark in the ocean. She bares her teeth at me and I almost shudder at the memory of Enobaria, the girl from District Two who had won three years ago, by ripping out her final opponent's jugular. Please don't bite me, I can't help but think.

"District Four," she spits out.

"District Six," I reply, plastering a smirk across my face.

We circle each other for a few moments, hesitant to make the first move. If she comes at me, I have an open shot and vice versa. We challenge each other, though we don't need words.

"So you killed your district partner, huh?" she says and shakes her head, in mock disappoint as her eyes gleam mischievously. "How disrespectful… I wonder how everyone back in Four think of you now."

Gritting my teeth, I manage to reply a "Shut up."

This time, she's the one smirking arrogantly. "Ohh, hit a nerve, have I?"

I lunge. I can't help it. A dagger in one hand and a trident in the other, I aim at her - anywhere, really, as long as it hurts and is enough to give her a moment's distraction. She's surprisingly strong for a tribute from District Six; I can give her that. I manage to slice at her collarbone, emitting a wince and hiss of pain from her but she stands her ground and after a millisecond, it's like nothing pained her. I release the knife and allow it to stay stuck in her collarbone, giving me an advantage to using my trident. I manoeuvre it around, effortlessly and it's evident that she's gotten outrageous from the injury and how I have a weapon I've already grown accustomed to before the Games.

"You're one lucky bastard," she snaps at me. "Using your looks and supposed charm to woo the Capitol. How pathetic."

I roll my eyes, unentertained. "How about less talk and more fight, sweetie?"

In an animalistic manner, she screams and lunges at me, waving her knifes around carelessly. I'm taken aback by her actions and I land on the ground with a thud. Pain shoots up my back and I groan. She has her knees on my elbows, with her feet pinning my wrists down to the ground, forcing my grip to loosen around my trident. The girl smiles maliciously at me and brings the larger of her knives up to my chest.

All of a sudden, it's broad daylight and I struggle to knock my night vision goggles off. The Gamemakers have made it day time again. I hear a pair of footsteps near us and noticing that the girl has also heard, I use this distraction to my advantage and as ridiculous as it is, I bring my head back and smash it against hers. It hurts but it's worth her stumbling off me and it gives me enough time to grab my trident. Mustering as much force as I can, I slam my fist into her stomach and within seconds, she's hunched over, wheezing and gasping for her. While she's holding onto her head and stomach with a grimace, I see Carter and Indiana gaining ground on us. Pulling a dagger out of my belt, I thrust it forward into the small of her back and watch her collapse onto the ground.

"Not bad, Pretty Boy."

I whip my head around to see the pair from District One. My blood runs cold when I realise I'm outnumbered. Indiana has her axes and Carter has his sword. I'm screwed. Running would only result in receiving an axe in my back, most likely splitting me in half horizontally, so I decide to stay and fight.

Carter eyes my trident and whistles, "So that's where all the sponsor money went to. You know, I was wondering why nobody else seemed to have any kinds of sponsor gift and then it finally dawned on me. You and your goddamned district partner."

I stand up straight, though I'm still shorter than him by a good three or so inches and cock my head to the side, grinning. "You got a problem with that?"

His eyes gleam oddly and it's fairly obvious that he's bloodthirsty. "Not anymore."

With that being said, he charges at me with his sword raised, while Indiana stays on the sidelines. Unusual. I sidestep a millisecond two late and I'm rewarded with a graze on the left side of my torso. Bringing my trident up in a defensive stance, I'm forced to reel backwards as our weapons clang against each other. He snarls at me and now Indiana decides to join in.

With every ounce of strength I have, I push my trident against Carter's sword, hard enough to cause both him and Indiana to falter, giving me the chance to run. While they stagger to their feet and regain their balance, I bolt away from the Cornucopia and to my traps. I burst into the familiar clearing and press myself against the thick trunk of the largest tree, trying to keep my breathing under control.

Deep breaths, Finnick.

The rustling of footsteps against the forest floor causes me to instinctively freeze in my spot and hold my breath.

"Where is he?" Indiana demands.

"How the fuck would I know?" Carter growls, "He came this direction though."

With my left hand, I take out another dagger and whip out from behind the tree trunk, plunging it into his stomach. His sword clatters to the ground and he staggers back in shock. Carter's hand covers the wound I've made and blood is quickly leaking out from his stomach, coating his fingers. Indiana's scream of rage brings me to my senses and I barely have the time to defend myself.

I let out a cry of pain when the metal of her axe digs into my upper thigh. I kick at her with my other leg with an amount strength I had no idea I had, effectively flinging her across about ten yards. I hiss in pain when I attempt to stand back up and I need to limp on my right foot.

A large, masculine hand snakes around my ankle, yanking me down onto the ground. Carter. Of course he isn't dead. While Indiana recovers, I grip onto my trident and flip over one hundred and eighty degrees, extending it forward. The prongs of the trident land right on their marks - the two outer ones stick into his eyes and the middle prong stabs his nose. For a few seconds, he gurgles and splutters his blood onto himself weakly before the cannon sounds.

"Well, it's just you and me now, Odair."

My blood run colds when I realise that I'm completely vulnerable. She stands above me, wielding her pair of twin axes. 'I'm done for sure,' I think to myself. I kick her in the shin - it was a move Father had told me that could stop one from walking for a little while. Pulling my trident out of Carter's bloody face, I point it upwards towards the handles of her axes and capture them between the prongs. Twisting and tugging, I manage to muster enough strength to free her of her weapons along with my trident.

We roll on the ground, grappling at each other and clawing at each other's skin. Her nails dig into my cheekbones. They're long and sharp enough to cut through my skin and she presses her knee against the gash on my thigh. Being trained professionally ever since she was probably ten, she distinctly has an advantage on her for hand-to-hand combat, despite the fact she's shorter than me. All I have been taught is a few punches, which have only worked on Six's girl who was undoubtedly not as strong as Indiana.

With one hand digging into her shoulder's pressure point, I use my other hand to grab the roots of her hair and pull. She releases a shout and spits onto me, applying more pressure onto my thigh. I grunt and growl, writhing underneath her body.

Within a mere three seconds, she has me pinned down to the ground, immobilised. Indiana straddles my waist and with her hands on my wrist, she leans down to whisper in my ear, "We should give the audience a good show, shouldn't we?"

It's almost like a seductive purr - heck, it probably would be if it weren't for the circumstances but now, it was disgusting. She smiles down at me like an angel. 'An angel of death,' I think to myself, bitterly.

Two can play this game.

I prop myself up onto my elbows and bring my face closer to hers. Being only fourteen, I have had next to no experience with girls in a romantic or intimate way, so I decided to go along with my instincts. "And how do you propose to do that?" I bite my bottom lip and raise an eyebrow, suggestively.

With a coy grin, Indiana brushes her lips, occasionally licking along the lobe of my ear, down my bruised cheek, along my jaw and down where my jugular is situated. I almost cringe at her ministrations but I allow her to do it anyway. If she thinks I'm submissive, let her think that. The seductive actress from District One, as Shelley had warned Maya and I. God, I wonder what my family will be thinking.

Her blonde - almost white - hair covers her face creating what seems to be a mini cave around our faces. Her hand slides its way up beneath my shirt, snaking its way from my lower abdomen to my chest. I can't help but grimace in disgust. She's what - eighteen? Surely, she should know how ineffective something like this would be.

Out of my peripheral vision, I take note of my trident, which lays only one yard away with the fork-like prongs turned away from me. I formulate a plan in my head; it's dangerous but a plan, nonetheless and I can only prayed to whatever Gods that are out there, that the fates will go my way.

Ignoring the intensifying pain on my thigh, I flip us over so I'm the one on top. I can see it in her eyes; she's triumphant, thinking that I have fallen under her charm. I haven't had my first kiss yet, and I don't intend to offer it up to my enemy. I give her a wink and brush my own lips up and down my neck, imitating her earlier actions. Ignoring how disturbing my own ministrations are, I slither my hand up her shirt, groping at her stomach and chest. When I notice that her eyes have been closed for a while, I use my free hand to grip onto the end of my trident and lift my head up. Our foreheads are almost touching and we're breathing on each other's lips.

"It's a shame we're in the arena right now," I purr into her ear. "We would have been great friends, otherwise..."

Her eyes finally snap open with what I suppose to have a seductive gleam and she smiles, flirtatiously at me. I lean back so this time, I'm the one straddling her waist. She realises what I'm about to do a little too late and her protests die down when the deadly end of my trident crash into her ribs, piercing her heart.

Boom.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I present you the victor of the 65th Annual Hunger Games - Finnick Odair!"

A/N: His games are finally over! The upcoming years won't be in as much detail until the 75th Games. I'm thinking when I'm around twelve chapters or so into this story, I'll start Gloss' story.

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