Day Fourteen, Night

Trojan Reid, District 3, 15

I'd never anticipated making the final three.

I knew I was a survivalist, I knew I could climb and hide better than possibly any other tribute, but I was certainly no Career. There were people who had trained their whole lives to survive the Games, how did I manage to outperform them? I guess internally I knew what the answer was: the Victor's Vial. I would have died twice if it wasn't for that. Willow would have potentially killed me down in the sewers over a week ago. And then Mirane would've killed me only three days afterwards. When you put it in perspective, I would have barely scraped the final twelve.

We were supposed to get over our sins if we wanted to survive, but I felt somewhat jealous for the thousandth time. Everybody else had earned their place in the final three. With me it felt somewhat forced. Mirane was an amazing shot and she was pretty smart to back that up, as much as I hated her. I didn't know much about the District One boy or girl, but I knew they must have been skilled, being from a Career District and such.

I punched my left arm with my right fist, feeling an odd kind of relief when it went numb with the pain. How could I be so stupid? The Gamemakers wanted me to feel this way. If I let those thoughts take over I would be going down a dark pathway. It was the same pathway that had destroyed my alliance with Seb - hell, it had destroyed Seb himself. If I let it carry on, it would destroy me.

But I couldn't feel any more envy. I couldn't let myself want the things that every other person had. I had to keep calm, I had to kill whoever, and then I would survive. That was the only plan. There was no time to wallow on the past, to feel sorry for myself or to even feel. I had been so good at forcing my emotions to be submerged in my subconscious, to reveal very little, to be an iceberg. I thought that the Games would have toughened me up further. It happened to so many tributes who came in innocent and later became murderers or even hardened Victors - why couldn't it happen to me...

... Why couldn't it happen to me?

The same thought rang through my head for the thousandth time. Hoping the cameras weren't on me, I punched my already dead arm and felt the pain come through it again. It felt like a reminder that I was alive. I was alive. I'd discovered and brewed the Victor's Vial in the first place, so I deserved to survive all those injuries I had received. I had stopped the Victor's Vial from imprisoning my mind and making me a weak addict like Seb. I had outsmarted Carlie and beaten Seb. If I continued to keep my wits about me, and if I forced myself to kill, I could survive this. I could be a Victor.

The anthem sounded and I forced myself to stand up, moving to the edge of the mansion ruins and peering into the dark sky. The logo appeared as the proud, patriotic music filled the air. It was eventually replaced by the One girl's face. It was kind of sad that she had died. Like Seb before her, she had an innocence and naivety. To think that she was dead was just... sad.

It was weird to think I was the youngest in the arena. Lexie looked and felt so young, but despite being the same age as her - give or take a few months - I couldn't help but feel like I was as mature as the elders in the arena. I'd never realised how difficult my childhood had been. I'd never had time to become a child. I wasn't an orphan, and my family had never been poor, but the more I thought about my childhood the more I realised that I'd never been truly happy. My family felt emotions would hinder my chance of surviving in a dog-eat-dog world like Panem, so even laughter was discouraged. And that was sad.

When Lexie's face faded and the anthem died I knew the Gamemakers would be preparing from something the next day. So day fourteen was over. To think I'd done nothing but sat around and wallowed in my own misery. The Gamemakers weren't going to be kind to me if I carried on like that - I think the fact I had recently killed was what had made them be so forgiving to me today, instead of sending mutts or another twister or something.

No doubt they would tomorrow. No doubt tomorrow would be the last day of the Games. This would make these Games the longest Games since Tobias Harte was made Gamemaker, as fourteen days in the arena seemed to become the standard. So tomorrow I would most likely be dead, killed by Mirane (who had something against me) or Pullox (who was just a twisted Career anyway), but there was a chance I could make it out okay.

I saw something fall from the sky, supported by the cool evening wind. It glinted silver. My stomach churned at the prospect of having a sponsor gift. I hadn't had one these whole Games. Peering around cautiously to make sure no tributes were watching, I rushed over to it and tore away at the parcel. I hadn't eaten in days, so almost felt tears of relief emerge when I saw the large Capitolian evening meal perfectly prepared on a plate.

All my hopes had been quenched when I saw the tag on it:

"Congratulations on making the final three, Trojan. We think you would be a wonderful Victor.

To show our congratulations, we've given you a meal that should fill you up and keep your strength until the end of the Games. We understand you are probably low on supplies. Not only that, but if you eat the meal you've been given it will guarantee you survival until six AM on the fifteenth day of the Games."

I frowned. How did that work out?

"But beware - everything comes with a price

Good luck. We wish you all the best.

Tobias."

I tore away at the paper, trembling. Then I kicked the plate full of Capitolian delicacies aside, watching the food be soaked by mud as the plate smashed. I couldn't help but feel my stomach sink as it was all gone. I wanted food so badly, but I knew that last line meant something ominous. The Gamemakers would let me survive until six AM on the fifteenth day of the Games, but after that they would definitely make sure I would die. Maybe it was poisoned or something.

Swaying as I realised just how hungry I was, I saw it from my peripheral vision. My reflexes as sharp as ever, I stomped on a rat's head as it desperately tried to scurry away. It wouldn't have provided me the nutrition that the offered meal would have, but it was certainly better than nothing.

I didn't even think about cooking it - not that I had a fire making kit. I picked it up and dug my teeth harshly into its gut, desperately trying to tear away at its innards. Like the Capitolian meal before me, eating something raw may or may not have consequences, but the lower risk of eating a raw rat was one I was willing to take

Pullox Shimmers, District 1, 18

I laughed and tore up the parchment the Gamemakers had given to me. It was some note from Tobias which had seemed to offer me food and a guaranteed placement at a cost. Maybe Mirane or Trojan were foolish enough to fall for the offer, but I certainly wasn't. And I had enough food and ammo to ensure I didn't go hungry and that I remained secure.

"Thank you, Tobias," I smirked as I let the strings of paper fall into a puddle. I then dropped the food the Gamemakers had given me, watching it splatter across the floor. "But I'm simply afraid that I don't need your offer, as appreciated as it is."

I turned around and glanced at the large building towards me. Since the Palace had been obliterated by a storm, and a fire had ate away at the church, I had decided that the finale would naturally have to take place in the final building. It was domed and made of marble. I ascended chipped marble stairs that led to the entrance, admiring the corinthian columns and the nude sculptures that had been placed around. Naturally, a place of such beauty was perfect for the finale.

The large doorway that led to the entrance had intrigued me further. The room was a pleasant contrast of white and gold, the wonderful clash filled the ceilings, the floor and the walls. There seemed to be some kind of wooden counter, pieces of parchment illuminated by a gaslight that flickered as a draft filled the room. When I glanced at the pieces of parchment it talked about scheduled représentation... Was this some kind of theatre? The beautiful irony made me smile. There would certainly be a wonderful performance that would take place within this building's walls once the morrow arrived.

Bar the entrances to outdated toilets, there was only one other place I could go other than the plush entrance: two stairways that were parallel from each other and yet snaked onto the same upper floor. I walked up one of the stairways, my dirty shoes leaving stains on the white carpet, and followed the corridor. Eventually I was greeted by two large, golden doors. I was extremely excited to see what would greet me behind...

Please Tobias, keep my luck coming.

I was not disappointed when I forced open the heavy doors and almost stumbled in, staggering at the sheer weight of the suitcase I held and the backpacks strapped to my back. It was some kind of theatre, alright. The large stage was a floor beneath, only accessible via a door to my right, which led down to the lower part of the theatre where the stage was directly accessible. I was on the upper balcony. The stage was empty, only a single spotlight illuminating its centre, but I couldn't help but feel that the stage would be a perfect place for a finale. Two corpses would lie on its wooden floors.

All the world's a stage,

And all the men and women merely players;

They all have their exits and their entrances;

And one man in his time plays many parts.

The poetry of a pre-Romantian writer seemed to come into my head without me thinking about it. It was funny how some men through history wrote about their current situation, and how despite the evolution of technology, the complete reformation of the political landscape, it seemed apt. I'm sure the writer I had in mind didn't think that his poetry would seem to perfect for a death match. The twenty-three others were merely players with their exits and entrances. Soon the final bows would be taken and I - the one man in my time who played many parts - would be the Victor.

I turned around and wondered what other corridors and hallways there were in this very building. Naturally, there would be something that would control lighting and other effects around the stage area. That would be the main thing I wanted - to have some level of control against the actors who would be on the stage. And it wouldn't hurt to see what goodies there were backstage, too.

Making my way out of the upper balcony, I rubbed my hands together and chuckled. I couldn't wait to see how the Capitolian audience would react to this.

Mirane Saffell, District 8, 17

I don't know how I managed to make it back into the Palace, but somehow I did.

I stumbled into the room, almost falling over. Once the adrenaline from the previous fight had faded the pain and hunger had hit me harder than ever. I hadn't eaten in days, and it had been a while since I had a drink. That, combined with the continuous beatings I had taken since the tornado that claimed Darius' life, had severely weakened me. With every step I took I felt the scratches the mutts had torn into my skin, the head wound I'd sustained from the storm, the beating I'd taken from Honora and the mild albeit painful burns from Pullox's bombs.

The world began spinning and I stabilised myself against a wall, slumping down slowly. It was quite surprising this room had a wall, as most of the Palace had been completely torn apart. When I actually inspected the room I realised it was relatively in tact. At the end of the room was some kind of golden throne, and surrounding the walls were portraits. I was quick to notice mine, which showed me in my purple dress smiling smugly as I sat on a regal chair, holding myself proudly. But opposite me was some kind of landscape picture of a storm.

It made me suspicious until I saw the portraits on the left and right of it: one seemed like another landscape picture of a tree standing in the centre of some kind of courtyard, surrounded by hedges. But the figure hanging from it, propped up by its own innards, immediately flashed me back to Hadley. My eyes widened as I looked at the other picture, which showed the District Nine boy lying on the floor. His eyes were wide open with shock, pupils dilated, blood gushing out of an unseen wound on the back of his head.

And next to the picture of me alive and well were two totally different pictures. One showed the Nine girl lying on some kind of bed. I couldn't see any visible wound, and the picture would look peaceful if didn't know I was looking at a corpse. The other picture showed a figure lying on the floor, the identity unrecognisable due to the fact its face had been ripped off. I immediately knew who it was. The visceral detail of the fractured bone, the blood...

Pain hit me as I almost retched, my stomach spasming slightly. I realised if I didn't eat soon I wouldn't be alive much longer.

Keeling over and trying to control my breathing, I closed my eyes and rested for fifteen minutes. I prayed for a sponsorship, or for an animal to stumble across me. It may even be worth wasting one of my two bullets to take something down and eat it. When I looked up, I felt as if my prayers had been answers. A wrapped up bowl lay on the dusty floor, and from the smell coming from it I didn't need to be told twice what it was.

I crawled towards it desperately, clutching onto it with one hand and tearing the packaging off with my other. I was about the wolf it down without question, but a small letter that had been attached to the silver wrapping had caught my attention. I read the congratulatory note from Tobias which was quick to warn me that - while the meal would satiate me and allow me to enter the last day of the Games - eating it would have severe consequences.

Fuck.

I wanted to grab the food and launch it at the wall in anger. God knows what it did. Maybe if I ate it there'd be a target on my back tomorrow, or maybe there was some slow acting poison that wouldn't kill me until the next day. I kept glancing at it, still tempted, but was quick to glance away. I didn't like gambling, but maybe this was a gamble worth taking? If I didn't eat I had a bad feeling starvation instead of poison could take me out...

No. That was unlikely. But I'd definitely be too weak to fight. I knew I was capable of beating Trojan, but I had to be on top form. And then there was Pullox. Not only was he a trained fighter, but he probably had some big plan to kill me. To beat Pullox I had to be prepared to fight and be on my toes.

... I couldn't eat... I couldn't...

I broke, almost bursting into tears as I grabbed the bowl and poured its contents down my throat. A warmth spread through me and I was shocked at how quickly my hunger faded, how satiated I was all of a sudden. It was probably chemically manipulated back in the Capitol. But that made me realise how tampered with it could have been. I had given into my impulses and stared at the dregs with shock for fifteen minutes.

As irrational as it was, I expected some kind of substance to kick in and claim me straight away, like it had Lexie. I remembered how much it hurt her. I remembered her pleading. But the Gamemakers had promised to set me into day fourteen.

Fuck. I was so stupid. But I had no other choice...

What the hell was I going to do?

I considered sticking my fingers down my throat and throwing up what I had just consumed, but I felt it was futile. Whatever I had consumed was probably already in my bloodstream. Even more irrationally, I didn't want to return to the feeling of near starvation. I'd come from a well to do family... I'd never experienced anything like that before, and I didn't want to experience it again.

I stared at Honora's portrait on the wall, which showed her draped from a flagpole, blood streaming out of her gut. I couldn't help but realise that I could be in her position tomorrow, or maybe even sooner. I'd never stopped to pause and think about dying before. I'd just fought to avoid it. And yet almost everyone I had seen in the training centre was dead... And it was likely I would die soon.

The drowsiness hit me like a bullet. I rubbed my eyes, trying to stay awake. I even tried standing up to exercise any tiredness off. I needed to stay awake. But my limbs wouldn't co-operate me, and I did need some kind of rest. Darkness slowly grew from the corner of my eyes until it covered my whole vision. Soon I was slumped across the floor, barely responding, barely acknowledging that the Gamemakers had spiked what I had eaten with sedating drugs.

Tobias Harte, Head Gamemaker

After deploying the letters (complete with the spiked food) to each individual tribute we Gamemakers had completely taken a break. These had possibly been the most stressful Games in history. The stress of having two Victors during the seventy-fourth Games were tiny in comparison to having a complete breakout of the arena. But Pullox had become my personal hero and had made sure Lexie had died. I should have thought about trying to infect her with a fast acting poison, though she was always on the lookout for me. Pullox had caught her at her critical moment.

And then there was the end to the war of District Thirteen, and the complete crushing of the rebellion. Euphoria had taken over. The Games were always a time for rest and celebration, but the Gamemaker Headquarters themselves had become a place of celebration. Outside, the sound of fireworks filled the air along with the singing of celebratory songs.

"Cheers," I said, clinking champagne glasses with Persephone as she passed.

"To think all this luck has hit us at once," she beamed, stopping by the buffet table with me. A Junior Gamemaker almost grabbed a salmon sandwich I was reaching for, but after making eye contact with me he made his way towards the punch bowl. "Lexie, the rebellion, District Thirteen..."

"And the finale tomorrow," I smiled. "It will truly be a wonderful end to a tempestuous Games."

"And then we take a moment to celebrate," Yinga said behind us. Persephone almost jumped as he grabbed a small hors d'oeuvre. "The President just announced on television that on top of the post Games celebrations there will be a victory parade, he will be making announcements on television regarding the changing political announcement and... Well, there's going to be a lot of parties. I'm very excited."

"Just don't party with your pretty Victor boy too much - the press may find out about your little affair," Persephone smirked. Yinga blushed and glanced at me, as if he hoped I didn't know what he was getting up to.

"Oh yes, about that..." I cleared my throat before quickly realising authority was not my strong suite. "Well, I'll leave it to Ruth to discipline you. You're still going to be part of the group, but you know, we can't have you sleeping with Victors, Yinga, especially after the whole rebel incident within this very building. Ruth will think of a suitable way to discipline you."

Yinga was silenced and merely nodded.

"Talking about Ruth..." Persephone took a mild sip of her champagne and looked a little flustered. "And rebel spies even, how... h-how is Ruth?"

"She's been here, but she's not really in the mood for celebration as we can all imagine."

"Yeah... It makes me think now with Abiga- Olga - gone... Who is going to be controlling her department? And District Thirteen, will their children be joining the Games?"

"I imagine that's something we won't know until after the Victory tour," I shrugged. "Anyway, I'm just going to check up on Ruth. No doubt she needs it. And maybe you guys can check up on Iopian if he's around," I told them. "He just lost people he loved too, and I know it's his own fault, but..." Saying that I cared would come across as corny, especially as Iopian could've died in an arena I created only a couple of years ago. "Well, our Victors need to be on top form."

Persephone just sipped her champagne in reply and I left two of my close co-workers. I made my way out of one of the main laboratories, though there were still people celebrating in the corridors outside. I tried to push past them, many of them trying to start small talk with me, and made my way up a flight of stairs to the corridor upstairs where there were still a few people drinking and cheering.

Outside Ruth's office two junior Gamemakers were kissing passionately. I cleared my throat, leading them to run away in a fit of giggles while I opened the door. Ruth was faced away from me, presumably staring into a few monitors.

"Hey, Deputy," I smiled weakly. "Finale tomorrow... A-Are you with me?"

Silence.

"I know what you've been through is difficult," I finally said while Ruth didn't even move. "I love my son and my daughter more than life itself... And you..." It felt like I was just digging myself into a hole by even trying to say I had an inkling of how Ruth felt. I moved closer tentatively as if she were a wounded animal, finally noting her blank face which stared forwards helplessly. "I get work would just be overwhelming right now. I have the Junior Gamemakers doing your administrative duties. So there's no worries if you just need to take time off-"

"I can do my work," Ruth croaked emptily. "I am being paid to do work. While you all celebrate I just..."

She looked to some papers in front of her. She flipped one over but then burst into tears. I didn't know how to react or to console her, so I held her slightly closer while she wept.

"How could this happen to me?" She lamented. "First my husband and n-now... This," I felt the wet stream off her face dampen my robes. I tried to reach for tissues but found the movement too awkward and gave up. I remembered Olga when she was younger. And despite becoming a rebel, when I had inadvertently spent time with her in the Gamemakers' Headquarters she had always struck me as a nice girl. To think that she was now dead... It even hurt me. "All I want is for one good thing to happen in my life. To love something that doesn't die, or go away or..." There was an unexpected moment of eye contact. "Or something that loves me back."

It suddenly all clicked and I felt shocked and sick, but somehow clung to my sympathetic facade.

"I-I..." Ruth tore her gaze from mine and sobbed into the palm of her hands. "There's nothing I can say that will make you feel better, Ruth. But time will heal you and justice will be served."

"I know it will," she sniffled, standing up and making her way to the tissues on her desk. She dabbed them around their eyes. "I will make sure the Districts suffer for what their rebels did to my girl, Tobias. Trust me."

"Yes, if that makes you feel better..."

"Oh trust me," there was something malicious in her features, though they barely changed. "It will... It will..."

Sorry for the late update. Personal life stuff + exams = bleurgh.

We're so close to the finale! :)

~Toxic