XXXI. Decimated Dreams

I won't explain or say I'm sorry
I'm unashamed, I'm gonna show my scars
Give a cheer for all the broken
Listen here, because it's who we are

Tower II • 22:26

Lorian's not sure how long he was out. When he got to the tower with Edric and Asherah, the sun was barely rising. Now that he's woken up, the moon is bright and high up in the sky.

However long it was, it was enough to make Lorian feel somewhat human again. Even if he doesn't know how many Tributes are left, there's a decent chance it was more than there was a cannon or two while he was asleep. Regardless, there's at least nine left besides him. If he has it his way, he could be two people closer within the next fifteen minutes.

Two people closer to being adored. Two people closer to having it all. Two people closer to never stepping foot in District Two again, not because he's dead but because he's far too good for this place.

(As much as he slept, Lorian is still so fucking tired. He has been his entire life — has had to work twice as hard to get half as far. He's never been good enough and even if this is his only chance, it's still sucking the life out of him.)

(Considering what he did to Belacaine, being tired is better than the alternative.)

His ax is by his side where he left it, his District partner's blood still staining the blade. If Edric and Asherah were at all intelligent, they'd have snatched it from him while he was asleep.

A part of Lorian feels bad for what he has to do. These people extended their kindness to him when they didn't have to — it's happened twice now. He can't even say he'd be friends with them in another life when Asherah is so soft and Edric is so quiet. They're not his friends in this life either, which is why he doesn't hesitate when he pulls himself up off the ground and turns his head to where they're assumedly sleeping.

That's when Lorian sees Edric standing over Asherah, his hands shaking as he positions a small knife right above her throat.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He whispers, the sound of his voice making Edric visibly panic.

"I'm not trying to kill you, if that's what you're worried about."

"Clearly not, your knife is at her, not me." Lorian can't help but laugh a bit. "I assume I'm next once you're done with her though."

"I—"

He doesn't let Edric answer before swinging his ax and planting it into Asherah's chest. Edric falls onto the ground, a mix of surprise and rage in his eyes.

"Answer me, Six. You really thought you were going to kill me."

Asherah snaps away, looks Lorian straight in the eye before noticing his ax in her chest and screaming a terrible scream.

(A part of Lorian relishes in it. He did when Belacaine died too. Surely the Capitol is getting a big kick out of this. Surely it's making them excited for when Lorian gets out of the arena and they can praise him like he's a trophy.)

"You—" Asherah curls her hand into a fist as she tries and fails to drag herself off the floor.

Lorian dislodges his ax and swings again, this time at her thigh. It earns him another scream and the all-too-familiar feeling of blood splashing on his face.

Asherah turns her head then seemingly notices Edric on the ground behind Lorian. "Can you—"

Edric stands again and sinks his knife into the first wound Lorian left. He's kind of impressed with the Six boy for having the audacity to do such a thing. He was just as shocked when he saw him try to give Asherah a quick ending, but now Edric's really going for it.

"Why should I help you?" Even if his voice is loud, the Six boy still seems so afraid. "You've been suspicious of me for a while now and you've never wanted to play these games."

"I don't—"

"You don't want to hurt people? Most people don't, Asherah, but it's the only way out of here. Don't you want to get out of here?"

Before Lorian can attack him too, Edric shoves him and stabs his knife into Asherah's throat. "I wanted to make this quick, I really did." Suddenly, his hands start shaking again. "But you wanted Lorian to stay with us. If he weren't here, things wouldn't need to escalate like this, and yet…"

Lorian stands up and swings his ax at Edric's wrist, tearing through his flesh but not enough that it's going to fall off — a shame. He aims his weapon for Asherah's face this time, but misses when Edric sinks his knife into her eye first.

"I thought you didn't want to hurt her," Lorian jeers.

"I don't—"

"Don't what, Six?"

"I don't want to prove them right?"

"Whoever you're talking about, stabbing someone in the eye doesn't exactly make a good impression." Lorian pushes back Edric's knife, squirming a bit when he sees the slash in Asherah's iris. He takes a deep breath then plants his ax across Asherah's whole face.

"Unless you're talking about the Capitol," he mumbles as an afterthought. "I bet they love you for this."

Another swing of his ax, but this time a cannon thankfully fires. "But perhaps they love me more."

Lorian's hands feel heavy as his ax falls, but they're still the hands he's grown to know and love all too well. If anything, they're more his than ever before and he can't wait to use them to shake President Ravenstill's hands when all of this is over.

(It better be almost over.)

When he turns to Edric though, to get himself one step closer, the boy's nowhere to be found.

•••

Edric doesn't think he's ever ran this fast in his entire life. He's got to be going as fast as he did on Six's city streets with his bike, if not faster. He's been scared of the people his mother scammed before, but even then he never had to run for his life the way he is now.

The past five minutes were a complete blur. He'd just come to the conclusion that he needed to kill Asherah and was going to do it before he could regret it. The plan was to make it quick then run away —he's not about to go up against a Career, albeit a low-scoring one.

If only Lorian hadn't woken up and assumed the obvious, that Edric was trying to kill him. If only he hadn't hacked through Edric's wrist, leaving his left hand hanging on by a thread and leaving a trail of blood. It doesn't hurt yet, but Edric knows it's just the adrenaline. Eventually it's going to wear off and he's not ready for how badly it'll hurt once it does.

He paid close attention to the medical lessons back in training, but none of them ever taught him what to do if his hand is falling off and he can see chunks of his flesh and bones. He has no choice but to figure out a way though — he didn't help in Asherah's death just to die here. There's no point in doing horrible things if you can't justify them with the outcome.

(There's no point in doing horrible things at all once the lights turn back on and everything goes back to normal. Situations don't excuse being sinister.)

Once he's certain he's far enough away from the tower, Edric kneels to the ground and digs through the small bag he took. He's met with gauze and sports bandages, but none will be of any use unless he... the mere thought makes him want to hurl.

But it's either that or he dies and Edric can't die. If he does, nothing he's done has any meaning and he was just straight up a bad person. He can't let himself go down like that.

Even if his knife has straight edges, it'll have to work. He lays out his mangled hand on the ground, closes his eyes, and brings it to the remaining bits of skin. As he slices through his nerves, Edric hears a piercing scream from the back of his mind, an alarm telling him that he shouldn't be doing this. He has no other choice than to power through it, shivering when he gets to the more tender parts of his lift until he feels a searing burst of pain and the sound of crunching leaves as something falls on it.

He turns his back away, he can't even look at it. Just his wrist alone is a horribly gory and gruesome sight when he opens his eyes. Edric covers it with the gauze which naturally doesn't do anything to stop the bleeding, then attempts to wrap it with the sports bandages.

Even as he applies pressure, he has no idea if he's doing it right. Adrenaline has started wearing off and it's hurting more and more with every heartbeat making Edric wordlessly scream into the ground. Once he's completely wrapped it up, the bleeding stops, but the pain only gets more and more intense and his breathing goes sharp and heavy.

As he lays on the ground in agony, he can't help but wonder if this is how Asherah felt when she was dying and Elio before her. It's easily the most pain he's been in in his entire life, but it hasn't killed him, so does that mean death hurts even more? Edric's done his best to not think about what dying feels like, but here he has no choice.

A whistle from the sky takes his mind off the pain though as a small package descends on top of him. Using his right arm, Edric opens the wrapping to see a small drawstring pouch. Inside is a tiny syringe and he knows exactly what it is.

Morphling ruined Edric's life before it could truly begin. It captured his parents' attention as they used it to abuse people on the streets and they used him as a punching bag for all of their lies. It's one of the most consistent horrors of Edric's life, as sad as that sounds, but now it's resting in front of him as if it's supposed to save him.

His wrist still hurts though. He doesn't think it'll ever stop hurting, because when he holds the syringe in his hands, he throws it as far away as humanly possible. Even if this is what the Capitol wants from him, this is the one thing he isn't going to give it to them.

They'll just have to forgive him once he makes it out of here.

Day VII
Waterwheel • 3:14

The good news is Moxie doesn't think she's going to be dying anytime in the immediate future.

The bad news is well… there's a lot of that. Even if she feel lightheaded and free from the morphling, she knows that there's still a gaping wound in her stomach. It might not be bleeding, but it's still an open wound which means it can still get infected and kill her.

There's also the issue of her constantly fidgeting, something Moxie's never done before. It almost feels like she's losing a sense of who she is with every violent shake of her body and every grumble in her stomach that she hopes won't somehow hurt her injuries.

Most of Ripley's stabs hardly broke through Moxie's skin — fucks sake they were a freak for that — so she just had to wipe herself off in the basin of water at the end of a spinning wheel, then wrap the wounds with some bandages, just to stop them from touching the air and potentially getting infected. She's kind of stiff, but otherwise it isn't too bothersome.

The stomach wound on the other hand is incredibly bothersome. As she wipes off the dried blood in the waterwheel, the complexities of her injury are more revealed. Her skin's been nearly completely removed from her flesh except for two flaps, leaving lumpy yellow tissue and a thick clear fluid that doesn't go away when Moxie splashes more water on it.

She's seen so many horrible injuries in Six, but none as gnarly and visceral as this. To think it came partially from Ripley of all people almost makes her laugh.

Moxie didn't feel explicitly betrayed by them — if she were them she'd turn on herself too. She's just astonished that the Five Tribute was able to create such a nasty wound. Yeah, there was always something suspect about Ripley, but no way in hell would Moxie have seen that coming.

(It goes to show that she can't be underestimating people. If there's one thing she should've learned by now it's that everybody is hiding something and it's only a matter of time before reality strikes.)

With a groan, she reaches for the needle and the thread inside her medical pouch. Ripley did this for her the last time, but Moxie luckily paid enough attention that she can do it herself, even if it's not as good. It'll honestly just have to do. She threads the needle, then pinches the two flaps of skin and pushes the needle through.

It's strange because Moxie was expecting it'd hurt more. She can definitely feel the needle as it loops through her flesh, but it's not at all bothersome. She figures it's the morphling, which isn't exactly a pleasant revelation. As good as she feels now, it's going to wear off eventually. When it does, Moxie's not sure what she'll do.

She could shout to the sky, begging sponsors for more, but that would just make her feel more pathetic than she already does for letting herself get injured by Ripley. Besides, one dose of morphling is fine — she's lightheaded but she's fine. Two or more and Moxie might as well call herself an addict.

She'll just have to tough it out, the way she always does.

It was the end of one of those nights where Moxie didn't need to have a care in the world. Her mother and step-father were fast asleep when she climbed through her window a few days ago and let the streets take her. That night, like most of Moxie's outings, she felt free.

She'd laughed as one of her friends — she already forgot their name — lit a trashcan on fire and the two of them had to run away before the fire spread. She smiled as she danced with somebody underneath neon lights, the smell of cannabis and tobacco polluting the air.

Even if she's only fifteen, Moxie firmly believes she's the queen of the world on nights like this.

But she wasn't expecting to see her sorry excuses for parents standing in the doorway with stern expressions on their faces.

"What are you old geezers doing?" Moxie narrowed her brows and flared her nose at them. "Don't you know it's your bedtime."

"I should be asking the same thing to you." Her step-father, Cache responded. "I feel like I haven't seen you in days. Do you know how worried your mother and I have been."

Kiira, her mother, just nodded.

"You don't need to worry about me. I can take care of myself."

"That's ridiculous, you're fifteen," Cache snapped at her.

"People grow up fast in Six."

"Not that fast — and since when did I say you could have such an attitude with me, you little bitch."

"It's not an attitude," Moxie growled. "It's called being correct."

Even when Moxie wouldn't do jack shit, Cache would find a problem with her. He always believed he was in the right, and if Moxie so much as reacted to his discipline, he'd threaten her saying he's just "doing what's best" for her or some complete nonsense like that.

So of course she rebelled. What else could she do?

Up until now, Cache hadn't done anything physical to her. How was Moxie supposed to anticipate him toppling to the ground, her own blood pouring from the side of her head and staining the concrete.

She also wasn't expecting her mother to not say a word and instead just pat Cache on the back and head inside.

Fuck them, she thought. I don't need them.

Moxie just needed to tough it out, the way she always does.

If she can make it out of her broken home, she can make her way out of this hellhole. She survived being stabbed once and she'll do it again.

She has her shiny new weapon, clearly people want her to win. Even if Moxie has no clue what gifts anybody else has received, she reckons she's gotten one of the fanciest. She can't even imagine how much it cost — if she had that kind of money in Six, she'd buy herself a nice leopard coat and a new seat for her motorcycle, not a spiky ball on the end of a bat.

Good thing Moxie will have all the time and money in the world for all of the nice things she knows she deserves once she's won. Even if everyone in Six is damn pissed to see her return, she'll do it with a smile on her face before ditching town for the luxury she deserves in the Capitol. She'll never have to think about how she underestimated Ripley again — the whole world can be hers.

And it will be hers. There's only six more people left.

One cannon fired between Ripley's and now, but she knows everybody left before that. The girl from One, the boy from Two, the other Tribute from Five… her thoughts trail off. She takes a deep breath, then resumes. The Tribute from Eight and the girl from Eleven.

That leaves two more people, ones Moxie hasn't thought about in days — Edric and Asherah. Moxie never really liked Elio so she didn't give a fuck when he died, but honestly she's surprised that her other two formal allies are still kicking it.

Best case scenario, one of them is dead. It's not that Moxie would have any qualms in killing either of them, she just is dreadfully curious what they've gotten up to now that she has the time to think. They both seemed so submissive before they left, but what if that's changed?

Casting them aside would be too dangerous. A part of her must wonder if the rumors about Edric Grendel are true. Obviously his mother was one of the most nefarious people in Six, and people said that her son was her vicious guard dog. After meeting him though, Moxie realized he doesn't have an aggressive bone in his body. Or at least, that's what she thought.

She won't know if he's dead or alive for hours upon hours, but him being alive over Asherah would make so much more sense.

It doesn't matter though. Whoever Moxie sees next will be the first victim of her fancy new weapon, no ifs, ands, and buts. At the end of the day, nobody else matters here.

(Another parcel falls from the sky. She already knows what's inside.)

Cabin H • 5:52

Being back here is admittedly weird. Even if it's only been a few days since she and Melchior had to leave after the mutt attacked, it's weird, yeah.

It's not even a cabin anymore, just its skeleton. A part of Thana wonders if she'll look so disorderly and wretched once the flames swallow her whole. But that's a grim thought, especially now that she has a possibility of doing the impossible. She doesn't have to leave her Melchior after all — they can both leave together, simple as that.

She was wary when she first heard Melchior's plan, but she trusts it'll all work out. Even though Thana's life has been a series of misfortunes and disappointments, everything has been more or less fine since getting here and meeting Melchior. She has no reason to believe differently here, even if she has no idea what's on the other side of the arena and what her and Melchior will do once they're free.

If we're free. Thana corrects herself. No matter what, Melchior's getting out of here fine. After all, they're the immortal one. She on the other hand has to carefully follow their instructions.

(Scary considering Thana's lived seventeen years as a fuck-up. What makes her think she'll do the right thing now?)

"I know it's kind of gross but we're going to have to dig with our hands here." Melchior says, adjacent to the platform where they launched into the arena from. "I was hoping the cabin would have rubble that conveniently resembles a shovel, but that's life."

"I don't mind," comes Thana's reply. Seriously, so much of her life in Eleven was surrounded by dirt, she thought she'd eventually rot in it.

"If there are actually mines in there, try not to touch them directly — I can take care of that."

"Sounds good, Melly."

"Melly?"

"I figured it was time I gave you a nickname." Thana nervously chuckles. "If we're going to have the rest of our lives together outside of this arena, I might as well give you one for a change."

(That is, provided Thana doesn't ruin everything. Again.)

"I like it!" they beam, their face brighter than it's been in days. "Melly and T-Achizzle, that's us!"

Thana nods then returns to the more important task at hand.

The fire thankfully loosened the soil a bit so it's easier than anticipated for her to start digging. Soon enough, her hands are filthy with dirt and she can spot shards of metal poking out. That should be what she's looking for.

"I found something," she says.

"Really?" Melchior leans over from where they were digging. Unfortunately they haven't made much progress, likely because they're still sore from the collapse earlier.

They saunter over and peer into the hole Thana dug and smile. "That's exactly what I was hoping to see."

Melchior told Thana earlier that somebody in the Capitol — they can't remember — said that there are mines underneath the launching pads and that they're activated if a Tribute steps off too early during the countdown. It turns out, they were right.

Thana watches as they fiddle with the side of the metal shard until a robotic voice says, "deactivated." Melchior then removes the device from the base and holds it up with pride.

"It's smaller than what I was expecting," Thana remarks.

"That's what she said!"

"What does that mean?"

"Don't worry about it." Melchior laughs. "Why don't you do some digging where I was so I can deactivate the other mine?"

Thana nods. And then she does exactly that.

Arena's Edge, South • 8:31

It's getting harder and harder for Melchior to remain calm about this.

They've told themself a million times, everything will be fine and we'll get out of here together.

Finally reaching the end of the arena brings about a new level of dread, however. Honestly, they weren't sure what to expect but it wasn't a mirror reflecting everything right back at them. It's kind of funny being able to watch himself and Thana's reflections as they start positioning the two mines, but it's equally distressing.

"I don't think I've seen my own face in a week!"

"Well, you're still bald and you still have that scar of yours."

"Yeah, I know that now," Melchior laughs. "Now you can see that you look the same as well."

It's vaguely comforting to know that even after the hell of the past seven days, they and Thana are the same as they were before, at least physically. If Melchior has it their way, they'll look like this forever.

(Melchior better have it their way.

If they don't… oh they don't even want to think about it. No, they can't think about it because the minute they do, they'll start worrying and then Thana will also be worried — she probably is already worried — and then he'll just be even more worried. Thana will probably then go back on the idea of escaping which is bad because that'd mean that she's accepting her fate since she truly believes she's going to die in here if it means them surviving, or at least that's what she says.

He can't leave her to make that choice but they can't make her watch him die either. This is the solution. This is the only way they get their happy ending.)

(Since when is Panem the place for happy endings?)

"I wonder what's on the other side," Thana says, not for the first time.

Melchior's definitely wondered the same, but it's not his top priority. For now, they need to focus on stringing the mines together and attaching them to the larger bomb from the tower. Then they'll have to make a fuse but then they can wonder about what's on the other side.

"Keep wondering," they tell her. "Gives me more time to think as I set this up for us."

The big bomb — wow it's fun getting to call something a "big bomb" — is sort of fried, but Melchior can tell it hasn't yet been detonated. Even then, they place it at the center of their contraption, the mines threaded a few feet away. From there, Melchior unravels a long piece of yarn, at least ten feet, and connects it to the big bomb.

Their hands are shaking and their scalp is starting to sweat — must be the nerves. They can't be nervous though, they refuse to be nervous.

This is going to work. They are going to be free.

As they step back and admire their handiwork, Thana pokes them in the shoulder and says, "Are you done then?"

"I think so."

"So then how do we do this?"

"Take out your lighter." Melchior holds up the string.

As she readies herself, they get nervous all over again. They can feel their heart beating out of their chest and their lungs breathing so deeply they feel themself inflating and deflating. It's almost as if their body is telling them that this is a terrible idea, but Melchior sees no reason to listen to the body that called convinced them they're immortal.

He turns to see Thana and she's shaking just as much. She asks, "Is it bad that I'm a bit scared?"

"Not at all," Melchior replies. "I was scared too, but then I saw it like this: now, as scary as it seems, there doesn't have to be an ending. Really, it's more like the beginning."

She raises a brow. "The beginning of what?"

"Us," they say. "Once the fuse is lit, Thana, the world doesn't belong to the Peacekeepers or the Capitol or the assholes in our Districts or anybody else. When the fire hits the first bomb, the world belongs to us."

Now that they say it like that, Melchior really likes the sound of it.

"I'm ready," Thana says, notably less calm.

"Then let's blow this popsicle stand!"

She grabs the lighter, the same one that saved Melchior days ago, and produces a flame. Carefully, she lights the end of the string and smiles.

As soon as the fire starts to spread, Melchior grabs her hand and pulls her backward. They run together, far enough away that they're able to see something beautiful.

The bombs start firing off in a scattered display of reds, oranges, and yellows. Black smoke begins to rise, but it doesn't smell too terrible.

Instead, it smells like freedom and beauty and everything Melchior's fought for his entire life. No longer is he a puny orphan or the laughing stock of every joke, here, Melchior Kolmogorov is a god. The destruction only intensifies, but it doesn't dare touch them and the fire they've turned into a home.

He turns to Thana's side and she looks just as blissful.

Good — this means all of this was worth it. Maybe immortality was never a curse after all.

But then just as quickly as the bombs exploded, everything turns black and Melchior can't tell if it's the smoke or something else.

Either way, they've never felt so fucking happy.

8th: Asherah Uzeram, District Seven. Killed by Lorian Naciri and Edric Grendel.

Welcome to the Black Parade - My Chemical Romance

a/n: hey guys whats up its ya boy clemensia (brooke)! not your usual gamemaker in office but today ive gót what lys (linds) would call a… [squints at smudged writing on hand] cremated booger…? [hushed whispering] …OH A CERTIFIED BANGER! yes… i must admit im not completely sure what this episode entails but considering the tissues . png im absolutely sure it was a doozy. One Fear. leave a like comment or subscribe if you fucked with it! if you didn't fuck with it leave one anyway! 私はワイフを愛しています

Okay now it's me, Linds. I'll keep this brief and talk about Asherah. I really liked her and really resonated with her resolve to only be a good person even in such a bad place. I wanted somebody who wouldn't change from the arena's circumstances but unlike Elio, it made sense that she'd catch Moxie's shit from the beginning and then unfortunately her and Edric were ultimately in very different places mentally when it came to survival. Throwing Lorian in the mix didn't do her any additional favors. But it was fun having her around as the last remaining moral compass before shit completely hits the fan and well now is that time.

Next chapter is an interlude because I'm a massive bitch and also it's necessary for the plot.

Q: What is your favorite thing about me?

Linds. Laugh. Love.