Metamorphosis: The 100th Hunger Games.

Arena Day Two - Part Two

Laelia Alvarado, 19

District 10 Female

Mierda!

Just like the countdown to the bloodbath, I let out a wobbly exhale in an attempt to dispel the uncomfortable feeling in my chest and stomach, but that only makes things worse as my breaths become shorter and shorter with each pull of air. This discomfort reminds me of my soccer meets or class presentations at home, the nagging anticipation of getting up and doing things for a live audience of dozens or hundreds of people. I always did well by the end of it all. Sure you make mistakes, but you forget them, the audience does too.

Except this time, the audience most definitely won't forget what'll happen here. If I make a mistake, I'll be dead now or shortly after.

I check the watch once more, just to make sure that they were wrong and that this wasn't the area they wanted us to be in. I crouch and shuffle a few feet away from the opening in the foliage, which prompts an arrow that points southeast back to the 'campsite'. I follow the arrow, letting out a shallow breath as the screen flashes a green checkmark. This is the area where they want me and the twenty-five other tributes to converge on.

Mierda, mierda, mierda, mierda!

It looks like they're fed up with our lack of action and are literally forcing us to fight since no one is making the 'right' moves.

I grip my spade tightly, though the heavy rain and frayed nerves make me feel like the weapon will clatter out of my hands any moment now. I glance around the open, rectangular space that'll serve as our 'battleground'. Chris, Russett and Ms. Oskoii are all but gone – into the foliage surrounding the pit we made. I catch the last of Emmanuel's foot as he clambers into the trees. Further to my right, there's an elevated escarpment – probably darted with numerous tributes just waiting to strike.

My head darts from left to right, up and down. Where do I go?! I consider planting myself in any bush of foliage but what if some of tributes made it here already?!

"Psst, Laelia!" Ms. Oskoii hisses. My head immediately whips to my right as I spy the older woman's head peering out a bush. I immediately zip towards the greenery as she flags me down with a wave of a hand. As soon as I make it, Lightning strikes nearby causing me to gasp sharply and flail out in fear. Her hand clasps around my mouth while another splays out across my collarbone, pulling me inward. "Shh, it's okay, just calm down."

"Things are about to not be okay," I hiss back as she removes her hand from my lips. "I can't 'calm down'."

"Just think of this as the bloodbath again," she explains in a surprisingly smooth, gentle voice despite the nasty weather and impending violence. "Just try to focus...relax. Acting like this will only make things worse."

The physical contact being somewhat comforting, I allow myself to still just a tad. Still, my breaths were shallow and I pant with each exhale.

"Thanks Miss..." I breathe. "I'm just a little frazzled because it's happening for real now."

"All we can do right now is try our best at this point," She replies, grinning sadly. She eases off of me, allowing me to kneel on my own weight as she peers through the foliage, her face contorted in a frown. "What do you see?"

I slowly split some branches apart to get a look around. Another round of lightning strikes again, white and blinding, causing me to flinch slightly when a nearby tree – judging by the loud groaning – crashes to the ground on the other end of the pit. In the distance, all around me, a fog was slowly settling in. You couldn't see anything beyond a few meters and that distance was closing as the haze became thicker by the second. It was insurance – insurance that some of us don't make it out. I don't wanna even think about what they'd do if we left the 'circle' prematurely.

"Nothing...I see nothing..." I falter, turning my gaze toward her. "What...What do we do?"

She purses her lips, motioning with her spear. "What we have to."

I nod halfheartedly, joining her as we inch as deep into the foliage as we can, waiting until it something, anything happens. I'll do what I have to do if I have to...My allies are still out there, Chris, Gio, Linden – Alana counts too...sort of.Protection in numbers.

All I have to do is wait and see.

Solomon Kohli, 20

District 2 Male

"There she is, let's get after her!"

Warren lets out a cackle of sorts, pointing his spear forward to where the rolling hills and forest border one another. I follow the weapon through the downpour where I spy Veradisia Smith and who appears to be Aurelia about to hobble into the greenery. The two women both do a double take at the sound of Warren's call after them. As lightning strikes, they've all but disappeared. This doesn't stop Sarissa or Warren however, as the two of them immediately pick up their pace leaving Thames and I to follow – begrudgingly on my end.

Wait...Why am I following?

Scoffing, I skid to a halt, shaking my head in annoyance while watching as the three of my 'allies' continue to give Veradisia chase without a thought. They don't look back, too eager for blood I guess.

I'm an archer – a sharpshooter. Chasing after them like we were teenagers still goes against everything my drill instructors taught me. This was the perfect opportunity to allow the storm to corral them all together and put some shots downrange. The ghille suit was built for weather like this and I'd be an idiot to waste it's abilities by chasing tributes loudly through the woods.

As the fog begins to engulf the area, I slither into the foliage away from where the group entered. Hunched low, I quickly but cautiously move through the greenery while making sure that the only thing behind me was the encroaching haze. Whatever happens to them, happens. Maybe then I could finally breathe and focus on me.

Thames Montgolia, 26

District 1 Male

They're surprisingly quick.

I bound on top of a fallen branch of sorts, snapping it in two as I keep pace with Sarissa and Warren, who seem dead set on doing away with Veradisia and Aurelia – Veradisia above all else. Like the stylist said before my send off, the arena outfit coupled with the poncho works up well against the weather while I maintain my pursuit. Just tone down the rain a tad and the sprint would be comparable to a workout in June.

Lightning strikes again, illuminating Aurelia's fearful expression for a brief moment before disappearing behind a tree. One can't help but feel bad for her. She's been dealt a shitty hand throughout our entire time here. It's a shame that she – or her family more like it – was on the wrong side of history. Things would've been a lot better if she was a Career, but now, she has to die. Not by my hands of course but Warren's and Sarissa's.

Maybe then all the attention will be on one One tribute instead of two.

Lightning strikes again, this time so close that a tree meters in front of us topples over. We immediately shuffle sideways, not breaking our pace as we continue the chase. Veradisia and Aurelia haven't faltered either. They're using some sort of 'buddy system' that allows them to traverse faster despite any wounds they may have as each of their arms are gripping each others' shoulders.

"Sol, maybe try firing off one of those special bows?!" I call out to him. An explosion would knock them down a peg.

Except, when I turn meet him, Solomon was gone.

What the hell? So, he decided to check out. He couldn't have...Maybe he hatched a plan or something and went elsewhere? Regardless, Sol doesn't matter right now.

My conscience twinges with regret. Not out of pity, but fear. Do Veradisia or Aurelia matter right now? I quickly check my watch to see if we made it to that designated zone the Gamemakers wanted us to be in, watching as a green checkmark appears on the wet screen. If the zone were like a circle and we inadvertently chase the girls into the middle of it with all the other tributes waiting...

My musings are cut off as my feet flounder from under me as I tumble down an escarpment with a startled yell. My vision is filled with mud, water and flashes of Sarissa and Warren as they too get toppled by me. The tumble ends with me falling face first onto the ground hard.

Sarissa lets out a growl. "F'r fucks sake, One!"

"You're still alive aren't you?" clap back just as angrily. Can't let that get me down, however, as I clamber to my knees while watching as Aurelia and Veradisia run the opposite way in a wide berth before meeting each other once again.

I was right. We were essentially in an open, circular area with greenery surrounding us all around.

Warren seems to have recovered faster than us, as he's already halfway to the girls. Lightning strikes, he cries out sharply and suddenly, he's not there anymore.

What the fuck?!

As a cannon fires overhead, I sprint over to where he once was, skidding to a halt just before the gaping hole in the ground.

Lightning strikes again and I see Warren briefly. His body was skewered head to toe with what were essentially punji sticks. His head was turned to the side. His one eye that I could see and mouth are both wide and agape in shock.

Shit. I couldn't take my eyes away from the scene. Just days ago – hell, just a few minutes ago – he was joking up a storm, constantly chatting about anything and everything to keep our frayed pack together. To me, he was the better member of the pack because of that simple fact. And now, he was gone, his dreams and aspirations along with him.

If I were just as quick as he was, my dreams would be crushed as well.

I glance up to see the older woman from Seven – Verona? – burst out from the shrubbery on the other side of the pit. Something silver shimmers in her hand as she cocks it back and prepares to let it fly. Instintictively, I crouch low to minimize her chance of hitting me.

Her weapon doesn't whistle through the air, but something else does – an arrow – into the side of her head, I see as lightning strikes again. She crumples to her side, her face contorted in agony as her cannon fires.

Another arrow whistles through the air and I flinch as a tree on the right hand side of the pit explodes at the base, causing it to tumble to the ground and rattle the area. My eyes dart upward as the greenery above becomes alight with fire as the flames dance from branch to branch.

All around Sarissa and I are surrounded by other tributes who begin rushing forward. That is, until another arrow sinks itself into the edge of the pit all while emitting copious amounts of smoke.

Linden Norton, 40

District 11 Male

It was a shitshow of epic proportions.

I call out for Donna Ludra or Gio, or Chris, but get no reply in return. The exploding tree and the flaming debris falling all around us scattered us like roaches. With my sickle at the ready, I stumble through the thick mist. Not only was it nighttime, but it was raining and thundering something fierce on top of copious fog and smoke with flames on the side. This was a million times worse than the fog they set on us yesterday. At least then you could see a few feet in front of you, now you can't see anything. My vision was filled with grey, peppered with rain and orange embers of singed leaves and branches alike. To say I was nervous was an understatement.

Damn near coughing up a lung, I stagger my way out of the haze and into the opening, where the density of the smoke is lessened. I'm surprised to see Sarissa Levesque wheezing something fierce, totally distracted. Sickle raised, I waste no time charging toward her. A Career taken down by a non-Career, the Capitol would be shocked, but they'd like that. They'd like me, even if I didn't like it myself.

Just as I swing downward, she bleats out a startled gasp, leaping backward. I'm not sure if I struck her right as she whips her head downward to inspect the gaping hole in her cloak and leather jacket underneath. My blade shows no signs of blood. Sarissa's head snaps upward and I swear I can see her eyes trembling with anger. Fuck fuck fuck!

Lightning strikes as I waste no time going back on the attack again. She and I find ourselves meeting one another halfway. I swing my sickle down toward her head and she swats the blade away with her spear. I see movement below her waist, only to register pain quickly spreading around my groin. I hunch down, only to quickly drop to my side as Sarissa's spear nearly skewers my chest. Shit shit shit! My heart is in my throat now, as I scramble backward, narrowly avoiding each jut of her spear as the end digs into the ground each time.

One prod connects, causing me to cry out as a stinging pain erupts around my right calf.

I swat my sickle toward her, causing her to hiss as it cuts across her cheek. She staggers back, hissing in pain once more.

Get up, up up! My breaths short and labored, I scramble up to my feet and power my scythe down toward her chest. She parries the blow. I don't let up, I can't let up. No matter how many times I swing the sickle this way and that or how many steps she takes back in retreat, I could never land a hit and it was pissing me off. Through the rain, her face was an impassive mask all while I was growing tired with each strike.

With all my might, I power the sickle downward. The tip of her spear meets my blade with a shower of sparks. I try to retract the sickle but it's caught in her spear.

In a circular arc, the Two girl brings the sickle down and swings it upward. I could only watch as my weapon – my lifeline – flies out of sight.

Suddenly, I feel winded.

I glance downward, only to see her spear in my stomach.

I try to gasp, only for blood to erupt out of my mouth. The pain comes immediately.

She retracts the spear and with another warrior-like cry, she skewers my chest. I cry out. I feel liquid – blood – dribbling out of me and no matter how much I try to keep it in by clenching, it seems like it dribbles out even harder.

A firm boot to my chest sends me to the floor and I'm helpless to get back up again. The spear enters my chest once more but I'm numb to it now. I try to breathe but only more blood erupts from my mouth – if just barely. I feel it welling up in my throat more and more by the second.

Sarissa plants her foot on my chest, ripping the tip out. I can barely hear the rainfall and lightning striking anymore.

Splayed out on the ground, I turn my head to the side, watching as she zips off into the fog. I try to turn it upward again but I can't. I can't move anymore.

So I lay there, until my breaths become shallower and shallower.

Russett Gilmour, 29

District 8 Male

Wracked with confusion, I hunch low as yet another cannon pierces the sky. Though I'm thoroughly concealed by the foliage, I can't help but tense when I hear the stomping of feet rushing to and fro, wondering if one of those pairs of feet would come stomping my way? Heart pounding in my ears, I secure a hand over the long knife in one hand while another hand remains on my bandoleer – both for easy access. Lightning strikes again – illuminating the area and the various tributes that zip around haphazardly, as if they were trying to avoid each other.

Unsure of what to do, I fall back on Clarisse's final words before boarding the hovercraft. "You're not a Career, so kill counts don't matter. Don't be a crowd-pleaser, just survive by any means."

It's while I was trying to collect my thoughts when I feel a sharp pain in my shoulder blade. Like a bee sting. I'm startled to find an arrow twisted in there, its mass foreign to my body. I quickly rip the bolt out, glancing upward to see the guy from Ten – Emmanuel – illuminated by the flaming greenery.

I noticed his reluctance as soon as he and Laelia burst onto the scene. I can't blame him for doing this. Our 'alliance' was a temporary one. What would've happened if Chris' allies came back or Alana's people? He's just doing what all of us will do to one another eventually.

He readies another bow and fires. I was lucky enough to scramble out of the way and return the favor, launching a knife toward him. It misses, flying off into the trees as he disappears again. I too make myself scarce, zipping from bush to bush.

It's when I was transitioning from my third bush to my fourth when a force collides into me.

Lightning flashes again and through the heavy rainfall, Veradisia's pale, frenzied face meets mine. She whips her head backward, toward the direction she was running from.

Who was she running from? Thames Montgolia, who continues to barrel towards us. There was no time to flee elsewhere. What a stupid, stupid friggin girl, tugging a Career along with you?! Without a thought, I begin flinging knives at One.

One blade catches him in the arm, which staggers his advance but he keeps on coming anyway, bobbing and weaving each knife that whistles his way. Shit fuck shit!

I clamber to my feet, withdrawing my long knife as he raises his katana and strikes, missing. He would've split my head open if I were any slower.

His swings are fast, too fast, with each one piercing the air with a sickening swoop. I'm surprised I'm quick enough to dodge each swing.

Thames swings toward my neck and I catch it with my knife. I barely crane my head as he pushes the blade forward. I feel a slightly painful sting and wetness from my ear that most definitely wasn't the rain.

He swings toward my head and I bend my body, missing the blade. He spins, kicking me while he's at it.

Winded by the strike I stagger, crashing onto my bottom. Thames remains on the attack, his katana raised overhead. My long knife is all but forgotten somewhere on the soggy forest floor.

I too remain in the fight, clutching him by the crooks of his knees and tackling him to the floor. With one hand gripping his katana-wielding hand and my knee pinned on his other, I launch punch after punch into his face. Despite his nose bleeding and his eye beginning to grow swollen, he wriggles violently until I feel his hand free from under my knee.

My vision flashes white as he throws his fist into my jaw. He pumps his foot into my chest.

Stunned, I tumble backward, slipping as I topple to the ground. He crawls elsewhere. While he's down I withdraw a knife from my bandoleer and charge forward. On hands and knees he clambers my way. He's probably still weak from my beat down.

When I plunge my knife downward, I'm shocked to see how quickly he rises from his previously dazed state. I see his katana glinting in the night.

We're close now, face to face. There's a squelch, followed a terrible, terrible pain in my chest where my heart is. Like heartburn times a million. I gasp out for air as blood escapes my mouth. We stagger back and forth and as we do this, my body grows weaker by the millisecond. I find myself slumping in his grasp. Everyone was watching back home. Oh Clarisse...Oh Gen...Oh Mackie! Oh my god.

Thames' face remains an impassive mask. Typical Career. He places a hand on my shoulder. "Not bad...Not bad at all."

Trembling under his grasp, he lays me down gently. Almost as if he cares. I can't help but wail out in agony as he slowly rips out the sword from my body. The blood overflows from the wound and I can't help it.

As blood bubbles out my mouth, I watch him as he watches me. Seconds pass and he leaves my vision, filling it with burning trees smoke and darkness.

Ricardo Marcenas, 50

Snow Island Male

Goddamit Vera where are you?!

I stomp through the bushes and shrubs, in search for the elusive girl from District 12. I heard her screams and whimpers and the calls of the Careers. She has to be near, very near. I vault over a fallen, scorched tree. The smoke was becoming thicker the closer I got to the action. My mouth was still so sore, regardless of Melanie's hasty first-aid attempts before my being stuffed in his hellhole also known as an 'arena'.

The smoke proves too much for my already tired lungs, prompting me to gag up blood and spittle. I bet my bottom dollar that it was only me left fighting off mutts until early in the morning. estúpido de mierda Gamemakers. I may have lost my tongue, I may be hurting all over, but I'm still alive God damn it. I wear this fact like a commendation.

I ready my broadsword when I hear rustling through the foliage. I pivot from left to right and look up and down, yet nobody could be seen.

But I could feel them though as they pounce onto my back.

Damn near knocking the wind out of me, I drop my sword in surprise. However I still retain my bearings. Before they could formulate an attack, I spin myself and them around before slamming them to the floor.

She – Doctor Suetos – lets out a pained cry as she crashes to the floor, rolls to her knees and shoots me an angered glare. She's tough – worthy of the '7' she attained.

Having the wind knocked out of her does stop her, however, as she withdraws a knife and charges me. I'd be too exposed if I picked up my broadsword.

With measured steps, I stagger back with each swipe she delivers. With a cry she leaps forward while driving her knife downward. Though it pierces through the leather blouson and into my bicep – judging by the slight discomfort – I pay it no mind.

Gripping her by the neck, I slam her into the nearest tree and squeeze. She eyes me with pure hatred, punching, scratching and kicking to no avail.

I consider ending her right here and now. She, like everyone else who doesn't hail from the lapdog districts, was just desperate and misguided. Let her live another day why not?

I slam her against the tree twice, allowing her dazed form to slump against its base as I scramble to my sword and hightail it away from the Doctor.

While stumbling through the greenery, lighting strikes once more, illuminating the fallen Russett Gilmour – the young hero of Eight. With glossy eyes, the young man gazes up into nothingness, blood oozing from his mouth and a hole in his uniform.

Sighing, I dip down and relieve him of his bandoleer, for he won't be needing it anymore. This was a shame and a waste.

Lo siento, my friend. I take the time to close his open eyes. At least then, his people back home realize he isn't just a useless husk I'm using for loot. I immediately rise up, hearing cries of combat not too far off. I charge my way through the foliage, which now lacks the flames and smoke leaving only light fog. Through the rain I could hear the sound of rushing water the closer I get to the fighting. I break through to a clearing where thank God I find Vera fighting desperately against the One man. She looks worse for wear. Her light blonde hair was out of its bun, her uniform splotched with mud, one of her sleeves torn open with a gash visible.

She swings upward to meet his downward strike. The next swing disarms her of her ax entirely as he sweeps her leg. With a cry, she crumples to the floor as One prepares to deliver a killing blow.

Too bad I'm already pumping towards him. Vera must live.

Before I could take his head off, he barely blocks my swing toward his neck. His face is etched with shock, but immediately turns to a look of utter contempt. From the corner of my eye, I see Vera looking on in utter surprise. I offer her a slight smirk. Everything will be well, Vera.

I draw his katana downward, clocking him squarely in the jaw. Judging by the shape of his lightly bruised face, he's already had a couple fed to him. Staggering backward, he lets out a pained cry. Though I revel in this somewhat, I force my smirk down. The man was still dangerous by virtue of being an adult and a 'Career' all at the same time.

One furiously spits and rubs the excess blood from his mouth away, returning his gaze toward me with a slight raise of the head. His eyes smoldering with hatred, he pushes forward. I meet him with equal gusto as we clash together as one just as another bout of lightning strikes again. I parry towards my head and shrug off his blow, prompting both of us to pounce back only to immediately be on each other once again and again and again, each time causing one or both of us to stagger back with each counter.

Where I may have more brawn, One has speed on his side. I whip my head from left to right, narrowly avoiding being skewered through the brain on the left and having my cheek sliced open on the right. It stings of course, and gushes like a faucet, but I've felt worse pain, much worse pain.

It must look pretty bad too because I see a look of surprise in One's eyes. Perhaps because I've shrugged off his little attack. With the speed of a mag-lev train, he thrusts forward and connects with my side and then my shoulder. The Peacekeepers, like the hornets they were, struck me in those places too. Those hurt, but I'm still standing.

He angles his sword downward for an attack, but I sidestep the blow, shooting my foot into his side. Letting out a winded shout, he wobbles backward. I stalk forward, my sword gripped tightly in my hand as I stand on guard. Vera's wellbeing and the looks of shock on the faces of the Capitol's gluttonous upper crust is the only thing that fuels me.

I move to attack. I chop downward, One counters. I swing diagonally to both shoulders as he parries both of them. Lightning strikes once again as he swings downward from the right parry while I swing upward.

Through the flash of lightning, there's a sharp crack as One's sword shatters.

I waste no time going low, swiping diagonally as I take one of his legs with a precise, diagonal swipe. He lets out a cry of agony as he goes down and I rise up. His cries are immediately silenced with a gurgle as I plunge my sword through his chest and into the earth. His cannon, coupled with another lightning strike, felt as if the arena itself were imploding.

Ripping my sword out of One's body, I barely have time to regain my bearings, refresh myself with the rain, take in what I've just done before a spear nearly skewers my head and lands into the river.

Sarissa Levesque, 26

District 2 Female

I wanted more.

Keeping a brisk pace, I zip through the foliage, darting toward any moving shadow my eyes laid on. Time and time again, the lightning strikes would veer me off course and the shadows – along with their panicked yells – would be gone. Years upon years of night exercises back at the Academy meant absolutely nothing in this shitty torrent of rain and foliage-infused smoke and fog.

Regardless, I persist, wanting to find another tribute to blip off to maintain the rush.

As annoying as he was in his approach, Eleven was a decent kill. Finally, after so many friggin years of sitting on my ass plus two more days of flukage, I was finally, finally doing what I've always wanted to do. Disarming him and plowing my spear into him as he went down in agony felt stunning. It was so automatic – so natural. I could only imagine the reactions of Two, as well as Mom and Dad as they rise to their seats and cheer me on.

As I rush through an area of foliage devoid of flames and smoke, I hear the clashing of swords alongside cries of pain. My spear kept close, I charge toward the commotion and then some as a sharper more agonizing cry breaks through the clearing.

Just as I emerge, I see One – Thames – on the floor, defeated, clutching the stump of his leg while Marcenas raises his sword and drives it downward. His cannon sounds off immediately.

Instinctively, I lob my spear. It narrowly misses the man, instead landing into the river where it lay upright and lodged. Snow Island whips my way – startled – but doesn't make a move.

My eyes scan the scene in its entirety. Snow Island huffs and puffs as if he'd just done an eighty mile run. He definitely earned his kill, that's for sure. And then there was One, splayed out on the ground before him bloodied and battered. One – rich, 'handsome', a typical luxury district white-boy looks – was nothing now. Can't really say I cared, one less threat I had to deal with in order to get out of here and claim my prize. Still, I couldn't help but wonder why he'd gotten himself into this anyway. He already had everything. Meh, all I know is that that won't be me.

"Holy fuck Snow Island, you butchered 'im real good." Chuckling, I advance further into the clearing. Eyeing him and One both. "Maybe you can put your money where your mouth is..."

My eyes drift over to Twelve. Fucking Twelve. She too looks like a mess – a far cry from the prissy hybrid-Capitolite that captured the attention of the Capitol for days on end. Like a deer caught in headlights, she quickly scrambles a meter or two away upon my laying my eyes on her. How pathetic.

"Why is it that you have everyone fighting your battles, Twelve? You're the volunteer, are you not?" I glance over him now, damn near busting out with laughter at that glare he shoots me. "The lay must be worth it if you've been protectin' her this long, eh Snow Island?"

Besides the death glare, Snow Island offers no answer.

Lightning strikes as I shrug and shoot the oaf an incredulous look. He's dumber than I thought he looked. "The fucks the matter with you Snow Island, cat's got yer tongue?!"

"They turned him into an Avox you ignorant fool!" Twelve shouts acidly at me. I progress even closer to the pair. Instinctively, Snow Island forms a wall of sorts around Twelve. Pathetic. We immediately find ourselves stalking one another in a circle. I got a couple a' openings in mind, but the Capitol must be loving this little chat so for them I'll practice some 'restraint'.

I let out the heartiest guffaw I've ever let out in weeks. I offer the both of them a baffled look, focusing it squarely on Snow Island. "Oh my sweet Panem, there's no fuckin' way! Heh, that's what you get for running your fat mouth. Fuckin' rebs don't know when to quit!"

He must be hurting like a motherfucker. Gotta give the oaf credit he's made it this long despite how bad he must feel. Twelve rises to her feet now, removing her bangs from her sodden hair.

"It's not like it matters, Sarissa. He killed Thames and he'll kill you too!"

Bitch has a quite the lip on 'er. So, I give my spear a playful twirl, catch it mid-air and lob the thing towards that loud, prissy mouth.

Snow Island somehow swats the spear out of the air, but that doesn't matter, I rush forward with the swiftness of a mutt and jab my second spear towards her. Just as I close the distance, Snow Island shoves her out of the way, parrying my spear away.

Letting out an annoyed growl, I spin around and face Snow Island and Snow Island alone. Twelve could wait, yeah, let's leave Twelve for now. Where she could be laid out within a second, Snow Island has a lil fight in him. I love fight.

My amused smirk clashing against his angered frown, I pounce toward him.

I jab toward his thigh, leaping backward when he sidesteps and damn near lobs my head off with his sword. I literally hear it sing through the air. Before he could maintain his attack I pounce back forward, jabbing my spear toward him again and again and again.

The idiot is surprisingly fast. Though he's backtracking with each of my attacks, he does so with competence.

That is, until he trips in the mud. What happens next is a gold bullion of good luck for the both of us.

Looming over him, I jut my spear downward, swearing as the fucking rain makes my hand slide down the shaft. He catches it with one hand before it pierces his body. He replies in kind by shooting his sword toward my midriff. I barely catch his arm as I feel the tip prick and break skin. A stiff boot to the chest by the oaf sends me tumbling backwards and flat onto my ass. Twelve continues to watch, wide-eyed, making no move to help him. As I clamber to my knees, Snow Island gets onto his feet quicker.

I watch as he takes my spear from either end and slams it against his knees, shattering it down the middle.

I let out a scoff. What a bastard. I'd be quaking in my boots if that were my only weapon of choice.

I leap forward, catching him off guard and sending him onto the ground – or water.

I wasn't expecting to send us into the adjacent river. The cold water that submerges us offers me a shock of a lifetime, enough for me to free my grip and rise up back to my feet again. As he staggers to a standing position again, without his sword, I close the distance. He tosses a punch and I step backward, countering with a jab to the gut and a punch to the jaw.

Going hand-to-hand with a man like Snow Island would be a death wish for the untrained plebe, thankfully having Levi around alongside a bevy of male instructors and fellow cadets and troops alike makes fighting him a fair deal.

I launch a knee into his head as he hunches over in pain. I'm about to send a kick into his gut when he catches it and tugs me forward and into the river. Instinctively, I flail upward for air but his hands deny me the essence I deserve.

Instead of clutching my neck to pry him off, I snake my hands through the water, down my side to where my boot is.

I jab my knife into his calf, causing him to bleat out in pain. I rise up with a gasp as with knife in hand I lumber toward him.

Now, I was getting tried. This guy needs to fucking die and die now!

I swipe from left to right, yet he continued to dodge each blow. I knew he was getting tired too. It was only a matter of time before I made the connection.

Dodge this, fucker. I decide to feint another swipe and instead go for a thrust toward his chest. He caught my hand, aw shit. He tugs me forward and I offer slack resistance, aw fuck. With his other hand he clutches my elbow and wonder if he's gonna break it.

In a swift movement, he brings my arm back and my left eye flashes white.

I stumble backward, gasping in shock. Then the pain comes and the blood that flows out of my eye down my cheek and into my mouth. I let out frenzied shriek and a string of curses and I don't shut up. I'm stumbling now, holding my gaze toward the knife that dominates my vision.

Do I take it out, or do I leave it in, what the fuck do I do?!

Through the stars that flood my 'vision' I see Snow Island briefly. Pain erupts in my chest and I hunch over, winded. And then my vision spins and spins.

I find myself deeper into the water now, spinning and tumbling. Luckily I find myself upright for a moment. As I power my way forward toward Snow Island once again, the current sucks me back. The water is too deep now and I'm struggling to stay afloat.

I glance backward only to see pitch blackness and no more river going straight, but downwards rather.

I let out one last bout of curses as I'm launched over the edge. My vision is nothing but blackness yet I could feel myself tumbling through the air. What in the actual fuck just happened, is this the end?!

There's a sharp pain in my forearm, all over my body and then...nothing.

Lars Malatic, 36

District 9 Male

It was finally happening.

I cast a glance back towards the fog that seems to circle around a wide area – a containment system no doubt. The haze was as thick as a wall but I swear, through the grayness, those same yellowed eyes from the night before were gazing back at me – waiting for someone to dare leave the area unless prompted to. Sighing, I rise up and begin hacking away at the foliage in front of me using my sickle. The Games were all about risk and reward and there was no decent reward – but a whole lotta risk – if I stuck to the sidelines while cannons were firing left and right. Marceline's words vibrate inside my skull.

"We've been dying to meet your acquaintance!"

"If you ask me, Lars Malatic is clear to back!"

I strike down a baby evergreen, shoving it aside. The Capitol was watching me. They wouldn't allow me to win if I skirted across the arena without making some sorta splash – wasting the opportunity they gave me. They're giving me an opportunity now to do something.

The Capitol was the one that propped me up – made me viable – not the tributes like I thought prior. I'll have to show my appreciation by being the tribute they expect me to be.

Just as another cannon rings throughout the air, there's a noticeable rush of wind through the rain. I turn back to see that the fog has all but subsided, besides a light haze. I still when I hear the quick squelching of boots against the ground. Pressing against the tree, I see Eleven bounding away from the 'circle', panting all the while her curls bounce on her shoulders.

"Wondr'a, Wondr'a wait!" a familiar voice calls out. I watch as the shrink from Six appears from out of the mist, coughing and panting. "Wondr'a?!" when he realizes that Wondr'a is far gone, Six lets out a sharp cuss.

With a hitched breath, I grip my sickle tightly. If it wasn't right now, I could've and would've dealt with him and the young lady back at the river when I first spied them. The fog and rain offered him saving grace but now that was over. It was time to get to work.

I push away from the cluster of evergreens toward Six with my sickle raised. Just as I reach a feet or two away, he turns and looks at me like a deer caught in headlights. My sickle swoops through the air and plants itself into the crown of his head.

...Or it would have, if he'd just stay still.

"Wh-whoa!" He blabbers out, haphazardly diving out of the way. He clambers to his knees, diving again when I swing downwards. Flustered, he continues to stumble backward with a hand splayed outward...As if he were trying to stop me. It reminded me of the way flaky clients would act when it was time to collect their past dues.

"Hey, wait, WAIT! Hold on a second," he pleads with a face as white as a sheet. "What issues do we have?!"

While casually striding forward, I pause for a moment, frowning, only to continue stalking after him. What does he mean, what 'issues' do we have? One of us has to get out of here sometime right? That person has to be me. Just like back in District 9, the upper crust need their payment and they want me to ensure they get it. It isn't holy work, but it keeps you alive. The Hunger Games are no different.

It ain't personal, it's just business.

Six crashes himself against a tree. I take advantage, swinging downward. Instead of sinking the blade into his chest, it sinks and lodges into the wood behind him. Cursing sharply, I wring the sickle from out the tree and lodge it into his rucksack just as he begins to flee.

Letting out a cry, he spins, all while emptying the contents of his pack onto the ground. Landing flat on his back, I join him on the ground, kneeling over him so that he doesn't squirm away again. Even though he's pinned on the ground, he still manages to evade death, whipping his head from left to right with each swing I send downward. At this point he's screaming like a madman, crying out each time my sickle sinks into the ground beside him.

Ergh, fuck this. I clutch the shrink by the throat, drop my sickle and wind up my fist. A singular punch to the jaw is enough to still him for good. I retrieve the sickle and raise it into the air.

A force clutches my throat and pulls, hard. My sickle once again digs into the space next to Six's head.

A gag escaping my lips, my weapon is left sunk into the ground as my hands quickly clamber to the wire that's secured tightly around my neck. I crawl off of Six in an attempt to throw off my assailant, but they still hang on and my gulps become more rapid.

I find their hands – soft and course – and dig my nails into them. A feminine cry breaks out behind me as I take her by the hands, lift her overhead and slam her to the floor. Lightning strikes and surprise, surprise, the woman from Six glares back at me with an expression of frenzy and anger. She's seen better days. Her hair was a mess and her face was marred by a scratch alongside her cheek.

I quickly put my weight on her, gripping her neck. Give her a taste of her own medicine. The Capitol would love two partners taken out at once by a single tribute. I raise her head slam it against the ground one times, two times and three times.

Through the darkness of the night and the flashing thunder, I see that she maintains her glare towards me, as her hands listlessly clutch my face. Then she drags.

Like forks, Six slowly rakes her long nails down my face. I was holding fast until she reached my eyes and I just had to jump up in pain.

I look down, she lets out a yell and there's a flash of black and suddenly my groin is on fire.

My curses join her gasps of breath as I flop onto my stomach, the coldness of the floor soothing my pain somewhat.

I glance up to see my sickle just a little ways away next to the still-dazed shrink. I need to end this shit, I need that fuckin' sickle!

I try rising to my feet but the pain brings me onto my fours. No matter I'm almost at the sickle. I proceed to crawl.

The Shrink all of a sudden opens his eyes, clambers to his feet and retrieves the sickle – my lifeline – and moves a couple of feet away. He gazes at me with a concoction of sadness and shock.

"Give me that fuckin' sickle!" I rasp out at him, hand extended. No matter how fast I try to get there, it's never fast enough. "Give...me the fuckin'-"

Weight is on my back again, alongside the wire coiling around my neck once more. My vision spins until I'm focused up at the sky. Her knees pressed into my back as my body is now suspended off the ground. No matter how much I thrashed and bucked, I could never get back onto the ground or find her from under me to break free. My chest begins to ache and blood erupts from my throat.

As my vision continues to shrink to that of a marble, and my flailing becomes less coordinated, I think that maybe, though it isn't ideal, I attained freedom in a different way.

Nautia Novakova 29

District 4 Female

I saw her come this way.

Hunched low like an ape mutt, I lumber my way into the clearing to search for any signs of Aurelia, just to be sure. Though the explosions and resulting flames and numerous cannons serve as enough reason not to go back to look for her. Regardless, I need her for just a little while longer. The temporary truce between alliances – between people – was over now. Tonight signified the start of the Games for real. There was to be no more partnering with Linden and his friends or exchanging friendly nods with Lars Malatic. Who knows if those alliances are even together at this point? That was all the more reason to at least try and get her back.

The 'clearing' was no longer clear. It was just now a charred mass of fallen trees. The monsoon was like the many I saw while patrolling at sea, with darkness all around and no sense of bearing. How the hell was I supposed to link up with Aurelia with all this mess in the way?

"Aurelia!" I yell with a cupped mouth. Why not? Once upon a time, I trained specifically for this and more recently I was a member of the armed forces. I was more than prepared for any potential threat.

I get my response in the form of a ragged scream. The dammed lightning strikes again, distorting the voice somewhat. I focus in on the sound once more, as I now hear the clashing of metal and cries of battle. Alright...so I'll choose the general location of the noise and...go!

I vault over a downed evergreen and make my way around the open pit that took up the middle of this circular clearing. Lightning strikes and I spot a body – Warren's body – skewered with sticks. I damn near fall into the pit with him. I keep running though. Unfortunately, there was no time to think about Warren right now.

I vault over another smoldering log, where the sounds of fighting become as clear as day. Pushing through one patch of greenery, I see them. Geronimo was fighting Aurelia. How she held her own against his fearsome mace was a mystery but she did it.

When Geronimo swings downward and Aurelia blocks, causing her to stagger to the ground, I charge forward and collide into him.

The young man grunts, tumbling to the floor before rolling onto his bottom. I exchange nods with Aurelia who struggles against a tree to get onto her feet before turning to Geronimo. A few hours ago, I'd ask him to put reservations aside, join together and work to take down bigger threats.

But that route was severed now. The Gamemakers wouldn't allow it. . I withdraw my ka-bar, inverted so that the blade points downward rather than upward.

Geronimo's face flashes with shock, then quickly morphs with anger as he leaps up, charges and powers his mace downward. Where he has power on his side, I have speed as I sidestep the attack, watching as the iron, spiked ball crashes into the earth with a soppy splash. Using the knuckle dusters built into the blade, I clock Geronimo in the cheek and relish with the contact the brass made against his skin.

I can't help but grin from ear to ear. The better moments of my time as an aspiring Career were beginning to come back. The rush of sparring, the elation of getting a decent hit in, it feels good.

As if electrocuted, Geronimo bleats out in pain and pats his cheek. Dazed for only a second, he staggers upright and rushes forward once again.

I've seen him during training, alongside his resulting score. All it takes for a non-Career to prosper is genuine interest. His interest shows when he lobs the mace left and right with minimal fatigue. As the rod cuts through the air with menacing swoops, I quickly weave past the attack. It's a dance between me and him. He swings his hulking mace and I swiftly sidestep and retaliate by raking my knife across an arm, a shoulder and then finally across his back, tearing through the poncho, the leather and who knows what else.

I must've struck something, as he lets out a gale-like roar of pain and anger and tentatively staggers forward. He somehow fights through it and suddenly uses one hand to swing his mace backward. I barely dodge it, ducking as it sails through the air and shatters the base of a tall evergreen.

It groans and begins to fall. I try to move from its radius but it's too damn dark outside to see where the damned thing was falling. I know I didn't clear it when I feel a force against my right calf. That force is amplified when he lumbers on top, effectively pinning me down.

I prepare to let my knife fly into his throat, but I don't have to.

Through the flash of lightning I see Aurelia jabbing her spear into his hip. Geronimo cries out and stumbles to the ground. Thank the Gods.

"Need a hand?" she asks playfully.

I nod. "Please."

The pressure is relived enough for me to wiggle my way from under the evergreen tree and to come face to face with Aurelia, whose smile cuts through the black of the night. I return it, placing a tired hand on her shoulder as thanks. Look who's beginning to learn. I guess our little rooftop training sessions are coming to form.

"Gio?!"

We both turn to our right, watching as three other tributes break through the greenery. I recognize one as Chris Samera. Just as he rushes forward, I lob a knife in his direction. I hear a cry of pain, followed by their shadows breaking formation, which is more than enough for me.

I waste no more time, vaulting over the fallen tree while helping a limping Aurelia over as well.

"Reunited at last," She trills, accepting me as I drape her arm over mine and begin a quick jog. "It's nice to be with you again...Nautia."

"It's nice...to be with you too...Aurelia." I reply. It wasn't just simply for survival reasons. It was genuinely nice to have her with me again. It was only right that I come looking for her and I'm glad I did. We've been together since the beginning and it'll most likely stay that way until the end – whenever that was.

Kaviraya Parathi, 29

District 12 Male

There was so much death.

I stifle myself just as quickly as I cry out, watching as another round of lightning strikes a nearby tree, adding a flurry of leaves and foliage to join the torrent of rain that continues to pour down. I find myself zipping from bush to bush in order to not be seen. To not end up like the man from Eleven or the elder lady from Seven or Warren Holt. It's so different from holovision and its movie-like depiction of fallen tributes. Being up close, hearing a sharp cry suddenly end as someone falls into a pit filled with Snow knows what, seeing a body twitch still after getting an arrow lodged between their ears and watching someone get impaled multiple times and gargle to death was...jarring to say the least.

I shake my head letting out a shallow breath in an attempt to center myself once again. They died because they were incompetent. I saw it all myself. Especially in the case of the non-Careers, if they just bided their time and hid – like me – they'd still be alive. Yes, it all makes sense now. I was exactly right when I said that particularity would be a key to success.

If these people were so tactless, all I have to do is ride on their incompetence all the way to the end.

Pushing aside my thoughts for a brief moment, I still as I feel a significant breeze wash over me like a blanket. A quick glance around shows me that the fog was mostly gone now, comparable to a fine mist.

Now was the time to get out of here. Like the bloodbath, the situation was far too volatile to go after other tributes. My job is to simply live until I see the sun again, then and only then could I formulate a plan. Remember - day by day...Day by day.

Hastily tightening my straps I begin running. To where? Anywhere but here. The evergreens and shrubs are thick here and despite the shielding of my face with my hands, they still manage to prick my face and invade my vision. I'm just about to free myself from this stupid foliage when I hear frenzied rustling. I crouch low, watching as Hermia and Tobias emerge from the opposite side of the evergreen I hiding beside.

"Where is everyone!?" the Nine woman hisses. Her face darts anywhere and everywhere. I swear she turns my way but thanks to the darkness, I remain obscure. I minimize myself for dear life.

"I don't know, Hermia," Tobias replies, his voice warbled with fear. "But I do know for sure we can't be here!"

Her hands shoot up into the air, seemingly in confusion. "But..."

"Come on Hermia," Tobias pleads. Like a petulant child at a store, he begins to tug her away. "I like action as much as the other guy, but let's not push our luck any further, yeah?"

I don't want my competence to dimmer either, so I continue my run too, in the opposite direction. Survival by any means, one day at a time. I bob and weave between the tall evergreens, nearly stumbling over the rotten stumps strewn in between them. Just live until the sun comes up, that will be an easy feat to achieve. Though it's dark, navigating in between the spaces is easy enough.

That is, until a figure collides into me.

They and I both let out frenzied cries as my world spins onto the pine-riddled ground. I frantically glance to my left to see that they've already risen to their feet with a spear in hand glinting in the night. Their face is obscured by the poncho they wear.

The nighttime doesn't help at all. It makes my assailant look like a phantom of sorts rather than a tribute. All they were was a black blob with a spear in hand.

I quickly unlatch my hatchet, swatting the spear away as they try to skewer my chest and my stomach. Constant clacking resonates through the air, mixed with our cries as they try to score a hit while I desperately try to deflect the tip from its intended target. I assume that they were not a Career or else I would've been dead as soon as they bumped into me. Where we both had desperation, they had it a little bit more. With each time I deflected, the spear would shoot out toward another spot and then another.

It was tiring, but being tired was better than lying on my back choking on my own blood. I want to live! I want to see V and Mary again and to be a gray man at the office once more and they threatened to stop me from doing that!

Instead of distancing myself, I close it. They thrust the spear forward and I capture it in one hand. They and I cry out as we begin a desperate tug-of-war. I extend a foot out in a sweeping motion.

It works. They trip onto the ground, their grip on the spear slackens and I tug it away and discard it.

This was it. I immediately drop to my knees and swing the hatchet into their chest with a grotesque squelch.

Their painful, feminine wail was enough to frazzle me, so much that I jump back and cower behind the closest tree. Like Linden, they too began to gag and rasp in pain. I peer from out from behind the tree and stalk forward toward the downed figure. She continues to wreathe with my hatchet still embedded in her chest. I kneel down beside her, and begin pulling down her hood.

Lightning strikes, illuminating the grimacing face of the Alana Oksoii.

Whatthefuck?! I let out an exclamation of shock, scrambling onto my bottom all while keeping an eye on her face. I killed Alana Oskoii.

"Oh my God...Oh goodness, oh no..." I bewail, looming protectively over her fallen form. I glance at the hatchet to her mouth that continues to dribble blood. "I am so, so sorry!"

Many people I regard have plenty of faults, but Alana Oskoii didn't have any that I saw. I shouldn't be sorry. It was the Games and people will die but her being in here, anyone would agree that she most definitely didn't deserve to be selected. Did any of us? She was the first among equals in that regard.

Blood frothing at the mouth, she raises her head in an attempt to say something but instead emits a noise akin to a stalling car. I slam my head into the palms of my hand again and again and again and again. I then ball my hands into a fist and scream until I can no longer. What the hell have I done?! The people won't want me to live anymore – and rightfully so – if I do win how would I walk the streets again?! Kaviraya Parathi – murderer of one of Panem's most renowned authors!

I return my attention back to Ms. Oskoii, who places a hand on my wrist. Despite her agony, she holds her gaze toward me. It isn't filled with contempt but rather sadness and...comfort? Her gentle squeezing of my wrist tells me that much. So humble. I return the gesture in kind, cupping her hand and returning the gentle squeeze.

"I'm so sorry Miss, I truly am." I soothe. No one else in this arena would get this reaction, this openness from me. I wish it wasn't me but me is better than a Career or a mutt.

Soon, her gaze becomes unfocused and her cannon sounds off in the distance. I lay her hand gently to her side while retrieving my hatchet from her chest with equal consideration.

I stand shakily to my feet, exhaling in an attempt to regain my bearings. The vulnerability felt good, but now it was time to return to reality. I have achieved my first major test – a kill. I am viable now. Love me or hate me – I don't particularly care – people will be watching me. Many more will have to face Ms. Oskoii's fate if I'm to get out of here. Now that I've done it once, I am now fully dedicated to that task.

A/N: If I gave my chapter a spiffy name, 'Lightning Strikes' would be it. Like a la Lou Christie's song.

I was late because I was busy hoofing it on a military range for training. I passed. Infantry training was supposed to begin for me two weeks from now, but I pushed it to fall because FFN/WiFi trump personal development any day.

I wanted to save words until the very end of the story, but why not do it now. I don't think I should do real-life funerals though.

Warren

He was the 'weaker' Career by virtue of age. All 'bloodbath scenarios' that I had planned lead to him being the first to fall. I planned for a full fledged non-Career alliance, all 21 or so tributes, jumping the Careers and him being the first casualty.

If he were victor, he would've got what he needed for his grandma to at least enjoy life for a little longer. He'd live with Hudson of course at Victor's Village (Villa) and Lakely would get her training. Would she win? Eh, maybe.

Verona

I enjoyed writing for her, but she was inherently set up to be someone who died earlier rather than stick around. But at least she got a confirmation send off by her foster children at Seven Oaks. If she did win, I imagine she'd continue on doing her good work at the orphanage. Like Paisley of District 11, she'd use her winnings to upgrade the orphanage to be the best thing it could be. More resources would be poured in and everything would be well.

Linden

He was good, yes, but I didn't have much of a story for him, unfortunately. If he won? He'd be a Capitol pleaser for sure, but unlike Clarence of District 11, he'd do it out of desperation and 'kissing up' rather than sheer patriotism. He'd quietly divorce his wife under amicable terms and life his life the way he wanted, possibly by taking up the arts seriously and having a relationship with will. Although in this Panem, it'd be very 'gray' and hush-hush of course.

Russett

The same for him as said for Linden. Hmmm...If he took the crown, I imagine that he'd be very big in the working class relations within Eight. Unlike the victors from pre HG 75, victors now have a more philanthropic flair to them. Eight being a rebel hotbed during the war, things would considerably improve now that they have a second victor under their belts. Standards will improve, so on and so forth.

Thames

You were supposed to be a finalist and a victor at one point, which is unfortunate. The Montgolia name would launch into the stratosphere. With him having a name of his own, of course producers and agencies would love to have his face on every billboard, commercial and movie within the nation. Like most One victors, they already have that position taken. Right now, one more wouldn't add anything new.

The Montgolia name – though because this is a SYOT so there is little time to really say it out right – is already a big name in of itself. Like Prada or Gucci. I think his parents were right in their doubt.

I don't think it matters, though.

Lars

He was supposed to be my victor...Up until...March-ish? His story was amazing – and easy – someone who is constantly dealt the shittiest deck finally gets a royal flush and wins. I had it all planned out. I was gonna write a epilogue in which his pals would get a point of view in jail would get an early release due to him swearing fealty to President DeWynter. His record would be expunged...He'd live with his Partner, Benji and maybe they'd adopt some kids and it'd be good.

Due to his loyalty, I also imagined a survival camp being established for underfed kids.

In the end though, none of this matters, in more ways than one. I wish it did matter. Because his victory would've served as a fitting ending, one that I was more than ready to enact.

Alana

I enjoyed her refreshing history. I've only seen the trope done once in Toxicated Rose's universe. Unfortunately, I couldn't work anything else through past the pre-Games portion of the story. If I did keep her around, which I planned to, she'd be a 'flat character', so I decided to end it here so that another character can grow. I had that problem in my first SYOT, too many characters alive past a certain point.

If she won, she'd be the toast of Panem and Eight for rest of the decade. Maybe a few more sequels or other works of art. At least she's now a cultural staple within the universe. That I'm very very happy with.

Even in death, she will serve as a focal point within Panem's history for the rest of the decade and beyond. So she still serves a purpose. Hopefully a purpose I can explore.