Day Twelve, Morning

Pullox Shimmers, District 1, 18

I was still thrilled when I saw the portraits of the survivors - the now deceased - shift. The paint almost seemed to rearrange itself before my eyes. The once victorious portraits of Lia and Darius slowly warped until they changed completely. Lia was depicted as a weak, tiny looking corpse who lay in a pool of her own blood alone in a ruined room. I could barely see Darius in his own death portrait. The main focus of the portrait was a storm than tore through the Palace mercilessly, Darius was merely a dot that was hurtled around.

I knew he was close to his District Partner. I'd almost feel sad if it wasn't so hilarious. I'd have thought the Capitol would have played with the feelings as they usually did, tried to encourage the two into the finale or something (which I would have never allowed, naturally). Instead they shattered hearts around Panem and purposely ended it with a sweeping storm. How romantic, right?

Final Six. I turned around and stroked my chin. It felt poignant to be back in the throne room. Unlike the majority of the mansion, it hadn't been affected by the hurricane. If it weren't for the explosives I had rigged earlier it would be perfect, though the entrance was marred by charred wood, rubble and the corpses of robots. To my chagrin, when I sat on the throne nothing happened like it used to. But I still felt at home on it. Despite being made of gold, I felt so comfortable there. Like I belonged on this throne. Being the one to exit the arena was just my natural calling.

But how would I do it? I'd had so many plans. I had an initial plan upon meeting my so-called allies, and though many of my predictions had come true I wasn't arrogant enough to assume all of my predictions would come true. In some circumstances they didn't. But I was adaptive, I had evolved, and that evolution was the reason eighteen tributes were nothing more than corpses while I was alive and breathing.

It was time to evolve again.

I stood up, looking at my supplies. They would last me until the end of the Games, but I certainly needed more supplies. I mentally took myself back to the drawing board to make a new blueprint that would guarantee my victory. Flashes of what could be ideas came into my head and I realised that, with the resources I had and the other contestants who were alive, I could certainly make a truly epic Games. Could being the key word. I wanted more, I needed more. And then I could satisfy the Capitol, kill the other five and emerge a truly memorable Victor.

After standing up from the throne and walking across the untouched, regal red carpet, I picked up the two backpacks that were filled with the remnants of Carlie's supplies and my own supplies. I tore everything I had out, pooling food, water and medicinal things into one heap and putting miscellaneous things into another. Then I glanced up at the broken wood and the many mechanics the destroyed robots had left me. How had I never thought of utilising their machinery before?

I frowned as I tore away breast plating and the mask of one of the many robots before me. I was foolish, then. Naive because the dangers of the arena weren't yet apparent. Though I could be resourceful and strip these robots bare, then I would have the supplies to make something truly theatrical and spectacular.

But that still wouldn't be enough... No... And with the final eight mark reached I couldn't rely on sponsors. But I needed more. What I had could barely make something satisfactory, never mind mindblowing. I had to go out and get new supplies.

Maybe, just maybe, I'd have to kill others for them. I smiled weakly as I carefully removed some wiring. How awful of me to entertain such a thought, right?

Tobias Harte, Head Gamemaker

My eyes were glued to the screen hesitantly as I watched Lexie float by the outer rim of the arena. I didn't expect her to even dint the forcefield, which cost billions of credits alone and was one of the most powerful forces imaginable. The President had always made sure the arena was completely shielded off from the world since an incident about ten years ago.

At first I was entertained, and sat on my chair admiring Alexandria's determinism. She kept waving her hands wordlessly, and nothing seemed to happen. Then eventually she made a force powerful enough to ripple the force field, which was something impressive within itself. I stood up, squinting. That was like bomb power or something. I grabbed onto my coffee and tried to drink it, but another wave of Alexandria's hand then send a rift through the force field. I swear I saw it dissipate before my very eyes, disappearing before a regenerator quickly rebooted it again. The shock sent my coffee sloppily spilling on the floor.

"Holy Panem," I mumbled. Thank god we'd purposely not broadcast that. Now I had to consider what to do about it...

Immediately, a bunch of Gamemakers burst into my room, their robes flurrying behind them dramatically as they harped on about Alexandria and the force field. Looked like we'd reached serious code red.

"I don't understand-"

"- has serious implications."

"She actually managed-"

"I know!" I shouted at the top of my voice, shutting up the choir in front of me. None of them were important Gamemakers who were in charge of any departments. They were lower ones who weren't involved in any planning and were merely involved in the execution. But they had clearly been sent to me by people who were higher up, and they too understood the seriousness of the situation. Some of their faces were flushed crimson, some of their skin tones looked like a pallid green. I glanced at Lexie, who seemed to be drained on the screen. She stumbled around a little, as if she had been punched, and then she immediately picked herself up into the air and flew towards the broken Palace.

A ditzy, blonde woman made her way to the Head Gamemakers' panel, stroking through her hair as she looked at a black and white screen. I remembered her vaguely; the President had told me to give her a job after she had slept with him. Nepotism had a very carnal nature in the Capitol.

"Okay, what do we do?" She asked.

"Yinga said she had to be executed," one Junior Gamemaker chimed. "She'd managed to express anti-Capitol statements live and on air, that in itself crossed the line!" Everyone turned to him. "But now she's gotten crazy powerful. I mean, how powerful do you have to be to disrupt the forcefield?"

"The forcefield can withstand a nuclear weapon," I admitted, sitting back on my chair. "And Lexie's powers were never supposed to be that powerful. We created a device that could turn brainwaves into physical energy," I span around slightly to face them, giving them a serious look. "And it could only do that by very specific triggers. Voice commands, kinetic notion," I doubted they needed the explanation. "The moment she started flying and moving things without saying anything wasn't... planned. But we kept it anyway. Dramatic purposes."

"You didn't get worried when things didn't go to plan? You didn't think that it could lead to more things going unplanned, like, I dunno, a girl in the arena suddenly having the ability to create blasts that have more power than a nuclear explosion?"

"Well... No," I paused. I hadn't had eleven sleepless nights for this. "And you're fired."

"What?"

"I'm sure Petrelli's Pizzeria is hiring," I waved. They had no right to protest, and I wasn't known for being grumpy or authoritative so I guess the Gamemakers before me looked shocked. Still, he walked out. "Okay, so I'm guessing it's time that we kill her?"

"We have to."

I nodded. "Press the kill button," I turned to the attractive and blank faced Gamemaker.

"Big red button?" She almost pressed it but I gave the most horrified scream.

"Everyone knows the big red button destroys the arena completely!" I snarled. She flinched. "Look at the keyboard beneath. Twenty-four little red buttons. One for the District One female. Press it and it'll send an electrical impulse through her body and automatically make her dead, crispy bacon." I looked as the camera were focused on Lexie, who floated through the air. It was very sad that we had to execute her, and we Gamemakers only resorted to it in extreme situations. This was a very extreme situation; I'm sure the audience understood that.

But she continued floating. At first I was going to tell the Gamemaker to actually press the button but every time she pressed it nothing seemed to happen. I looked confused, but then looked down at a radar and realised that Lexie's tracker was no longer on the radar. But the device she had which gave her the powers that be was connected to her tracker, so how the hell was she still flying? I gawped at the radar with horror for a second, the Gamemakers looking solemnly at me as if they knew that something was seriously wrong.

"What's happened?" One said courageously, hoping that she wouldn't be the one who'd be applying for a job at Petrelli's Pizzeria.

"I think she just did something to her tracker," at first it seemed impossible. But Lexie had been proven time and time again that what we deemed impossible was very clearly possibly. This once simple girl from District One was definitely shifting the boundaries, but she was shifting them in a way that would crush me. Hell, it could even crush the Capitol for all I knew. She definitely planned to get out of the arena and do something drastic. If she ruined the Games, I'd die. If she ruined the Capitol... Well, everyone would die. And when I considered what she could do to the forcefield her singlehandedly ruining the Capitol seemed plausible.

And I gave her the ability to do it.

"She used her powers on her own tracker," I immediately conjectured. I was right. But I didn't know how. "Somehow she knew what wiring to destroy, but the trackers are so minuscule," I stood up and began pacing again. "I don't even know how this happened. Maybe it's related to her sin," I had assigned her wrath; and despite her destroying her tracker and her execution implant, she'd certainly not noticed that her hormones had been manipulated. I hoped we would see an interesting new dimension with Lexie, especially because we now didn't get to see Darius utilise his newfound lust. But this kind of took interesting to a more extreme level than I had anticipated.

"So there's nothing we can do? If she destroys the field the arena is over..."

"No, no," I immediately moved to a phone, punching some numbers in and pressing the phone against my ear and immediately responding once I heard the agent on the other line pick up. "We need you to do something quietly. Keep all cameras off Alexandria Tarsus. We're sending in the Capitol's best agents to destroy her quietly so that Panem doesn't even know what has hit her." I shivered. With the District Thirteen was this was the worst thing I could think of. I could almost see my job - hell, my life - collapsing before my very eyes, especially considering it had been revealed recently that one of the Heads of Department had actually turned out to be a rebel spy. I sighed, rubbing tears away from my eyes.

Everyone knew that Capitolian politics often influences what happened in the arena. But for the first time the arena was influencing what could happen to Capitolian politics. Judging by how quiet the Gamemakers were as they saw me press at multiple buttons, it could even destroy it.

Mirane Saffell, District 8, 17

Since the storm had subsided the Gamemakers had decided to play a practical joke by giving us the most beautiful day in the arena. The bright sun streamed through the smashed ceiling and as I lay on the bed I heard birds sing in the distance. It was a beautiful song, so happy yet it struck something so melancholic deep within me. The whole in the ceiling above exposed me to the sky, where I saw a streak of azure. There wasn't a cloud in sight. When I rolled over, numbly staring out into the gardens, the reality of the arena hit me. Despite the beautiful weather, I was surrounded by ruins. The stretching grounds outside showed destruction. Trees torn away, flowers ruined.

Bar the fountains, nothing seemed to be intact. Even the Palace was completely destroyed. The only thing in the very room was this old, cramped bed which had no sheets or pillows. And then there was a pool of Darius' blood on the floor. And then there was me, lying down and feeling mentally exhausted. I hadn't had any sleep, but the thought of moving was just too much.

I felt completely numb, until memories of what happened yesterday hit me. And then I felt a soreness. I thought it would be agony, but I was too shellshocked to truly feel the pain. I knew firsthand now that the worst injuries weren't as painful as you expected thanks to the adrenaline. And the adrenaline had masked up my emotions. But despite the emptiness inside I knew there was a world of pain. Darius had grown to mean the world to me. He wasn't the kind of guy I ever imagined liking, even though I'd always liked him. He was sweet... And kind... And clever... And he cared about me, he gave his life for me.

I squeezed my eyes closed and two lone tears fell in sync. Darius was one in a million. I felt foolish for making some kind of declaration of love to him in our last moments, but it felt right. I think I did love him; or I felt the closest thing to love you could to someone you'd only known for a little less than a month. If love wasn't an intense longing for their voice, or for a passionate appreciation for everything about them, what was it? Was it possible to love someone you'd known for such a short time? If the circumstances were right, or intense, then maybe so. In such a short time Darius and I had went through more than some couples went through when they spend decades together. I felt foolish, but I didn't regret it.

I tried leaning up but didn't have the energy. Even when I tried to motivate myself and remind myself that there were five tributes out there who were hungry for my blood I just couldn't do it. I'm not sure if it was Darius' death or if it was the consequence of doing nothing but fighting for eleven days, but I was exhausted. I couldn't do anything. I couldn't walk, sleep, eat... Even thinking was tiresome.

To think I once wanted to alone so badly. When so many allies were forced onto me I felt nothing but resentment about it. Even when Darius was with me, as much as I loved... scrap that, liked him... A part of me felt I'd be a better lone agent. And then I looked back and remembered all of their deaths. Hadley's, Willow's, Darius'... Even that bitch Brandy. I think I'd give a lot just to have any one of them here to talk to me, to hold me and tell me it would be okay. Maybe that was the result of a lot of dependence. Maybe I was never as independent as I liked to think...

Even though I'd saved Darius a few times, he'd have saved me too. We fought together, and when we were a team we were pretty great. We defeated Seb and Trojan when they were at their most undefeatable. I didn't think it at the time, but our alliance was strong even though we as individuals weren't anything exceptional. How I longed for that back. Just a second of it. If Darius - or anyone - were here, maybe I'd have the strength to move.

And then I remembered it was probably nothing to do with Darius. I almost leapt up when the epiphany hit me, though I didn't have the energy to do so. Seven deadly sins... Sloth... That was having no energy, right? Lying on a dirty bed, doing nothing but staring emptily and suffocating in your own thoughts... I'd have never expected the Gamemakers to have assigned me such a sin. I was arguably one of the more driven tributes in the arena. Everything I did in the arena was for the survival of myself or for Darius and I worked tirelessly for that.

But I harboured a dark feeling inside that I didn't even open up to Darius. Every second of that time I wanted a break. This felt like the result of exhaustion I'd kept pent up for so many days, weeks even. And it was especially labouring for me considering my privileged background. A chill ran down my spine. The Gamemakers seemed to know my mentality even more than I did... But that was what made them so dangerous and devious, I guessed.

This sin was everything I ever wanted. And despite the throb coming from my bruised heart just being alone and unmoving felt so good. But the Gamemakers wanted me to think that. Sin was a sweet tasting poison, one you loved but which killed you inside. And the Gamemakers had presented me with a challenge; I either let my own sin consume me and kill me (and it was easy to see how sloth was deadly)... or I fought it.

But fighting it was so draining.

Every inch of me bar my rationality said no when I grabbed the edge of the bed and leaned up. It felt like a thousand weights were on my back, trying to shove me onto the bed and leave me bound there until I died. But I had to survive. Rest would come eventually. I slipped my feet onto the floor and groaned as I stood up, gun and blood covered dagger in belt and backpack strapped to my back. My eyes were tired. I was hurt and bruised. I was dehydrated and hungry. But I was determined more than ever to survive. If not for me, for Darius.

Sebastian Keating, District 6, 17

What was once a greenhouse now looked like a graveyard. Or a graveyard for plants, at least. There was still some metallic skeleton, the structure of the building, but all the glass between it that had shielded it from the outside had been obliterated. Trojan pushed the greenhouse doors open, watching as whatever glass that had clung onto the door tinkled onto the floor in a pile of the sharp glass. I knew this was an arena with little history - it was six months old at oldest - but there was still something sad about seeing the arena in such a state. Inside the greenhouse, tables had been flipped over, corpses of a multitude of dead plants lay shrivelled on the soiled floor and destruction was visible everywhere your eyes turned.

Still, it looked better than the Palace itself. One glance backwards and I could see just how much the storm had mutilated a once beautiful Palace. The money that had been fed into making such an arena (some of it coming from my parents' taxes) must have been immense. It looked even bigger and grander than the revered Presidential Palace. But what was the point of spending so much whilst children starved if an artificial storm had sucked away what had been created? Even the ground were in a state of complete disarray. Everything was trashed.

Maybe it was just me. Maybe what I saw outside was a deep reflection of how I felt inside. I'd tried to look strong for Trojan, but the Vial was getting to me. I gripped onto the one standing table in the long, winding greenhouse to guide myself along while my knees felt weak. My withdrawal symptoms were so intense, I was shaking. I occasionally felt my mouth froth, or bile leave a burning in my throat as it tried to release itself from my mouth, but I'd largely ignored it. I was scared that if Trojan saw just how weak I was, he'd abandon me for good.

Surely he felt the same way? He hadn't taken as much as I had, fortunately for him, but he'd taken enough. Four doses, one quite potent. By that point I had been hooked into the mysterious, intoxicating substance. It wouldn't leave my mind. Maybe Trojan felt the same. But he hadn't fallen in as deep as I had, and he had a lot more willpower at the same time.

I didn't get it; I'd never had an addictive personality. Drugs never interested me, and though I enjoyed a drink in social situations I was far from hooked to alcohol. But I currently felt like a morphling addict... but this was possibly even more intense and so much more deadly.

I hated the Victor's Vial. I was kind of glad Trojan threw it away because it had reduced me into a wreck of a person. It had changed me completely - killed me from the inside, almost. It had led me to kill, to almost subscribe to Trojan's brutal mentality. Just thinking about it made me angry, and despite withdrawal giving me serious physical consequences I was beginning to feel like myself again. I could really look back at what I had done with some horror. If there was a god, I hoped it forgave me. I hoped my parents understood everything. Because if I watched myself, I'd be furious... And rightly so...

But despite my disillusionment, I still loved the Victor's Vial. Or missed it, anyway. Not just on a physical level; my biology itself felt intwined with the damn stuff. But the most potent thing about the Vial was that it made me feel like somebody. I was just the average guy in District Six; average height, average weight, average grades, average family, average house, average income... average life. When I took that stuff, I felt like somebody. And not just somebody, I felt like I was the top of the food chain. I wouldn't have admitted it a year ago, but there was something invigorating about that feeling.

"We have to keep our eyes peeled," Trojan seemed to notice I was travelling away from reality in my own isolated train of thought. Said train immediately derailed and I was thrown back to reality, looking at his cold features. I didn't know what to think of Trojan... There was nobody else in the arena I had been so attached to. We'd had each other's backs for days, I would probably risk my life for him. But he wasn't right. He wasn't a good person, even if a part of me was attached to him. I looked at him blankly. "Now it's the final six the Gamemakers are probably going to be reckless until someone dies today. Better not make it us, right?"

I opened my dry lips, almost choking on my own saliva. I just nodded.

"Feeling better?" Trojan asked, as if he wanted me to think he was being polite. I nodded again and Trojan turned around, beginning to walk.

Maybe it was only time that had made me attached to Trojan. That and the fact he had saved me from Carlie a long time ago... And he was pretty good with the whole survival schtick. I couldn't identify anything else that I particularly liked about Trojan, even if I liked him as a person and believed he was good underneath it all. But there were possibly better allies out there... Aurochs was a good guy. Brandy was messed up in the head but she wasn't cold like Trojan or deceitful. Even the people I once considered my enemies, Darius and Mirane, would've probably opened their arms to me as a friend if the circumstances were different...

If only they were... If only I had no callous ally, unshakeable addiction or innocent blood on my hands.

Honora Cashmere Flloyd, District 4, 18

I leaned against a hole which had been blasted along the destroyed corridor I inhabited, peering out into the grounds as a soft drizzle fell from the bleak sky. In the distance I saw two figures around the greenhouses. I wondered who it was. I didn't even know alliances could exist this deep into the Final Six, and when they did they were usually ready to crumble at any moment now. The Eight tributes were both allies, I think. They worked together in the Bloodbath. But the boy died yesterday afternoon, which meant she was alone, though she may have been alone before his death. Maybe she killed him, who knew.

Who else could it be? Pullox wouldn't ally with anyone and Lexie was alone.

The alliance I saw was the Six boy and the Three boy. But at the beginning of the Games the Six boy was not allies with the Three boy. I didn't know what happened there. The Six boy was, last time I checked, with the Ten girl, and I'd never seen the Three boy interact with anyone. I wondered how they ended up working together - I bet that was an interesting story. An even more interesting story would be the fact that the Six boy could be shot in the stomach with a shotgun and still be walking around outside as if he was fine and well. Considering Lexie had her voodoo powers, I wondered if there was something in this arena I didn't know about.

Whatever. I didn't care about them. I could jump out this very hole, run up to them, and blast the fuck out of them. Then I'd enjoy being in the Final Four, which was honestly an amazing accomplishment. But I had bigger fish to fry. I turned away from the hole in the wall, grinning as I used my good hand to check over the arsenal in my belt. Countless knives, an axe, a sword and a gun. Thank god I was strong enough to carry so much. And even if I didn't have those weapons, I definitely had a natural strength, skill and tactical mind few tributes had. Unlike everyone else, I was reared to become a victor. Even when the pressure hit me, even with the advantages the tributes had been given, I was the one with the Victor crown almost stamped onto my head.

But I had two big threats to take care of first. Lexie and Pullox. Funny to think District One, a place I once treasured, the place which spawned the people I love, would be the District to dish me my greatest enemies in the Games. Lexie had always been spoilt and annoying, but now I had an extra reason to hate her: she was actually a threat. Pullox had been someone I'd grown to trust, but he threw my trust back into my face and broke my nose in the process. He was a weasel, and betraying me was something he'd definitely come to regret.

The kid was smart, but I was smarter once I had my wits about me. And when it came to a test of strength I knew Pullox wasn't going to have it easy at all. I smirked as I stormed down the corridor, kicking old pieces of rotted wood from splintered doorways, on the lookout for someone to kill. Or, more specifically, for the One tributes.

... Finding them shouldn't be too hard. I was certain they were on the lookout for me.

I could take them both, no matter how confident they felt. I'd had moments of doubt through the Games, worn down by disillusionment with the Capitol and the betrayal of my allies. I'd almost lost myself. But I had to remind everyone that I was bloody and brutal. I had to remind everyone that it was me who had gotten a score of twelve. What better way than to destroy the Ones?

And then after that it was easy pickings... The Three boy, nothing special. The Six boy, nothing special. The Eight girl, good aim but nobody compared to me. I could probably take them all out at once in a single Feast or something. Kill the Ones now, annihilate the remaining tributes later. Seemed pretty straightforwards, really.

I laughed just thinking about it. How did I have any self doubt when my competition was so lacklustre?

Wow, I got a lot more submissions than I thought I would. Welcome new readers :)

Also, belated Happy Thanksgiving to my American readers.

~Toxic