Chapter Thirty-Four -
'Hunter' Becomes The 'Hunted': Part One
She's gone.
I take in a deep breath, sigh and rub my eyes in an attempt to stave away the morning grog. Because that's why I'm not seeing Emery here, right? Fatigue is making it so that I'm not paying attention.
Wrong. Emery truly is gone. Save Clancy's rucksack and our litter piled up from our meals, there's no sign of her. The hallway leading into the apartment? Empty. On the streets below? From what I can see, there are no signs of activity.
"Where'd she go?" I wonder aloud, genuinely confused. "Does she have a death wish? Venturing out there by herself? She couldn't have gone outside…"
"Emery has made a decision for herself. Whether or not it will bear fruit is yet to be determined."
"So she left…" I say, blowing out an airy scoff while I begin to steadily pace through the room, shaking my head at how silly - how stupid she can be to do such a thing. "She wasn't in the right mind, obviously…But if I didn't put my foot down, really drill it into her…She wouldn't have lasted the day. And now, who knows how long she has?"
Even with my achy ears, I hear a mechanical whirring that causes me to spin around and come face to face with the holograms once more.
"In a group of tributes," says Vi "One may be comfortable in the pursuits they undertake,"
"But others are less adept to the various rigors of the arena," says Pax.
"An 'x' amount may go in,"
"But only one emerges victorious,"
"However it is seldom the case that that victor doesn't credit a select few for getting them to that spot…even if they're hard pressed to admit it."
"So what, I treated her 'roughly', is that it?" I ask the two with an incredulous edge. If I had left her there, which anyone in their right mind would have, she would've died. I gave her the chance her folks - and Clancy - would've wanted me to.
"In a Games like these, it'd be best to play off the strengths of your allies," Vi explains. "Or any Games really."
"Because more often than not, the winner does benefit from the help of their 'little friends'," says Pax with what looks like a cheeky grin.
A loud gust of wind bounces through the apartment and they fizzle away. Part of me wonders, with there once being ninety-five other tributes running around, how they go about treating them.
"Yea, well, I can't really do that anymore, can I?" I mutter, gently tossing myself onto the nearby couch. I find myself spending the better part of the early morning stewing on yesterday's events. Clancy's head exploding, Emery's instant shutdown and my attempts at kicking her back into gear. Every time I try to kick it from memory, the thought of Emery being at mercy to this arena's threats keeps coming back. Waiting for a message from Viondra, or anybody, I make a show of looking for hidden cameras and even go as far as to wonder aloud about 'what Viondra thinks' about all this.
I receive nothing.
I recall all the Hunger Games recaps I've ever watched, seeing mentors awake during the wee hours of the morning, numerous coffee cups strewn around them with their bloodshot eyes firmly fixed on their respective screens. Looking at the time now, about a quarter after eight, I conclude that Viondra is probably asleep.
I mean, why does she have to worry?
"Just let her go," Paulus says. "Now, we can focus on better things, like killing these rebs 'till there's no rebs left."
That's right. With her out of the way, I can continue doing what I came here to do without worry. So, I decide to tear into another ration. My reliance on sponsored items is starting to rear its head, as a pang of anxiousness flows through me once I realize that I'm coming to the end of my supply. I mean…Once I start hunting, I'll have all the supplies in the world.
Do they even have supplies to begin with? I wouldn't be surprised if they gave some of the more infamous tributes a bag of coal as a feast item.
I'm nibbling on a date square when my communicuff begins to vibrate. A notification pops up from Viondra of all people:
'Time to get back on track.' - V.
I do nothing, watching as the screen transitions to a minimap. I, a green dot, appear on screen while a red dot appears some one or two klicks away under the label 'D8M'. First the twelve, then the gauntlets and now this - a free kill without the hunt. I can't help but let a dry laugh escape my mouth. Never would I have ever thought this would happen in a Games. I would be so happy that the Gamemakers loved me this much if I didn't have to worry about the fact that even though the fix is in, the possibility of death still lingers.
Stomaching the rest of that nasty date square, I begin my pursuit of this District 8 male. My aches and pains be damned, the thought of slowly killing off each of these tributes one by one until I reach him gets me all giddy inside. If they're giving me waypoints to them, all I have to do is choose a way to off 'em!
Weight off my back. It's about time I stop being a player and become a hunter again instead.
I get another notification that all but gives me the green light.
'Just like the private sessions…but not so private this time.' - V
I allow a full blown smile to creep onto my face. I conjure up mental Images of the adult rebels I killed back in the Capitol, all wide-eyed and frantic as I ended each and every one of them with a bevy of methods. The screams, the pleas…pathetic. It was a shame that all of Panem couldn't see them grovel. But now…I activate one of my gauntlets, slowly twisting my forearm as the blade glistens from hilt to tip.
They have front row seats. No more five second kills, quick flashes and then a cannon booms and it's onto the next. They're all gonna watch as I tear the rest piece by piece.
….
With that in mind, I'm really angling to make a move, picking up the pace now as I move to engage my first target. I make sure to check every nook and cranny for loot crates and I'm surprised to still find three that are untouched…None of which are truly useful. I've yet to wet my socks although fresh ones are…refreshing. I suppose a small roll of gauze is nice, though I have plenty. I'm about to turn around and give Emery some nine millimeter bullets when I realize that she isn't around anymore.
The briefest thought of actually missing her stupid, high voice, and the questions that came with it flashes through my mind before dismiss it with a firm shake of the head. Enough of that now. What's done is done and -
I hear a noise.
My ears may be aching, but I have enough wherewithal to spin around and train my rifle towards the street. I chalk it up to the buildings around me 'settling'. They'd just summoned an earthquake days ago, so it isn't out of the question for these ancient buildings to break apart under the pressure.
I make these excuses two more times when these noises happen as I'm venturing. Though I'm no idiot. I make a point to hold my position for minutes on end and even go as far as to stomp my feet loudly and say aloud that I'm going to another specific location. Lo and beyond, the noises don't come back.
"Just stay frosty," soothes Paulus as he leans against an unstable beam. "Out of the twenty-odd people remaining, some of 'em oughta be competent."
I grumble in the affirmative and give my holomap another lookover. I'm keen to just get this target and move on with the rest of my remaining time in this place. The weary, drab gray atmosphere is starting to get to me.
It seems now that I'm the hungry mutt and this D8 male is the wounded hare. I quickly hunker down behind a jumble of cars just as I spot him a few hundred meters or so down the road as he lumbers down it with an awkward pace.
His dark skin, the darkest out of his cadre of tributes from his district, as well as his lanky build makes me peg him as Darlex Paylor. I let out a barely audible laugh. I wouldn't be surprised if killing him causes a riot back in his home district. A quick map check shows that he's heading to the very same hospital Clancy and I raided to get Emery back.
Either way, taking out someone as prominent as him is sure to rub a heap of salt into the rebels' wound.
I make sure to really mind myself, slithering my way toward him until a hundred meters turns into fifty feet and fifty feet turns into twenty. I follow him inside the hospital proper, watching him from behind counters and corners as he wriggles bolted shut doors and picks through whatever crates are left behind. He must've found something, as he hisses out a yes! In joy. Too bad he won't be using it much.
I stride out from my hiding spot. "If you manage to get out of here, you're gonna need a lot more than a roll of gauze to keep you goin'."
He spins around, and I can't help but sneer at how his expression morphs from shock, to anger and then fear as he hisses out a hot curse. I take a split second to check him out, confident that besides a spear he uses for balance more than killing, he doesn't seem to be carrying a gun.
"You know, I was hopin' I'd get through the arena not seein' your face at all…" he grouses.
"Better to see it now than the end, which would make things so much worse for you," I reply, shrugging. "Y'know, desperation an' all? Least here it'll be quick…ish. All 'pends on you, really."
I flinch into a defensive position as he begins to scan around for an escape route that will be quickly closed to him if he were to try anything. Confident, I begin to stride toward him with my gauntlets activated and raised in front of me.
"I thought Paylors were confident?" I jeer. "Why is it that you-?"
Darlex is more limber than he looks. His free hand fingers his belt and I see this, barely ducking out of the way as with a silver knife he delivers a swift underhand throw.
Either my luck knows no bounds or I was born with a concrete skull. The silver streak veers upward and I feel it bounce off my head, causing my skull to scream out in pain and a wetness to dribble down into my right eye.
I barely have time to roar out a curse, pat my head to gauge the damage and rise back up and give chase to the rat who takes the opportunity to try and pussy out. Now, he was gonna die so much worse than I had planned!
I can't help but think back to my chase of Thom, hunting Darlex through the musky, dilapidated halls of this hospital, moving up floors, bobbing and weaving through hallways. Thank Panem for the sunlight creeping in.
Frustrated, I unsling my rifle and fire a few single shots at him as he screams out in terror, but quickly decide to sling it up again. If he's making this much of an effort to resist, then I'm gonna put some effort into killing him.
We're both worse for wear as we stumble onto the next floor, weaving through cubicles and rounding corners. I fight through my body's ever-growing protests, shoving and vaulting over furniture Darlex stubbornly thrusts my way.
I have to give it to both of us. Despite our ten or so days of accumulating pain, we're still wholly invested in our goals - my tearing him limb from pathetic limb, and his escaping at all costs. One of us has to get gassed and that's him, slowing down just enough for me to lunge at him, my gauntlet in 'claw' mode slashing down towards him.
He gets lucky, pulling two cabinets onto the ground just before I could pin him to the ground. Instead I nab his coat, pulling it off of him as he wriggles himself free of my grasp.
Letting out a snarl that could scare a mutt into submission. I tear the garment from off my blade. "Fucker!"
He simply lets out a tired huff, putting more clutter in the way before he busts through a pair of pink double-doors.
"So much for Panem's 'most dangerous tributes'..." I fuel my anger into strongarming the clutter out of my way, continuing my pursuit of Darlex past the double doors.
We're on a skybridge transitioning from one wing of the building to the next. Darlex is about a dozen or so meters out when I hear something cut through the air outside. I think it's the wind.
Wrong. I'm just about to nab him again when a gargoyle bursts in spraying glass and fragments of steel. The force causes the bridge to sway and knock me onto my feet. You'd think the entire bridge was collapsing the way it teeters so violently.
Darlex gets the brunt of the shock, crying out as he collides into the wall back first and flops onto the ground, only to turn over and be greeted by a screeching mutt in his face. He instinctively cires out in terror and attempts to shamble away. The gargoyle is on him in an instant, clawing at him, tearing into him bit by bit as I'm left fumbling for my rifle.
Like a chew toy, the mutt then lifts him up in its jaws and begins thrashing Darlex. Somewhere along the line, Darlexs' legs go one way and his torso, paired with his face frozen in a grimace, goes the other way - the other way being towards me.
I let out a shudder, Darlexs' innards drenching my chest and face as his top half collides onto me. I make the mistake of looking at his face for too long, forever etched in agony, as I quickly shoving him aside. Still bloodthirsty, the mutt lets out another deafening roar that blows my hair out of place.
I quickly realize it's my turn now.
Unfortunately for this mutt, I have no plans on being its next target. Suppressing my aching heart I steadily scramble backwards, firing concise, single shots towards the mutt as it stalks towards me. It must have a thick layer of skin, as each shot only noticeably grazes the skin and only causes the beast to flinch with each shot.
…And piss it off considerably.
Doesn't Viondra have an off switch for these things? So why the hells hasn't she called this thing off already?!
It snarls at me, snapping its jaws in an attempt to secure me in its grasp but my gunfire keeps it at bay with a few well placed shots at its neck and head. It screeches out in irritation, teetering backwards as I continue to focus my shots towards that area, watching as it bleeds out considerably.
Before I can press on my attack, I pull the trigger and it responds with the telltale click, signaling that I am dry.
My body becomes so flush with warmth I think I'm having a heart attack. I freeze in place, haphazardly checking my receiver to find it indeed empty.
Can the mutt tell? It seems to, as it lets out a roar and pounces towards me. Having absolutely no time to reload, I discard the rifle before I'm torn apart, slipping through the double doors. Where I slip through the mutt barges through, launching me onto my back. I hit the ground hard, disturbing the old wounds that were slowly healing. Parts of my body are becoming increasingly wet. When it comes to my lower half, I wouldn't be surprised if it wasn't blood. My body in apparent shock, I manage to flip onto my back and wait for the inevitable, too spent to manage anything else.
Just before it could snatch me up in its jaws, something behind me explodes and I watch on, gobsmacked, as the entirety of its neck seemingly explodes and then catches fire. Another loud bang and its head is next to explode into tiny, drab gray pieces. It drops before my feet in a steaming pulp. causing the floor to quake.
Confused, I crane my neck backwards in an attempt to find out who put that mutt down.
Lo and behold, Spinel Knudsen of District 1 is behind a smoking shotgun barrel. Her eyes flicker down my way as she clicks her tongue and shoots me a wink.
A wink. It's too convenient, her arrival. Viondra must be all out of options if she sent her to save me.
In awe, I shake my head. "How did you…Where…?"
"You're a tough chick to follow," Spinel quips with a sigh, blowing the excess smoke away from the shotgun's muzzle. "Always watching your back, always dipping into corners and waiting…And now here you are, right where I want you."
I groan out. I knew it.
I don't bother resisting as Spinel raises the butt of her shotgun and slams it down onto my face.
Coming Up Next...
"But now they're dead! They're dead and it's all because of idiots like you!"