Day Fifteen, Part III

Ruth Pierce, Deputy Head Gamemaker

A silence filled the air as we watched the livestream of the finale. It was quite sombre, as if people couldn't quite believe what they had seen. It made for good television, but it didn't go as we had expected, or as the betting agencies had expected.

"... Did that just happen?" Tobias said awkwardly behind me.

"Destroy the whole arena," I eventually told a few Junior Gamemakers who were gaping at my side. I looked at both of the remaining live tributes with purpose. It was my job to make these people suffer, and I would if I had to. I flicked some hair away from my eyes as Tobias looked at me perplexedly. "And then add the zero gravity effect. That should keep things entertaining."

"Ruth, that wasn't part of the plan..." Tobias looked at me reproachfully, as if he was disturbed by my behaviour.

"You know the benefits of improvising just as well as I do," I smiled, watching the Gamemakers press over multiple buttons. Tobias was the one with the authority, but I was so much better at exerting it. "Now lets see the tributes give us a battle we can't forget."

Trojan Reid, District 3, 15

The penultimate cannon fired through the air. It wasn't even the final cannon, but there was something so final about it. I almost felt it ring through my mind, affecting me like no cannon ever had before. So this was it. I was officially a finalist, and I didn't know how that made me feel. I had no idea how I got this far, but I was glad that I had. I was still alive. I could come out of this arena alive.

And yet I'd never felt worse, not for a long while anyway. Pullox's body still seemed to move after death, slumping more and more until he flopped and lay on the floor. His eyes were emotionless and faded, starkly contrasting with the wide grin that split his face. Blood still leaked from his mouth and flowed into a small river that eventually connected to a much more gruesome pool of blood that drained out of his stomach. I'd never seen a more gruesome death in the Games before, and in the past fifteen days I had seen my fair share of people dying. He virtually had his intestines ripped out of his stomach. They were already beginning to rot and smell, or maybe my imagination was overactive. Either way, I turned around, keeled over, and began to vomit.

It trickled down my chin and spilled over the once fancy shirt that I wore. Now it was torn, blood stained and vomit stained. I was willing to bet the Gamemakers enjoyed seeing our transformation through the Games; we were made up and dressed fancy, and we ended the Games ripped apart or torn up, dirty and badly injured. Mirane looked similarly dishevelled.

"You alright?" She asked blankly, as if she hadn't killed someone so brutally. I turned to inspect her briefly, noting that her face was torn between indifference and shock. Not able to stand the blood and other bodily liquids that dripped from her fist and forearm, I turned around and nodded whilst trying to keep a regular breathing rhythm.

"I'm alive," I finally said. "That's all that matters."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Look, Mirane... I want to apologise," I felt weird. I'd never felt the need to apologise before, and if I had ever apologised during the Games it was merely to appease people. This came from the heart - or more accurately the brain, wherever genuine feelings came from. "For all the drama bullshit that we have to go through," I noticed Pullox's gun, rested in front of me. I subtly needed to grab it. Mirane deserved a quick death, but she deserved to die because I needed to live. I kept my eyes locked on it. "I'm sorry for what happened to Willow, and if Seb were alive I know he'd tell you how sorry he was too. The Games... I-It screws us up," I slowly made my way towards it, purposely not looking her in the eyes. "You know?"

"I get it..."

"And I'm so so sorry," I bent down and grabbed the gun. "Because... I-I'm going to have to k-"

My sentence was interrupted when I felt Mirane jump on my back aggressively. She was heavier than I was, but I managed to support her weight instead of being dropped to the ground like a sack of flour. The gun I grabbed fell back to the floor where it once lay while Mirane screamed out a battle cry. I tried to hold back my shock and surprise of being betrayed when I felt a knife wedge its way into my shoulder. Mirane ripped the blade out, desperately trying to stab the life out of me. She stabbed into my collarbone, leading me to scream out in pain while grabbing onto her hands.

She was trying to stab into my neck. While I had been planning her demise, she was executing mine. She was the step ahead, but in her desperation and franticness she had stabbed me in places that I hoped weren't fatal. Before she could finish me off I flipped her over, watching her skid across the floor. I lunged at her, grabbing onto her throat and hoping to choke the life out of her.

But as I expected she was too resilient to even let me wrap my hands around her throat for ten seconds. After a very brief struggle, she prised my hands off her throat and tried to buck me off her. I almost leapt off her when she tried to smash her head into me, desperately reaching for a gun before the ground around us started to shake sporadically.

Both of us stopped temporarily, confused. I thought this was something Pullox had initially planned, until I realised it was related to the Gamemakers. In the audience stands, the shakes were so violent that the upper viewing balconies collapsed completely and ruined the stands beneath. Both of us watched with horror as the ceiling broke, some of the walls did. Everywhere around us was being destroyed and it was like we were in a small bubble of safety.

Except when a light blue substance slowly seeped into the room, like tentacles that reached out to get us, I knew we weren't safe.

Mirane knew that this was a sign that she needed to kill me. If we weren't prepared to kill, the Gamemakers certainly were. As she grasped the gun I knew in a split second I couldn't take her and looked for some mode of escape - I couldn't leap off the stage, as we were still fenced in by an eternally intense ring of fire, and I would virtually be running in to a Gamemaker trap. But Pullox got here somehow.

The mist had faded enough for me to see it: a small square that led to an area beneath the stage. Of course, it was some kind of prop, probably designed to let actors or other props rise into the stage dramatically. I rolled over to it, gunshots ringing through my ears and barely missing me before I fell down a few feet and slammed into the ground. The air was knocked out of me, but I forgot about that and immediately tried to find whatever switch would be used to close the hatch. It was there, obviously pressed against the wall.

I jammed my palm into it and ran as the mechanical whirring of the door closing filled my ears. Hopefully I would trap Mirane out there, where she would face the wrath of the Gamemakers.

Mirane Saffell, District 8, 17

Adrenaline kept me alive as per usual; as the gas began to creep past the flames, unperturbed by them, I sprinted towards the hatch Trojan was falling through. It was quickly closing, and I dove into the smallest gap. Thankfully, my body was just able to squeeze through and I fell to the ground as it closed above me. Had I been a second late, I'd have probably been crushed by the mechanics. If I had been two seconds late, I'd have been trapped out there and left to die. Two options that I didn't really want to face.

I held the gun in my hand tightly, pressing myself against the wall and looking through the dimly lit corridor for Trojan. I think the coward had just ran away and had managed to escape down the left or the right corridor at the intersection. I kept my wits about me, looking up at the hatch and noting it was tightly shut enough so that the Gamemakers favourite little substance couldn't leak through.

Something above made the corridor shake lightly, dust showered me and I coughed. A reminder I wasn't completely safe.

I made my way down the left side of the intersection, noting that there was only one door and a flight of stairs. I glanced to the side, noting that Trojan wasn't trying to creep behind me and kill me stealthily. With that in mind, I opened the one door and jumped aside as a mop seemed to leap out at me, being accompanied by bottles of other cleaning substances. So it was just an enclosed, dark cleaning cupboard.

And it didn't have what I wanted in it.

I made my way up the flight of stairs. This corridor seemed to be a lot bigger, with a lot more doorways. The first one had automatically captured my interest: there were loads of high tech panels. A single swivel chair lay in the middle of the room, unoccupied. Something about this place had a creepy aura. When I ventured in and saw that the panels seemed to have been tampered with, I knew why. Pullox had been here. This was where he had controlled all of the smoke and the lights. The soundproof window in front would have given me a clear view of the stage, although it was completely masked by the blue smoke outside.

I almost jumped when the area around me shook again. I needed to find Trojan. If only I could get him onto the stage and somehow use a Pullox-esque trap against him. Scowling, I grasped a lukewarm polystyrene cup of coffee that had been left on the panel. I guess Pullox had it a lot easier than I had in terms of food and drink. If I weren't in the final two and expected to charge in to battle, I'd have searched the room for his supplies. Instead, I walked straight out back into the corridor.

I caught a flash of auburn rushing down a corridor and immediately knew that it was Trojan. He made his way down a corridor as I aimed and fired, merely blasting holes into the wall he rushed past.

I was shocked to when three bots had emerged in his place.

"Well, well, well," Lexie's voice darkly crooned from one of them. "Look what the cat dragged in."

"What the?" I aimed my gun shakily at one of the robots, firing at it so that it collapsed.

"Wow, Lorelei is pretty good at dying," Honora's amused voice said from the second one. "We were sent here for the blonde pussy with an IQ in the triple digits, but since he's gone and he wouldn't even listen to what we had to say anyway..." I froze when what looked like a barrel to a gun protruded from her hand instead of a blade. Of course Lexie and Honora's robots would be given upgrades. "You'll have to do. I almost shot you once, why not try my luck again?"

I couldn't help but feel frozen in place. I quickly lashed my gun towards them, firing and missing before throwing myself aside to avoid the volley of bullets that quickly punctured the wall behind me. The noise was so loud, like a firing range. I pressed my back against the wall of the corner, looking down the empty corridor that protected me from the bots that continued to shoot carelessly.

They were dumb, despite seeming to have some kind of human consciousness. They were also frail and easily breakable. The Gamemakers didn't intend for me to be killed by these bots, not when they wanted some kind of epic battle between Trojan and I. With that in mind, I took a risk and quickly leapt out following the ceasefire. Two shots blasted one of the bots to the floor, where it let out a dying motorised noise and faded completely.

I aimed at the other bot, which emitted an artificial version of Honora's laugh. A bullet whizzed past my shoulder, grazing it. The pain was burning, leading me to flinch and run to cover again as multiple shots continued to ring through the air.

I held my shoulder, feeling blood wet my palm as I stumbled through the nearest doorway. The make up table, large mirror lined walls and closets filled with clothes told me that this was where the stars would get styled - it took me back to the Capitol, although the technology here was much more inferior. I hid behind the door, knowing that it was the oldest trick in the world but that it would work.

"Mirane?" Honora cackled. "Mirane, come on... You know it'll be fun when I..."

As soon as I saw a towering shadow loom into the room I slammed the door right into the bot, which was immediately smashed. Cogs and machinery burst out of it while it frazzled. I jumped over its still form, still feeling a pain in my shoulder while I hurried towards wherever Trojan had gone. I heard something like a canister open behind me, and when I glanced at the broken bots in front of me I knew just what was coming.

The gas rose from them, a gentle lilac. I desperately tried to leap over the faded wisps that were born, though felt the chemicals sweep over my skin. An agonising sting went over me as it gently began to fry my legs, exacerbating faded burns that had already existed. Adrenaline pushed me forwards and I continued running, skidding over a corridor as gas slowly began to follow me.

Oh no...

I was staring right into an elevator. The last experience I had with one of those hadn't ended well. But Trojan must have gone in that, right? There were no other doors, and I knew Trojan wasn't dead. A bell rang through the air as the elevator doors slid open, almost teasing me, asking me to go in and leave me at the Gamemakers' wrath. I wanted to avoid it so badly, but when I knew what was happening behind me...

My heart accelerated and I pushed myself forward, almost sprinting into it. The doors closed behind me and I immediately felt myself begin to get pulled upwards. I either had a few seconds before the elevator would be turned into a death trap, or before those doors opened and I would be confronted with Trojan for a second time. I kept my gun ready with one hand, knowing it gave me an immediate advantage. I crouched down slightly to tend to my wounds; while the pain was bad, my skin had only looked a little frazzled.

"Next stop is the final destination," Leein's voice said gently, though there was something about it I disliked. "Good luck."

I stood up and anticipated whatever Trojan had to throw at me.

Trojan Reid, District 3, 15

I'd never expected the elevator to arrive at the top of the building. It was a rooftop, the large dome of the opera house had taken over much of the centre. But the most eery thing was what lay on the horizon - a blanket of the gas, blue and cloud-like, formed a smog that covered miles of the arena beneath. Other parts of the arena, however, were floating as if they had defied gravity, stretched out before me like an extremely hard and certainly deadly parkour trail. If you slip you fall and slowly burn to death, assuming you didn't smash your head on the floor first.

I looked out for a brief second, wanting to jump down onto the platform of what used to be a part of the Palace that was meters beneath. Then the chiming of the elevator was heard and I knew Mirane was there, and had a knife. I grabbed one of the blades I had salvaged from Pullox and attempted to throw it at Mirane, but it quickly clattered to the ground and I realised it wasn't weighted for throwing.

Sucking in some air, I dived at the platform beneath. It was a whole concrete floor which contained nothing but ruins, and I expected it to collapse when my body slammed into it. Thankfully, that didn't happen. Gunfire rang through the air and quickly ceased. I think Mirane thought I had killed myself. I waited for her to peer down and see the strange sight that I had saw only minutes ago. She looked at the floating chunks of land that made a trail above the landscape of smoke, her features shocked for a second. Then she locked eyes with me.

Did I stand a chance of surviving? Not when Mirane had a loaded gun that apparently came accompanied with a lot of bullets. I needed to outsmart her somehow, but Mirane was pretty smart. I ran along as Mirane's sent bullets that splintered wood at my feet or above my head, only missing due to the fact I was sprinting away. Chunks of terra had risen, forming a pathway between this chunk of a Palace and a floating corridor about a hundred metres of so ahead. I hopped along each one in turn, my breaths growing more laboured as I seemed to be out of scope of Mirane's bullets.

I slammed a half broken door behind me, looking out at a decayed corridor. I wondered if Mirane was even skilled enough to make it to me without falling to her death. Right now, that was my only hope.

No doubt she probably couldn't see me right now. I was probably blocked by the surrounding cracked walls. If stealth was one of the few things I had, I could definitely use that. I pressed my back against the wall, my pulse racing uncontrollably. If I was going to be dead, I'd be dead within the next few minutes. That was extremely difficult to process. I had to disarm Mirane, and then I could kill her or something.

I heard something slam against the door, before it quickly opened. Mirane looked flustered after somehow managing to venture here, but she was taken by surprise when I leapt at her. I knocked the gun out of her hand and slashed my blade at her throat, though she grabbed my hand and used her strength to stop the knife getting there. My jaw clenched as I struggled, the tip of the knife inches from her dark skin. She used her force to push me forward, which led me to slash at her. While she used her energy to dodge I jumped at the gun which had skidded along the corridor, grabbing onto it but feeling Mirane kick it from my hands.

Both of us watched in horror as it fell, plummeting miles away, out of both of our reaches.

For the first time, anger took over and I snarled, throwing my bodyweight into Mirane's legs so that she toppled over. I punched her twice as she clung onto my hair, tugging at it and only preventing me from beating her face in by forcing my head into the wall so forcefully that my vision went blurry. Blood streamed down my face while Mirane grabbed my hair, forcing me to stand up so she dragged me to the edge of the corridor.

"This feel familiar?" She said furiously, forcing me to look down at the plumes of gas beneath. My eyes widened with terror, flashbacks coming back. Same person, same situation, only this time I didn't have Seb or that goddamn vial to help me. I held in a breath and noticed that there was some kind of platform beneath: a floating fountain, only supported by a large chunk of earth beneath, orbiting around the flying remnants of the Palace.

Before Mirane could shove me to my death I leapt, trying to angle my fall so that I would fall into it. Thankfully, I did. The water broke my force although I felt the bones around my legs rattle, icy soaking the lower half of my body as I desperately tried to get my bearings and regain my composure. When I glanced upwards, I realised the sky was a lot closer than it was a minute ago. The platforms were beginning to rise, we were slowly getting higher. It made me realise that there was a lot more at stake, and I didn't know how I felt about that.

A second later Mirane joined me, but as soon as she fell I leapt at her. She barely had time to see me coming as I grabbed her head and plunged it into the fresh water beneath, wrestling with her slightly as her face grated against marble. Flecks of blood rose and Mirane's hands desperately tried to grasp at mine, leading me to remove a blade and stab it right through her palm in an attempt to pin her down. I was going to win like this? By drowning someone I had helped minutes before? It felt necessary, but brutal. The water surrounding me grew more red, and as I stabbed Mirane's arm and pinned her under the water I saw bubbles of air released, replacing the screams she would've undoubtedly released.

She went limp... And remained limp for twenty seconds, her free hand releasing my forearm and drifting down with her. No cannon fired, but she was undoubtedly unconscious, and would soon die. I relaxed slightly, throwing myself away from her and trying not to throw up what little contents was left in my stomach.

... Fuck...

Mirane thrashed, and I barely had time to react. She tore the knife out of her palm, sucking in air as she jammed her blade right into my ribcage. Thankfully, I think it missed vital organs, but I still screamed in panic and pain. When Mirane tore the blade away, I shoved her so harshly back into the fountain that she painted the marble beneath her head red. There was blood everywhere, and yet somehow the both of us were still savagely fighting, ignoring our pain in the name of survival.

But if I stopped for one minute, I could feel the pain, the weakness from bloodloss, the hunger, the thirst, the tiredness...

I needed to do something that would give me an advantage over Mirane. And I had an idea.

Mirane Saffell, District 8, 17

Everything hurt like hell. Judging by how Trojan looked, with blood dripping from everywhere, he was hurting like hell too. As blood and washed dirt continued leaking from my face, Trojan decided to rush to the edge of the fountain and jump on a chunk of earth that seemed to lead to another piece of the Palace, which seemed a lot less destroyed than the other floating segments that surrounded us. I held the knife Trojan had stabbed into my arm, one still covered in my own blood, and attempted to throw it at Trojan, though the throw wasn't refined enough to even touch him.

I think even if I was better at throwing knives I wouldn't have gotten a hit. It was a bad time to admire Trojan's agility, but he was lightning fast. He leapt across those pieces of earth like it was in his nature to, and was still quick despite his injuries. I remembered Pullox mentioning something about him being a thief - maybe that would explain a lot.

I slumped down into the water, taking a second to gain my composure. My reflection in the water showed my face; bruised, bloody, cut up. I had a gash that went right through my hand, and the bullet wound that left a horizontal cut through my shoulder was still bleeding and hurting like hell. My dress had already been torn up a lot, almost at the expense of exposing me, but I didn't care - I still tore off a little bit of it so that my thighs were flashed to the whole cameras, utilising the damp cloth and tightly wrapping it around my hand and my shoulder.

Hopefully that would keep blood inside me and would stop me from being weakened. I wonder if Trojan even had time to fix his wounds up. I had two knives now - one of the many Trojan seemed to have, and was shocked when I found a gun still tucked into my weapons belt. Of course. How had I forgotten that I had it? I was so stupid. It could've seriously helped me fight Pullox.

... But in retrospect it was better I didn't use it against Pullox. I only had one bullet left, and the last of the ammo Pullox had packed was in his gun, which was a mile or so beneath me. So I had one bullet left. Hopefully I would use it when the time was right.

Trying to stabilise myself, keeping as careful as I could, I leapt onto the small platform of floating earth that led to whatever building Trojan was hiding in. I slipped my gun back into my belt. I couldn't let him ambush me and gain the advantage like he had last time, and as soon as the opportunity to kill him arose I had to take it - if I didn't, Trojan would indubitably slip out of my grasp. I slowly and carefully hopped across each of the platforms, trying to maintain my balance as best as I could. I was nowhere near as graceful as Trojan was, but I wasn't falling to my death, so that was a bonus.

My heart froze when I stood at the edge of the new platform, grabbing onto a beam of marble. I knew where this was. The walls were still in tact, a golden throne glinting opposite me as I tried to collect my breaths. On half broken walls, askew portraits depicted all of the dead tributes - and the two living ones. Trojan's painting almost seemed to smirk at me, shrewd eyes longingly glancing at the throne which still looked both magnificent and terrifying.

"Trojan?" I said weakly, as if I were calling an ally. My hand still throbbed, though when I consciously paid attention to myself I was in pain everywhere: legs scratched and burned, body punched and bruised, cut up and stabbed. I slowly ventured into the room, knowing he would undoubtedly be in here. Unlike on the other platforms, there was no clear escape from this room. There were no other doors, corridors or holes in the wall which he could've jumped from.

I turned around and he was standing there, preparing to slash at me. I reacted by stupidly raising my arms in front of my face, crying out when Trojan slashed down my forearm. I reacted by pushing forward, trying to stab him. He blocked, and attempted to parry. Despite the pain in my arm I concentrated all my effort into fighting, grabbing Trojan's armed hand and twisting it backwards. When I heard the snapping sound, I couldn't help but wince as if it had been my own arm that was broken.

Trojan screamed in pain, his dagger slipping out of his hand and crashing to the floor. I let him drop to his knees, but he was resourceful and used the last of whatever energy he had left. He grabbed onto the dropped blade with his other arm and stabbed into my thigh, tearing the flesh and letting blood trickle down my legs. Both of us seemed to howl in pain together and I dropped onto my knees, yelping when Trojan slipped the knife from my wound and tried to stab me again, though I send a punch into his jaw that both cracked my knuckles and sent him sprawling across the floor.

I grabbed onto my belt, aiming the gun straight at the centre of his face with one fluid movement.

"T-This is it," I said to him, finger on the trigger. Trojan's eyes widened with disbelief. "It's over now."

"I fought to survive this far," Trojan mumbled, voice quivering in pain. He held a bloody blade in his left hand. I couldn't help but notice how vulnerable he looked, tears slipping down his face and clearing mess in their way. "I-I don't want to die."

I thought of something to say. Even though a part of me hated Trojan's guts, I wish I could console him, despite everything he'd done.

"This isn't personal, okay?" I said, gun quivering but refusing to stray its aim.

"It's not personal," Trojan nodded.

I took that as permission to end the Games. The last seconds seemed to go by in slow motion: Trojan threw himself at me with a battle cry, trying to utilise the millisecond he had before I squeezed the trigger. His blade swung towards my throat as the last gunshot rang through the air.

Tobias Harte, Head Gamemaker

We all watched the finale commence with baited breaths. It may not have been the good vs evil finale a lot of viewers enjoyed, but it was intense in its own way. Enemies became friends, and in a split seconds were enemies again. And Mirane and Trojan had played their part well; they fought hard, and the results were certainly bloody. When the gunshot rang through the air, the final cannon did too. Then it was accompanied by silence. Even the cheering Capitolians we heard on the streets had been hushed, eyes glued to the screen, pressed on their victor.

"Damn," Manny said behind me, his burly arms folded.

"Announce and tranquillise the Victor," I said, exhaling a sigh of relief. My year's work was over, which was surreal. Now to prepare for the end of Games celebrations. "Make sure they get medical treatment pronto, shut the forcefields down once the Victor is picked up," I walked out of the room, where I was alone in an empty corridor. I'd done a good job; the potential to be the worst Games ever had suddenly shifted into a good one. A rebellion was crushed, District Thirteen now part of Panem, the Games ended on a high note with a worthy Victor.

All was well.

Last chapter I listened to dramatic operatic music whilst writing. This time, I listened to my 80's playlist (lots of cheesy 80's pop included). Worried it'd affect the vibe of the chapter XD

Well, my lips are pretty sealed anyway :) Posting this feels so surreal. The end of the Games... Wow.

~Toxic

Eulogy time :)

Pullox:

I could literally write paragraphs about what I thought about you, your actions, and why I liked you (from a writer's POV - you were a horrible person). I mentioned off handedly that there were characters I clicked with as soon as I finished reading their forms, and I almost envisaged large chunks of their story (namely: Trojan, Lexie, Honora, Magnus and Tear - and without trying to hype up the next story I've gotten this reaction from every character I've accepted for this story so far). But with you I had this feeling x1000. I felt like I knew you the moment I read you, I could really get into your mind, and in a split second a thousand storylines for you came up in my head. There were at least 10 other brilliant traps I'd planned for you to make, sadly, you only made a few brilliant traps :p

It's crazy to think you were the last tribute submitted to the story. I was looking for fodder with the D1 boy, because nobody had submitted for that District and I felt the other District 1 boys - Maximotus & Luster - had done so well, it'd be crazy if another District One boy had made it so far. And yet you did. And the only reason you died (the only - the decision was made very late into the planning process) was the fact I didn't want to write a finale that felt like good vs evil. I liked how Mirane or Trojan couldn't really be categorised into either boxes for their last fight.

So yeah, thank you Pullox :) and thank you littletimmy for submitting him and being a great reviewer :)