It was meant to be a nice piece of fun, at least that was what the teacher said. And, given the games only lasted a few hours or so, it was a good chance to spice up the end of term a little.
Which was why, with a chuckle, Mr. Quill had produced a large glass bowl, and shown it around to the class. A reaping bowl, not a real one but a relatively cheap simulation, filled with 24 slips of real reaping paper. It wasn't a competition, it was all luck. Each class member would get a tribute, and the one who had the winning slip would get a special reward.
Urban Canville placed two hands on his chair, slamming it against the table behind him to a shocked yelp from Clemensia, even as he stomped one foot on the ground.
"Sir, that wasn't fair! How was I supposed to win when the idiot Six boy does something stupid like that."
The 'idiot boy', presently a red smear on the arena floor, hadn't thought his plan was idiotic. Quite the contrary, when he hadn't wanted to participate, well. The landmines were quick, they weren't too problematic to get to and he was sure his Ma wouldn't suffer.
Volumnia Gaul never told anyone what she'd done, not out of shame but simply not caring. After all, a few more avoxes helping the construction was never a bad thing, and she'd made sure everyone knew exactly what happened to suicides. No value in the example, after all, if the child doesn't play by the rules.
As Apollo, no, Pollo Ring watched the girl from Nine slipped to the ground, there was no trace of any anger, no complaint or issue. Instead, he stood up, bouncing over to his sister with a smile. After all, at least Didi was in the running, and they shared a secret smirk. Both thinking the same thing, maybe.
"Well, bad luck. Couldn't be helped. And besides, Didi, at least you still have your bet down!"
She nodded, and he smiled, shifting his chair over to sit beside her as the body on the arena sand twitched. They'd have another shot next year.
Domitia, at least, hadn't got a ten. After all, if that had happened, the chances however slim it would have been someone she'd spoken to before the Dark Days. Well, that would have put a damper on the situation. Still as she shook her head and turned away, eyes wet with tears, it didn't divert attention away from the red river coursing out of her tribute's chest, as the girl slumped to the ground.
It wasn't slow, at least. That was what Maeve's last thoughts were, even as she slumped to the ground, eyes glassy and still shaking slightly from lack of Morphling.
She was already dead anyways, really.
Even in his head, Androcles was working out what he'd say as he watched the girl from Eight go down with a trident through the chest. It was odd they didn't have reporters, then again Capitol News didn't really have one. Sure, they had that bumbling oaf Flickerman, but they'd never hire someone like him. Amateur magic was best for those who were able to predict the weather, after all.
No, in his mind it would be him on the television, reassuring everyone that their children wouldn't have to go through this. Everyone who mattered, anyways. He'd be standing in the... stands, microphone in hand. Maybe get to duck a thrown spear, if he was lucky. Then they'd get better ratings.
Snow lands on top.
After all, he'd got the fisher boy, and with the Fours being a firm favourite to win it was a solid gain. As he watched the tines of a trident, sharp and golden, stab into Androcles' girl, he let a smirk crease his lips. Seemed there was some killer instinct there, after all.
Killer instinct cut short when a machete slashed down, carving a brutal path into shoulder and chest before slowing and stopping, even as blood slipped out of the wound and he slumped to the floor. A second slash, breaking skull and seeing the light go out of his eyes. A splash of vomit, audibly off to one side, even as Pliny elbowed him.
"Tough luck, Snow. Still, at least some of us still have a seat in the running."
A yell of frustration, even as Vipsania watched the Nine boy run off, getting away from her boy with a run that surprised everyone. Surprising, and even as she watched she was shaking her head.
"Damn it. You got lucky this time. Next time, for sure. Ok Caracu, watch out, and... oh."
He fell, onto the sand so like the sands back where he was from. Spear in his back, even as the willowy Seven girl tugged it out, smirk on her lips. One step closer to going home.
Iphigenia Moss watched in shock as the powerfully built man from Two, shaking his head, stepped towards her tribute. The girl was shivering on her platform, dark skinned and slight and unlikely to have been able to have put up a fight even at the best of times.
Still, it didn't make it any easier as she ran out of the room, unable to watch as the boy wrapped his arms around her girl, placed a hand on her head and twisted, a sharp motion as the girl from Ten slumped the floor and the door slammed.
Just like a chicken.
Just like the chicken that fell into the toilet, even as Iphigenia retched the dinner of the previous night out.
Hilarius, meanwhile, was moaning to anyone who'd listen about the present situation.
"I mean, really. All twenty-four of them, and I got the runt from Twelve. How's that fair, he looks half-dead already anyways.
A splash of blood onto the camera, and he amended his statement with a frown. He couldn't see much, that hadn't been much of a consideration, but they'd probably offer a better view next year, and he didn't want any further reminder of his loss.
"Make that fully dead. Well, I wasn't expecting any miracles, especially not from that. Creed, my place afterwards?"
The fact both the Threes had survived this long had been a miracle, and Livia was silently cheering as her tribute made it to the edge of the arena. Half an hour in, and he was gaining ground under chase by the Two boy, even as she slowly slapped her palms on the table, words soft.
"Come on boy, don't fuck up."
But, even as he tripped on an untied shoelace, she knew that was too much to ask. The Threes weren't much fighters, and he scarce had time to stand before the big man was on him, a short twist given before leaving him in the sand. What else, after all, could he do with the body?
She stayed composed, shooting a smirk at Coriolanus. Her boy, at least, had lasted longer than his girl.
Io hadn't expected her girl to pull off a repeat of Ruby. Rather than golden, she was a drab brunette, and though she'd picked up a short sword and brandished it, there was no hope.
Which was why when the girl from Seven bore down on her girl with spear in hand, Io merely observed. Watched the first desperate 'block', before the spear swung down and carved a thin line which spurted a trickle of blood. Came down again and drove deep into the shoulder, severing the Brachial artery before going deeper, pinning her girl to the sand even as hot tears fell onto the grey dress.
Without words, Io swivelled in her seat, offering Festus a nod and her hand.
"Well done. You might have a chance at whatever Quill is offering if your girl keeps this up.
Dennis watched in silence as his boy ran. From Eight, visibly malnourished and with a constantly droopy face, even as he watched.
The kill wasn't unexpected, the man from Two had been the clearly dominant character in this game so far, and it didn't need Io to tell him that when the big man had latched onto the scent, he was going for the kill.
At least it was over quickly. The twist of the neck, and his boy was down. Nothing too drawn out, nothing too cruel, just a kill.
Still, that little voice whispered in his head that maybe this was wrong. He swallowed a few more pills, and the voice left him alone.
Florus sighed, even as his Two Girl fell and he just scraped his way out of the top half. She was pretty, and maybe halfway competent with the knives in her hand. None of it mattered when a spear ploughed into her chest, breaking ribs and pinning her to the ground, even as the Seven girl wiped wet eyes on her bloody sleeve, tugging the sleeve out of his girl's chest before stabbing down again.
"By all above, Festus, she's something else. What's that, three?"
Festus merely nodded, lips set in a grim frown as he watched.
"She's good. But, she is from the districts. Probably all she knows how to do."
Felix, meanwhile, was watching the momentary shots of his girl, from Five. As she made her way around the arena, armed with a small knife and glancing like a trapped animal at the other contestants.
That was what she was, after all. A trapped animal. Nothing more, he promised himself.
Still, he turned away as she took a blade to the ribs, the lad from Eleven with wide eyes even as he looked down at the blood on his hands, panicking. Felix shut down his screen, sighing as he turned away.
"Well, sir. At least I was in the top half."
Arachne, unlike Felix, did not take defeat graciously as the girl from Twelve slumped to the ground. Instead, she pushed herself back, giving a shove of possible comradery and possible genuine anger to Sejanus as she did so. Sure, Sejanus wasn't mentoring the Two boy, but he was from Two, so she felt it was deserved.
"Hey Sejanus, think that would have been you in a couple years if Daddy hasn't paid for you to come here?"
She'd smirk, even as Clemensia and Lysistrata turned with shocked faces, Clemensia speaking up.
"Arachne! That's not fair, you know Sejanus supported the Capitol."
Arachne in response simply shook her head, flouncing out.
"He's still District."
Festus shook his head. His girl had been good, there was no denying that, but she'd gotten cocky. This close to going home it was understandable, but. Well, the results were visible on the screen.
Still, he wouldn't complain. She'd got further than he'd expected given the circumstances, and he still had friends in the running. Which was why he turned to Sejanus, giving the boy a friendly bump on the shoulder.
"Ignore Arachne. She's just jealous she got knocked out early. Got to be honest, I'm surprised a Nine made it this far. They were out pretty early both years, I think."
All he received in response was a thin smile, realizing too late that Sejanus was for all his friendliness was still District, still a troublemaker.
Didi hadn't expected this. The boy from Two had been so strong, so powerful. Why would she have expected him to go down like that, and after taking down his biggest competition? It may not have been right, or fair, but it had happened.
So she frowned, and squeezed Pollo's hand, and watched the remaining Four poke with his trident, before stepping inside the grasping arms and driving the central prong up through the chin, up and up until the light went out of two pairs of eyes, and blood spurted.
She didn't panic, she didn't overreact. Because she had her sibling there, and it wasn't really that big a deal. She'd just lost the bet, that was all. Just lost the bet.
Pup had hoped he'd win. Hope smashed when he'd got the girl from Three, and even though she'd managed to play keep away thus far it was only a matter of time.
So when she stumbled into the boy from Four, he hadn't expected anything less than the trident ploughing into her abdomen, even as he turned away and barely suppressed the vomit he'd really not wanted to give everyone else the satisfaction of seeing.
Juno was decidedly not happy with the present situation. She wouldn't moan about it like Hilarius or Urban, but she was above this. She shouldn't have had to wait in the room for two hours while her girl ran around, avoiding the fights more through luck than anything else.
She heaved a sigh of relief, instead, as her girl ran headfirst into a district partner who didn't have any qualms about speeding up the incident.
He didn't waste any time, stabbing into the girl's stomach, even as she slumped to the floor, and Juno left the room with a sigh of relief.
Clemensia, meanwhile, was watching her boy skirt around the central pile of weapons with increasing dismay. He was good-looking, but that wouldn't help him in a fight. In fact, it made him a target, the fisher boy jabbing at him with a trident.
To the One's credit, he put up a fight. He blocked, he got the occasional strike in, but his back was quite literally against the wall and eventually the trident became too much.
It was over quickly. A stab to the throat and he was down. She was happy with that, it meant she wouldn't have to pretend to watch while her boy bled out on the sand.
Palmyra hadn't wanted to participate from the start. On the contrary, she'd voiced her protest. Still, as Nicola neared the final four, she was listening from behind the door. Win and she'd enter the triumphant hero. The fact that she'd been spotted by just about everyone given that people had been going out was a frequent occurrence, had been ignored.
Still, as she heard another sickening squish, the next sound that came through the door was an unexpected one.
"You can come back through, Palmyra. You're out. Seems your boy wasn't as strong as you'd hoped."
Mr. Quill smirked, turning his eyes back to the big screen.
Of the final four, it relatively quickly became final three. The big lad from Eleven, only fifteen but built like an ox, was no match for the trident that was hurled with the same ease as a child tossing a ball.
Gaius didn't put up a fight, try to deny it. Instead, he chuckled. Turned to Persephone, and inclined his head.
"Come on, Sephy. I got the point, your tribute didn't have to give it as well."
A tired groan arose from the few students left, even as the final minutes of the games came to an abrupt end.
Lysistrata watched as her boy, from Seven, came third. Watched without the shock she'd expected, even as on many levels she was appalled by the action. Instead, she raised her hand, eyeing the teacher.
"Sir? Why do we have the games?"
"Well, Miss Vickers, it's so we don't have to repeat the Dark Days. Keeps the districts in their place."
"But Sir, these children weren't rebels."
"And they're the price paid for the peace we have. Understand?"
Her response was almost sullen. "Yes, sir."
The final minutes, now, and Persephone was eyeing her boy with a smirk. He was driving the Nine boy back towards the pile of weapons with thrusts, slow but efficient, even as on the other side of the screen Persephone was smiling.
"Sejanus. Surprised your boy got to the end, he hasn't done much. Now, wonder how quickly he'll lose."
A shaking head, even as the Nine Boy. No, not just the Nine Boy. Rye picks up a sickle. He's at least somewhat experienced after two years in the fields, swinging it in a wide arc and opening himself up some breathing room.
Swinging it again, watching it go through tanned skin, slashing deep into the throat even as Persephone turns.
"Sejanus, congratulations. I..."
There was no response. He'd already run out, green faced.
He did come back 20 minutes later, accepting the class congratulations and the piece of paper slipped into his hand, listing off the two remaining assignment topics this year. A piece of paper he handed to Coriolanus once they were outside, trusting his 'friend' would put it to good use. A good use Sejanus couldn't stomach, given that it'd taken the blood of 23 District children to get him it.
Author's Note: Admittedly, it feels like a bit of a stretch that all 24 of the mentors for the 10th Games were in the same class at age 11, but if only for the flow (and because I'd intended a different third chapter), personal canon is that they were all in the same Politics Class. On another note, if you do have any direction you'd like to see the games viewed from, do set them somewhere and I'll have a gander!
As for being late, that is my bad! Had a busy week, so pushed this back to Saturday, and had a different plan for this but didn't have the writing energy!