A/N: I'm back with the milk!
...But in all seriousness, fourth year of uni will do that to you. I apologize. But at least the next chapter is nearly complete. With it, plenty of 'visual eye candy' too.
Happy belated birthday, Atonement! They grow up so fast...Here's hoping I can wrap this up by the end of the year.
Chapter Thirty-Five -
'Hunter' Becomes The 'Hunted': Part Two
I awake to find myself underwater.
I thrash violently in an attempt to keep myself afloat, but it's as if my hands and legs are bound in place, leaving me helpless against the torrent of water that assaults my face. Despite the pitch darkness, I can feel myself fading…
The cascading water stops and my head is maneuvered so that it's upright. My desperate move to suck in air is met by a wad of wet cloth being sucked into my mouth. I feel a pair of hands latch onto my head like a claw and remove the cloth.
I cough and splutter so hard I could spit up a lung. Through my fluttering vision, I see Spinel's fingers snapping at me.
"C'mon, c'mon!" she calls, her voice all sing-songy. "You got more than enough rest! Time to wake up and face the musiic!"
I barely manage to fight through the pain my throbbing brain doles out in waves, struggling to keep my eyes open and my head up as Spinel comes into view again, dousing me with a frigid bucket of water.
This does two things for me. The shock brings me right back to speed in regards to why Spinel is here with me now and two…Spinel is here with me.
I immediately thumb for my gauntlets, only to find my wrists bare of them and my sleeves rolled up to my biceps. I wouldn't be able to activate them anyway because my wrists are fastened firmly onto an armchair by a myriad of wires and roping. My combat harness and all the knickknacks that came in them are missing too.
Grinning from ear to ear, Spinel playfully strides aside and like a female co-host to a Capitol game show, reveals a table where all my gear is strewn about. "Looking for your trinkets? I can imagine you're right deadly with those at your disposal, so I took the liberty of setting them aside so one one gets hurt."
My insides twinge at the realization that I'm totally at this kook's mercy.
I glance down at my forearm, only to find a gaping wound there. Even my communicuff is missing. My eyes fix squarely on Spinel's arm only to see that hers is missing as well. What is this loon getting at?
I look her in the eyes. "Why…?"
"'Why?'" she replies incredulously, causing me to flinch when she gets in my face, gripping either side of my armrests, "So we can get some quality time together! We wouldn't want your buddies over in the Gem of Panem crashing the fun with one of their toys, would you?"
You're joking…
I become flush as I truly take in her words. So what, are you saying that I'm trapped here with this loon and no one can do anything about it!? I take a deep breath and try and take in the room properly despite my forehead being bound against the chair as well. We're still in the hospital, I know that for sure. She couldn't have lugged me , kit and all, too far without mutts being sicced on her. We're in a large room dedicated for surgeries. Sick green walls, surgical lighting are a dead giveaway. Past that, there are oblong observation windows and beyond that is an ajar room door that has a window in it. Beyond that is the dilapidated city that serves as our arena.
We might as well be in our own arena up here…
Spinel, noticing my discomfort, grins from ear to ear. "So I'm right then? About the Capitol helping you along the way. Not surprising, seeing as you've lived this long."
She lets out a cackle. I eye her wearily, frowning when she takes a seat on my lap and clutches my chin between her index finger and thumb.
"You survived falling off a pedestal without the mines blowing you sky high. To top that off, the last time I saw you you were surrounded by what, a gaggle of five tributes ready to tear you limb from limb? And then there's this place they tossed us in. They reaally did it this time. Killer flying dragon thingies, earthquakes, District 13 soldiers skulking around who would just loove to get a shot at taking you down…"
She taps my nose like how a doting mother does her child.
"Yet here you are. They must be pulling all the stops to see you through, eh?"
Averting my gaze, I recoil from her hand. Part of me wants to jut my head forward and rip that finger off with my teeth Enobaria style, that is until Paulus clears his throat from across the room.
"With this one, you mise well oblige 'fore she kills ya outright," he says. "Oblige. Oblige till ya find an openin'..."
Oblige. I fix my gaze towards her. "Who says I need 'em? Maybe I survived out here all on my own."
"I'm sure you did," she replies with a sickly sweetness, nodding her head with a tight grin. "Continued on as normal like the good little Two you are. How many have you killed so far, ten, twenty? I saw the five from the bloodbath obviously…among other things."
'Among other things'. "You've been following me?" I ask, eyeing her as she paces back and forth.
She pauses, her features hardening. "Nevermind that right now! Answer the question."
"Dunno," I shrug. "Lost track...'Parently you guys are supposed to be the baddest of the bad-"
A still cuff upside the head shuts me up and makes me see double, what, with the two previous bumps I've taken up there. Spinel gets in my face, eyes trembling and hands emotive.
"You see?! You don't get it! You don't!" she shrieks, letting out an exasperated groan. "Gods, where have you been, deep down in a fucking stone quarry?! No wonder we lost the war, people like you running around…"
I fight through the fatigue. "...What are you talking-"
"You're trapped! And you can't even see it!" she continues, twisting a finger into my chest. "Blindly laying your life down for a city of people who see you as less than. Blindly killing off people who only wanted the best for you-"
"Hey! The last time I checked, Capitol soldiers didn't hold me down and violate me while my family lay dyin' all around me!"
Spinel eases up at that last remark. Her gaze is hard, but it seems to soften a little as she gives me breathing space.
"That was 'your people'. The people that wanted the 'best' for me," I continue, spitting each word. "Fuck your rebellion. In a perfect world, I'd be back at school, with my family intact, palling around with my friends. You would be too, but no. You bit the hand that fed ya an' now you're payin' for it through the nose."
After a moment's pause, Spinel stands a little taller, lips pursed. "I might be paying for it, but in a way, you are too," she says, striding towards me with a knife in hand. "You're stuck here with us - with me. No more gimmicks, no more drooling clowns to worship your every move…"
Just when I think that she's about to slit my throat open, she releases the wiring that fastens my head against the headrest, allowing me full rotation function again.
That's when I notice we have 'guests'. Just a few feet away, another tribute sits bound to a chair, hood over their head and surprisingly quiet given Spinel's commotion. There's a significant splotch of blood on the side of their head.
Spinel forcefully plops her hands over their shoulders, causing them to flinch. "Luckily for you, you have some pals along for the ride."
I immediately realize that they aren't just 'another tribute'. Spinel slowly pulls the sack off Emery's head, prompting me to murmur out a "Sweet Panem…" at the sight of her.
Mouth gagged and ears plugged, the entire left side of Emery's face is poked with bloody indents that makes it seem as if she were swiped by a mutt's claw. It goes up into her dark curls, the blood mussing up her hair. In the Games, you'd expect everyone gets their fair share of lumps but seeing it on her, well…The rigors of the Games don't look good on Emery so much. The younger girl's eyes fix onto mine before quickly retreating back onto the floor, her head hanging in defeat.
She looks nothing like the optimistic girl I got to know days prior. I can't help but gawk at the sight of her.
Spinel, the total nutbar that she is, looks oh so proud of herself, ungagging and unplugging Emery as she takes the younger girl by the cheeks. She then flashes me her mangled thumb and index finger, looking as if they've been chewed up.
"They call you 'Ms. Spitfire', but to be honest, I think the moniker belongs to this one," she says, all while sitting on Emery's lap. "I wasn't planning on undoing her…yet, but she literally forced my hand. Who knew someone so cutesy could be so vicious."
Emery doesn't look the least bit amused, glaring up at the lone District 1 female through her bunched up face.
"Oh don't give me that look!" Spinel snaps. "I thought you always wanted to experience a 'lovers embrace' with a pretty girl? Ain't that what you like?"
Tears streaking down her face, I eye Emery as she scowls even deeper at Spinel's words, ripping her chin from the older girl's grasp as she returns to sulking with her head hung low.
"What are you talking about?" I ask, repulsed.
Ignoring me, Spinel shrugs. "Guess I'm not pretty," she says, reaching over to the silver slab to retrieve what looks to be Emery's diary. I can't help but notice the body-shaped object on top of it, covered by a bloody tarp. "I mean hey, I wish I had the time to scribble in a diary about things like girls or mommy not giving me what I want. When I was your age, I was writing about the community home not giving me enough to eat, or my first reaping and the shit ton of slips I had before I even-"
An odd warbling all but confirms my fears. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Spinel get all giddy, like someone would when an expected guest rings the doorbell.
"Oh yeah!" she chimes, tossing the diary away as she spins over to the slab. "I almost forgot about our friend here! He's also quite stubborn for a Capitolite…"
She pulls the soiled tarp away. With my tolerance in the shitter, I'm surprised that I keep my stomach's contents inside at the sight of Cicero, though my body can't help but dry heave and grovel despite my bindings.
"What the fuck…?" I groan out, unable to tear my eyes away from the sight. Emery bawls out. Cicero is a pulp In the literal sense of the word. Naked from the crown of his head to the soles of his…stumps?! I shake my head on the off chance that what I'm seeing isn't real, but it is. His feet are gone, replaced with open wounds hastily sewn together with excess ribbons of flesh and skin hanging about. Once I get past the legs, I notice the entirety of his pale body is splotched with various purple bruises and cuts.
And then he warbles again, and my eyes immediately lock onto his face. I immediately wish I didn't.
It's literally painted red. As if she had cut the skin off his face and only muscle remained. But I immediately realize this isn't the case. The bleeding is coming from the orifices - the eyes and tongue…or lack thereof. I bite back the bile that stings at my throat as Cicero continues to thrash and wreathe on the slab, chains and wiring the only thing stopping him from tumbling off. As he continues to make those pitiful noises, Spinel shushes him while smoothing down his sodden hair.
"This is gonna be you in a few hours," teases Spinel, winking.
"You're a fuckin' psycho," I spit out, saying immediately what my mind thinks. "You're right up there with the likes of Titus! Like…h-how…?"
"How did I manage to do all this?!" Spinel asks, spinning around in place with her arms splaying outward. She stops, eyeing me and grinning sickly as she unrolls as a canvas bag holding an assortment of instruments. "I shacked up with a choice doctor. Emerald Vukovic. What a dreamboat he was. People always discount brainiacs...Anywho, it seems being a doctor goes hand in hand when it comes to interrogation tactics. I had the pleasure of being in the passenger seat while he broke you Twos like the hard-headed ignorant bastards you are. Hells, the doc even let me drive stick every now and then!"
Continuing to sneer, she cranks her neck back, thumbing for and retrieving a bevy of necklaces from inside her shirt. They weren't just any necklaces. I can't help but become slack-jawed at the dozens of PK dog tags in her 'collection'. I'm surprised not a single Peacekeeper hasn't taken her aside and ended her. Each of those tags belonged to a person, not a mindless 'buckethead' like some of these rebels claim. Maybe she was smart enough to hide them.
"PK ID discs..."
"Oh yeah, when Katniss fired her arrow, I began to realize just how fragile you bucketheads are when its your turn on the hot seat," Spinel replies gingerly, thumbing through the multitude of names she has. "This Private, Private Tessier, as soon as I presented my bolt cutters he was singing like a mockingjay! This other guy, Lieutenant Kavanaugh, well...he lasted forty-eight hours before we just put him out of his misery. He was a Two through and through, head full of cement. Makes me wonder how long you'll last."
"You rebels," I seethe, eyeing her down as she sniggers. Syndra comes to mind immediately. 'Rebel thugs'. "Thugs really…Bunch of fuckin' hypocrites…"
Spinel shrugs. "All is fair in love and war…" she replies in a sing-song tone. She eyes my neck, her browns orbs resting on the tags of my family.
"Leave 'em alone," I grunt weakly, trying desperately to deny access as she takes them anyways. "Give it back-!"
"Oh don't you fret. I won't add them to the collection just yet. Before I claim one more tag, that being yours, I think I'll start with these two first," she turns toward the delirious Cicero and defeated Emery before setting her sights on the younger Capitolite. "Maybe you, let them see one of their own babes suffer for once-"
Warning bells ring through my head. "Hey-!"
She takes a knife and traces it against Emery's already cut cheek. "Y'know, a little cut here…a little cut there-"
"Hey! You leave her alone!" I yell, pushing against my restraints. "Your beef is with me, so start with me."
Emery lifts her head ever so slightly in apparent surprise. Spinel cranes her head so that I can see the corner of her eye. She leans her head back and cackles.
"So I'm the hypocrite right?" she replies. "Riddle me this. I saw Eunice Dixen in the sky after the bloodbath. She's about bookworm here's age. There were a few more I remember seeing you cut down. They were innocent enough. Why the selectivity on who dies or lives? Why is this one so special?"
She stumped me with that one. Maybe it's because I know that she's just as popular as I am, probably even more so now that Clancy is no more. Keeping her alive aids in keeping me alive.
Perhaps it's neither of those things. Maybe I know what she's going through. Maybe I think the kid deserves to live just a little bit longer. When she doesn't get a verbal answer, Spinel scoffs.
"That's what I thought," she says. "You know what, I will start with you. Knock you down a peg or two. Really make you wish you didn't barge your way into this like some sorta hero!"
She turns to peruse her assortment of tools, presenting me with a flatheaded instrument that may or may not already be soiled with Cicero's blood. As she stalks over with that cruel grin on her lips, I attempt to steel myself for what's to come, reciting all the unpleasant injuries I've received in my short life.
To my surprise, she dips down onto her heels, stripping off my boots and socks. Yanking my leg upward, I get a front row seat as I watch her dig the instrument underneath my toenail. Holding each other's' gaze, I grunt out in discomfort as she finally flicks off the nail. Despite the stinging pain and unpleasant wetness that erupts from it, I swallow hard and maintain my composure. I'm not giving her any satisfaction.
The loon from District 1 looks absolutely pissed.
She does the remaining nails on that foot, each one more unpleasant than the last in an attempt to get a rise out of me. There's a considerable amount of blood pooling on the floor by the time she finishes the one foot. That, coupled with the overworked nerves and fatigue of the last few days breaks me, prompting me to cry out with each nail she pulls on the other foot.
By the time she gets to the fingers, I'm nearly checked out. A splash of water onto my face by my captor perks me up a tad.
"Already tuckered out, 'Ms. Spitfire'?" Spinel asks. "We've only just barely begun! I've seen privates last longer than you!"
"Just wait till she gets out, you loon!"" says Paulus. "Zen's gonna tear you a new one!"
"When I was twelve, I was navigating an obstacle course…fractured my growth plate…." I can't help but giggle. "I think that hurts more than…this."
Spinel doesn't find it amusing, her eye twitching ceaselessly before I'm fed with a right hook that flashes my vision white sends me and the chair I'm fastened to reeling onto the ground. She jerks me upward and delivers a left hook that does the same thing. I feel fatigue pulling me into slumber, only for her sharp nails digging into my jaw to keep me in the land of the conscious…if only just barely.
"Now you're really pissing me off!" she roars, collecting her shotgun while fumbling around for shells. "Gonna blow those pretty little kneecaps off."
"Really…?" I rasp out, out of blind delirium rather than fear.
"We save this method for leadership," she mutters, loading some shells into the receiver. "First, I was gonna cut em off, now I'm just gonna blow em off! I'm not cauterizing shit so here's hoping you bleed out quick-"
"I bleed out and die, and then you move onto these two and then what…?" I counter, lifting my head up to glare at her. I fight through the weakness and continue, "What's left are a bunch of condemned rebels. You think they're gonna let you outta here once you finish me? Or anyone? Go ahead, shoot me-"
With a disgustful sneer, Spinel cocks her shotgun.
"But you're forgetting somethin'," I continue. "These ain't any ordinary Games. Doin' this will just prove their point. You're just another savage rebel. There's probably plenty more like you out there that need to be reaped and they will…with prejudice. Those watching with sense will fall in line, sparing them from the Capitol's anger, all while people like you continue to squawk till there's no one lef-"
The butt of Spinel's gun thrusts into my vision, compelling me to gasp out in shock and my vision to flutter. Mixed in with the blood in my mouth is something solid…perhaps a piece of tooth?
"You're right Zenobia. These aren't any 'ordinary Games'," she replies dryly, rolling her eyes to the same affect. "You forced your way into them, like some sorta…'anti-Katniss'. Now you have these idiots kissing your ass and I bet my bottom dollar you thought you were gonna run away with the whole pot."
She levels the gun towards my legs.
"I'm here to say it all ends here."
Just when I think her words are true, beyond the oblong windows, I notice the briefest flash of a shadow alongside a violent woosh. Too bad Spinel can't.
I shrug and give my head a shake, jutting my jaw towards the exit. "Not quite."
Before Spinel could inquire, the entire room nearly devolves into twisted metal and crumbling bricks. The sheer force of the explosion sends me careening onto the floor. Somewhere, I hear Cicero warble out loudly and Emery's startled shriek. Despite my ringing ears and off-kilter balance, I feel my binds slacken in their tightness. I immediately take advantage, forcing and worming my way through the bindings. I stagger to my feet and peer through the dust. Through the haze, I see Spinel going berserk, Advancing on a staggered gargoyle while unloading her shotgun onto the beast. The mutt is as good as dead. I will be too if I don't take this opportunity.
Ignoring my body that screams for me to do the opposite, I channel the energies of Paulus and the owners of those dog tags and I launch myself at Spinel.
Her look of determination morphs into one of shock as she spins around to meet me. Startled by my approach, my tackle connects, sending both of us crashing to the ground in a flurry of curses. We immediately begin grappling for the shotgun Spinel favors. As the steel tube presses against our bodies, I constantly worry about a hole being blown into my stomach, for she has trigger control.
My finger joins hers in the trigger guard and we both scream as the shotgun discharges, blowing a hole in the ceiling.
I take full advantage of the shock, one hand grabbing the stock and the other the muzzle as I press downward, bracing the gun against her throat. Both our bodies begin to squirm in an attempt to gain leverage over the other, but I still hold the gun firm as her pale skin begins to flush.
I think I just about have her until my vision switches from her strained face to the ceiling to ground again. She used her body to push me off. She has the gun.
I book it down the hall as fast I can before she gets a bead on me. I hear a dull thumping noise through my swimmy hearing. From head to toe my body aches but my left arm seems to ache even more so now.
From the operating room I retreat further down the hall and into a secretarial pool of sorts. Plenty of cubicles to hide in and hopefully plenty of time to think. I spot a loot box in front of me under a desk. Spinel must've picked at it because it's slightly ajar.
A shotgun blast immediately casts any sliver of pause to the wayside.
"So much for Ms. Spitfire! So much for 'Panem's voice'!"
Oh Gods.
I stagger a few feet into the maze of cubicles and heave myself over one, breathing into the crook of my left elbow in an attempt to stem my erratic breathing. I pull away to find the entirety of my mouth soaked red. She must've hit me with that initial shot.
Another blast causes me to jump in place. And then another. And another.
"So this is what District Two, the Guardians of Panem, have to offer this time around?!" Spinel spits out, sounding even more unhinged than prior. "Who knew a little pushback is all that's needed to make you fold! You're pathetic, you hear me!? Pathetic!"
Padding my body down for a hidden blade or something that Spinel missed and finding nothing, Is opt for a singular pen and fasten it between my middle and index fingers. It isn't my gauntlet, but by the Capitol it'll have to do.
"Get out here and face me!"
Another blast tears through the material above my head, blowing a hole through it. I think she has me then and there, but she moves past me entirely, slowly skulking towards the middle of the pool where the ceiling gave away eons ago, allowing considerable light shine in. She turns around, providing me an opportunity.
I take it.
With a guttural roar, I bound over the cubicle and charge towards Spinel. She aims high but I duck low, going for the thighs. Her shot fires off into the air as I tug her to the floor. She screams out as I plunge the pen into her chest. My vision flashes white when she launches a fist into my face.
Whether it's my sheer strength or the eons of decay, I feel the ground implode below us. We both scream out as we drop an entire floor, with me barely having enough sense to cover myself as pieces of debris pelt me relentlessly. Thankfully it stops as soon as it begins.
I poke my head out from the pile of rubble. Dust. There's dust everywhere, as I launch to my feet, ready to finish this fight.
Through my strained vision, I spot it: Spinel's shotgun, five or so feet away from the mass of rubble. Please be loaded…Please please please be loaded.
Just as I stagger toward it, Spinel comes rushing in from the right, all wild-eyed and hopped up on revenge, her spiked bat in hand. She swings it with a yell and it connects, sending me crashing onto the ground. Blood immediately stains my sight.
"It's all…your fault!" she seethes. "You…dim-witted bootlick!"
She's just as winded as I am. It must be the thought of finishing me giving her the energy to continue. As soon as I kneel on all fours, a strike to my stomach has me on my back again. Blood and whatever else plumes from my mouth as I rock from left to right.
"It's all your fault for allowing this to continue! Despite everything! You…that brat sidekick of yours...and the rest of them! Thinking you can come in here…continue as normal…!"
Another attempt to get up earns me another strike and a violent bout of wheezing as a result. I attempt again, only to get the same thing in return.
"Get up!" Paulus yearns.
But I can't. Maybe if I bide my time I can…I grab hold of a jagged piece of metal in hopes that she'll come just a little bit closer. She gives her bat a twirl and raises it over her head.
"...I'm glad I'm the one giving you the wake up ca-"
A loud bang rings out. At the same time, Spinel's words become garbled and wet as she clutches her throat, her bat clattering to the floor as she joins it, wreathing and groaning out in suffering.
Behind her stands Emery, the muzzle of her silver pistol smoking. I'm frozen in awe as the twelve-year-old presses her attack, aiming her pistol at Spinel who cowers out of sight.
"It's not 'my fault'! I'm not supposed to be here!" Emery sobs, beating her chest with with a single hand. "I could've been at home with Mother and Clancy if you people just sat down and took your punishment!"
Her tone is deafening. Who knew a girl so young could have such a commanding voice? Even though she's yelling at Spinel, I can't help but feel included as well.
"But now they're dead! They're dead and it's all because of idiots like you!" Emery continues. "So it's your fault!"
Spinel bleats out something along the lines of "No!"
"Yes!" Emery claps back, stepping slightly out of view. "It's your fault my family is dead!"
Spinel's desperate pleas are immediately cut short by a torrent of gunfire and her resulting cannon. Even still, the click click click of Emery continuing to pull the trigger despite no rounds being left and Spinel being gone persists. One thought passes through my head: Emery's first kill.
I force myself onto my feet, slowly approaching Emery who continues to stand over Spinel's body, her fingers still working the trigger. Click click click. With glazed over eyes, tears continue to drip down her cheeks. I gently pry the gun from out of her grasp. It's then that she breaks out of her trance to slowly glance up at me.
And then she hugs me. It's the type of hug reserved for a child and their parents. Panem knows Emery needs this. Fingers gripping into my sides, the warmth of her face burning a hole into my stomach…
"It's not my fault…" she whimpers into me. ''It's not my fault…"
Despite the immense pain in my middle, I reluctantly begin to pad down her cotton-like hair. I think everyone knows that Emery doesn't deserve any of this. She should be back in her city, attempting to get on with life. Prison, the death of her immediate family coupled with the Games? Circumstances, I guess. Dad always said the Capitol gets its due. I pull the younger girl away from me.
"We gotta go…" I say.
She mews out an affirmative noise, watching me as I shuffle over to Spinel's body. One look at the bullet-ridden corpse tells me that Emery is a crackshot, I can barely recognize the loon's face. I kneel down and claim the dogtags, all of them, placing them onto my neck. I immediately claim her shotgun as my own. I have shells saved from prior and something tells me this thing has a lot of oomph to it. Emery attempts to help me to the upper floor to reclaim our belongings. I wave her off.
"I'm not a cripple-!" I snap, frowning as I regret my choice. I mutter for her to come back, using her as a crutch while we return to Spinel's former torture chamber.
I immediately hear the warbling cries of Cicero.
"Hulluh?" he calls out weakly with his damaged tongue. "Hulluh…? Hulluh…?!"
Series of painful gags follows after. Emery begins to weep again, causing me to quickly shush her as I approach the slab Cicero remains fastened in. I look around for a sharp instrument and find it. When I begin to cut away his binds, a hand clutches at my wrist. I immediately notice that all his nails are plucked out.
"Cicero," I say to him evenly, pressing a gentle hand onto his scarred chest. "It's me, Zenobia."
Despite his agony, he manages to whip his head my way. If his eyes were still intact, they'd be as wide as saucers right now. I'm half-surprised he doesn't skirt away from me entirely. I left him for dead, after all.
I quickly remember the golden rule established before the pedestals even rose up. Cushioning. They're cushioning. This was bound to happen and because Cicero lasted longer, he got the worst of it.
"Zuh…Zuh…" he mouths out, wincing as if every movement he makes means rubbing against a thousand needles. Easing his head back onto the slab, I half heartedly smooth his hair down.
"I'm sorry about…this," I say lamely, shaking my head as I survey his battered body. He's a far cry from the observant boy with a wry grin I had met days prior. What do I do, really? Do I leave him, do I get him out of this place? At least to the roof or ground floor?
"Alright…let's see…" I look for a way to lift him up, but stop, flinching as he bleats out a pained cry, writhing on the slab in a way that looks so…freakish given his condition. Spinel really had her way with him…I mean, the guy has no feet for Panem's sake. And look at his midsection, bloated and bruised like a plum, ample space for Spinel to do as big of a number as she can before indulging in the more minute details of her torture.
I shake my head, unable to take my eyes off of the disaster before me. How Spinel hasn't seen the hangman, firing squad, hells - a mutt chamber - is beyond me. I wouldn't be surprised if the Gamemakers put her in here to shake things up.
I place a hand on his chest. "How can I help you?"
From the other side of the slab, Paulus gestures toward my other hand. "Ain't it obvious?"
I bring my other hand into my vision, Emery's pistol still firmly in its 's empty though. I crane my head toward Emery, who immediately stifles her sobs and retreats from out of the room. At my feet lies Emery's ruck and a quick inspection produces a fresh magazine.
"Gonna help you Cicero, 'kay?" I slap the mag in, cock it and level it towards his head. "May, may not hurt. Gonna be quick, promise…Y'hear me?"
Does it even matter? He's moaning to himself now, the prior trauma seemingly becoming too much for him to handle. There's no use pussyfooting anymore.
I pull the trigger, the resulting shot sounding like bomb going off because it coincides with Cicero's cannon firing. The least I can do for him is place the tarp back over his body. His folks, if they haven't left their living room in shock, have probably seen the worst of it, but whatever, it's the thought that counts.
I collect everything. Spinel's, Emery's, Cicero's, and stuff it into our respective rucksacks for the sure to be taxing trip back to our hideaway. I can't help but grin at the sight of my gauntlets in the sink, as well as our communicuffs, although Spinel banged them up pretty good. Out of the two, only one of them is bootable. I'm not surprised when Vi and Pax appear.
"Just when it all seemed for nought, you managed to pull through," Vi says.
"Did you get all that?" I ask them, only now taking in just how hoarse my tone is.
The two flash me those knowing, toothless grins. "Spinel Knudson is crafty, but not crafty enough," replies Pax.
They point to an active camera hidden in the now-damaged cabinets. There's another in the long-dead operating light as well. Now I really wonder what type of Games will be pieced together when the dust settles.
Vi cranes her head to the left. "I suppose you two aren't done quite yet. What are the odds you two would be back right where you started."
My eyes follow her direction, towards Emery, who sits down on the edge of the gaping hole the mutt created, peering out at the ruins we inhabit. The holograms disappearing, I shuffle over to Emery and nudge her back with my foot. One look at her face tells me all that I need to know. She's spent. I am too.
Wordlessly, I extend a hand toward her. She accepts, allowing me to pull her onto her feet as we begin our slow limp back to safety. I think I speak for the both of us when I say we've had enough action to last us the entirety of the Games.
Funny thing is that technically, with twenty-three tributes left, the real Games have only just begun.
Remaining Tributes
D1 - ELIMINATED
D2 - 3
D3: 3
D4: 2
D5: 5
D6: 2
D7- 3
D8- 2
D9- Eliminated
D10: 3
D11- Eliminated
D12: 3
Tributes Remaining: 26.
[!] - Spinel Knudsen has been added to the blog. Like Emery, she's nearly a decade old at this point. She served the same purpose in the old story (In which Emery was the sole protagonist) as this one...I believe she's much more unhinged here, though.
[!] - Thom, Justin's right hand man, has also been added to the blog. I kinda sat on this one, forgot to add him when his corresponding chapter went up. Here he is now. Both Characters can be found under the "FOES" tab of "CENTRAL CHARACTERS".
Coming up Next...
"Aintcha gonna make a wish...?"