Valentina Gammon, 16
District 7, She/Her
June 19th, 97 ADD
4:47 AM
There was something in the tunnels.
At first, she'd been able to write off the sounds she was hearing. She'd caught more than a few mice in the tunnels when Aescelin insisted on living in them, and it was easy to attribute an odd noise or two to an animal. But the odd noises hadn't stopped, and Valentina couldn't get herself to fully relax.
Could be a muttation, she kept thinking. Some giant fucked-up thing the Gamemakers sent after me to rip me apart. Especially after what happened with Fleur- even though that wasn't my fault. That wasn't my fucking fault. Aescelin would've gone after me instead if we never found Fleur.
She tried not to let it get to her. Anytime her paranoia rose, trying to take over her thoughts, she forced herself to ignore it. She slept in fits and starts, unwilling to stay in one spot longer than an hour. Her legs ached from walking, and there was a crick in her neck she couldn't get to crack.
Just keep moving, she told herself. If the Gamemakers wanted a monster to kill me, they would've had it get me hours ago, right? They're trying to let me get away. I just have to keep going.
She almost left the tunnels at one point, but every time she stopped at a tunnel exit, she could've sworn she heard tributes lurking just beyond. She only ever saw more ghosts, but those were almost just as bad. Valentina hated the way their eyes seemed to dig into her. It made her skin crawl.
(One in particular- a faintly familiar boy with an 11 on his shirt, covered in broken glass and burns- made the taste of ash return to her throat again.)
She didn't know the time of day anymore. Or where she was in the arena. She still had no idea what the hell kind of punishment the Gamemakers had chosen to send after her was.
(It wasn't her fault, what happened to Fleur- she'd own up to the Two boy, sure, but Fleur wasn't Valentina's idea! She killed Aescelin, and Aescelin was the one who did them like that, and she'd hoped that could redeem her. Valentina could win! She could do better than second place, and she could fucking prove it!)
So she kept putting one foot in front of the other, trying to outrun whatever was after her.
Invincible Gaultier, 19
District 1, They/Them
7:08 AM
Their new spot actually wasn't so bad.
It was Tiss who had suggested they search for higher ground. After walking around the ghost town for a while, they'd found the tallest building- a bell tower- and headed to the top. There were plenty of tribute ghosts in this building, but they were easy enough to ignore with the flock of kills following Vince and Tiss around. All of the wooden floors and stairs were sturdy, and there were windows to keep watch from at the top. Not such a bad deal.
Tiss seemed to like it, too. When Vince woke up that morning, she was already awake, watching the sunrise peek out at the edge of the horizon. Something close to a smile lingered on Tisiphone's lips.
"It's too early to be happy," Vince grumbled.
Tiss glanced at them, unfazed. "For you, maybe."
"What're you even smiling about?"
Tiss looked out the window again. "It's pretty," she said. "Used to watch the sunrise at home a lot. Meant the ships didn't need the lighthouse for a little while."
"Oh." Vince craned their neck up, looking at the sky. "I usually sleep through it. Unless I'm still up, I guess."
"That seems about right," Tisiphone replied.
Vince frowned and swatted her. Tiss leaned away, almost smiling as she evaded them. Vince grumbled, rolling over to go back to sleep.
Instead, Tiss shook their shoulder.
"What?"
"Watch it with me," she said.
"What's there even to watch-"
"Vince," she interrupted. "Stop talking and just look."
Vince rolled their eyes, but they sat up, pulling their sleeping bag around their shoulders as they sat on the floor next to Tisiphone. Tisiphone seemed content to be quiet, her eyes fixed on the colors in the sky, but Vince couldn't stand the silence. They started humming a tune under their breath, something from years ago they didn't even remember the name of. If she minded, Tiss didn't say anything.
Yeah. Not so bad.
They set up for the day with each of them at an opposite window, looking out over a different part of town. It seemed like the best way to search for tributes without being too mobile.
"Besides," Vince had told Tiss, "Gamemakers like to drive tributes back toward the Cornucopia, so the rest will probably start coming our way soon. Might as well be ready for them."
(Neither of them acknowledged- at least not out loud- that this included Bastet, who was still out there somewhere. Vince wouldn't be surprised if she was responsible for both of yesterday's deaths. But they were aware of it, and they somehow knew they didn't need to bring it up for Tiss to be aware of it too.)
Around late afternoon, Tisiphone broke the quiet of their watch. "Vince," she muttered, barely loud enough to hear. "Over here."
Vince spun around, silently getting to their feet, and ducked underneath the bell to get to where Tisiphone sat. They peered over her shoulder at the streets below.
"There," Tisiphone whispered, pointing.
Vince's pulse picked up speed as they caught sight of the figure limping through the streets. It was one they knew.
One they knew well.
"Let me get my spear," they muttered.
"We should have a plan-"
"I'm going after him," they interrupted, gaze still fixed on the boy from District Nine.
"Vince, wait-"
"I'll just be right back!" they insisted. "Look, this way you don't have to run on your leg, you can watch from up here, I'll be so fast-"
"If I have to, I'll get involved," Tiss said. "You have to be smart-"
"I'll be fine! I'll just be right back," Vince promised. "Nine sucks. This is long overdue."
They flashed her a grin to reassure her. Tiss looked uneasy, but Vince couldn't waste any more time. They snatched their spear and made toward the top of the stars.
"Right back," Vince repeated. "You won't even notice I'm gone!"
Tiss sighed. Before she could say anything, though, they began taking the stairs three at a time, racing toward Nine.
(It was time to put this sorry excuse for a rival to his end. And after all that shit with Bastet, Vince deserved to enjoy themself a little. Kicking Nine's ass would basically set the world back on its axis. It would show the Capitol that Vince was still worth watching, no matter who they were up against. That they were center stage, and they would be Victor.)
A smile crept onto Vince's face as they descended closer and closer to the ground floor. As soon as they hit it, they started slinking in the direction they'd seen Nine go.
And it wasn't long before they caught sight of Nine's lanky figure once more. All they had to do now was corner him.
Vince grinned.
(Showtime.)
Bastet Avarne, 18
District 2, She/They
4:15 PM
Ghosts surrounded Bastet, but none of them were her.
(She was close. They could feel it.)
Their feet had carried them back toward the center of the arena- the direction Jem fled- the ghost town surrounding the Cornucopia. The ghostly tributes were everywhere in town, and their presence made Bastet's heart beat a little too hard. Every shallow flicker seemed to be her hair, every tiny shimmer her eyes…
(It was like being on the train all over again. It was that moment of seeing her face appear on the television, so close and radiant as the screen hummed beneath Bastet's fingertips.)
(Sometimes, when they closed their eyes, it was like she was still there-)
A ghost turned the corner, catching Bastet's attention. They quickly registered that this ghost was yet another stranger- tangled black hair, destroyed blue dress hanging from her pale frame. A phantom blade flipped idly between her fingers as she made her way down the street, paying Bastet no mind.
Bastet watched the ghost tribute leave. Their own ghosts shifted behind them as they turned to watch this one leave, still half lost in thought.
(They wanted to find Nine again, to see her again. But they wanted Nine dead, and knew the feeling was mutual. Maybe if they could hunt Nine down without him knowing, they could watch from close by?)
(They exhaled. She was still out there, taken by Nine, and- and that meant part of her was still here. That was all that mattered.)
Another flash of movement jerked Bastet back to attention. The girl in the blue dress had vanished, though. Instead, their eyes flicked up, catching a glimpse of a high-up window. A figure- a living one- lingered in its frame, watching the streets below.
A figure Bastet could recognize from a mile away.
Their recognition was quickly replaced with rage. It was fucking ridiculous that Tisiphone was still alive when she wasn't. Tisiphone was- was nothing but a wannabe, a sorry second-rate trainee who couldn't even make her own kills without someone holding her hand. It was disrespectful that she was even breathing.
Bastet would end that.
They knew the streets well after those first days of tribute hunting, and it took no time at all to make their way to the bell tower. The door at its base had been left ajar. Bastet slipped inside, taking the stairs as slowly and quietly as their patience could tolerate.
(All the while, their thoughts were venom. How fucking dare Tisiphone. They were ready to shove her stupid tears down her throat. What Bastet was going to do would make Ten's death look merciful- that was the price of Tisiphone's pathetic failure to deserve what should've been her victory, Tisiphone's audacity to take Bastet's attention from her in the first place, right where it always should have been-)
"Who's there?"
Bastet had reached the top of the stairs.
It was obvious that tributes had been here for a few days. Sleeping bags were laid out on the floor, and a sack of food sat against a wall. Bootprints littered the floor, disturbing the dust that had been there before. Light filtered in lazily through the empty windowpanes, yawning across the wooden floorboards.
Tisiphone stood by one window, spear in hand. Her eyes were wide, and she clenched her jaw.
(Good. She was right to be concerned.)
"All by yourself now," Bastet observed. "Vince finally abandoned you, too?"
Tisiphone took a breath. "They'll be back. They promised."
A slow smile spread across their cheeks. So fucking naive. "Not in time," they replied. "Not for you."
"Bastet-"
"You think you're worth coming back for?" Bastet sneered.
Tisiphone raised her chin. "You're here."
Their smile grew so wide it hurt. "Not for you."
(Bastet was here for her honor. Always for her.
It had always, always been about her.)
Tisiphone's brow dipped in confusion just as Bastet launched herself forward. They dipped under Tisiphone's spear and socked her in the jaw, knocking Tisiphone back against the wall. She let out a groan as her head slammed against the wood, yanking the spear in close.
Bastet was faster than that. They grabbed her shoulders and dragged her to the side, pressing her up against the windowsill with their forearm. Tisiphone gasped, trying to shove Bastet off of her as her braids hung out in the open air.
Bastet pulled a blade from her belt, holding the tip beneath Tisiphone's chin.
Tisiphone froze, her jaw trembling.
"Fight back," Bastet dared her.
Tisiphone took a shallow breath. Beneath their hand, Bastet felt her shoulders tense. As Tisiphone tried to bring her elbow into Bastet's ribs, Bastet easily shoved it away.
(Undeserving. Unworthy. A fucking disgrace.)
Before she could try anything else, Bastet pulled the knife back from Tisiphone's chin, shifted back, and plunged it into the festering, unhealed wound in Tisiphone's thigh.
A scream tore from Tisiphone's mouth, deep and guttural, her eyes squeezing shut in agony. She writhed so violently that she finally knocked Bastet off, the blade still embedded in the old wound. Bastet caught herself as Tisiphone crumbled to the floor, tears pouring down freckled cheeks.
(Finally, something Tisiphone Fotis was deserving of.)
Bastet reached for another weapon, drawing in close once again. Tisiphone ignored them, blood pooling beneath her and seeping into the wooden floor as she sobbed.
Bastet grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at them. Tisiphone's face was pale and sticky, her brown eyes so pathetic it made Bastet want to stab them.
"I should've done this a long time ago," they told her.
Tisiphone's shoulders heaved as the pool of blood grew, crawling toward Bastet's boots. She took a shaky breath.
"What? If you have the last words, get them out, for fuck's sake," Bastet said, not bothering to hide their disgust.
Tisiphone met her eyes with fluttering lashes. "Th-then-"
"What?"
Tears rolled down her cheeks. "So b-be it."
Bastet's heart seemed to stop in their chest. Tisiphone's head listed back, and Bastet released it, their breath quickening.
"What did you just say?" they asked.
(So be it.)
Tisiphone didn't answer. She was slumped against the wall, her head down and her face screwed tight.
(So be it.)
"What did you just say?" Bastet repeated. "Look at me!"
With clear difficulty, Tisiphone lifted her head, looking back at Bastet. Big, glassy brown eyes stared at them-
(stared at them-)
(fluttering lashes-)
(hand on her cheek-)
"What did you just say?" Bastet demanded, her voice hitting a fever pitch. "What did you just fucking say?"
Tisiphone stared back, confused.
(warm eyes went dark-)
(creased freckles-)
("Then so be it.")
Bastet stumbled backward, their ears ringing. "You're- you're not-"
Tisiphone blinked, her brows pressing together as Bastet scrambled away from her.
"You aren't her!" Bastet shouted. "You- you-"
They took another step back, but her heel slipped. Bastet had reached the edge of the stairs and began to tumble.
(so be it)
(so be it)
(so be it)
She flailed for the railing, but they couldn't stop falling. She fell and fell, shoulders and knees and ribs slamming into the wood again and again, while those small words repeated in a familiar voice in their head,
(so be it.)
Long after they landed at the bottom, battered and bruised and head spinning,
(so be it.)
(so be it.)
(so be it.)
Bastet took a long, shuddering breath, their eyes swimming.
They forced herself to think. The- the other one, the lesser one- she was good as dead up there. No reason to return. No reason to climb all the way back up when their body hurt so badly, just to see those big brown eyes that weren't the real ones. There were better things to do. The fraud was taken care of. There was no alternative.
You've won. Now, the crown, she told herself.
One step closer.
Jem Piper, 17
District 9, He/Him
5:26 PM
Jem wasn't stupid. He knew he was being followed.
(And he could only think of one person who would follow him this long before making a move.)
He didn't stop for a confrontation, though. He kept moving.
(Kept running.)
(He ran from Tomo's serene stillness. From Jest's hands pushing Jem to safety. From Chevre's mangled corpse, Jude's fluttering eyelids, Wisdom's disappearance, True's beaten body.)
(He'd only wanted to help them. He'd only wanted them to have a fair chance. He should've known better, because when had Jem ever been able to do that for anyone? His newsies' union was crushed into the dirt. Sparrow was taken to jail with no way of getting out. His allies were killed one by one and he couldn't protect them.)
(Why band together only to be torn apart? What good was giving someone hope if it would inevitably be destroyed? Why stand up for himself when it meant everyone he cared about would suffer the consequences?)
(It was pointless. All of it was pointless. No reason to keep trying. Nothing would ever change.)
Jem slowed, grimacing at the steady throbbing in his wounded leg.
(His punishment was coming- he knew that. Jem knew the system of Panem too well to hope that his attempt to stand against it would leave room for his survival. He'd been too caught up in it all to admit it earlier, but he couldn't ignore it now. There was no one else to focus on, now. Just Jem and his own folly.
But he was still here. He could still go out swinging.)
(He owed it to his friends, didn't he? After the mess he'd dragged them into?)
Jem glanced around, searching for a building to duck into. After a moment's hesitation, he slipped between the swinging doors of the building marked Saloon.
His first thought was that this place didn't look as abandoned as it should've. The dust had clearly been disturbed, and the round tables and stools and barrels had been moved around. Bottles laid askew on the bartop, and the curtains that hung around the stage at the far end of the room were torn into strips.
And then there was the smell. Jem had become accustomed to the dry, dusty air of the arena and the must of aged wood. Here the air was heavy with something metallic that stuck to the roof of his mouth. The closer Jem got to the stage, the thicker it became, and it wasn't long before he saw the dark stains in the floorboards. His stomach flipped as he spotted two teeth abandoned on the floor, and was that- was that a clump of pale blonde hair-?
"Funny of you to come here."
A tribute stood by the swinging saloon doors, spear in hand.
"Well, not funny, exactly," they continued. "Maybe more of a coincidence. Maybe not, though, given the look on your face."
Jem glared at Vince. "What happened here?"
Vince shrugged, the careless gesture making Jem's blood boil. "Bastet happened," they said. "She was pissed about Aveline, took it out on Ten. You saw how that went."
"That was fucked up," Jem told them.
"Oh, yeah, definitely," Vince replied. A small smirk began to form on their face. "And now you're pissed about Ten, and going to take it out on me… kinda poetic, huh?"
Jem stared at them. "You killed Jest," he pointed out. He forced himself not to look at the ghosts lurking behind Vince. "You killed Jude. You let Chevre be tortured, and probably True too. And you don't care. It's all- it's fuckin' nothing to you."
Vince shook their head, clicking their tongue at him. "It's not nothing," they said. "It's the Games. It's winning. That's what this is all about, sweetheart."
They took a few steps closer. "Thanks for helping me keep it interesting," Vince continued. "But all things have to come to an end eventually. Even the fun ones."
(It was what Jem had always known- that Vince, his biggest rival, considered the Games a game. Life and death and everything Jem had ever fought for were barely thoughts in Vince's mind.
It wasn't new information. But being slapped in the face with it, when he was fresh with so much loss- Jem hit his breaking point.)
Vince ran toward him, leveling their spear. Jem stumbled toward the bartop, grabbing an empty bottle by the neck and smashing the other end on the wood. Glass shattered easily, and Jem pointed it back at Vince.
Vince laughed. "Creative!"
An indignant roar tore itself loose from Jem's lungs, and he hurled the bottle at Vince's face. Vince knocked it aside, spraying glass across the room.
Jem reached for another bottle, and another, smashing them to bits and chucking them at Vince as hard as he could manage. Shards of glass whipped around the room, cutting into them both, but Vince didn't seem to mind.
"Another one!" they shouted, readying the spear like a baseball bat.
Jem grunted and flung himself behind the bar. There had to be something more useful here. He picked up another bottle, barely registering how full it was as he hefted it up-
"Is there more whiskey back there?" Vince called. "Are you fucking kidding me? Dibs!"
Jem was ready to hurl it at Vince's face again, but something about the liquid, sloshing around in its translucent bottle, reminded him of something.
Jem still wore the pack Tomo had taken from the Cornucopia.
(What were the odds that Tomo had packed it beforehand…
Why the hell was he even wondering? This was Tomo.)
Jem changed course at the last second, raising the full bottle above his head and throwing it down toward Vince's feet. Like the others, the bottle shattered on collision, sending alcohol splattering across Vince's boots and pants.
"Dick!" Vince yelled. "I said dibs!"
Jem swung his pack off one of his shoulders. He swore beneath his breath as he realized how stupid it had been to trap himself behind the bar of all places- there was no easy way out, especially with how banged-up his leg was- and he was a sitting duck. He fumbled to open the pack, plunging his hand inside as he searched for what he needed.
But Vince realized Jem's plight lunged forward, forcing Jem to shrink back into the corner. Jem turned, grabbing the shelves so he could escape Vince's reach-
"You're not going anywhere," Vince said. They grabbed Jem's collar, yanking him back. Jem threw his elbows toward Vince's ribs, gasping for breath.
"You're staying!" Vince insisted, narrowly avoiding the blows. Then, with a quick flourish, Vince twirled their spear and plunged it downward.
At first, Jem thought Vince missed.
Then they looked down, and realized it had gone straight through his foot.
Jem screamed, his vision going spotty. Vince yanked the spear out of Jem's foot and somehow that hurt even more. Jem reeled, stumbling back into the shelves. Vince grabbed him by the collar again and shoved him into the bartop, pinning him there.
Jem's head lolled back as he struggled to stay focused. Vince was saying something again, but Jem couldn't make out all the words.
"Damn good show- you've always been useful like that-"
Blood rushed in his ears, mercifully drowning out the rest.
(The pack. He needed the pack.)
(Even if Jem Piper was going to lose, he would not allow Vince to win.)
Jem grimaced, twisting his arm around under Vince's hold. The pack was still dangling off one shoulder, and the clasp had come undone in the chaos. He stuck his hand inside while Vince waxed on like they always did, searching for- for-
-there.
Cool, unbroken glass against his rough hand.
Chevre's voice echoed in his mind as he pulled it free. It's dangerous, she'd said. Last resort. Even Wisdom said to be careful, only use it for emergencies… it was the last thing he told me.
"But, well, since you were good for something, I'll make it quick," Vince was saying. "Any last words?"
Jem exhaled, trying to shut everything out. His foot was burning and throbbing, and his whole body ached. New cuts from the broken bottles covered his face and arms, and his mouth still tasted like old blood.
"I'm sorry," he said. Not to Vince. This was for everyone he'd let down. "I gave you somethin' to believe in, when there was nothing all along."
Vince rolled their eyes, reaching again for their spear.
Jem lifted the vial, then brought it down, aiming for Vince's spear. The glass shattered, and as Wisdom's homemade acid reached the metal, it burst into flame. Vince screamed, stumbling back. They threw their spear to the ground, forgetting that Jem had already done his best to douse them in alcohol.
In seconds, Vince was aflame.
With a screech, they threw themself at Jem, tackling him to the floor. Jem's vision went white for a moment as his foot slammed against the wood. Vince was screaming, rolling, pinning Jem down, and Jem started to panic as his clothes caught fire, too. He threw punches as hard as he could at Vince, but Vince was doing the same, and the world was a whirlwind and he didn't know which way was up or down-
-the old blood tasted like smoke, now-
-Vince was screaming, burning, and so was he-
-but neither was willing to let go-
-no, he couldn't let go, not now.
Jem forced his eyes open. Everything he could see was on fire- Vince, the bartop, Vince, the wooden floors, himself, Vince. His back bled from rolling around on broken glass, and the smoke was growing thicker and thicker. He threw an elbow into Vince's jaw, making their head snap back. He tried to push himself back up, but Vince was again faster, smashing their own skull into Jem's and knocking them both to the floor.
Jem's chest heaved, and his ears rang. His head ached and felt far too light. He couldn't get enough air in his lungs.
He swung at Vince again. Vince swung back. They were getting slower, now. So was he. Every time he tried to get up, Vince knocked him down. Every time Vince tried it, he did the same.
There was no escaping each other.
He gasped, his lungs choked with smoke. He could hear Vince wheezing. The flames kept getting hotter. The smoke kept getting thicker.
For once, neither of them had anything to say.
Jem's lungs burned. He took one more breath, hoping it would be enough to outlast Invincible Gaultier. Even if only by a second.
The haze darkened. His mouth seemed to be full of ash.
No more running.
(What a relief.)
Tisiphone Fotis, 18
District 4, She/Her
5:37 PM
Boom.
Boom.
The cannons cut through the fog of pain, jolting Tisiphone to her senses. Two cannons meant two more deaths. That left… three? Four? Four.
So close…
Tisiphone let out a choked sob, curling in on herself. Her leg hurt. She couldn't even look at it without nausea bubbling in her gut.
It hurt so much.
(Somehow, Bastet had known exactly where to strike. They'd gone straight for the unhealed wound Brizo left her with, driving a knife straight to the bone and leaving it there. Discarding it. Discarding her.)
(Again. Tisiphone had been discarded again.)
She closed her eyes, trying to block it all out.
("I'm leaving. Vince will too. You'll die alone and no one could care less.")
("-whiny, pathetic-")
("It's never been about you, you know? It's been about Aveline.")
But there was so much.
("You and me, Tiss. We've got this.")
("Then believe me!")
("Put an end to it. You did it for True.")
("Why can't you believe me? You said- you said you were on my side-")
("Stop crying. Kill him.")
Too much-
("Thought you could handle yourself. Sorry I overestimated you.")
("Tiss, you know you're gorgeous, right?")
("I'll be fine! I'll just be right back.")
-it was too much, she c-couldn't-
("You're gonna accomplish that by doing exactly what Mom did. By leaving us. Just like her.")
("Leaving us to go get rich and famous and forget we ever existed.")
("Keep the light going. Keep it on at all costs, and wait for me. I'll be back.")
-Tisiphone couldn't do this anymore-
(Brizo's thumbs crushed her windpipe-)
(-Bastet's mouth on hers-)
(-Chevre's eyes begged her to do something, anything-)
(-Eight sighed with relief-)
-too much-
(-her sisters screamed at her-)
(-Six shrank from her, wooden crate as his shield-)
(-Vince's arm under her shoulders-)
(-Rumi half-naked and dead on the floor-)
-too much-
(-her brother cried-)
(-her mother turned away-)
(-broken planks of wood-)
(-scattered in the sand-)
-too much.
She'd had enough. She couldn't bear it anymore. There was too much pain.
Tisiphone drew another shaky breath.
She couldn't feel it all anymore. She didn't want to.
Another shaky breath, and then another.
She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing it away. Forcing herself away. This- this wasn't her. This wasn't happening to her. This didn't matter.
("Keep the light going. Keep it on at all costs, and wait for me. I'll be back.")
That was what mattered.
She let the swirl of memories and words and sensations slip away, raindrops in an ocean. She let the sight of her leg go foggy and unseeable. She let herself separate, watching it all from afar.
She let everything turn gray.
(They'd all left her behind. She could do the same.)
Tisiphone opened her eyes.
She pushed herself up.
She pulled her bandanna off and fashioned it into a tourniquet.
Three others left.
(A small beam of light as she remembered Vince. Vince was still somewhere-
-no. Vince was gone. Vince left too.
She flicked that beam off as quickly as it had appeared.)
Tisiphone reached for her spear.
Alone, she descended the stairs.
Alone was better. Alone was best.
Alone would keep her alive.
The world outside the bell tower was filled with smoke. She could see flames.
Heavy footsteps thudded into the dirt.
(Tiss watched it all from the side. Gray, ghostlike. Numb.
The way she should've all along.)
Chase Holloway, 15
District 5, She/Her
6:12 PM
She was getting closer.
She could feel it. More and more frequently, she could pick out an occasional footstep or breath or rolling rock from further up the tunnels. There were a few times she'd sworn she even caught a glimpse of Valentina before the other girl turned a corner. Even those brief glimpses got Chase riled up and excited - which only led Chase to sloppy missteps and misplays.
(Every time Valentina was within reach, Chase's anger overwhelmed her. She just kept thinking about how much Seven deserved what was coming her way. It would feel so good to make sure Fleur didn't suffer for nothing, to make Valentina understand exactly what she'd done.)
Still, the mistakes felt better than the quiet moments. When the tunnels settled, it was harder for Chase to keep her mind from wandering. A cool breeze would pass by, making her hackles rise. The tunnel walls narrowed and expanded like lungs, making her breath come a bit quicker every time they drifted closer. The darkness seemed never-ending.
It made Chase feel alone.
(Chase had spent her whole life fighting by someone's side. Defending others, protecting her people, was what she was good at-)
(-or was it?)
(If she was such a good friend, where was Tye? Where was Zinnia? Shazia? Fleur? If she was so dedicated, so loyal, so good at watching everyone's back, why was she the one still living?)
Chase shook her head as though she could shake the loneliness out.
She couldn't.
(What was it about her that welcomed death? What more could she do to hold it back?)
She stomped forward, smashing her feet against the ground hard enough that the pain distracted her.
Chase was determined to fix this, to do everything she could for Fleur's sake. She continued Tye's legacy in Five by keeping his gang active, robbing the rich and giving the homeless their treasures. Now, she'd find Fleur's killer and pound her into the dirt.
(More death…)
Chase gritted her teeth. Yes. That was what she'd do.
(Death wasn't avoidable, especially not here. If Chase wanted to live, she'd have to get blood on her hands. There was no way around it.
And if she had to choose whose blood stained her skin, her first pick was that fucker Valentina.)
She clenched and unclenched her fists, imagining the feel of Valentina's face against them. In her mind, it felt just like Spark's, that day he showed his sorry face at the hideout after ratting them out to the Peacekeepers. She remembered the crunch of his nose beneath her knuckles.
(Her hands weren't clean. She'd definitely broken her ex-friend's nose that day.)
(And there were still traces of Fleur's blood under her nails and on her clothes…)
Chase took a long breath, forcing herself to keep it even.
(It was like she could smell the smoke again.
Her stomach flipped.)
"Keep your shit together," she muttered to herself, quiet enough that her voice didn't echo along the passage. "It's not there."
Still, her heart beat a bit faster.
She inhaled again, and immediately started coughing. The taste of smoke felt like it was coating her throat, making her want to vomit. But it wasn't real-
Chase stopped. This wasn't the same smell as the night Fleur died. This… this was woodsmoke.
And the tunnels were filling with it.
Chase yanked her bandanna over her mouth and began to sprint forward, searching for an exit. There had to be a way out of here- the Gamemakers wouldn't suffocate them to kill them, no, they wanted blood almost as much as Chase did- there had to be an escape-
A pinprick of light appeared in the distance. Chase pushed herself toward it, her legs aching with effort. As the light grew, she could make out a figure, shoulders hunched and coughing.
Chase barreled straight into her, knocking her to the ground. Valentina splayed out, still coughing, her face red and twisted.
"You- ass-" the Seven girl managed.
Chase didn't stick around to hear more. Valentina was slick enough that she'd catch up; Chase needed air, and she needed it now. She sprinted for the exit, her vision hazy as she reached for the afternoon light.
(Even as her feet slammed against rock and her lungs burned, Chase couldn't help but think that this would work. She'd kill Valentina, and then- and then it would stop hurting. Chase would do everything she could to kill Fleur's killer and win the Games, and then go help every kid living the way she and Tye used to.
She'd make up for her failures. She'd make her mistakes worth every penny of that Victory money. She'd make her heart stop hurting with emptiness.)
And when Valentina did catch up?
Oh, Chase would be ready.
6th: invincible gaultier, d1 (killed by jem piper)
5th: jem piper, d9 (killed by invincible gaultier)
kills:
aveline: 1
invincible: 3
bastet: 3
mercury: 1
tisiphone: 2
brizo: 1
valentina: 1
aescelin: 2
jem: 2
patrek: 1
mendi: 2
alliances: (none)
bastet
tisiphone
chase
valentina
featured ghosts:
durian acker, d11, the wandering feet of qibli vestron (killed by qibli vestron)
sirenna jin, d4, gilded cage (killed by ardalion collingwood)
thank you to erik and miri for vince and jem! god these two... vince was so so so much fun. snarky and fake and inauthentic... mostly. anytime i needed to lighten a scene or crack a joke, i could depend on vince. their eye for social dynamics was awesome and i really enjoyed all of the interactions they got themself into, from rumi to merc to bastet to tiss to jest to jem. i could always count on enjoyable writing time when their povs came up and i miss them already. and jem! my newsie! i am so glad he ended up in my hands. sneaking lyrics into dialogue was a fun side mission but his voice was so strong too... yeah, his mistakes were huge, but his heart was equally big. i loved his determination and the realness of all his friendships, especially juxtaposed with the nonsense his enemy alliance was up to. he seized every day he could until there were none left, and it hurt to have to let him go. miss you buddy.
thank you to goldie for betaing! and to moose and the getters for keeping me sane. love u guys
uhhhh yeah... cheers to final four! bastet, tisiphone, chase, valentina! all girl finale :) we're so close... really looking forward to it ngl. this has been in the making for ages and it's been such a ride. v thankful heading into the end here.
see you next time (with a VICTOR!)
rb