Night One.
A Cannon in the Wind;
The Fifth Hunger Games.
Vesper Quinn, 18;
District One Male.
I lost them.
Tossing my bag on the floor, I groan and plop myself on the bed. My outfit sticks to my body with sweat, but I'm too tired to take it off. Besides, I don't want to give those horny Capitol ladies any fan-service.
For a short moment, I just lie on the bed and breathe, eyes closed and hand gripped tightly around the axe in my hand. After killing that little girl from Three, it took everything in me to get away from her vengeful allies. And while I'm definitely not scared of that District Seven guy, another fight right after the Bloodbath just didn't appeal to me. I already had to get away from that District Two bitch, who's out for my blood for no reason at all.
And why not add the Capitol to my list of wannabe assassins? After my outburst last night, it's no doubt I'm going to be getting a few attempts at my life from them as well.
"Does anyone else want a shot at me?" I grumble, opening my eyes and sitting up. But the first thing I see, staring at me with wide eyes, is a rabbit. It opens it's mouth — but before it can do anything to me, I throw my tomahawk straight at it. Just like the girl from Three, the rabbit's head is cut wide open and bits of it's brain fly out.
Disgusting.
I jump out of the bed and pull my weapon out of the rabbit's corpse, sticking my nose up in anger and disgust. I don't know what kind of Gamemaker trap that was, but I'm not going for it. The fact that they're already trying to kill me is a bit unnerving — but I've been through enough shit to get through it. Nobody, not even that sick old Gamemaker, is gonna get one over me.
Now that I'm not about to fall over from exhaustion, I feel like I can finally think and get to know my surroundings. After surviving the Bloodbath, I ran through the grassy fields for hours, eventually stopping at this worn-down house. It looked haunted, to be honest, but I needed a place to hide out for a while — and this seemed like my best choice.
Other than just looking creepy, though, this place doesn't seem so bad. The room I'm in right now has a pretty comfy bed, a bathroom, and even a window to escape out of if I ever need to. I pick up my bag and sling it around my shoulder, and I take this time to slowly walk around the place to see if there'll be any more unwanted surprises.
A kitchen with a surplus of different knives. A hallway with creaking floorboards. Another room, this one with a rather sour smell. And then the stairs leading up to the second floor — a floor I don't have the patience of going through in the late dead of night.
"This doesn't seem so bad," I say to myself, collecting the different sets of knives and putting them in my pockets. "Better than what I'm used to, at least." Though back home in my little shed, I didn't have the reason of looking over my shoulder every minute.
Oh wait, I did. I didn't trust those bastards back home just as much as I don't trust the bastards here.
I venture back to my starting room and shut the door behind me, locking it as well. If anyone was going to try and sneak up on me, they're going to have a harder time now. I may be crude and confrontational, but that doesn't mean I'm an idiot. I know what I'll have to go through if I want to survive. I know how risky it is for me to be in this abandoned house when the Capitol is already against me.
That's why I need to play the game smart from here on out. Back home, I wouldn't have thought twice about fighting that District Seven guy. But here, I know that the Capitol is going to shift the odds in his favor — which is why I need to think of a plan before the inevitable fight begins.
Because a fight is going to happen. That's some good drama, and the Capitol would rather stab themselves than pass up a chance for drama.
Sighing, I toss my backpack on the bed and unzip it. The first thing I see is an empty bottle — and somehow, I force myself to chuckle rather than frown. I ran for hours, and not once did I see any body of water. The fuck am I going to do with an empty water bottle?
Don't let them know how much this bothers you, I tell myself, placing the bottle to the side. They don't deserve to satisfaction of pissing you off. The next thing I take out of the backpack is a strong, thick piece of rope. If there were any trees around to sleep in, this would be helpful. But I've only seen a handful of trees, and none of them looked like a good place to sleep in.
So this is also fucking useless. Trying to stay calm, I place the rope to my left, right next to the bottle. Next, I dig my hand inside the backpack, desperately trying to find something good. And that's when my hand grazes another bottle — but this time, there's something inside.
I take the bottle out of the bag and inspect it — and looking at the label, I almost smile. Almost. It's a bottle of painkillers, which will be very useful if I manage to get myself hurt during my time in this place.
"At least the entire world isn't against me," I say aloud, this time allowing a humorless grin. I place the painkillers to my right, before checking inside the bag once more. There's a small bag of dried fruit, some bread, and even a canister of peaches. While the dumbasses back in One would be thoroughly displeased with this meager meal, I'm actually grateful to see food in the first place. It's actually more than I'm used to getting.
That thought makes me suddenly think of my old life, back when my parents were still alive and I was relatively happy. Food was easy to get. Life was easy in general. But the years have hardened me, toughened me up — and I'm not the same useless kid as I once was. I know how pain feels. I know how starvation feels. These meager supplies will last me.
Taking a small bite out of a green apple, I start placing my things back inside the backpack. The only thing I need now, I think, is water. I'm not going to last long without any. While I'm not dehydrating just yet, it won't be long before I start.
I walk inside the bathroom and turn on the faucet to the sink. For a second, a really good second, a small stream of water comes out. Before I can take out the empty bottle, though, the stream of water quickly turns brown and an agonizing stench fills the bathroom.
"Fuck!" Anger floods through my chest, and the only response I have is to kick the walk. Surprisingly enough, the wall is weaker than I expect, and my kick creates a small hole. I take a step back, shocked, and I wait with bated breath for something evil and sinister to come out of the dark hole.
...But nothing comes out. I exhale in slight relief, before I turn my attention towards the sink, which is still letting out that putrid shit. I don't let the anger control me, though, and quickly turn the faucet off. With one last glance at the slightly intimidating hole, I stomp out the bathroom and slam the door behind me.
You should've expected as much. I can practically feel the invisible cameras all around me; I can practically hear the laughing of those meritorious Capitolites. Trying to blow off some steam, I toss my backpack on the ground and place my tomahawk right beside it. And then, I plop myself on the bed. I don't pull the sheets over myself, though, because death by bed is not something I'd feel proud of.
I close my eyes, feeling a sense of overwhelming drowsiness overtake me. I'll worry about my water supply tomorrow. Tonight, I'll just sleep and try to forget about where I am, even if it's just momentarily.
...That's what I want to do, at least, but suddenly the Capitol Anthem blasts it's way into my eardrums. Oh yeah, the deaths. I nearly forgot.
I'm almost tempted to place a pillow over my head and block it all out. But then, the thought of that District Two bitch crosses my mind, and I all but throw myself at the window. If she's dead, I just might start jumping up and down. Please be dead, I inwardly chant, staring up at the starry night sky. Please let that witch be dead.
Light blue pixels suddenly overtake the night sky — and the first face I see, unfortunately, is that little girl from Three. She's smiling, as if she doesn't realize she's dead, as if she doesn't realize I'm the one who killed her. I... It's not like I'm hungry for blood and guts. She had a bag in her hand. I didn't. It was only logical to quickly take her out and snatch up the bag.
I told myself before coming here that I wasn't afraid to kill. If it means I get to keep my life, I'll do anything. I... I don't regret my choice. I don't like that I did it, not necessarily, but I don't regret it.
Still, that means Echo and even my pathetic District Partner are still alive. I turn away from the window, frowning. A nasty feeling churns in the pit of my stomach, something akin to guilt with a tiny bit of anger.
I killed. And if it means getting out of this damned place, I'll kill again.
There's no point in fretting over the past. Not in the Hunger Games. My future is the only thing I can worry about.
Michael Riverbee, 13;
District Five Male.
After the Bloodbath, Ceres and I ran for as far and long as humanly possible. The only things we could see, though, for miles and miles were just grassy fields. With the sun quickly coming down, my ally took charge and we eventually found a small tree to stay next to for the night. After going through our single backpack — gained by her gutsiness — we found a few pieces of fruit as well as a bottle filled with water. Oh, and a single dagger, sharp and cold to the touch.
Ceres said that we're lucky to have this stuff. I just frowned. Now that's it's officially the first night of the Hunger Games, everything just seems so much more...real.
So much more depressing.
I stare at my token, a dark green wristband with the letter F stitched on. During the Goodbyes, Finley practically forced it into my hands, tears in his eyes as he stressed over and over again how I'm the one that's going to make it back home. I was crying, too — but I went along with each of his words, because I still had hope of a brighter future.
...What happened to that Michael? I wonder, clutching the wristband in my hand. I just... I just want to go home. Why is that so much to ask for? Why am I being punished like this if I didn't do anything? Why are any of us being forced to fight like wild animals?
Wanting to cry, I just lay on my side, watching the grass sway back and forth. My chest feels so constricted, like just one tug at my heartstrings would make me implode. I'm in the Arena. I'm... I'm in the Hunger Games.
This is wrong. So, so, so many things are wrong in this world. I realize now that my parents were so protective of me because things like this are able to go by without a peep of discontent. I finally understand, and it just...kills me inside.
"Hey," Ceres suddenly says, her quiet voice carrying over to my ears. I can't find the strength to look at her, so I just grunt in response. "Hey, Michael. You can't... You can't just mope around like this."
If I was still the carefree, innocent boy from District Five, my ally wouldn't have to tell me this. Even if I was in the Hunger Games, I'd always find a reason to joke and laugh. But that Michael is dead, beaten down in the Capitol and now snuffed out here in the Arena.
Surviving the Bloodbath was a blessing — but the cannons of the dead tributes were so loud.
I almost couldn't take it.
Each of the five cannons were like a finishing blow to my already broken personality. I can't even imagine the horrible things that happened after I escaped the barn. Just the mere thought of five kids being killed in cold blood...
No, no..! I curl into a ball, squeezing my eyes shut. This is wrong. This is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong! I wanna go home; I wanna go home; I wanna go home!
"Michael—"
"I can't do this, Ceres!" I practically scream. Forcing back a sob, I grit my teeth. "I just can't... I just can't be in this place! Kids are killing each other! They could find and kill me — or you! I don't— I don't wanna die!"
I don't. More than the fear of having to fight is the fear of taking my last breath, the world around me enveloping into darkness. What exactly happens after death? Is there actually some kind of God watching over us? Does my spirit actually float out of my body and wander the earth as a ghost?
Or is there absolutely nothing? Just eternal darkness? I think, out of all the theories, that's the one I'm most afraid of. Back in Five, playing outside was the one thing that could always bring a smile to my face. I relished in the sunlight. I can't do that if I'm dead...
I can't do anything if I'm dead.
That's why I want to go back home. Even if it means I can never step a foot outside again, I wouldn't care, just as long as I can go back home and live life with my mom and dad. That's my only wish. Just let me go home. Please. Please...
"You don't wanna die..?" Ceres' eerily calm voice cuts through my silent pleas. I slowly turn towards her, opening my eyes — and I'm surprised to see tears in her brown orbs. Ceres never striked me as the type to cry, from the first day I met her. What's wrong?
"Are—?"
"He doesn't want to die, everyone!" Ceres interrupts, jumping up from her spot on the ground. She stares up at the night sky, waving her arms around. "You heard that, Capitol? He said he doesn't want to die! Can you believe it? He's, like, the only tribute here that doesn't wanna die!"
I abruptly sit up, staring at my ally in concern. "Wh-What are you doing?"
Ceres snaps her gaze back at me, glaring. "Do you hear that, Michael?"
"...H-Huh?"
"Exactly. You don't hear a damn thing, because the Capitol doesn't care. Do you think, if they knew you didn't want to die, they'd send a hovercraft down to take you home? Do you think that curling into a ball and crying will make them feel any sympathy for you?" She inhales, marching over towards me and grabbing me by my shoulder. I quickly stumble to my feet — and then she grabs my hand, tight. "Nobody wants to die, Michael. But unlike you, they aren't crying and whining. They're fighting for their lives."
I'm latched onto each of her words, mouth agape and eyes widened. The Capitol doesn't care. They never cared. Even back home, they never cared about my life.
We're just pawns to them.
And the only way to get back home...is to fight.
"I-I can't fight, Ceres..." I snatch my hands away, feeling that familiar sting in my eyes. The tentacles of dread are, once again, wrapping around my body. "I can't... How am I supposed to kill somebody? Even if I wanted to, I'm...weak..." Even Drusas thought that I was going to be the first one to die. Even though I technically surpassed his expectations, the fact of the matter is that I'm just not strong enough to survive something like this.
I'm going to die.
Shaking again, I wrap my arms around myself, a cold feeling in the pit of my chest. I'm going to die. I'm going to die, die, die, die—
A sharp sting to my face has my head snapping to the right. I gasp in shock, instantly bringing a hand to my burning cheek. Glancing at Ceres, I see her lower her hand, tears streaming down her face. Did she just...slap me?
"Stop being an idiot!" She screams, sobbing now. In the Capitol, I never would've thought to see my ally like this. She was always so stoic, always so sarcastic. And now, she's flat-out crying in front of me. Without even thinking, I reach to wrap my hands around her — but she pushes me away. "What happened to you?!" Ceres questions, still crying. "When you met me, you weren't like this! You were smiling, and energetic, and just plain happy! You were the spot of color in a grey, depressing world — and now you're just like everyone else!"
Just like everyone else... What? As Ceres falls to the ground, crying her eyes out, I can do nothing else but stand and stare at the shell of my friend. Because while the Capitol has changed me, it's the fact of actually being in the Arena that's taking a toll on her.
I look to the ground, ashamed. What am I even supposed to say to my hysterical ally? She's right; I'm not the same Michael that came from District Five. I've changed. I'm not the optimistic bundle of joy that befriended her all those days ago. With the reality of the Games staring me right in the face, I broke — and inherently became a stronger, smarter boy in the process.
Now that I'm in the Arena, I need to make a choice. I can crack under the terrifying pressure and succumb to the eternal darkness, or I can use my broken personality to prolong our survival. It'd be easy, so very easy, to just give up and cry my days away...
But taking one look at Ceres' sobbing form, I know exactly what I need to do. She needs me. A week ago, I'm almost certain that she could've gone through the Games all on her own. But I infected her with my cheerful presence — and now that I'm not that guy anymore, I need to take responsibility.
"...Sorry."
"Oh yeah, because sorry fixes so many problems in this world," she snaps, glaring at me. "If that stupid word could fix anything, do you think any of us would be here right now?"
I sigh, running a hand through my shaggy mess of blond hair. "Ceres, please, I'm... I'm sorry. I was just... You can't just expect someone to go through this without any problems."
"...I thought you gave up on me, Michael..." My ally wipes her eyes, sniffing. She stands up to meet my height, frowning. "I didn't ally with a guy that just cried all day. I allied with Michael Riverbee, the guy that approached me with a stupid smile on his stupid face."
I feign hurt, hand over my heart. "Is that something you say to someone dealing with depression?"
"I don't care." After a moment of pause, Ceres quickly embraces me in a hug. It's over in a few seconds — but I can still feel the heat and desperation after she lets go. Her eyes practically bore a hole into my own. "Promise me that you'll never be like that again. Please..."
I hesitate. I know, even now, that I'll still never be able to take a life. I'll never, ever be the same Michael Riverbee. I'll never be able to get rid of the fear lurking deep inside my heart.
...But for Ceres, I can at least pretend.
"I promise," I say, plastering on a grin. "Now can we go to sleep? I wasn't expecting such an emotional night..."
She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, because the Hunger Games are everything but emotional."
I laugh — and together, we get ready for the deaths to show in the sky. The Capitol may have changed the both of us, but together...
Together, we can get through this.
Caio Artelle, 17;
District Four Male.
This is torture.
It's not the fact that I just saw a little girl being chopped down, or even my ally having his neck sliced open. Both of those things will haunt me for however long I live — but no, neither of those are the reason I feel like puking up my meager dinner.
"Are you alright?" The small rabbit suddenly asks me, smiling it's creepy smile. Or maybe it's cute? All I know is that it gives me the shivers, whatever it is.
This is not normal. Animals don't talk. They don't smile. The Hunger Games is deranged all by itself, but this is psychotic in so many other levels. That pig may look cute and that horse may look innocent, but I can't stop wondering just what'll happen when they aren't programmed to look cute or innocent anymore.
They'll kill you. I squeeze my eyes shut, shaking my head. They'll kill every single one of you!
I know it, too. I just don't know whether to say anything about it. If I'm wrong, the animals could get offended and go on murder-mode — and what if Ula and Kaya think I've lost my marbles? I just... I just don't know what to do.
"I don't think he's alright," I hear the rabbit say to my allies. I open my eyes, and staring at me in concern is my District Partner. She almost looks as anxious as I feel, but there's a sense of composure in her that I could never hope to copy.
"Everything's okay?" Ula asks, tilting her head.
I nod. "Y-Yeah. Well, I think so. I mean... I don't really..."
"Today's been a long day," she says, faking a smile. The way she keeps on tapping her thigh clearly shows how distressed she truly is. "After the deaths, you try to get some rest for the night, okay? Kaya and I can take shifts for tonight."
At the sound of her name, Kaya looks over at us, the emotion practically spilling out of her blue eyes. Hate for the Capitol, distrust of the animals, fear at our predicament — Kaya wears her feelings on her sleeves and rarely care who sees them.
When she brought the talking animals over to us, it was obvious that she wanted to slaughter them all. But Ula quickly reassured that the animals were likely here for added entertainment, and that we'd already be dead if the Capitol wanted us dead.
...But our deaths are the entertainment here. Ula personally told me that she's trying to get on the Capitol's good side, trying to look like the perfect Victor...but doesn't she understand how dangerous it is to place our trust on the people who forced us here in the first place?
I don't care what they say. These animals are mutts. They're going to kill us — kill me.
But what if Ula's right? What if they're actually here to help us?
I shake my head again. I just can't decide. I'm far too conflicted, far too indecisive. My mixed feelings were already bad, but now that I'm in the Arena, I feel like every little thought is smashing against my skull and I don't know what to do.
"It's fine, Caio," comes Kaya's soft voice. "Just because you're sleeping all night doesn't mean you're any less important. You're still our ally and we still need you, regardless of whatever happens."
...I'm still their ally. I should be happy, right? I have an alliance to watch my back, to fight with when shit hits the fan. But... But that also means I'm chained to them. When the numbers start to dwindle, what happens? And what if they get the idea to betray me..?
No, no. Don't think like that. Whatever you do, Caio, don't think like that.
"Thank you, guys." I force a smile, trying to get that ridiculous idea out of my brain. "I'm sorry to be a bother but..." But I'm in the Hunger Games, officially fighting for my life. Breno was killed, right in front of me, and I was too scared to do anything about it. There are talking animals surrounding us, ones that could mutilate and kill us. And worst of all, I'm having doubts about this alliance. "...But Ula's right. Today's been a bit overwhelming and I think I need some time to myself..."
"Of course." Ula motions towards the two backpacks, placed next to the dilapidated building. "You can get some water if you want. Just don't drink all of it. We still need to find another water source before we can glutton ourselves."
"Y-Yeah..." I nod, but I don't make any move towards the backpacks. Putting anything down my throat while I'm feeling this way... Yeah, that's probably not the best idea. Instead, I get up and wander away from my allies, heading to the other side of the house.
Even with those demonic animals near us, we still decided to stay outside rather than go inside. The risk is just too great. But now that I have a bit more time to think, maybe we should've at least taken a look? What if it actually wasn't a trap? What if... What if there was some kind of prize inside for the tributes who've found it?
Or maybe Kaya's right, and going inside means death. I shake my head again, groaning. Why do I have to contemplate everything?! Why can't I just...do?!
I fall to my knees, staring at the starless night sky. It's almost amazing how regular people can create something like this, wasting billions and billions of dollars for the sole purpose of killing kids. It's wrong. It's sick. But unlike Kaya, I'm not in the position to voice how dissatisfied I am. And yet, I don't want to shove my head in the Capitol's ass like Ula seems to be doing. I just...
I don't know what I want.
My thoughts venture towards my two allies, sitting on the ground with a surplus of creepy farm animals surrounding them. I was having thoughts during training, but now that I'm in the Arena, everything feels so much more dire. Can I really...trust them? I mean, even though Ula acts like an older sister most of the time, she's showed on more than one occasion that she'll do the Capitol's wishes to prolong her survival. And not to mention the fact that she volunteered for her little sister, meaning she's desperate.
What's stopping her from taking her knife and stabbing me in the chest while I sleep? District Four will hate her, yeah...but it could still happen. Right?
And then there's Kaya, who acts on her emotions and rarely anything else. What if the stress gets to her and she chops both Ula and I into little pieces? She's shown on more than one occasion how good she is with a sword, not to mention her outstanding score of 8. What if she's the one to kill me? What if, instead of the other tributes and even the Capitol, it's my own allies that I need to watch out for?
"Stop it!" I smack myself in the head — twice. Anything to get those disturbing images of deception out of my mind. If I end up thinking about things like that, I really will end up going crazy. Ula will not kill me. Kaya will not kill me.
I don't need to abandon the alliance. That'll be the worst decision of my life...
...Right?
Suddenly breaking me out of my thoughts is the Capitol Anthem, though, blasting through the Arena. Even from all the way on the other side of the house, I can hear Kaya vociferating her anger and Ula trying to calm her down. And then the little animals have to add in their two cents, talking in their high-pitched squeals. I, on the other hand, just sigh, looking up at the pixelated sky.
This won't be a very happy moment — but I'm thankful for the distraction.
The first face to pop up is the little girl from Three, Iris. When that District One guy slammed his axe into her head... I think it was then that the Games truly started. It was then that we all realized the price of losing. Death. I close my eyes for a moment, trying to mourn the girl, even though I hardly know a single thing about her.
I'll never forget the image of her sprawled on the floor, that weapon lodged inside her brain.
The second face to appear is the District Five girl, Alexandra. Honestly, no matter how young she was, she seemed like a competitor. She was mysterious, seemingly determined... I'm surprised to see that she's dead, especially so early. The next face, however, makes me clench my fists in anger rather than sadness. Breno Harmont. My ally. My...friend.
Every time I think of that moment in the barn, when Zander was holding Breno hostage before slitting his throat... I feel like I'm going to puke, cry, and then puke some more. I knew that guy was bad news. I knew it — but instead of warning my allies, I kept my mouth shut. Now Breno's dead, and this crazy guy is out roaming the place.
...He could kill us. A cold feeling of fear ices around my body, digging deep into my heart and freezing it cold. Okay, yeah, I'm scared. Kaya pissed Zander off, and now he's taking it out on all of us. That could've so easily been me on the ground, bleeding from my throat. And that terrifies me. I don't want to die... I really, really don't want to die.
Oh, but you're going to die, Caio, I can practically hear Zander say. Kaya has her sword, and Ula has her knife. What do you have? Nothing. When they eventually backstab you, or even when Zander comes find you, you'll be defenseless and dead.
Dead.
I stand up from my spot on the ground, muscles tense. So many thoughts are flying through my mind, like the impending threat of Zander, or the possibility of betrayal, and even the creepiness of those animals. I can't... I just can't deal with all of this. I'm probably going to regret it later — actually, I know I'm going to regret it later — but I can't stay here and continue to go through this inner turmoil.
Just like I told Ula and Kaya, I need some time to myself.
And by that... I mean I need to split from the alliance.
Realizing that the deaths are done and the sky is it's natural shade of dark blue again, I start running away. Away from the dilapidated house, and away from my allies, and away from the animals. Away from my problems. Away from my confliction.
I take one last glance at the house, but I quickly turn around and continue running. Don't think about it. Just do it. Flashes of my ex-allies pop in my head, Ula with her reserved smile and Kaya with her cheerful grin. I'm actually abandoning them. What will they do when they realize I've left? Will they be worried? Will they be mad..?
No, don't think! I continue running, even as the fear of the unknown threatens to choke me alive.
I just split from my alliance on the first day. From here on out, I'm on my own. All I need to focus on now is keeping myself alive.
...But why do I feel like I've made the worst decision of my life?
Author's Note: If this chapter sucks, I'm sorry. Why is the Arena so hard? D: Maybe when we get to the action, it'll be easier. Which is next chapter, actually! :0
So yeah, not much to say this time. Again, sorry if the quality of this chapter isn't up to your standards. I always feel like this, though, so maybe it's fine? Ugh, I feel like Caio... xD
What are your thoughts on each of these tributes? Which POV was your favorite and why? Which POV was your least favorite and why?
There's a death next chapter. Who do you think it's going to be and why?
Yeah. Reviews are always lovely to read. So yeah, I'm thirsty and your reviews are the water. *opens mouth*
Bai! See you next time!