A scream pierced the tense, still air of District Twelve.Â
Most of the District members were gathered in the square, watching with baited breath as their male tribute fought for survival and, more importantly to them, the glory of the District. If he died, nobody in particular would be affected. He was a poor coal miner. An orphan, as far as they knew. A random boy plucked from obscurity in the Seam to revel on the big screen in the Capitol before his eventual and inevitable death. The fact that a tribute from the poorest district had made it to the grand finale was cause for a vacation from school and work, a gathering in the square to watch and hopefully celebrate. Could a boy from such humble beginnings really turn out to be the one to bring glory to their district?
Apparently not.Â
Three members of Twelve were not present in the square that day. Two of them, twins in their early twenties, stopped breathing, couldn’t say anything when that final cannon sounded from their television. Sixteen-year-old Mali Soto, however, erupted into hysterics. She collapsed onto the ground, gasping for air as she screamed for her brother, for what had happened to her already broken family. The most her sister Peru could do was fight through her numbness to kneel beside her youngest sibling, rubbing her back and letting her expel her grief in whatever way she could. There wasn’t really a way any of them would be recovering any time soon, but anything that could help would be progress to help them move on.Â
Their brother, Oman, disappeared for a few minutes, then reappeared from their room holding three of his deceased brother’s shirts. Without a word he handed them out to his siblings, keeping the only possessions Benin owned close. Mali grabbed onto the worn red flannel, the shirt he wore during the cold months. She’d always teased him about how filthy it was, and now...
Mali looked up to her siblings, the gleam in her eyes changing from grief to anger. “As if we haven’t been through enough fucking shit-”
“Mali...” Peru started.Â
“No,” she spit out. Her mouth was turned into a scowl, her lips pursed and nostrils flared. “What gives anyone the right to do this?”
“It’s not right,” Oman agreed calmly, keeping his composure for his younger sister. “But it happened, and we have to accept it and continue on. He told us, remember? He told us not to lose ourselves in grief.”
Mali shook her head furiously before stopping a second and looking back up at them. “Do you think he saw Mom and Dad in the Capitol?”
Peru and Oman looked at each other, knowing full and well it was more than a possibility. Benin may not even have known it, but they saw. The face of that male avox during coverage of Public Training was burned into their visions. They could only be grateful that Mali couldn’t recognize the visage of the man who had been their father eight years ago.Â
“Who’s to know?” said Oman quietly. “We can only guess, I suppose.”
Mali took a deep breath and stood, pacing carefully across the room to the threshold between the kitchen and the bedroom. Before she could enter the next room, she turned around, staring at the floor.Â
“I hate them,” she muttered. “Every last one of them. The Capitol, the Gamemakers... him.”
She couldn’t even spit out the name of the boy from Four who had killed her brother for his own survival. Oman’s face softened.Â
“He didn’t have a choice,” he said. “That boy- Aquarius-”
“I don’t fucking want to hear his name,” she spit. “I’ll hear it enough in the coming weeks. And every time it’s on I’ll know it should be Benin’s name they’re saying, Benin’s name they should be applauding and celebrating. He had a choice, O. And he chose to kill my big brother.”
As more tears flooded to her eyes she turned back around and stomped into the bedroom, her sobs infiltrating every crevice of the small house.Â
Peru sat in the shabby armchair, teeth gritted together in frustration. “I know you’re right, Oman. Spare me the lecture. But I can’t... I won’t be able to forgive this. How am I going to be able to look the guy who killed our brother in the eyes during the Victory Tour? How can I see his face plastered on my screen every god forsaken day of the next year?”
“I don’t know,” he murmured as he placed a hand on our shoulder. “But you’ll have to. We’ll have to.”
Silence pursued. And yet the house seemed louder than it had in all the eighteen years they’d had their brother here with them. The loss was deafening, overwhelming. And to find a way to navigate through it would be their greatest challenge to date.Â
A burst of applause swelled in the crowded courtyard in the wake of the Game Makers announcement, a similar scene erupting some hundreds of miles away in the Capitol city - Â the most privileged people in the country eager for entertainment. In the Districts themselves, Four and Twelve in particular, wide eyes remained locked on the television screen, shouts of encouragement coming from family, friends and strangers overriding the sound of the seas lapping waves and gentle whistle of a breeze that swept down the mine tunnels.
It was as if a whirlwind of chaos swept over Panem, its’ citizens abandoning their own moral compasses yearning for the death of another. But, isn’t that what the Capitol wanted: to forever divide the Districts in order to safeguard themselves against another uprising; to keep its people in a permanent state of competition thereby ensuring their reliance on the city as their only saviors, the Games becoming a necessity for their own survival?
All I wanted was to rest. And as the crowd dispersed and the fire I set left to blaze I slumped to the ground, exhausted and ready to be over with. I knew I had just killed Jo to get back to my family, but my will to live was depleting quickly. Could they manage without me? Probably. But then an image of my little sister’s face in front of the television appeared in front of me, illuminated in our small, dark house. Watching as Jo attacked me with a baseball bat. A horrified look on her face as she waited in anticipation for my seemingly inevitable cannon.Â
And then as I set my district partner on fire, relief flooded her face. I realized as Mali’s face dissipated from my vision (I was fairly certain all my injuries had culminated in nostalgic hallucinations at this point) that I couldn’t leave them in Twelve alone. Undoubtedly they’d be able to keep house and make enough money to survive if I weren’t there. But if Mali, if Peru or Oman were missing there would be left a gaping hole in my life. And I couldn’t let that happen to any of my siblings.Â
I stood, and there in front of me stood that awful Gamemaker. It took an enormous amount of willpower not to strangle her at this very moment, but the exhaustion took over both body and mind. No doubt she would get what she wanted no matter if she died or not. I’d die, someone else would go on to riches and fame.Â
Fame. The word sunk into my stomach as the woman began to escort me into the college. If I lived or died, it didn’t matter, because the government would have left its mark on me and my family forever. My siblings would never be free even if I was liberated through death. The knowledge of that fact hung heavy in my heart, but it felt as if I was almost going numb at this point. All I wanted was rest, to be left alone.Â
A sudden movement caught my attention and I looked up and to the left, where the guy from Four was begin escorted by another woman who looked like Agatha. I didn’t think much of her; the Capitol’s tricks were too numerous to try and demystify. But the guy... he was probably who I would be facing in a matter of minutes. And he looked just as roughed up as I did. I waved a little and smiled. Too bad we were set to kill each other. He seemed like a cool guy. A real bro.Â
And then, instead of being thrown into another fighting pit, I entered the locker room, where I slumped on the bench and looked at my injured hands as football players surrounded me. More mutts? At this stage in the competition? I tensed up a little, readying myself in defense.Â
But instead of attacking me, they seemed to be healing. One grabbed my injured right hand and swabbed disinfectant into it before stitching it up. Another threw some stiches into my neck. For a while, they simply worked at cleaning me up, washing out my cuts and bandaging them, picking out the remaining wood pieces in my left side that I’d missed the day before and stitching and putting gauze on it.Â
Somehow my hair grew back! Wow. Capitol medicine sure does work wonders.
And as I rested and let them work on me I had to admit that I felt better. A little rejuvenated, if still fairly tired. They left me a hat and a set of robes, and I rolled my eyes. They really were going all out on this theme weren’t they?Â
I slipped on the outfit over my uniform and was immediately surprised to see Agatha (?) again, who grabbed me and led me back out to the courtyard.Â
And suddenly the boy from Four was directly across from me, just as tired, just as squeaky clean. I shot him a peace sign with my right hand and he waved back, as exasperated as I was with this entire situation.Â
Then Agatha- the real Agatha, I assumed- took the stage. It was time for this to be over.Â
Events: Was thrown into a college party/fighting pit. It was literally the equivalent to a dogfighting ring except it was teenagers so. Anyway I was against the dude from Seven and Jo. Jo killed the dude, I killed Jo, I set the party on fire. It was a blast. Literally.
Location: Graduation.
Injuries: Fucked up but healing left side (worsened by Jo smashing her bat into it), gash in right hand (sewn up), bite in my neck (also sewn up), a lot of scary-looking but shallow cuts and scrapes pretty much everywhere, ditto for bruises.
Items: Blue backpack (only the box of tissues + wrappers left), baseball bat, chain, 2 tasers, cleaver, pouch of explosives (3 left), perfume, tampons, knuckle dusters, grappling hook, rapier, medical kit, axe, snacks.
Notes: I’m getting fucked with in the head. That’s all.
Benin felt a warm hand on his shoulder. With a jerk he turned around, ready to attack, but instead of a tribute on their offense he was shocked to find his older brother Oman standing next to him on the bleachers. He lowered the hand that was about to strike, realizing just now that it was devoid of a weapon anyway. Hadn’t he been holding a bat just then?
O, always the one who never needed words to convey what he was feeling, drew Benin into a hug, and the tribute relaxed into his older brother’s arms.
Events: Not much. Found a few explosives in a locker. Fought a few mutts.
Location: The bleachers by the baseball diamond.
Injuries: Fucked up but healing left side, gash in right hand, bite in my neck, a lot of scary-looking but shallow cuts and scrapes pretty much everywhere, ditto for bruises.
Items: Blue backpack (only the box of tissues left), baseball bat, chain, taser, cleaver, pouch of explosives, perfume, tampons.
Notes: I think the Games are starting to get to me. The anger I’ve always felt towards the Capitol for what they did to my parents is just growing exponentially by the hour. But I have to be careful not to lose my head. The most important thing is getting home to my family and I can’t lose sight of that.Â
Fuck it. I reached into my backpack and took out my remaining food and water. With the end of the games approaching I wouldn’t have much need for them. No point in conserving now. I finished off the bottle of water, soothing my parched throat, and finished off the energy bar. There was about half a bag of crushed cheetos left as well after my little altercation with that girl from Eleven, so I emptied that bag into my mouth and threw the wrappers into the bottom of my backpack.Â
I was done with exploring, I decided. So I climbed up onto the bleachers to hang out for a while. I didn’t even mind if I was out in the open at this point. Let another tribute come and find me. As far as I knew there were no major alliances, so I could probably hold my own against an approaching tribute. I had the higher ground, after all.Â
Putting my head in my hands as I sat there, all I could do was hope for home and release and my own life. But even if I won, I was never truly freed from the Capitol, was I? I felt a welling of the anger I’d experienced during my tussle with the cheerleader and swore under my breath. How I hated this. My hands balled into fists and I ground my teeth together, trying not to let the anger consume me.Â
“I’m going home,” I growled as I looked forward towards the chain link fence that separated the bleachers from the field. A tiny lens looked back at me, displaying my face all across the country. “So help me God.”
As you walk around the field, you hear a shout coming from behind you. There, standing agape with scarred mouths open, is two baseball players. Accompanying them is a scarred cheerleader. They don’t seem pleased that you decided to just casually take on their field. Now, they’ll teach you a lesson.
Write a one shot battle of your fight with the baseball players and the cheerleader.
Hands in pockets and backpack weighing down kind of heavily at this point, I sauntered onto the field, taking a look around. No other tributes seemed to be hiding here, which was... nice, I guessed. Really I just wanted this whole thing over with at this point. We were down to five now and I’d only physically seen three other tributes since the bloodbath, one of which I was forced to kill. Sure I’d heard the scrambling in the library and seen the dude from Four at a distance, but these games were eerily devoid of other people at this point.Â
Granted there weren’t that many people left to see.Â
A shuffling emerged from behind me, and I turned around to see three people approaching, all with oddly disfigured faces. I waved at them and smirked. They seemed to be students, like those Monarchs, only it was curious that they didn’t wave back. They just kept coming towards me, bats in the boys’ hands.Â
“Hey!” I called. “Nice day!”
No answer still, and they seemed poised to fight almost. As they got closer I took a closer look, realizing there was no life in those eyes, no objective other than bloodthirst.Â
“Shit.”
I pulled the cleaver out of my right side pocket began to slowly back up, but at the sight of the weapon it seemed the mutts were triggered. The first baseball player lunged and tackled me to the ground after sinking his bat into my already-bruised left side, but I reacted fast and threw my weight into the cleaver. The sharp blade sunk into his arm and he roared and flung himself off me, holding his wound in pain. Without a moment’s hesitation I heaved the cleaver into his neck, chopping it halfway off and leaving him to drown in his own blood.Â
The cheerleader giggled, which was odd, but I realized why she’d laughed suddenly as I felt cold hands grab the back of the collar of my blazer, pulling me back down as a swift kick in the shoulder hit me. The other baseball player, armed with his own bat, was going for me now, seemingly trying to impress him mutt cheerleader girlfriend.Â
What the fuck kind of Hunger Games was this?Â
I rolled and scrambled back up to my feet, realizing that I’d let go of the cleaver and it was out of my reach. Knowing I didn’t have time to reach into my backpack, I desperately searched around for another weapon. The guy’s baseball bat swung at me and I ducked and kicked him in the stomach, knocking him over before grappling for something to help me out here.Â
Suddenly my hand hit something round and I pulled my fingers around it. It was the dead mutt’s bat. Perfect. As the second guy stood up and came at me again I swung it down and smashed it into his foot, a definitive crunch sounding from the broken bones. He howled in pain and I took another swing, this time feeling the bat connect with his jaw before he crumpled to the ground.Â
Gritting my teeth, I smashed it down one more time, this time into his skull.Â
An angry screech erupted from the cheerleader, who dropped her pom poms and immediately pounced on me, fingernails going straight through the fabric of my shirt and down my chest, giving me some wicked awful cuts down my front.Â
“This,” I groaned as I heaved her off of me. “Is the fucking worst.”
The cheerleader leaped at me again, managing to sink her teeth into my exposed neck like a vampire. I screamed in pain and sunk a fist into her gut, getting her to release and back up from me.Â
“Literally WHY?” I yelled at her as I swung the bat, connecting it with her face. She held her broken nose (I thought it was her nose? With a fucked up face like hers nobody could be certain.) in pain for a second before spitting out blood and a couple teeth onto the ground.Â
I slammed the bat into her ribs this time, knocking her to the ground, and continued smashing. These mutts had made me fucking angry. And she wasn’t going to get out of this as easily as her boyfriends had.
“I’ve done nothing-” The bat hit her shoulder. “To deserve-” A connection that broke her elbow. “This god damn fucking shit!”
She was screaming in pain now, but I didn’t care. This bitch was a mutt. She’d been sent here by the Capitol to ruin my life even more. Because the Capitol hadn’t already done enough to fuck me over. She deserved to have a long, drawn-out death.Â
Another hit broke a rib, then another shattered her kneecap. I couldn’t even see straight at this juncture; the world was turning red and my face was hot and I was feeling an explosion of so much anger that I felt the only way to make it better was to split this bitch open like a pinata.Â
Finally my aim went off course, and it hit her skull instead of her collarbone, denting the bone in and killing her finally. I hadn’t realized I was sweating and grinding my teeth together, so I stopped for a second and let my blood pressure fall. The world was returning to the right color now and I could feel the exhaustion from the fight set in, so I sat on the ground besides the dead mutts.Â
Picking up the dropped cleaver and placing it back in the side pocket, I wiped away a few tears that had pooled in my eyes. And after I let myself rest for a while I took a deep breath and stood up. I used my shirt sleeve to rid myself of the rest of my tears and began a walk around the baseball diamond.Â
Before I began walking, though, I stopped and stripped the shirts off of the two baseball mutts. The gash in my side had begun to bleed again, so I tore a long strip from one of the shirts and tied it around my torso, hoping the fabric would staunch the bleeding. I tied another strip around my neck, where she had bitten me, hoping the crew back home would enjoy the European look I was evidently now going for.
Checking for any other deep wounds, and deciding the other cuts were shallow enough to go untended for the moment, I continued around the baseball field. There had to be something here that these mutts were defending from me.Â
Just as you leave the courtyard, you turn to see a commotion. You can see Aquarius fighting what appears to be two mutts. Luckily for you, you managed to escape just in time.
As you walk down the path, you see what appears to be a baseball field with bleachers up ahead. You can’t see the field fully until you enter, though. Do you continue on the path into the baseball field?
Too bad for that dude. He seemed like a chill guy whenever I’d seen him in training. Why hadn’t I met him? I shrugged as I continued on towards the field.Â
I’d never seen a baseball diamond in real life, but I’d heard about them, and this seemed to fit the descriptions. I decided to continue on and enter the diamond, ignoring the blood splattered on the ground from what had seemingly been a fight earlier on. Instead of lingering on that, I decided to pace the field, looking for anything interesting.
Ok then, I shrugged and left the room, decided to turn around. This building didn’t have a lot left to scope out anyway, it seemed. As I made my way out towards the courtyard I turned once again to the left, where I entered the west exit from the central space and walked to see what could possibly be awaiting me there.Â
Great. This’ll be good to know if I have the chance to return tonight, I decided. Before leaving I circled the room, looking around for anything else that might be hidden around the perimeter or under the beds.Â
Upon entering the room, you can see it looks just like a regular classroom except there are no desks. In the place of the wooden surfaces, you see three beds placed stationary in the center of the room. They look really comfy and super nice to sleep on.
Feeling somewhat annoyed I hadn’t stumbled upon this apparent nap room until just now- the morning after a somewhat decent sleep that had left me wide awake when I’d woken up- I approached the closest bed. The commotion in the room across the hall had subsided and three cannons were shot, which meant I was pretty sure I was now alone in the high school.Â
Cautiously, I crouched down and examined the, pulling away the pillows and blankets. At this point I couldn’t really trust anything in the arena, so it was best to figure out what the trick was with this thing.
Hanging from two separate strings in the locker you see what, at first, appears to be two knitting needles. Upon further inspection, you notice that they are both made of blades and are as sharp as can be. Just looking at the tips makes you squirm.
“Nah, fuck that,” I said out loud as I placed the key inside the locker and closed it shut. I didn’t particularly want the knitting needles, but I didn’t exactly want anybody else getting them, either.Â
With that, I turned on my heel and walked along the lockers, eventually finding the one with my name on it. Maybe I’d have some luck just because it was mine? But after I jiggled it a little to no avail, I decided it no good. I’d need my own key. Whatever. I turned around and walked behind a few other students back out to the exit.Â
But before I could get to the exit I turned and noticed a door marked 3. I decided to just peek into the room before doing anything else.Â
They part and, soon enough, you find yourself standing in front of a locker with Ashton’s name on it. Upon opening it with your key, you find a little leather pouch with four little spherical orbs inside.Â
Taking one out, you can see an even tinier red button atop each orb. You start to wonder what it could be for when you notice a little sheet of paper in the leather pouch.
“Mini Bombs! These miniature bombs may be small, but they can pack a wallop if used correctly. Their blast size is small and the damage is slight, but everything is deadly if used in the right way!”
It seemed it wanted an exchange, so I pulled out the now-empty syringe and placed it in the locker. The chances that it would come in as handy as before were so slight that the tradeoff seemed fair. I grabbed the pouch with the small bombs inside and put it in the side pocket of my backpack where the syringe had been.Â
My next stop was just a couple of lockers over, where I used my key to open Calliope’s locker.Â
You manage to arrive at the high school without running into any other high schoolers. They are still there, but you’ve managed to learn how to avoid them without any of them bumping into you.
Upon entering the high school, you notice that the teens are still running amuck within the confines of the school. You look for the lockers, but see that there’s a few teens blocking your way.
“Excuse me,” I said as I pushed through them, trying to blend. I noticed the section of gold lockers along the side of the wall and approached them, looking for the one with Ashton’s name on it.Â
Upon arriving at the courtyard, you can’t help but look around, your nerves rattled, expecting that Polly will pop up out of nowhere and scalp you again. Instead of Polly, though, you find a bunch of other girls sitting by the fountain and giggling.
“Oh my god, Lana, are you seriously going to that party?
"Hell yeah! I can’t wait! Morgan’s gonna go too, aren’t you Morgan?”
“Um… I don’t know… I kinda wanna stay home…”
It didn’t seem to be much different than the day before, so I decided to turn left and head back to the high school. I was certain there were other people there but ideally I’d be able to slip by and check out more rooms. I also was intent on getting a better look at those lockers that I’d passed by.Â
