Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. They belong to Suzanne Collins.
Note: Here we are, another deadly day in the Arena is here! Not much more to go, so ideally I might be able to get this story done by the end of the month! If not, then perhaps early next month. I guess we shall see how things go. Not much else to say this time except I hope you all enjoy the chapter. Oh, but before you read on, here's a hint towards the identity of the 5th Lead of the series.
Hint #1: This tribute died during the Cornucopia Bloodbath.
I yawn as I open my eyes, ever so cosy. One look up and it's clear to see why. Wouldn't you be cosy, snuggled up against your lover? Ranger lays back quietly, lightly snoring. Amazing, really, how spending upwards of a week in the Arena made me miss the sound of his snores. I'd love to spend the morning cuddled up like this. The rain outside is still going on, after all, so why not?
Plenty of reasons why. The looming finale, the raising water, the fact Marvel could be looming near as thus any number of Mutts... it's just a poor use of the time left. Enjoyable as it is, I've got much more important things to get on with than snuggling. That can wait for once Ranger and I get out of this place. Surely it won't be much longer now, right?
I sure hope not. Only four left, and yet so much could go wrong in the time between now and the end. Among those things, my untimely death.
So, I sit up and get to work quickly. As I pack everything important into my backpack - food, water, medical supplies, the whole works - Ranger sits up, quickly rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. As he does so I hold up a first aid spray. Hmm... I may need this for fast recovery, so I slide it into my pocket rather than my backpack.
"Morning," he says, stretching out. Quickly, he becomes just as focused as I am. "What's the game plan?"
"Like I said last night, we head for the grassy mountain," I say, slinging on my backpack and holding my axe tightly. "It'll be the only place left that the water hasn't reached soon enough. We need to get going now, before it's too late."
"Shouldn't we eat first?" Ranger asks me. "We, well... you will fight better if you're not hungry. The others could attack any time."
"We'll eat on the way," I assure him, gesturing for him to pick up the backpack. "We need to move before the crocodiles catch up to us."
"Aye, good plan," he says, grimacing. "I saw Caesar and Claudius' commentary on them when you got past a load of them on day three. Apparently part of why they are so big is that they're injected with steroids. Lots of 'em."
"All the worse for us," I shiver, peering outside the cave. "...Nuts."
Ranger moves beside me, deeply sighing. He mutters a curse, and I also let out one even more unladylike. Can you blame me though? The water has raised more than I'd expected. A lot of the trail Ranger and I walked through to return from the Feast is fully submerged, crocodiles swimming around lazily. Worse yet, some of the ground that is still safe and leads to our destination has cracks running through it. I don't trust the ground to not drop us down into the mines below. I don't think I'd survive them a second time.
Though, between cracked ground and filthy water full of crocodiles I'd pick the former every single time. I gesture with my head and lead us through down the slope. I freeze, hearing a crash, but to my relief it seems like it came from nowhere near us. All the same, this place is falling to bits. It's only a matter of time before everything around me meets a similar fate and crumbles away.
"Quickly," I mutter, starting to jog through the rain.
"Right behind you," Ranger says, wiping away a mass of rain droplets from the thick mane that is his hair. "Think that's their plan here? Destroy the Arena to push us together until only to are left?"
"Could be. I'd prefer that over crocodiles," I reply. "At least falling to my death in a hole probably hurts less than being eaten alive."
"I guess it depends how you land. Remember that poor guy who fell from a tree a week before the reaping?" Ranger's voice gross column. "Broke his back and lasted forty minutes in that state before he passed."
"I hope his family are ok in this time of grieving. How many tributes have we lost that way now?" I ask, flinching. To my last count it was eight.
"Too many," Ranger says, shortly.
I can't say I disagree at all with that. If you ask me, it became too many tributes lost in general the instant Jakki died seventy four years ago. Between the Hunger Games, the work accidents and the executions it's a wonder District Seven has even survived for this long. Same could be said for humanity itself, I guess.
As we walk along I keep glancing up towards the sky, my ears highly attentive. I must be acting oddly as Ranger quickly takes note of this, a little confused.
"What's up?" he asks me.
"I'm waiting for a cannon," I explain as we carefully make our way across some cracked ground. Careful now... "It's almost the end now. You've seen these Games every year; when only a few are left and the finale starts, they start showing the faces of the dead in the sky right away. I'm hoping that whoever I have to face-off against it won't be somebody big or strong."
"So, Gadget basically?" he asks me.
"Yeah, but even then she has those landmines and they could be a big problem," I say with a grimace. "It's gonna be tough. But, you know the worst part?"
"What?" Ranger replies. "Not the likelihood of impending death? I'd call that the worst part; it's freaking me out."
Indeed, Ranger keeps glancing around at the slightest noise. I'm used to such things in the Arena at this point, a touch less afraid than I once was, but having been in this place for only a day it's no shock to me that Ranger is a lot more on edge. After all, danger looms around every turn and beneath our feet too. A battle could begin at any moment, one ever so grisly.
Unlike me, Ranger cannot fight back. That tracker certainly will not permit it. I can't lie, it's really starting to make me feel very concerned. But, nothing says he cannot just run away, right? If there's no benefit to attacking him then I don't see why the Gamemakers will not just let him run away from danger. If a non-reaped citizen dies in this Arena then the trouble that would ensue would prove to be more unrest than the Capitol could easily deal with. Sometimes father has alluded that their their system is both cruel and fragile. A citizen's death would destabilise the whole thing, right?
I certainly don't want to see this for myself though. Not when the citizen in question is my lover.
"Stick by me, I'll keep you safe," I assure him. "Anyway, I guess objectively that is the worst part. But... is it wrong that I feel angry over my height, of all things? Marvel towers over me, Rammy is taller and pretty bulky. Even Gadget towers above me... honestly Ranger, how can a thirteen year old be so tall?"
"Genetics?" he guesses. "We don't know what they're feeding the kids in Three, after all."
"She didn't look well fed, that's the thing,"I huff. Maybe I'm being ridiculous, being sulky about my napoleon complex when my life is on the line every second that passes by. "Well, so long as I could beat her in a fight it doesn't matter. I think I can... you said it yourself, she's not got many landmines left and there's no way to go back to the Cornucopia for more."
"Aye, impossible. I mean, unless you fancy a swim with the crocs," he says, a grim smile on his face. "They'd make a great set of boots, but terrible swimming partners."
"All the more reason for us to avoid the water. Oh, watch your step," I say, quickly leading Ranger around a small hole in the ground. Not one big enough to fall into, but one that could badly twist somebody's ankle if they stepped in it and fell over. Best to avoid that, wouldn't you agree?
Time passes slowly as we work our way through the wetlands. I can't help but think back to the start of these dreadful games nine days ago. We were all alive, and the Arena was devoid of all floodings and damages. Was it really just nine days ago? It feels like it's been so much longer since that simpler time.
I can't help but silently scoff. To think I'd even refer to any part of these Games a simple time. Quite the opposite, it's an ongoing torture. At least I'm not alone... just have to cling to the positives that have not been taken away yet.
"So," Ranger says. "I was thinking that-."
The ground begins to rumble and crack, cutting Ranger off from whatever he was going to say. We stand in place for a few precious seconds, trying to see where the danger is coming from.
The ground between us cracks wide open.
"Whoa!" Ranger quickly dashes from the crack.
I shriek, running away from the widening gap as quickly as possible. Thankfully, this in itself doesn't present any sort of an issue for me. Only when I am clear of the breaking ground do I start to worry. Nuts...
The ground of the wetlands has fallen away, a ravine now opened up and full of rubble far below. With the way water is seeping into it lower down, a crocodile now appearing as well, I know better than to try and pass it. Looking back and ahead, there's no way to get around it. The ground has collapsed in such a way that it would be impossible.
Bad as this is, I could tolerate it happening if not for one particular issue. Ranger stands on the other side of the broken ground, easily visible and yet oh so far from me all the same.
"Nettle, are you alright?!" he calls over to me.
"I'm fine!" I call back. "How about you?"
"No bones broken," he says. He glances around, uneasy. "What do we do?"
"We'll have to meet up further ahead," I reply, pacing fretfully. Separation, exactly what I did not want! "The meeting point is the grassy mountain, I'll meet you there. If I get there first I'll mark an X on a tree and hide in a bush near it."
"Got it, I'll do the same if I get there first," he says. He paused, thoughtful.. "Though, we could just walk at the edges of each side of the ravine. That way we stay in each others' sight."
Clearly, he has the better idea in mind here. There's no reason to split up anymore than we have to and if nothing else I'd surely feel calmer if I could see him and know Ranger isn't getting into serious trouble. I'd like to think he'd be fine, not being a tribute or anything, but by this point I tend to associate assumptions with danger.
We walk along on opposite sides for a while, keeping our gazes ahead and on each other. For a few minutes, all is peaceful as we walk along. For once, nothing bad is happening. At least, not to us at the moment. It's pure relief.
It also doesn't last long as the rumbling starts to happen once again, and this time it's coming from my side. I yelp in alarm, darting away from the worst of it. My hopes to find stable ground are utterly dashed when the surface beneath me begins to collapse. I scream, sprinting forwards in hopes of evading it. I hear Ranger's yells of alarm and encouragement, but I can hardly make out the words.
By the time the rumbling stops and I turn back, I can only curse. The ground is even worse now! No doubt the Gamemakers don't want Ranger with me right now. So much for his idea. Ranger is much further away now, and some of the ground on his side is gone too. He won't be able to walk forwards alongside the ravine, so like how my only option now is... nuts... traversing the swamp water.
"We'll meet at the mountain!" I call over to Ranger.
"Got it, see you soon!" he calls back. "I love you, Nettle!"
I can't help but blush, my heart fluttering. No matter how many time I hear him say that, it never looses any meaning or feeling.
"Love you too!" I reply. "Be safe and-LOOK OUT!"
Ranger quickly leaps to the safest patch of featureless ground around him. A good thing too, as one of those horrible Mud Mutts just rose up right next to where he was standing. Ranger looks at it in horror; he tries grabbing a falling branch to smash it, a reflexive action of course, but screams from the zap his tracker gives him.
Seriously!? How does attacking a mutt nowhere near any of the actual tributes possibly effect the outcome?!
"Ranger! Run!" I scream, suddenly oh so very scared for him.
Ranger, thankfully, listens to me. He's quickly off over a damp, grassy hill and down the other side, out of sight. The mud mutt follows after him and, while this in itself is horrible to witness, I can easily see the beast is notably slower than Ranger is. I think he'll be ok. I pray he will be.
But right now, I have to look after myself too. Only way I can go is the swamp water, with the crocodiles within it bound to cause me plenty of issues. I grip my axe tighter, swallowing hard in unease.
"You can do this," I tell myself. "You have food to distract them with and... and you've overcome them before."
Indeed I have, and this fact does give me hope. But, mutts are something I fear greatly. You can reason with other tributes or at least try to manipulate, or perhaps trick them. But with a mutt, there is no talking. They live only to kill, only able to feel hatred and serious aggression. With my words, my elegance - assuming I have any of it left - and small stature I'd call mutts the antithesis of everything I am. They're brutal, only able to snarl and fight viciously and, as I know all to well, are really big most of the time.
But, it's like some of the elders back in Seven say. A saying that they tend to share through hard times so as to help the rest of us somehow make it through.
Fear will hold you prisoner, but hope can set you free.
I keep hope in my heart as I approach the filthy swamp. I sure hope they're right, because despite how hard I am trying... it's hard to remain confident right now.
"Just three left. Keep going," I tell myself, firmly.
(Time passes...)
My legs feel raw and numb from the swamp water that comes almost up to my hips. It's the worst kind of soggy feeling, and when you combine it with the rainfall it only get more unpleasant. Of course, why stop there? Why not add fog in as well?!
Oh, I can think of several reasons not to, rest assured, but it would seem Seneca didn't think of them. Or, a more likely alternative, he did and decided it'd be funny to watch us suffer. I know, I complain too much, but it serves as a fine distraction from both the pain and the fear.
The fog is making it difficult to see where I am going as I trudge on through the water. There's no solid ground nearby - none more than two or three meters across at least - and I keep seeing glowing, red eyes off in the distance. The crocodiles are watching me, but they're not quite on the attack just yet.
It's a common formula. Keep scaring the tribute until they finally lose their cool and enter a panic attack. At that point they won't be able to fight and so the mutts get unleashed. That's why I am trying to keep my cool no matter what. The moment I panic will be the same moment I sign my death warrant, perfect penmanship and all.
Yet, I feel alive too. I guess the looming dangers and the instinctive urge to survive being unleashed... it's opened up something in me. Whatever it is, it makes me feel like I am more than I thought I was before I got reaped for these terrible Games. Or, perhaps, I'm just going mad. I'd hardly be the first tribute to go crazy.
I try not to think about Titus and the way he went crazy, consuming the bloody flesh of other tributes. Everybody knows the avalanche that took him out and awarded the only other living tribute the Victory by default was no accident.
Glancing at the crocodiles that swim distantly, it's not hard to imagine them as the theoretical Titus and myself the tribute being eaten. A bit of vomit spews from my mouth, meeting the swamp water. Ick...
"Can't be much further," I mutter, swigging back some of the water I've still got. Only a few bottles left, but if all goes well I will have water to spare by the time I win. "Mountain looks closer than ever."
Indeed, the grassy mountain looms nearer, after hours of travelling. It's truly intimidating to look at, a huge and dark mound against the backdrop of the sky. With the sun hidden behind the thick rainclouds, the greenery upon it looks much darker. An evil sort of grey, to be precise. Normally I'd shy away from such a place, but not this time. It's my final destination, for better or worse.
I wonder, how far up there will I have to go? The entire way up to the peak, the highest point of the whole Arena, or maybe just a little ways upwards? The thought of how much water it would take to flood this place to the peak is hard to imagine - and furthermore a massive waste! - and if the past is anything to go by, the Arena would surely be unable to take it. Maybe the floods will just stop once the mountain is all that remains. At that point... I guess I'll find Ranger and we'll make our way to a cave. There has to be one, right?
I hate all the unknown factors. Knowledge is power, and sure enough I feel powerless when I don't know everything that I need to know. My only comfort here is that the other three surely do not know everything about the Arena either. With how big it is, it'd be impossible.
"Hm? What's that?" I mutter, spotting something fairly close to me.
Wading my way over, I freeze for a moment when I see that it's a crocodile. I relax, ever so slightly, when I see that it was a crocodile. It's dead, the reptile's corpse floating in the water with blood leaking out. It's red eyes stare far away into nothingness.
I'm quick to check the corpse over. I need to know how this thing died. Mutts don't tend to die by themselves in the Arena nor by other mutts. It's either a trap they get caught in the crossfire of, or a tribute that did the deed. If somebody's nearby, I want to be sure of this. That, and I want to know who it is.
I strain myself a bit, flipping over the crocodile's corpse. I can't help but wheeze a bit, the weight of this thing being particularly heavy. On the underside, I find exactly what I am looking for.
Two deep spear wounds. No prizes for guessing who made these.
"Marvel," I mutter, glancing around the area. No sign of the Career boy anywhere around me. "Ok... good..."
I trudge onwards, relaxing a little. Oh, make no mistake, my guard is still up... but, this is proof that Marvel is ahead of me at this point. There's no chance of him sneaking up on me so long as I remain behind him. Good. He's my biggest threat left... and maybe, just maybe, I can be the one to take him off of his guard instead.
I think of Marvel, dead in the swamp water with my axe buried into his spine. I'd not call it pleasant nor enjoyable, but... maybe just necessary. He'd do the same, I have to remember that.
No more hesitating to kill.
I wonder though, where might Gadget and Rammy be? So long as they are alive, they remain threats to me. As my interacts with Rammy include him axing my shoulder and myself axing his, I don't see it being an issue to sum up the nerve to land the killing blow.
Gadget though, we did get along and she grabbed that bag of supplies for me. Sure, I didn't exactly get to use them but she still ran in and took part in the plan to destroy the Career's supplies. I can't spare her though, not when only one can live. But, perhaps I could just make it quick and painless. In the Hunger Games, that's as close to mercy as it gets. Perhaps the nightlock, then?
I shiver, my legs starting to loose the feeling within then. I need to keep moving and get to dry land as soon as I can. If I get hypothermia, I may as well lay down and wait to die. Fortunately, a small island looms ahead and I manage to wade my way over unscathed. I collapse down onto the ground, laying back against a tree. Breathing deeply, I rub my hands together in an attempt to warm them up. Alas, the friction does little. Same story when I try the same with my legs.
"Too bad I don't have time to light a fire," I say, huddling myself. "Too bad that if I did the rain would just extinguish it."
I sit quietly for a few minutes, sipping my water and eating some of the meat and bread that I've still got. Eating is no distraction, but it sure feels nice right now. I'll need to be as strong as possible for what, or who, may be laying in wait. Tapping a hand gently to my nose, I flinch. Probably broken, and even if it's not it still hurts. Same for the black eye Cato gave me.
I just sit for a while, getting myself relaxed as I can. Through calmness comes better odds of victory.
Growing draws near.
I'm up to my feet in an instant. I can see that, slowly closing in from the direction I came from, are a pack of crocodiles. They swim slowly, almost lazy in their movements. But their evil red eyes are all set upon me. Every now and then one of them snaps their jaws, my blood running colder each and every time.
Another clear message from the Gamemakers: get moving, or die.
My brief reprieve, if it could even be called that, is clearly over. I'm up and running in an instant, slogging through the water as best I can. I'm wary of the water suddenly getting deeper and forcing me to swim to stay afloat, but thankfully the ground doesn't drop at any point.
Glancing back, I can see that the crocodiles are still following me. It's truly to my relief that they're not aggressively swimming after me. They hardly seem to be actively trying to hunt me down. Just a constant, moving threat to keep me moving where I'm supposed to go. After all, if I were to slow down... yeah. I shiver, and not just from the cold water.
After two or three minutes of making my way through the water - during which time the crocodiles seem to have fallen behind by a few meters - I reached another small island. I allow myself a few moments to lean against the lone, gnarled tree on the island to catch some of my breathe back. Not long of course. Not when nasty crocodiles are nearby.
Just as I re-enter the water and continue jogging my way along - my waterlogged clothes ever so uncomfortable and getting worse every step I take - I hear a young, terrified scream fill the air. A scream that is coming from ahead of me, just beyond a large pile of boulders in the swamp.
The scream can only be Gadget.
I'd hide back here and wait for the danger to pass, but with the crocodiles that continue to close in I don't think that's an option for me. I'll have no choice but to go forth into danger and either fight it after Gadget dies, or perhaps fight off the threat and keep Gadget alive.
I can't deny that if she's out of landmines and also wounded then she'd my best bet to win this thing. Like I said, I'd make sure to make it quick and painless.
Either way, I have no choice but to move in and see what's going on. I narrow my eyes, giving a short nod.
So be it. Challenge accepted.
(A few minutes later...)
The crocodiles have slowed down. It's been easy to widen the gap between myself and them, but every step I take brings me closer to what will surely be just another form of danger, perhaps one even greater. Gadget's still screaming and I can only assume that she's being tortured, or 'simply' being terrified by something that hasn't moved in for the kill yet. Perhaps both at once.
I don't want to see it, I seriously don't, but I'm gonna have to one way or the other. There's only one direction left for me to travel in, and if I stall there is every chance that the Gamemakers will just make the crocodiles speed up and tear my body to pieces.
"Stop, please!" Gadget wails.
I hear the sound of a horrible smack and then even worse laughter. I freeze as I ever so slowly move forwards. I know that laughter all too well. It's hardly a mystery that it's Marvel.
"Your little boyfriend isn't here to save you now," Marvel laughs, clearly milking the moment for the audience. Last minute sponsors can really be crucial, as we know. "Ooohhh, you all out of landmines? That's not marvellous... but, I'm sure your death will be!"
I make my way around the boulders and take in the scene before me. Upon the incredibly muddy bank where the swamp water meets the land lays Gadget with Marvel towering over her, his protective tracker jacker gear he once wore now shredded and broken... maybe from that crocodile I passed? She looks wounded, blood staining some of her tribute outfit. As she lays sobbing, thrashing around in the dirt, Marvel places his boot upon her chest and, twirling his spear for a bit of effect, raises it up.
One strike down and she'll be dead. If I'm gonna act, then the time to do so is right now. To act, or not to act?
I'm near enough the bank to risk trying it. My knife is in my hand in an instant and I let it fly, praying that it might hit the intended target. Marvel's neck.
The knife misses, nicking his shoulder. It gives me a strange, somewhat scary satisfaction to see the blood from the fresh cut stain his sleeve. His cry of alarm moreso. Maybe I've gone mad, or maybe I'm just glad this means he'll be a little easier to fight against.
Whatever the case, it all ends now between us one way or the other. I'd never get past unseen, so why not attack before he sees me? Common sense, pure and simple.
As Marvel hisses from the wound I clutch my big axe tightly, ready to fight. Gadget trembles in the mud, looking at me with teary, tormented eyes.
"Run!" I order her, giving a firm nod. "It's your only hope!"
As Marvel recovers from the suddenly searing pain, Gadget scrambles away. Scared, bleeding and crying she haphazardly flees, almost tripping a few times. I take deep breathes, trying not to think of the younger girl's imminent death.
After all, I need my focus for the fight I've gotten myself into.
"Well, look who it is," Marvel says, a cocky grin appearing on his face. He grimaces for a moment, but doesn't allow much pain to show. "Still alive, I see."
"No cannon. It shouldn't be news to you," I say, reaching the bank and getting onto solid ground. Well, as solid as mud can be anyway. "Still hanging in there, even without food? ...You look thinner, Marvel."
"Because of you," he hisses, his spear held tight. His eyes land upon my backpack, the parts of it he can see anyway, and his grip tightens. "You have food, don't you?"
"A sponsor likes me," I tell him. "...I have berries you can have."
I take the packet of nightlock from my pocket, offering it to him. If there's any chance he might eat this stuff before fighting me then I'm gonna take it. Alas, it would appear Marvel isn't the cocky fool I took him for. He just laughs, as if in disbelief.
"What? Do... do you honestly think I am fucking stupid?" he asks me, laughing a bit.
"I honestly don't think you're doing that to anybody," I reply. Perhaps if I tick him off a bit he won't think clearly.
Marvel laughs, actually finding the remark funny.
"I'll admit, I wish I'd thought of that one," he says, chuckling. "But... no. Do you seriously think I don't know what nightlock is? I'm no survivalist at all, but that stuff grows near my home in a fenced off area. I can't speak for the others, but I'm not falling for that."
"You might have to speak for the others. They're all dead," I say, stepping forth. I breath deeply, in and out. "I killed the other Careers, Marvel. Well, killed or played a part in their deaths. I drowned Clove, the supply raid that got Glimmer killed was my idea and I distracted Cato long enough for Rammy to get him. You're next."
Marvel laughs, cocky as ever. We begin to circle each other, moving slowly around in the mud. Our eyes never leave each other and our weapons are gripped tightly, our knuckles turning white from the force. Who will make the first move? Marvel, or myself?
"You trying to intimidate me?" he asks me, snickering. "You're tiny, you're weak, you're spoiled. Oh, you have brains, but it takes more than that to win. It takes skill. And, heheheh, I don't see what you've got skills in besides your words. This time, talking isn't gonna help you, I know how you work by now."
"Then let's finish this, you and I," I say, lightly hitting he flat of y axe to my palm. Come on, don't hesitate, don't fear him... "Also, bit rich of you to call me spoiled, Marvel. You've trained for years for this, I didn't. Hardly any of us have that luxury; what, were you too scared to face Urchin, or Gadget, without years of training? You're pathetic."
"Pathetic or not, it's not gonna matter when I'm alive and you're not," he hisses, ticked. He then pauses, as if suddenly making note of something. He chuckles. "Seems that guy with you is gone. Your boyfriend right? Is he dead?"
"We got separated," I say, coolly. "I'll be meeting him again soon enough just over yonder."
"Or maybe I will," Marvel teases. "I never did end up getting your District Partner, but that guy is close enough."
"You wouldn't dare!" I hiss.
"Oh, that make you mad?" he mocks me, smirking. "It'll piss you off all the more to know that I saw the guy from Ten chasing him earlier on. I'd have joined the chase, but eh, crocodiles got in the way."
"You're lying," I say, slowly shaking my head.
"Not this time, Nettle," he replies, shrugging. "Imagine, he might even be dead now. Is he a real tribute?"
"Well, no but-"
"Then he'd not have a cannon, would he?" Marvel says, his smirk widening. "Your precious boyfriend might already be dead and you'd not even know it."
My gut tightens, making me shudder. The worst part is that Marvel is right, Ranger won't have a cannon if something were to happen to him. Nuts, what if he's been cut up and...
...
Nice try Marvel, trying to put me off of my game here. I'd have to be stupid to fall for the same sort of trick I pulled on Cato that led to Peeta's death. I'm smarter than that.
"You're talking trash," I tell him. "So, we gonna do this?"
"We are," Marvel says.
With that, he lunges towards me.
Axe meets spear as we push against each other, both trying to gain advantage in our clash. We grit our teeth, looking at each other with such contempt in our eyes. My arms already feel as though they are burning, but the feeling only makes me try harder. I shan't die, not when victory is closer than ever! I try to kick Marvel in the knee but he acts faster, spitting right in my face.
I can't stop the shriek, it's so disgusting! Marvel laughs, catching me off my guard with a smack of the spear. The pain erupts in my hip as he strikes it, swiftly toppling me over. He leers, but his leer becomes a grimace when I smack him in the leg with my axe. Not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to knock him over as well.
I yelp as he lands upon me. Even when he's starving Marvel is a lot bigger and heavier than I am. Marvel is dazed for a moment but quickly focuses, leering again. He even laughs as he pins my legs in place and one of my arms. He reaches for his kukri blade, snickering.
"Is that it? Seriously, that is it?" he asks, almost disappointed.
"That's what you'll be wishing in a few minutes!" I snap at him.
With my free hand I punch him in the throat. He wheezes, but it's not enough to get him off of me. I'm still stuck! ...Well, fine then. I have another option still open to me, thankfully. That option being to grab the first aid spray out of my pocket, the nozzle an inch away from Marvel's eyes.
"Doctor's orders!" is what I screech as I press down on the button on top.
Marvel screams, recoiling back and rubbing his eyes desperately. His maintains his grip upon his spear, but as he shouts, wails and blinks rapidly I can see what I've done to him. His eyes are a burning red colour, watering badly. No doubt stinging even worse than merely 'badly'
"Little bitch!" he yells, trying to strike me with the spear as he staggers to his feet.
Of course, by that point I'm on my own feet as well and ready to dodge. It's fortunate I've done ballet before now and with it learnt the art of being nimble. None of his strikes are able to pierce me and even those that come close aren't hard to dart away from. I'd say it's less skill and more the fact Marvel is experiencing agony of the eyes, but whatever keeps me alive is fine by me.
I leap to the side of my foe as he lunges the deadly spear forth, rolling behind him. He seems lost for a moment, the opening that I needed to smack the axe up to his back. Marvel yells, and a sickly crimson colours stains his avocado green jacket, seeping lower down his back.
"Had enough?" I ask him.
I scream as he smashes the butt of the spear against me gut, grasping my neck with his free hand a moment later. He stares into my eyes, his burning red ones a mere inch away.
It's so hard not to scream...
"Not yet," he says, hissing. "But I think you have."
He smashes me down and I'm left wheezing for breath as, once again, he stands over me with his spear ready to be driven through my throat. I scream and shout, grabbing his ankle with both hands and digging my fingers in as I try and rake the flesh as badly as I can. As I do so I try to roll around in hopes of knocking him down.
"Aarrgh, hold still!" he yells loudly, jabbing the spear down. It hits just beside my neck, sticking deep into the mud. I take the chance to rock about and scrape at him even harder! "Let go and die! WHOA!"
I finally succeed in throwing him down, his spear remaining stuck in the mud. I try smashing the axe right down upon his arm, but he's quick to roll out of the way. He tries to get up, only succeeding in slipping on the mud as he fumbles for his kukri. I miss my own chance to chop him up when he throws a handful of mud at me. Blinded for a moment, I swing around wildly, hoping to hear the crunchy sound of the axe hitting bone.
I hear a chuckle.
AAAAARRRGGHHH!
My left leg, already quite sore, feels aflame as Marvel stab his kukri at least an inch deep. He yanks the blade out and tackles me down, my axe sent flying. Were both shouting and screaming unintelligible words as we roll in the mud, kicking and punching at each other. I claw at him and he tries his best to strangle me, the air knocked out of me with ease. But as blood starts to trickle down his face, I know that he's surely starting to get weaker.
Right?
My leg feels nasty. Utterly awful. I just hope no mud has gotten into the stab wound; the infection would surely be severe! I remember what Atala said in training, after all. Ten percent of us would die from infection. Perhaps not a yearly trend, but something I've observed in past Games and know the horrors of all too well.
My leg is soon the least of my worries as Marvel grabs me, forcing my head in to the mud. I fumble around me, finding a rock. I swing it back to where I think his head is. Holding my breath to stop mud entering my mouth I heard Marvel grunt but he doesn't let go.
I swing again. Another grunt, no release.
A third swing, at which point my head feels light. This time he does let go, stumbling away to gasp and wheeze, down onto his knees.
"You can't... keep this up..." he pants, almost impressed. "So long as I'm... moving and fighting you'll never... win. I'm stronger than you! You're a toothpick! You hardly... look marvellous anymore."
That much is true. With my bloodied nose, black eye and leg wound I both look and feel like a complete and utter mess. The pain surges through me as I, like my foe, gasp for breath, crawling away from him as he wastes precious moments breathing hard.
It's as twisted as it is ironic. The handsome boy from District One and the elegant rich girl of District seven reduced to looking like uncivilised animals and fighting as if we were savages. Maybe as we are.
It's hard to even remember I thought killing was sick and wrong. But here I am now, in an animalistic state of survival, trying to kill this boy before he can do the same to me. I stumbled, finding it searingly painful to even stand up.
My axe lays distant, having left my grip and landed beyond the muddy bank - is it just me or did it get muddier suddenly? - and Marvel clearly realises this. He smirks, laughing weakly which gradually becomes a boisterous cackle.
"Not so marvellous without a weapon are you?" he asks me. "Oh, but what's this? I still have my kukri? Whatever will you do... besides die?"
Terror surges through my as I take sloppy, slow steps back through the mud. I glance around rapidly in search of any sort of an escape or a chance of defeating him. Axe is too far away, knife is lost, first aid spray won't work again, it'd take too long to bend down and grab mud to throw... wait...
Of course!
Marvel lunges right at me as I scramble out the way as fast as I can. I scream as the kukri slashes my jacket, opening a gash in it. I'm just lucky he didn't do the same to the flesh of my back, though the small cut that just formed will certainly hurt me.
But, I would think Marvel is in for an even bigger amount of hurt! I now hold his spear in my own hands, tight as can me. I'm like a savage, snarling and seething deeply, my clothes muddy and bloody while my hair is tangled and a bit scraggly. Once upon a time I'd be screaming and fleeing to the shower to scrub it all away over the course of, perhaps, two hundred hours. But that was before the Arena forced me to adapt.
Marvel looks wary, and rightly so! I'm not exactly great with a spear, but between a spear and a kukri it's no question who has the better weapon. We start to circle each other again, both looking for the perfect moment to strike.
As we circle each other I, again, feel like the mud is somehow getting... muddier, I guess? I know it's raining, but it feels like it's something more than just that. So filthy, so vile.
Beyond Marvel I can see that the mud looks extra thick and sticky. Perhaps if I could just get him stuck in there...
Wordlessly Marvel lunges at me. I yelp, alarmed as I hold up the spear horizontally to block the attack. He tries to force himself at me for a few moments as I push back against him. He spits in my face, but nasty as it is I don't flinch this time. I see his kick coming before he lands it. Just as well, as that was all the prompt I needed to give him a hard kick to the crotch.
"Aaaarrgghh! Why...!" he shudders in pain, slashing wildly with the kukri.
It's lucky for me that the spear is a long ranged weapon, longer than the combined length of Marvel's arm and kukri. This luck lets me smack him upside the head and follow up with a hard bash from my sore elbow right to his chest.
Marvel cries out as he falls back, but I'm soon screaming as his kukri swings up, leaving me with a cut going up my torso. It's very shallow, but the pain of this lengthy wound takes my breath away and makes me stagger and fall. The spear is sent flying from my grasp into the swamp water with a slash of pure finality. I won't be getting it back, now.
I'm gasping for air as I rise up, swaying around as I stagger to move for my axe. Marvel, sprawled on the ground, wheezes as well but remains holding his knife. I'm halfway to my axe when be began to snicker.
"Try and avoid this!" he yells, a second away from throwing the kukri to my gut.
I shriek in terror, bracing for the impact I'll have no time to dodge. But, it never comes. The only thing that comes my way are curses and yells from Marvel. Looking at him, it's quite clear to see why this is.
Marvel lays on his back in the particularly deep and squishy part of the mud, stuck in place. He yells and shouts, writhing and fighting to get himself free. His kukri remains in his hand, but without any freedom to move himself it's not gonna pose a danger to me.
With my foe restrained, I'd say... yeah, I'd say it's time to end this!
"Grrrr! Nrrggghhh! Come on!" Marvel yells, fighting to free himself. He manages, with extreme force that leaves him panting, to free his left arm. As he catches his breath to keep fighting, I grab up my axe.
We lock eyes with each other. Suddenly, the cockiness usually in those eyes of his has vanished. They're red and afraid. He knows exactly what I am going to do now. I must look like a complete savage after the dirty, feral duel... but, at least I shan't be dead.
"No... no..." he stammers, swallowing hard. He begins struggling violently to get himself free, but it's hardly doing him any good. He's already just as exhausted as I am, the only difference being I can still move.
The sky begins to darken, the limited sunlight being swiftly replaced by starlight and mild moonlight covered by clouds.
"You think you can win?" he asks, struggling. "You can't! I meant it, you know. Ten was chasing your boyfriend and he'll kill him. When you see it for yourself and feel the pain of it, you're gonna lose!"
He's trying desperately to keep his cool, while I try just as hard to stay standing so that I can even be in the position to bring the axe down upon his chest. Is it just me, or is the mud starting to bubble?
"You're already a bloody mess, Nettle. What chance do you have against Ten, or even that lanky girl from Three? One is stronger than you and the other is smart. You're just little," he says, freeing one of his legs. He wheezes, panicking.
"Maybe so," I reply, moving a bit closer. "...But it's better than you! You're just going to be dead."
"Wait!" he fumbles in his pocket with his free hand, quickly showing me something. A silver broach, a very finely made one if I do say so myself. Truly elegant, all the way. "See this? It's from my family, they need me! They... they need me. Please, I know you probably hate me and think I'm hardly marvellous. Probably a bastard, but... but just think of my family. Without me they're gonna be in trouble... please..."
I don't think he's lying to me. Lies can be effective, but it seems the truth can be even moreso. I breath deeply, pondering what life Marvel may have back in One, what he might have to return to. I'm hardly what one may call a local hero in Seven and even if I do ave my fans now, will my return be comparable to what Marvel has to get back to? I swallow hard, the thoughts racing around my head.
I can't hesitate. It's nearly gotten me killed before now.
Whatever Marvel has to return to, I don't want to die and it doesn't have a personal impact upon me besides when I am on the Victory Tour. And even then, Marvel remains my strongest foe of the three who remain. It doesn't make sense to spare him.
I grab the broach from his hand, pocketing it with the other tokens I've gathered. The look on his face as he lays trapped in the mud is so broken I'm having issues describing it. I just want this battle over. I want to be anywhere but here!
"I'll return it to you family," I say to him, lowering my axe. I grab out the nightlock, easy for him to see. "Quick and painless."
Marvel shouts and yells, kicking and struggling. I stumble a few paces back as his foot connects to my left knee. Surely my scream can be heard for a mile, even over the rainstorm.
The mud is clearly bubbling now. What is going on here? Marvel has noticed it by now too and, while he is naturally more focused on freeing himself, he also seems curious as to what's going on here. Is it just some kind of effect the Gamemakers are adding to set the 'mood' of the battle's end?
...It's not.
Horrible, raspy groans fill the area around Marvel and I. Groans of the damned and dead. Ever so slowly, from the depths of the filthy mud... they rise.
Mud mutts, lots of them. It's an entire hoard of the freaks! Far worse than the lone mud mutt I saw several days ago, this has to be at least three dozen of the terrible muddy beings that are rising up all at once. They're starting to surround us both as they ascend from the filth, groaning and moaning out the most dreary, deep roars.
"Fuck, no! Get away from me!" Marvel yells, his energy seemingly restored in the panic as he fights to free himself from the filth, starting to loosen his other arm. The one with the kukri still gripped tightly. "Get away!"
"Ohgodohgodohgod," I stammer out, rapid fire. My stomach churns, my wounds sear in a way most nasty and my head becomes light from fear.
That's when I notice something. They are not attacking us... only for the single fact that they are not fully risen from the mud yet. It can't be more than ten or so seconds before they will be.
I don't even think about it. I don't dare waste any time with hesitations, considerations or anything else. I just run for my life. Sloshing through the mud of the bank I scramble my way to the wet grass that Gadget reached a while back, and ran past. No sign of her here now.
But, there is one thing I can see plainly under the starlight. The grassy mountain is very close now, just a mile away from me. Maybe not even that far. With the downpour starting to feel heavier, that's got to be where the end of the Games will be happening. Gadget and Rammy might be there right now. Ranger might be as well. No, he will be! I will see him again soon, I just know it.
Fleeing the mutts I reach the edge of a new patch of forest. I lean against a tree, panting hard. I'm in so much pain all over, my energy low and my thirst high. I yank out one of the last bottles of water to chug some down for whatever good it may do. That's when I make the mistake of glancing back.
The numerous mud mutts have all risen up, their attention turned towards Marvel who is still trapped in the filth. The roars of the mutts fill the air as they surround Marvel, but his bloodcurdling scream is the loudest noise that fills the night.
I ran away, forgetting to just give him the damn nightlock.
Nuts...
The Mud Mutts tear into him. I can't see Marvel, but it's all too easy to imagine what they're doing to him base doff of his screeches of agony. Agony I could've prevented.
I can't dwell on the horrors I'm seeing, not when the dozen or so mutts that don't join in the mauling slowly turn as one to stare at me. They lack eyes, but I can nonetheless feel their evil gazes resting upon me.
I turn and flee for my life as they roar and start to pursue me. A single glance back shows me that the mud mutts are slow, ambling along with all the swiftness and grace of a one legged bear. But I'm in bad shape as well; cut, bruised, scratched and filthy. I could hardly call myself fast right now. It's a struggle to keep moving, to keep ahead of the vile fiends.
Marvel's distant screams become extremely high pitched for a moment before suddenly there is nothing. No screams, no sounds at all. Nothing but the roars of the mutts and the heavy sounds of the downpour.
The boom of the cannon soon joins the noises.
Everything suddenly feels extra silent as I flee through the dart forest, stumbling with every step and swatting away any branches in my way with my axe. I can't stop the feeling of torment, having seen Marvel's terrible death.
The sky lights up a little, Marvel's death portrait shown in the sky. It must be the first time I've ever seen his expression so neutral, so casual, so... nothing. But, that's it... he's dead. All of the Careers are dead, with myself having a hand in each of their demises in some way, shape or form.
The fact his portrait has been shown almost instantly tells me that the finale has arrived. It won't be much longer until this whole damn thing is finally over. There are only three tributes left now... Gadget, Rammy and Myself.
Ranger's out there too, and I can only desperately wish I knew where he was right now. Surely Marvel was lying, wasn't he? He just wanted to break my focus and make me act thoughtlessly so he could find an opening to attack. It's what I would have done, after all.
I take a deep breathe, trying to keep my cool. I've come too far to die now, too far to let panic take hold of me. Just a few more hours and I'll be on a hovercraft out of here. Maybe they can do something about my leg. It's as if it were on fire!
Glancing back I can see the distant water has started to rise again, faster than before. Not only that but as a crack of lighting fills the sky and briefly illuminates the forest I see many, many silhouettes of the mud mutts a distance away. They're everywhere!
They're all staring at me, my destruction being their only desire.
Nuts!
I don't waste anymore time on thinking or looking around the place. I put all my leftover energy into sprinting through the darkness toward my destination.
After all, at the speed I'm going, I can see that the base of the grassy mountain is not even a half mile away now. I could walk my way up it and... maybe climb it. Maybe.
Nuts, I sure hope the mutts cannot climb it too.
END OF DAY 9...
REMAINING TRIBUTES
Gadget (District 3 Female)
Nettle (District 7 Female)
Rammy (District 10 Male)
STATUS UNKNOWN
Ranger (District 7 Citizen)
THE FALLEN
4th- Marvel (District 1 Male) - Mauled by Mud Mutts.
5th- Cato (District 2 Male) - Hanged off of a tree with a rope, by Rammy.
6th- Urchin (District 4 Male) - Throat slashed with a kukri, by Marvel.
7th- Wood (District 7 Male) - Impaled by a Tree Mutt.
8th- Cinder (District 5 Female) - Struck with an axe, by Nettle.
9th- Glimmer (District 1 Female) - Blown up by landmines, by Gadget.
10th- Katniss (District 12 Female) - Skewered with a spear through the back, by Marvel.
11th- Lacey (District 8 Female) - Shot repeatedly with arrows, by Glimmer.
12th- Peeta (District 12 Male) - Beaten relentlessly, by Cato.
13th- Rue (District 11 Female) – Spear thrown into chest, by Wood.
14th- Clove (District 2 Female) - Drowned, by Nettle.
15th- Weldar (District 3 Female) - Asphyxiated with a rope, by Rammy.
16th- Jason (District 6 Male) – Slashed several times in the stomach with a scythe, by Cato.
17th- Sparky (District 5 Male) – Speared in the gut with a spear and then stabbed in the chest with a knife, by Wood.
18th- Sickle (District 9 Female) – Stabbed in the chest with a knife, by Glimmer.
19th- Thresh (District 11 Male) – Disembowelled with a machete, by Cato.
20th- Marina (District 4 Female) - Struck in the neck with an axe by Weldar.
21st- Miller (District 9 Female) – Knife thrown into back, by Clove.
22nd- Tamora (District 6 Female) – Stabbed repeatedly in the gut, by Glimmer.
23rd- Sable (District 10 Female) – Stuck in the skull with an axe, by Cato.
24th- Callico (District 8 Male) – Stabbed with a kukri, by Marvel.
TRIBUTE NOTES
Marvel: At this point I think it's pretty easy to see he's the overall highest ranked of the 24 tributes of the 74th Hunger Games, on average across all timelines. Honestly not my intent, but I guess at this point I certainly have no issues over this. After all, Marvel is honestly tons of fun to write for and it seems the general response is that he's fun to read. As should be clear, Marvel was the main antagonist of this timeline's 74th Games. I think he played his role pretty well; powerful and vicious as a Career tends to be, but with plenty of flashiness and charm - of sorts, anyway - to go with it which I think kept him from coming off as generic or boring. I feel like he never had shortage of personality or something decent to add to his scenes. I think he made for a good antagonist to oppose Nettle specifically due to some of the contrasts. Marvel is particularly tall, very well trained and lives a more commoner-type life in One. Nettle is canonically tiny, has zero training nor a ton of skills of which to speak of and lives quite the exceptional life back in Seven. It just struck me that they'd be a good protagonist and antagonist to butt heads and I feel like it worked overall. Certainly made some really fun-to-write fight scenes possible. As always, I enjoy giving us more info about a character and I think I did alright with doing so with Marvel this go around. A bit of an attraction to Tamora mentioned, the fact he and Glimmer used to date, him not being quite so rich... perhaps if a Lead were to ever befriend Marvel or not be a 'kill on sight' target for him we may learn more about these? Guess time can only tell. In any case, the mud mutts were not exactly gently in their gruesome mauling of Marvel and so he takes 4th place.