A/N: Special thanks to richards25, Chop n thunder and Mrs KiliMellark for reviewing the three chapters posted yesterday.

I hope you enjoy this chapter too :)


"Best laid plans can wait; don't need them now

This aggravation is heavy duty."

- Tom Meighan, 2011.


The 18th Annual Hunger Games

Cassius Patrick (18), District 2 Male

Kasabian - Pistols At Dawn (2011)


We stand twenty yards apart, the riding sun perpendicular to us. Amidst the desert and the long shadows, the final two tributes of the 18th Annual Hunger Games oppose each other.

Facing me is Harrison; the quick, intelligent boy from District 3. Despite his mind being his main weapon, the boy's in good physical state. I'd guess him to be a couple of inches shy of six feet, and he stands dressed in just a pair of ragged shorts. Although his skin looks sore, burnt and flaky in places after days in the sun, this abuse doesn't continue to the muscles beneath. Despite his slender build, his muscles look defined and sturdy, and he is clearly more powerful than what my fist impressions had assumed. He's a fighter. He has to be. How else would he have managed to stay alive so far. This year has been one of the most competitive Games to date. Five tributes scored at least nine in training; a new record. Now two of the three who scored tens face off against each other to decide who goes home.

I stand facing Harrison, knowing that there is a great possibility that he will match me, if not better me, in hand-to-hand combat. In this sort of fight, what weapons a tribute possesses would usually decide the outcome. But in this confrontation, we have reached stalemate.

I know that we both have knives, as I can see his in the belt tied to his shorts, but neither of us wield our blades. What will decide this fight is the piece of metal in my right hand.

What I hold is a revolver. For the first time, the Gamemakers included firearms within the supplies at the cornucopia. However, there was a twist. The revolver and the six bullets it needed were kept separately within the supplies. So far apart that the Careers ended up with a revolver and no ammunition to use with it.

Now Harrison stands facing me, dangling the bullets in his left hand, taunting me. Three of the bullets are spent; has Harrison managed to create his own firing mechanism? He's certainly smart enough to do it. If he has, I need to make sure that he hasn't got the time to fire a bullet in my direction.

"What're you going to do with those, District Three?" I call, trying to appear intimidating in return. "And what happened to the rest of the bullets?"

"I shot them, stupid," he retorts patronisingly, a smirk upon his face. "Who needs a gun when you have brains?"

So he has found a way of creating a firing mechanism.

"How did you manage that?" I call back, eager to understand his secrets.

"Like I'd tell you!" he laughs at me. "Then again, I guess I could give a practical demonstration," he taunts.

He's really starting to annoy me. It's all I can take not to take the knife from my belt, but I know that I must not. If I show any signs of aggression, no doubt he'll fight. And I've no idea what he'll be able to do with those bullets.

"I'll pass on a demonstration," I reply calmly. "Killed anyone with the three you fired?" I ask.

"Only one," he replies, sounding a little disappointed in himself. "Let's just say that I haven't got a very good aim."

I laugh at that.

"I doubt I'd be much better, if I'm honest. I stick to my blades. Five kills in a week says that it was a good decision to keep a knife, too."

"It's not like mine's been useless, either. "I got District Four with this," he say, taking his knife from his belt. I follow his example and wield my own blade.

At least now I know what happened to my ex-allies. The Career Alliance lasted for a remarkably short period of time this year; just three days. On the fourth morning, an ongoing verbal battle since the first day finally got physical. I stood the side of the District One tributes, whilst District 4 confronted us. We killed the boy, but the girl escaped. I can only assume that she met her end at Harrison's hands.

After the split, we lost the girl from One in a sandstorm that the Gamemakers used on the sixth day to draw us together. We never regrouped with her, and her face was in the sky on the night of day seven.

Five more days, and the remaining numbers of nine were whittled down to three as I turned on my last remaining ally and cut through the few remaining tributes from the outlying districts.

And then there were three.

Myself, Harrison, and my district partner.

Laura had shunned the alliance from the moment we arrived in the Capitol. Being a high-scoring tribute, I'm amazed that she survived the first week, as most of our time was consumed searching for Laura and the other high-scoring non-Careers, Harrison and the boy from District 6, whose name I cannot remember. I found the boy from Six on the tenth night, and made an example of him.

It's something of an informal competition, but since Cicero, my mentor, won the 15th Games three years go with such a brutal and merciless display of sadism, all the male tributes of District 2 have been trying to better him. Make an example of somebody, anybody, to keep up the reputation that District 2 males are the toughest, most brutal and most ruthless tributes that there are. And I made sure I kept up our reputation when I found District 6 on that cold, starry night.

It was Laura who found me, in the end. Seventeen days in the desert had taken their toll on both of us, and those minutes fighting my district partner were some of the toughest of my life.

We've always been told at the Training Centre that compassion must be shown towards your district partner. Well, as much compassion as the arena can allow. Favour them over others. Side with them if possible. And even though Laura had turned her back on me, I found it torturous to go through with killing her. Throughout the long, weary and bloody fight, I was constanly reminded by the indoctrinated ideals inside my headthat I should not have been fighting her. But it was either fight or die, and after all, my primary objective is to get home, using any means possible. Even if that means killing your district partner.

I can still feel the wounds that she gave me. A gash in my right calf, a long cut down my back. The physical pain only serves to remind me of my true wounds, those inside my head.

I'm a murderer.

I'm a traitor.

I'm despicable.

I tortured a man for fun.

But I am Cassius Patrick, and I am a Career.

This what I have lived for. To train for the Hunger Games, and to fight in them.

But now is not the time for regrets,I can sort myself out later. Now is the time to clear the final hurdle and escape the arena forever.

I return my attention back to Harrison, who's been rambling on about the girl from District 4 that he killed. I'm not sorry that I wasn't listening; I don't care at all for the dead girl.

Harrison cuts off his speech, shocked, as I charge at him with just my knife. By catching him off guard, he drops the bullets and holds out his knife towards me semi-confidently.

We collide and collapse to the earth as one, a tumbling mass of muscle, burnt skin, blood and metal. He hits the ground first, and I roll off of him upon impact. I'm the first to stand, but as I do, Harrison klunges out at me, and his knife slashes through my right leg just below the knee. I cry out in pain and collapse, holding out my knife in front of me as I fall. As I land, my blade sinks through Harrison's shoulder, pinning him to the ground. He screams in pain and I roll away from him, now armed with only my empty revolver.

And then I remember the bullets.

As Harrison struggles to remove the knife from his shoulder, I scramble the ten yards to where the bullets lie. As I attempt to fit them into my weapon, I noticew how badly my hands are shaking. I'm not scared; there is no time for fear in this sort of situation. But the pressure is getting to me. I have five, maybe ten, seconds to load the gun, or Harrison will be upon me and it will all be over.

I finally manage to cram the bullets in, and I turn onto may back to see Harrison, a knife in each hand, ready to dive onto me. I don't even have time to think before he jumps, weapons raised.

I was so stunned to see him so close.

In the end, it was a reflex reaction as my body tensed in shock that caused me to pull the trigger.


A/N: Well, I hope you enjoyed this one, I've enjoyed writing it much more than most of the others!

Please review, I'm still welcoming constructive criticism :)