Prompt: Day 5: Impossible Battle
POV: Holsteen Usher (D10)
Shoutout to ClearedPipes for naming this guy!
Holsteen Usher thought he had an easy kill.
The girl from District 7 was just sitting there all alone. A lamb away from her flock — perfect for slaughter.
And that's what Holsteen did. He put his serrated blade through her chest, and she screamed and collapsed onto the ground. Her cannon didn't go off, but it would soon enough. Now, he had one less competitor to deal with. One less person between him and home.
He wasn't anticipating her to have company.
Holsteen heard someone crashing through the undergrowth, and he turned to see the girl's district partner staring at him, ax in hand.
The boy's face contorted into a snarl. His snarling face, as well as his brown bangs, large frame, and broad shoulders, made Holsteen think of a bull about to charge.
And charge he did. He bellowed something and swung his ax before Holsteen could even react.
The blade hit his right ear. Searing pain burst through his ear canal, any sounds on that side drowned out by horrendous ringing. He stumbled to the side, reeling from the pain, before rage — and fear — overtook him and he swung his blade at the boy.
The boy parried the blow with his ax. Using his bull-like strength, he knocked Holsteen's blade off the ax, and then swung at him again. The ax landed in his forearm this time, and he screamed.
Pain and rage now blinded him. He swung again at the boy. This time, the serrated steel met flesh, and the boy screamed out.
The two locked into a deadly dance for who knew how long. Holsteen wasn't counting. The only thing he focused on was this boy and trying to kill him.
The boy was a good fighter — Holsteen gave him that. He was about the same size as him and formidable, and he wielded his ax like it was an extension of himself. Back in District 7, he must have worked as a lumberjack. He managed to cut several gashes into Holsteen's arms and legs. None deep enough to kill, but deep enough to send pain shooting through him.
Holsteen kept fighting, though. He couldn't give up — not now.
Eventually, his persistence paid off. The boy from District 7 might have been a good fighter, but he was no match for Holsteen, who had been slaughtering animals much bigger than himself since he was a young boy. Holsteen jabbed his blade through the center of the boy's chest. The boy immediately fell like a stone to the ground. Through the ringing of his ear, Holsteen could barely hear his cannon fire.
If his math was correct, there was now only twelve tributes left. He was halfway to victory. Halfway to seeing Mama and Papa and Mince again.
He yanked his blade out of the boy's chest, grimacing as pain shot from one of his wounds. His legs were beginning to tremble from the effort of standing.
A flash of indigo moved in the corner of his eye. He turned to see the female tribute from District 3 standing there, spear in her hands. Holsteen hadn't noticed her arrive before. The ringing of his ear must have drowned out any noise she made.
The girl's ashen face was red and blotchy from crying, and a single tear dribbled down her cheek. She stared down Holsteen with the same glint in her blue eyes that a particularly plucky chicken had before attacking a passerby.
Holsteen's upper lip twitched up. She was small and skinny. Even though he was injured, she'd be an easy kill. He raised his blade above his head to strike her.
Too late, he noticed the wires and battery taped onto the body of the spear.
The girl had crafted a true weapon of death.
Before Holsteen could react, the girl slammed the spear tip into his rib cage. Excruciating pain radiated from where it pierced as all his muscles contracted and contorted from the electric current now flowing through him.
Too much. It was too much.
Everything went white. Holsteen let out a scream, fear and pain overwhelming him, and then everything went black.
Somewhere in the distance, a cannon fired.