The Bloodbath
The sun was hot as the tributes ascended into the Arena. Not unbearably so, but it was still early in the day and there would be plenty of time for things to get hotter. Barely a wisp of cloud dotted the bright sky above, allowing the sun's morning rays to bathe all in its radiance.
As Sostonio looked around, every muscle in his body tensed. He could've sworn that the place almost looked familiar. The Cornucopia sat in a stone-paved circular court, with six dirt roads leading away from it like the spokes of a wagon wheel. Old-style wooden buildings lined each of the roads, stretching on and on into the distance until they disappeared into what seemed to be endless desert, much like the desert wilderness of District Ten. The only abnormalities were the two derelict concrete towers on opposite ends of the circle. They jutted towards the sky, each of them seven stories tall, judging by the rows of knocked-out windows.
Near him, a folded blue tarp laid on bare stone. A little bit past it was a coil of rope, and then a wide-brimmed hat, almost like the type he'd wear around the ranch. None of the three was useless, but the better stuff awaited further in. Halfway to the horn was a small backpack, likely half empty but tempting enough to draw reluctant tributes into its deathtrap, and then a machete merely a foot past it, stuck in a crack beside a mysterious red box. The best stuff heaped in the mouth of the horn, a whip (surely for him), a sword, weapons galore.
Oh, and bottled water. Packs and packs of water, in those clear bottles Capitalinos loved to use. A grid of 40-packs formed the primary structure of the heap, piling up in a pyramid of bottled water, garnished with smaller packs and single bottles and full gallons, all of water.
He looked back at the ancient city around him. Something told him there wouldn't be much water out there. There wouldn't be this mountain of it here otherwise.
"Let the 240th Hunger Games begin!"
The voice echoed around the courtyard. A holographic timer buzzed to life above the horn, beginning the countdown until the Bloodbath began.
Sixty seconds.
Sixty seconds left until the killing, and the screaming, and the murder. Sixty seconds left until he entered hell on earth—if he hadn't already entered it. Sixty seconds until he'd be engulfed in a nightmare he'd only ever caught glimpses of on television.
He didn't like watching the carnage unfold; he never had. Back home, he could always close his eyes, look away, step into the other room if it ever got too much for him (the television had to stay on in case a Capitol official happened to stop by).
No such luck here. He already felt queasy, partially at the inevitable violence, partially at the unjust world that celebrated the killings.
At least it was him here instead of Snot. The alternative would've been even more sickening.
He finally spotted Nevaeh, a third of the way down his right. Gone was her usual smile, her jewelry, her colorful dresses, replaced by the sturdy uniform and a grim face ready to deal with unpleasant business.
She glanced in his direction and pulled the corner of her lips up. He swore he saw her mouth "buena suerte."
It didn't matter if he hated killing or if the idea sent fury roiling through his veins. He'd stomach it for now and deal with it later.
For Nevaeh. For Snot and Mamá. For District Ten.
Forty seconds.
Scythe stood perfectly still on his podium, scanning the ring for any sign of his team. They'd agreed to grab the bare minimum and get out of the place as quickly as possible, where they'd find a place to hide and bide their time until Ada could build enough explosives for them to go on the offensive.
But maybe that wasn't an option now. All that water here at the Cornucopia—he'd be willing to bet there was no water anywhere else in the Arena. The closest bottles laid halfway to the central piles. As the fastest one in his group, the responsibility fell on him to secure a few bottles.
Maybe he'd grab an extra, just for Iggy. It was foolish and hardly efficient, but it wouldn't get in his way too much since he'd already be getting water.
A waving hand grabbed his attention four spots to his left—Ada! Thank heavens she wasn't too far away. There was almost always an alliance that got screwed by their Cornucopia pedestal placements.
He waved back, but then she pointed to something further in. Past the bottle he'd seen earlier, a red box with a yellow warning sign shone in the sunlight; its plastic packaging reflected the sun's hot rays. It looked familiar yet foreign, all at the same time. But if Ada was pointing at it and it clearly was something of importance…
Oh.
Those bastards! The Gamemakers had gone ahead and placed actual bombs in the Arena, far more potent than anything Ada could conjure up on her own. The Gamemakers must've done this after seeing Ada's performance in her Private Session, so they expected results too.
He glanced back at her; she was poised to run. He readied himself to sprint after her. She gestured towards the eastern concrete tower. He nodded in acknowledgement. No longer would they lay low, playing the long game. It was now or never. The plan was risky, even foolish in how dangerous it was, yet if they could pull it off… they might have a realistic chance at victory.
He ran a quick calculation of his nearest competitors. On either side of him were the Five boy and Twelve girl, neither of which would likely pose a problem for him, though the Four boy stood two podiums past the latter. The nearest Career was the Ten boy, on the other side of Five.
Scythe breathed a sigh of relief. Ten seemed to be the least bloodthirsty out of the entire group. Scythe was sure he could take on the Five boy if it came down to it, though his priority was to get to the explosives with Ada before the Careers closed in on him, and he predicted the Twelve girl would worry more about finding her group than fighting him for anything.
But if he ran into District Four… That boy would regret messing with him.
Twenty seconds left.
Thomas braced his feet to run, though he felt his gut turn and his head swirl. Mati was just two podiums down his right, but he hadn't found Iggy yet. Just their luck, but it was better than nothing, he supposed. He didn't know what he'd do if he'd found himself completely alone.
On his right was the Two boy. On his left was the Five girl, but the Two girl stood on the other side of Five, and the sight of both Twos so nearby nearly convinced him to turn right around and run, completely avoiding the Cornucopia.
But the water got him to stay. He did not want to die of thirst.
The Nine and Seven girls were nearby, as was the Twelve boy. Perhaps he could slip in unnoticed if the Star Alliance targeted them instead. He just needed one bottle of water—just one! Without it, he and Mati and Iggy would all inevitably die of thirst, since they didn't have the sponsors to support them otherwise.
Ten seconds left.
He locked his eyes on a backpack, a third of the way to the mountain of water at the center of the ring. A tiny half-bottle nestled in its side pocket; it could be enough to sustain them for a day or two while they figured out something else. He hoped no one would fight him for it. He could nab it and escape before either of the Twos reached the weapons and turned back for him.
Five.
He pulled the bandana away from his neck, where it felt like it might choke him.
Four.
He wiped his wet hands on his cargo pants.
Three.
He glanced at Mati.
Two.
Mati's eyes were laser-focused on the path he'd take.
One.
It reminded him to do the same.
A gong rang.
Thomas waited a split second before bursting forth from his podium, right on the heels of the Two boy. Hopefully, out of sight of the trained kid would mean out of mind as well. His sturdy boots pounded against the stone pavement. He couldn't remember the last time he ran like this. District Six didn't exactly train its kids to be athletic.
He skidded to a stop in front of the backpack. A gleam flashed from the small bottle. His heart leapt—there was water inside! He grabbed a strap and turned to leave, but the bag yanked him back.
The Nine girl had grabbed the other strap, and she didn't intend to let go.
Mati scrambled wildly for the closest items to him—a bag of dried fruit and a wide-brimmed hat. He'd intended to grab them and go, but he couldn't leave without Thomas and Iggy! Where were they? Thomas had been two podiums to his left; he couldn't have gone far.
"Let go, you—" Clarke yelled nearby. She had Thomas on the ground, trying to wrench a backpack from his hands.
Without hesitation, Mati sprinted over. He kept a wary eye on the Star Alliance; they were getting close to the weapons. The last window of opportunity was closing. He nearly collided with them as he lunged for the bag. His hands closed around it; he heard Clarke curse. With the momentum from his leap, the backpack tore out of her hands as she tumbled off Thomas onto the pavement.
His eyes met hers for a brief moment. Traces of a snarl appeared on her face, but then she looked away. He couldn't be mad at her either, not after last night. She sprang to her feet, and she was gone.
Mati grabbed Thomas' arm and pulled him up. "You good?"
The boy nodded, out of breath. "Where's… Iggy?"
"We'll find her."
Thomas' face went pale. Heavy footsteps rapidly approached from behind; Mati whirled around to see.
He locked eyes with the girl from Two, her district partner right behind her. She held a sleek battle axe in each hand; a fierce grin spread across her lips.
She swung.
Don't go in, no matter what they tempt you with.
Despite the yelling and pounding all around her, Iggy focused her mind to only hear Ramb's last instructions to her. She stumbled off her podium and grabbed the nearby hat. Though she'd never worked in the fields, she'd seen enough to know that cover from the sun would be a major priority here.
She glanced up and surveyed the field, as the other tributes continued their mad dash for the water near the horn. Neither Mati nor Thomas was in sight. She was already feeling thirsty, but terror seized her. She didn't dare go an inch closer. What about Mati and Thomas? As much as she wanted to find them, Ramb's instructions pounded in her ear and she didn't dare disobey. She hoped she'd find them eventually.
Someone suddenly shoved her from the side; she screamed as her elbow hit the ground. She shut her eyes and thrashed her arms wildly, trying to fight off her assailant.
"Iggy! It's me!"
She opened her eyes to find Ellis standing above her. "Ellis! W-What—"
"Good luck," he said, giving her a pained smile. He dropped a little bag in her lap. "Maybe I'll see you around."
Too stunned to react, she stared down at the bag. When it finally registered what had just happened, Ellis was already gone, zig-zagging across the courtyard.
She wanted to run after him and tell him thank you. Wasn't that the polite thing to do? But he probably wouldn't be happy with her if she did that and neither would Ramb. As she stumbled to her feet, she hoped she'd get another chance to thank him later.
A scream shattered her thoughts; it instantly drew her back to her present reality. A scream, a deathly scream, the first one of its kind, marking the beginning of the killing.
Even worse, it was a familiar scream.
She whirled around. Back in the middle of the courtyard, the girl from Two stood with an axe up in the air, her other axe buried into Mati's chest. She watched with horrified wide eyes as he slumped forward. The Two girl yanked the axe out, dripping with Mati's blood, and sprinted after her district partner towards Thomas's fleeing figure.
The first kill.
Iggy screamed too.
She barreled away from the courtyard. Her hand clutched the bag so tight that its exposed metal zipper dug into her palms, but the pain barely registered. All she could hear was Mati's scream; all she could see was him falling to the ground, tossed aside like a mannequin by that girl from Two. She plugged her ears; she screamed until it drowned out his.
This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be real.
Barely breaking a sweat, Nevaeh arrived at the mouth of the Cornucopia, ducking past the tower of water to the pile of weapons behind it. She dumped the random supplies in her arms she'd gathered en route onto the ground, kicking them further into the horn to hopefully keep them away from the others.
"Catch!"
"Sos!" The familiar voice was a relief amidst the chaos. She whipped her head around just in time to catch a backpack in her arms.
Sos jerked his head towards the golden horn. She tossed the bag in. He threw her another one before disappearing around the edge of the Cornucopia.
She smiled sadly as she rummaged through the weapons, an eye on the blades beneath her, an eye on her environment in case an outlier dared to come too close. That pobrecito. Sos must've not had the heart to kill, so now she'd have to pick up the slack for him.
As Adair came up beside her, she slid out two sets of throwing knives and gave a whoop of victory. He tilted his head at the two girls wrestling over a large backpack—Six and Nine, if Nevaeh remembered correctly. He raised an eyebrow, just like he'd done that morning in training when he'd challenged her at the throwing knives.
She rolled her eyes and tossed him a set, dismissing him with a wave. Now wasn't the time for frivolous games and knife-throwing competitions. He gave her an exaggerated pout and left her alone.
In the corner of her eye, Liat scrambled up to the tower, trying to pry the bottles from their plastic cages. Nevaeh turned to ignore her, just as she'd promised, but the girl tugged on her heart now, especially after the recent shifts between her and Ili.
Liat's eyes widened as Nevaeh approached. "Oh my—"
"Don't worry." Nevaeh offered a reassuring smile as she dropped down beside her. "I'll help."
She ripped the plastic casing open, freeing bottles to spill out. Before Liat could react, she shoved a few more bottles into the girl's arms. Stupid? Possibly so, especially if the Ones or Twos caught her. But if the Twos were genuinely up to no good, Nevaeh figured she might end up with the Seven girl soon anyway, and it could only help to build that bridge now.
When Liat could hold no more, Nevaeh sent her away with a pat on the back. She glanced back at Adair, right as he scored a shot on the Six girl, whose arm dripped with gleaming red under the harsh sun. He wouldn't need her help there.
Movement in her peripheral vision—Ili and Eros chasing the Six boy. She flicked a knife at him, distracting him long enough for Eros to send his spear through his chest. The Two girl looked up. Nevaeh winked at her, trying not to look at the Six boy's gruesome end. They made a good team, even if the team was temporary.
She didn't particularly love the violence, but a job was a job and she'd do it well. Especially if she could save Sos from having to do it himself.
Azolla hoisted the heavy backpack tighter over her shoulder. She'd gone in too far, much further than she should ever have gone, but she still didn't have water—and she wasn't about to leave without it! But the only bottles remaining were even further in. Her eyes darted in every direction in her search. Or was it wishful thinking at this point?
The Eight girl rushed by, a water bottle in one hand, a knife in the other. That girl had been smart, targeting the water before all else. With all the trained kids circling the pile, she didn't dare get closer without some help.
She wished that she wasn't alone, that she had someone to watch her back, but that was neither here nor there. Navarro was the past. She wouldn't let herself go back.
"Azolla!"
She whipped around to see Liat running up with her arms full of bottled water. "Liat!"
"Here!" Liat tossed a bottle at her; Azolla grabbed it in shock—and right as her mind began to function again, she caught a second one from the Seven girl.
"Woah—thank you!"
"Writers help writers, right? Now get out!"
Azolla never needed to hear instructions twice, and this wasn't an exception. She thanked the stars and turned to flee. As she searched for the safest way out, she caught a glimpse of Navarro on the ground, brawling with the Eleven Male—and the latter seemed to have the upper hand. Horror flushed her face as Eleven's knife flashed in the sunlight.
Her heart skipped a beat. Perhaps Navarro had it coming with the way he'd treated the Eleven guy, but she'd never thought it'd end like this. Forget that she'd been determined to put him out of mind. She wasn't about to stand by and watch him die!
She sprinted towards them, shuffling her water bottles to one arm to free up her other one. She slid the backpack off her shoulders and swung it into Eleven's head. It instantly knocked him off. The knife clattered to the ground a few feet away. Navarro stared up at her in shock.
Then he dove for the knife. She felt indignation rise up inside—no killing, no death, not if she had anything to do about it! Before his hand could close around the handle, she kicked him hard.
His hand flew away with a yelp; he cursed under his breath. Though she took a few steps back, fully intending to finally leave this entire mess behind, she couldn't tear her eyes off of him, awaiting his response. Much to her surprise, he hung his head, unable to meet her eyes.
No time. She turned and ran for the streets. And when she looked back and found him running after her, she slowed her pace and let him catch up, no questions asked.
Though Laforza could feel the blood flowing down her arm, she barely felt a thing as she grappled with the Nine girl. She gripped Seven's knife in her other hand, the one he'd lodged in her arm. She'd ripped it out of her wound, immediately causing it to spurt even worse, but she didn't care anymore.
She didn't care that she was supposedly in pain, that she hadn't found her ally yet, that her arm might end up useless even if she won this fight. All she could see was her foe, tinged with red. All she felt was blazing anger towards everyone and everything. All she knew to do was kill.
She forced Nine onto her back, pressing down with her bleeding arm as she tried to stab down with the other. Nine was weak. She didn't deserve to live. "Stay down, will you?"
With a feral screech, Nine jerked her knee up into Laforza's gut, flipping her off. Laforza's shoulder crashed into the stone pavement; she rolled through with it and rose to her feet, just as Nine barreled into her.
Laforza's training in the Capitol came in handy. She dropped to the ground and flipped Nine over her, smiling wickedly when Nine landed hard on her back. Before the girl could regain the breath knocked from her lungs, Laforza climbed atop her, knife ready in hand.
Distant shouts rang in her ears. Laforza spit a few stray strands of hair out of her mouth and sucked in a deep breath, pressing the knife down towards the girl's chest. A laugh burst up from inside as Nine struggled below her. The girl's eyes were wide, fixated on the knife above her chest. Nine was strong, but not strong enough, just as Laforza had said when they'd met in the cafeteria.
"What did I say?" Laforza said, catching her breath. "You're not as tough as you think."
Hands suddenly gripped her from behind. They yanked her off of Nine; the knife was ripped from her hands. Before she hit the ground, she caught a glance of the Seven girl's blonde curls and then Nine leaping to her feet. Panic shot through her nerves, frying her mind with sudden realization.
She'd messed up. Perhaps she was the weak one.
Pain exploded in her chest. She vaguely felt the howl in her throat. Nine appeared in her rapidly dimming vision; the girl pulled the knife out and brought it down again. Everything went black after that.
Electra scurried around the field, scrambling around the quiet edges with her senses on high alert to constantly pinpoint the location of the Twos, the One girl, the Seven boy. The other three members of the Star Alliance were busy guarding the water tower and other supplies; they wouldn't turn aside to hunt her down.
She cradled a red box in her bosom as she ran; she wrapped her arms around it to keep the red from catching anyone's attention. In the distance, two figures bolted towards her from the eastern tower, rapidly closing the gap. Ada and Scythe. They'd made it this far unscathed. She was grateful for that.
She still didn't fully get why they had to do all this now—they should've been gone by now, according to their original plan—but Ada had said something about remote detonation and change of plans and Electra hadn't questioned it.
"H-How is it?" she asked, handing over the next bomb.
"Eastern tower bombs are planted," Ada said, breathless. She gave it to Scythe, who sped off immediately without needing a break. "The rest go to the western one. Where's Ace?"
"I don't kn-know…" Electra searched the field. Much to her chagrin, she spotted his slim figure across the courtyard, the Two girl running after him. She gasped.
Ada's voice suddenly jumped in intensity. "Where is he!"
Electra could see how much the Three cared about each other. If she said anything more, she worried that Ada might rush in after Ace—and what would the girl be able to do? Electra herself wasn't particularly strong, but even she could physically beat Ada in a fight. And if Ada went down… where would their entire team be?
There was only one thing for her to do. It might be risky. It might be dangerous. But for the people she cared about, it'd be worth it.
"I'll take care of it," Electra said. The determination in her own voice surprised her. "You go help Scythe."
"Where?" Ada said, desperation creeping into her normally self-controlled voice.
"Just go!"
Ada didn't argue again. She gave Electra one final panicked look and sprinted after Scythe, who was halfway to the base of the western tower already.
When Electra turned back to Ace's fleeing figure, she almost regretted her decision immediately. Running into a fight—she didn't know what to do. But for the sake of her friends, she grit her teeth and forced her feet to run. No matter how crippling the fear was, she needed to help them more.
Perhaps this was the power of vulnerability.
Tears of relief welled up in Liat's eyes as she steadied Clarke. Never mind the Six girl's dead body below them; they could figure that out later. All that mattered right now was that Clarke was well. Bruised, but alive. She had to resist the urge to hug her and squeeze her and tell her how relieved she was. That could come later. For now, getting out alive would be enough. She wasn't about to waste Nevaeh's generosity.
"Where's Zirconia and Zeph?" she asked, gripping her axe tightly in her sweaty palms.
"Haven't seen them," Clarke said, a little snippy. "Didn't get a chance before the Six bi—"
"Got it." She whirled around, eyes searching her environment, now confident with Clarke watching her back! They had a bag. They had weapons. They had water. Now they just had to find the Twelves and get out of this mess and everything would be perfect.
She spotted Ven charging around the outskirts of the circle, a sword in hand, though he seemed more focused on scooping up backpacks than cutting down the tributes around him. Nevaeh and Sos chased the Five boy away from the water tower. Eros and Adora regrouped near the Cornucopia; he handed her a mean set of her preferred throwing stars. Ilithyia was still hunting down the Three boy. Only one she couldn't see was Adair, but forget about Adair!
Still no Twelves, but time was running out. If they couldn't find the Twelves in time, so be it.
She pointed in Ven's general direction. He wouldn't fight her; Liat was sure of it. "That way!"
"Are you crazy? That guy could—"
"Trust me!"
She glanced back at Clarke to reassure her with a smile, but then Adair zipped into view around the edge of the Cornucopia. He winked at her, throwing arm raised. That bastard! Trying to kill his own district partner? What did he have to gain by killing her? She knew he was bad, but she hadn't expected him to be this bad—and this stupid while he was at it!
"Floor it!" she screamed, shoving Clarke forward. She raised her back to shield her chest. To her great relief, the knife clattered on the ground a foot away, not even close. A second one embedded itself in her bag.
The third knife didn't come, She peeked over the top of the bag, only to find another knife in hand and his eyes focused on another target beyond them, out around the edges of the Cornucopia.
Ven.
So Adair wasn't stupid. The first two shots were merely distractions. But his target was Ven, and Liat wasn't about to scurry away with her tail between her legs and let the most valid member of the Star Alliance go down.
"You keep going," she said, tossing her bag to Clarke. "I'll meet you there."
"What are you doing? We have to go!""
"Don't worry! I'll be fine!"
"Are you crazy? You can't go back!" Clarke hissed. "We barely lived that one!"
"Just go!"
Clarke grabbed Liat's arm, her face suddenly flushed red. "I won't let you."
But Liat easily wrenched herself free. "I'm sorry. Now go!"
"You can't—"
"I can and I will!" she yelled in Clarke's face, though it pained her to do so. "If you don't go, I'll fight you myself."
She paused momentarily, her eyes lingering in Clarke's. All she saw was hurt, but she refused to let it stop her. Ven's life depended on her. When Clarke turned and ran, Liat felt like it'd ripped part of her heart away too.
Now free, she gripped her hatchet tight and charged Adair, crashing into him before he had a chance to respond. He was so much taller than she was, yet they toppled like the trees of the forest, crashing down to the pavement with her on top.
"What the—"
"I won't let you," she hissed. "Not while I'm here."
"You're loyal to District One now? I see how it is." He shoved her off of him with ease. He held a single knife in his right hand defensively. Much to her surprise, he seemed utterly unperturbed. She wasn't sure if his smile he wore or the snarl she'd expected was worse.
She stumbled to her feet. She kept the hatchet up; one could never be too cautious around Adair. "You wouldn't understand."
"So we're just going to fight to the death now?" He chuckled, an eyebrow raised, suave as always as he ran a hand through his hair. "That sucks for District Seven."
It felt so inappropriate here in the Arena; she felt her blood boil. "Is that all a death is to you? It 'sucks'?"
He shrugged. "You wanna fight or not? We both got better things to do right now."
"You're just going to kill Ven once I'm gone, aren't you."
"Maybe."
"I won't let you," she said, watching his knife hand like a hawk. Despite his smirk, she felt his gleaming eyes inspecting her for an exploitable weakness. She felt herself tense; her thoughts screamed at her from within—he's gonna strike, he's gonna strike, he's gonna—
"I don't need you to let me."
A flick of his other hand in the shadows, a momentary gleam, an eruption of pain in her gut. She stared down at the knife in her; a splotch of red had already begun to blossom around the wound. His knife hand hadn't moved. In mere seconds, his other hand had plucked another knife from under his vest. She'd watched the wrong thing the whole time, and now she'd pay for it.
"You…"
"Nothing personal."
She lunged; she'd act now, before her strength ran dry and she fell dead to the pavement below. Far past the point of hesitation, she swung the hatchet, trying her best to hack at him though he parried every blow. Her fury built with every strike averted. It didn't matter if she succeeded or not. She refused to let him win without a fight.
She flailed until a sharp jerk of his knife across her neck stole her last breath.
Kiran cursed under his breath as he scrambled back from the tower of water. All he had was a knife. He cursed himself, he cursed the Star Alliance, he cursed anything and everything he saw, from the stupid sun to the stupid stone to the stupid water bottles that the Ten boy refused to let him have. Hadn't the Tens given the Seven girl some water? After she'd broken the alliance too! Everything was so unfair.
He turned around and gripped the knife harder. "You don't wanna share, huh?"
Ten cracked his whip as a response. It echoed around the courtyard like a gunshot.
"Then you wanna fight?" Kiran yelled. The words spilled out of his mouth before he knew what he was saying, even though he died inside with every syllable.
"I'm warnin' ya' for the last time," Ten called back. "Don't do somethin' you'll regret."
Kiran withered inside, so he straightened his shoulders and split instead. "You d-don't scare me!"
Still holding the whip, the Ten boy picked up a nasty machete and tossed it comfortably in his hand. His eyes remained fixed on Kiran as he approached, one ominous step at a time. Kiran had always known that Ten was tall, but the guy looked even taller now.
Kiran trembled, too scared for his life to stand his ground and fight, too scared to acknowledge defeat or turn tail and run. He cursed himself again. Now look at what he'd gotten himself into!
Stupid Kiran. Stupid, stupid Kiran.
Ace ran, faster than he'd ever run before. His feet pounded against the pavement, echoing the pounding of his heart. Sweat soaked his shirt, his legs were going numb, his lungs heaved in the hot desert air, yet Two still pursued, hot on his trail. Why wouldn't she let him go? He didn't dare look back; he grit his teeth and forced himself forward.
His pursuer's footsteps crescendoed. He was tiring, or maybe she had sped up. Either way, the skin on his back already tingled with anticipation of a swing from her axe, when she'd finally catch up to him and end him.
Something had to change. He spotted a backpack—one of the few left out here. As he passed it, he scooped it up and hurled it back, hoping to widen the gap. She caught it; his heart sank. She threw it back at him.
He ducked the bag. He dodged her swing and then the next. He didn't know how long this would last. Now he was a fish in a barrel, and she had a gun.
A shadow with a plastic board appeared behind Two. What was Electra doing here? He wanted to yell at her to get out of danger; it choked in his parched throat. She whacked Two with the board—it confused Two long enough for him to grab the bag with renewed hope, to swing it at her again. She stumbled back, off-balance.
Did either of them do any damage? No. But that was okay, because now they were both alive. A matchbox slipped out of the backpack's side pocket. He snatched it up, just in case they needed it for the bombs. With energy he didn't know he had, he grabbed her arm and ran.
Then Electra screamed.
His blood ran cold. Blood dribbled down her arm from a throwing star lodged in her shoulder. The girl from One—where had she come from! He barely had time to yell before One released a second shuriken.
This one tore through Electra's neck. She screamed again, but her agonized shriek devolved into gurgling as blood spewed everywhere. She gave him a shove before she collapsed.
Good thing she shoved him, for he otherwise might've forgotten to run, eyes blank in horror. He whirled around and forced his legs to work, though the numbness had faded and the soreness hit him in full force, just like the sudden well of emotion that suddenly sprung up within.
She was gone. Just like that. She'd come to save him, and he hadn't been able to save her.
His shoulder erupted in a ball of flaming hurt, a throwing star embedded deep in his flesh. His heart sank. He could hope to outrun Two, but One's knives would catch up to him even if she couldn't. Electra had tried to save him with her final moments, but he wouldn't be so lucky this time.
What could he do to help Ada and Scythe? As the shadow of the eastern tower fell over him, red boxes lining its base, he knew what to do.
A second burst of pain lodged itself in his leg as he skidded to a stop at a red box. Bold yellow warnings lined every side of it; here it was. Ada was nowhere in sight. He'd have to activate it himself—but how? He tore off the lid exposing the explosives within. A jumble of electrical wires bundled in the corner, likely for remote detonation, but there was no point in that now.
His hand fumbled in his pocket until he pulled the matchbox out, each movement tearing shreds in his shoulder. He was dead for sure. That was old news. He dropped to his knees and pulled a matchstick out, pulling from every source of strength in his body to steady his hands long enough to strike it.
Ace took one final breath. He stared at the flame, tears streaming down his dusty face. He'd failed Axel. He'd failed Electra. This was goodbye. He hoped he wouldn't be failing Ada and Scythe too.
As a third star struck his back, he pressed the lit match to the explosives, every nerve in his body numbing from the overwhelming pain. He collapsed onto the box, face plumb with its surface. He watched as the flame burned through the packaging, creeping towards the explosives underneath.
One sudden explosion, and Ace Invidia was no more.
Boom.
Every fight paused, every running figure came to a standstill, every eye turned to see the blast at the base of the eastern tower, quickly followed in succession by a series of blasts, running along the building's base, filling the air with smoke.
For a moment, the world froze in anticipation. A cacophonous chorus of cracks emanating from the tower suddenly rushed to fill the silence, like gunshots in the night, warning of immediate disaster.
The tower began to crumble.
A/N Yep… It ain't over. We got a Part 2. I had originally hoped to get that out right now as well because I didn't want to leave y'all on a cliffhanger, but… it's not going to happen. It's partially done, though! I'll try to have it ready in 24 hours, but it'll be out in two or three days at the latest! So sorry!
I'd love to know y'all's thoughts.