Chapter 38

From this point, there is minimal focus on the other tributes. The film revolves around me and Rubis – the romance that was destined never to be.

I watch as we team up with Corvid and Izzie. Until now, the two of them have been scavenging weapons, watching the eliminations, as they camped out and ate Rubis' dismembered limbs. That, and stumbling across the aftermath of the acid trap.

I can't be sure how inactive the pair really was, as the film likes to show them lounging about in the evenings, waiting for the rest of us to die.

I play along with the narrative.

"Honestly, they so didn't deserve to make it as far as they did." I gripe, "They made the rest of us do all the work!"

Chazzer agrees, "Certainly. Every show needs a villain, but at least antagonistic tributes in the past actually did something. We need more fighters like those pointy-toothed siblings, or that blood-crazed maniac from last year – who was that?"

"Arcturus." I state.

This man has a memory like a sieve.

From this point, there is nothing for the Capitol to show, that I have not already guessed happened.

When Rubis and I are alone, Corvid and Izzie slag us off behind our backs.

Predictable.

Pinty, Salto and Elsie spend most of their time vaping in the abandoned playpark.

Even more predictable.

The retelling takes great delight in showing how the Goths brutally massacred an innocent but valiant blind girl. They have almost certainly added extra blood in post.

Izzie's death is framed with such bias, that it almost feels cathartic to see her skull smashed in by rubble. But I was there. I knew her. Angry and violent, she may have been, but she was also loyal and determined. She sucked, and I hated her, but she deserves to be remembered as she was, not as a complete, feral brute. Just as a bit of one.

Corvid's grief is skipped entirely. Instead, we see only the blood-shot, psychotic zombie that drags themself from the collapsed building, and the fury that follows.

I shiver exaggeratedly, as if reliving the fear of Psycho-Corvid.

My brain starts to reconsider Corvid. Were they actually as rational as I think they were?

Corvid bosses us about and I know it is not just the biased filming, this time. They even went so far as to lock Rubis in a house with a depraved lunatic.

I cringe so hard at the memory that I worry I will shrivel up.

Now, I finally get to see what Corvid was up to whilst I was stripping for Rubis in the middle of the death games.

They creep through Churchill Gardens, muttering to themself about distance, acceleration and other things I lost marks on in my science final. They eventually find a gas station and root about until they find a canister of fuel.

Corvid carries the gas to a car and fills the tank, with some trial and error. I imagine that their only previous experience with fuel was using it to set fire to things.

All the while, Corvid keeps their eyes peeled for other tributes. None show up.

Tank full, Corvid smashes in the driver's-side window with their axe, and gets behind the wheel.

A 2D animation of a map fills the screen, with cheesy spy-music that I recognise from a children's TV show. Corvid's great scheme is drawn as a chunky red arrow on the map, showing where they intend to drive the car.

It could not be clearer that their plan is being mocked.

All they have to do is pull out of the driveway and turn left onto the road, to position the car where they want it.

Corvid is not a good driver.

They accelerate too fast, denting the bumper on a fencepost. Then they clip their headlight on a streetlamp and it explodes with a fizz of sparks. The same streetlight sheers off their wing-mirror entirely.

Corvid makes a face of frustration, but we can't hear them groan over the rumbling of the engine.

We do hear a muffled, "Fuck!" when they stall the car for the fourth time.

Chazzer says, "I can drive better than that, and I've had a chauffeur all my life."

"Reminds me of my first time playing GTA…" I say, "When I was three."

The audience laughs.

We don't get to see Corvid succeed before we return to me in the house with Rubis. Somehow, they manage to make my amateur erotic dancing actually look erotic, and my pasty, pubescent body look ripped.

I catch a few pleasured groans from the audience. Internally, I groan for the opposite reason.

Corvid returns to the house and rescues Rubis from my assault. Then we separate, as Corvid instructed, to carry out our separate missions.

First, we follow my journey to the collapsed college. Tragic violins accompany the footage as I see the pieces of my shattered PS6 among the rubble.

The camera pans to the other side of the arena, where Corvid and Rubis sit together in the finally parked car.

Chazzer addresses the audience.

"Now, I'm being told by the producers that our microphones couldn't pick up this conversation at first. But after being processed by technicians in District Three, we now have clear audio. So, I present to you now, the never-before-heard, mystery conversation between Corvid and Rubis."

I think to myself, the man had an earpiece in this whole time and still bumbles about like an ape?

Then Rubis speaks onscreen.

"Why did you leave me alone with him?"

Corvid sighs, "Sorry about that. It was part of my plan to make him look utterly unsympathetic."

"He didn't need help with that, and you know it." Rubis grouches.

I wonder to myself whether Corvid set up this whole audio-masking device so that Rubis could bitch about me. But that wouldn't make sense – they both did that to my face.

Then Corvid says, "Forget about that. We don't have much time before they find a way to end our conversation. I needed to talk to you without anyone hearing."

"Am I right in what I think you're about to suggest?" Rubis grumbles.

Corvid replies, exasperated, "I never know what you're thinking. How would now be any different?"

Rubis says, "I'm thinking it's time to kill Midnight. The risk of me being violated has become greater than the protection Midnight can give me."

"Could he ever really protect you though…?" Asks Corvid.

"My relationship with him gave me plot armour, so yeah."

"Would you stop doing that?!" Corvid snaps.

"Doing what?"

"Breaking the fourth wall. I'm an insert of the author and even I don't do that." Corvid huffs, "Kind of minimises the severity of our situation, if we know we're in a fanfic."

"Well, if our situation is so severe, we should kill Midnight so he doesn't inflict severe trauma on me."

Corvid rolls their eyes.

They say, "You mean I should kill Midnight. You won't be a lot of help. But no. I have other plans."

"Oh yeah?"

"I want to make the Capitol suffer. And I want to make a mockery of the Hunger Games. That's what'll happen if he wins."

Rubis says, "You can't be suggesting what I think you are. Did you incur brain damage earlier?"

Corvid takes a deep breath. Their next words come as though rehearsed repeatedly in their head.

"Look. You should be dead, and you will be, as soon as the plot doesn't need you anymore. I'm gonna die by some Muttation or Capitol trap, before they let me become a victor. If Elsie, Salto or Pinty win, they will just be another famous victor to represent the upper-class and help to indoctrinate their districts. They're young, they're mouldable. But Midnight? He's a laughingstock. Put him in a victor's crown and the Hunger Games lose their terrifying reputation faster than you can blink."

Rubis scowls.

Slowly, he says, "So, in short, you want to help Midnight win."

"Exactly."

"You don't just want to kill him? For Izzie?"

"Oh, I do. If he hadn't attacked us…" Corvid's fists clench. They grit their teeth, then compose themselves, "But I want the Capitol to suffer most of all."

Rubis doesn't look convinced.

Corvid rolls their eyes and folds their arms.

They state, "Look. You and I die either way. And if we fail, Midnight dies and you get what you want. Come on, Rubis; it's a win-win."

Corvid looks at him expectantly.

Rubis grumbles, "Whether I help you or not, you won't kill him for me, will you?"

"Nope." Corvid smiles.

Eventually, Rubis says, "Ok, fine. I'll help you keep him alive… if you get me to the final with him."

Corvid's smile turns to impatience.

Rubis elaborates.

"Get rid of Pinty, Salto, Elsie and yourself. Leave me in the final with Midnight. If you think my plot armour won't last, you get your way. But mind-games are my speciality. He'll be dead before me, if we're the last two."

Corvid stumbles for words.

They say, "Hold on a minute, this is my plan, you can't just go round adding extra compli"

Rubis interjects, "What you said before, that wasn't a 'win-win'. That was you trying to get me to cooperate, under the pretence of my death being a good thing. What I'm suggesting, we both believe will work in our favour. And if you believe you're right about me dying as soon as I'm not needed, then you shouldn't have any qualms about me making it to the final."

Corvid pouts for a minute.

Finally, they say, "I hate your logic."

"Is that because it's good?"

Corvid doesn't deign Rubis with an answer.

Instead, they say, "I have the skeleton of a plan, but it won't be pretty."

"It involves Midnight;" Says Rubis, "of course it won't be."

Corvid tells Rubis that they are going to meet me in the park and make sure I have the dart. Then, Corvid will draw all three roadmen into the middle of the road, where they will have set up a trap to keep them there. Rubis will crush the accelerator and run over all four of them.

Corvid intends for me to hide at a pre-chosen point, ready to pounce on any survivors while they are still caught in the trap..

Then, Corvid expects me to kill Rubis while he is trapped in the car. Rubis expects me to somehow kill myself in the before that.

Suddenly, a wave of doubt rises about Rubis' true feelings towards me. He talks about me getting myself killed so casually, with zero tone of distress.

I know that's just how he is – it's not like Rubis has ever shown his feelings, let alone his weaknesses – but there seems to be such a lack of care, like he's not really supressing anything at all.

The way he talks about outliving me. Like it wouldn't hurt him if I died.

I think about how I have felt since Rubis was taken from me. I was consumed by depression. I didn't eat, I stopped caring about anything. I even killed the girl I viewed – rightly or not – as family.

All because I didn't know how to function, after Rubis was killed.

Now I see him sitting in a car, discussing my life like I am a pawn to his victory. Not even that – I'm not my own person, I'm just a chainmail shirt for him to wear when he needs protection and leave to rust when he's won.

A small part of my brain wants to think that he is pretending, in front of Corvid. But if that's true, then Rubis has been pretending like this one hundred percent of the time, ever since I first met him. On and off-camera, with other people, alone with me, and on his own in the arena.

At that point, it's not pretend.

Corvid asks, "And if he doesn't off himself for you?"

I would have. Even if it was just in a moment of intense action. Before, I wouldn't have shared a bag of Cheez-Its with anyone. But I would have laid down my life for Rubis.

Rubis states, without a visage of distress, "It's Midnight. The guy would jump off a bridge for me."

Corvid protests, "Surely not when he's so close to winning."

Corvid knew the old Midnight. Before Rubis moulded me. Before I was convinced that he loved me.

Rubis moves on without a second thought.

He says, "That's your problem, Corvid. You expect everyone to think like you."

That was my problem, too. I thought Rubis loved me.

"I think logically." Says Corvid.

So do I, now.

Rubis didn't love me. He didn't even like me.

He wasn't pretending to be hard-to-get. He didn't need to be fixed. He needed a dopey little puppy who barked at anybody who threatened him, and thought the sun shone out of his anus.

Rubis replies to Corvid, "You do not think logically. You think like…" Something catches Rubis' eye out of the window, "Children."

Corvid says, "Hey! They/them pronouns does not mean I am multiple people. And I am not a ch-"

Rubis says, "No. Children. I hope your plan is ready to go."

Corvid turns their head to see the three roadmen out of the window, creeping through the park after me.

"No! I'm not ready!" Corvid groans, "I needed more time to prepare!" They turn to Rubis one last time and say, "Be ready to run over some kids. Bye, it wasn't nice knowing you."

Then they get out of the car, slam the door, and say sternly, "Midnight. Come here, right now."

Naturally, my onscreen counterpart does not fall for Corvid's 'villainous scheme'.

Instead, we both get chased by twelve-year-olds until we come back and carry out what was basically Corvid's plan anyway.

If only I had realised what they were doing. They wanted me to win. For nefarious reasons, yes, but at least they actually cared about something – the Districts.

Rubis didn't. he didn't love me. He was using me.

And I allowed him to, right until the end.

All the complex emotions I have towards Corvid – admiration, resentment, anger and gratitude – all disappear at once, as I watch them get slammed by a car.

At the end of the day, they were just another tribute. One of twenty-three who died for me to be sitting her right now.

One of twenty-two who don't matter. The only person who matters now, is Rubis.

Every ounce of pain that I have felt until this point – more than I ever thought humanly possible – is dwarfed by the magnitude of anger that seethes and crashes inside me.

My love for Rubis was strong enough to push me to suicide for him.

My rage is ten times that.

Every molecule of self-restraint that I should have used previously in my life comes in handy now, as I forbid myself to fly off the stage and smash everything I see to pieces.

There is no justice in this world.

Pain, suffering and betrayal are the only things with a lasting impact.

I sit through the final scenes of the Hunger Games, while lava boils within me.

I can feel the audience growing impatient by now – we must be three hours in.

My face is strained from faking expressions, my ass is numb, and my heart has been torn to pieces.

It grows back, made of obsidian.

The feast is announced. Intense music plays as Rubis and I creep towards the cornucopia.

Pinty does the same.

We lie in wait. In the meantime, Pinty orders her rats to eat our prizes, at her signal.

Rodents scuttle about in the rubble surrounding the cornucopia, relaying Pinty's message to their hoard.

Pinty gives three sharp puffs on her vape. Rat-snouts twitch at the scent-signal. They swarm the table from every direction.

Close-ups show hundreds of sharp canines click against metal, as the rats fail to demolish the bionic arms meant for Rubis. They unknowingly move on to the rat poison that was my prize, as Pinty creeps up on us from behind.

Neither Rubis nor I hear her, with her chunky sneakers tiptoeing on damp concrete.

The music crescendos.

Pinty leaps into the air, looping a garrotte across Rubis' throat. He struggles immediately, but it is no use.

Eyes locked on the screen, I will the garrotte to force its way deeper. I imagine a hundred razor-sharp wires strung across Rubis' body, slicing him apart like a giant cheese-grater. That image does little to calm my fury.

Onscreen-Midnight turns to see his lover, dying by the hands of his own district-partner.

I didn't think I could ever forgive Pinty for that. Now I silently thank her.