A silver parachute drifts slowly to the ground. A small box is attached with a note from mentor Hunter Twill. Inside is a box of matches. The note reads his autograph.
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A silver parachute drifts slowly to the ground. A small box is attached with a note from mentor Hunter Twill. Inside is a box of matches. The note reads his autograph.
A silver parachute drifts slowly to the ground. A large box is attached with a note from stylist Umbrielle Lushmeadow. Inside are a half full canteen and two smoke bombs. The note reads: “Hydrate that hustle!”
A silver parachute drifts slowly to the ground. A large box is attached with a note from mentor Trixanna Quartz. Inside are a full canteen and a large meal. The note reads: “Stay focused, you’re almost done.”
A silver parachute drifts slowly to the ground. A medium box is attached with a note from mentor Satine Harris. Inside is a blanket. The note reads: “Imagine it's a hug."
The hour was just about up, Kelvin finishing the last of the humiliatingly intense exercises that he was forced to complete. He was exhausted, nearly pushed to his physical breaking point, but the mutt looming by the exit told him that he had no choice but to keep going.
As he finished his last push-up, he collapsed to the ground, breathing deeply and heavily as a familiar beeping sound made him shift his attention to the sky. Another box seemed to be coming his way, though he wasn’t sure if it was another hallucination or something real.
After it made its impact on the ground, he carefully lifted his arms and opened it, smiling slightly to find the blanket and the note inside. Satine, he thought to himself, wrapping the blanket around him and letting his eyes fluttered closed.
While the knives proved themselves helpful, the blanket was helpful in a whole different way. He couldn’t kill anyone with it, unless he was extremely creative, but for this moment, it comforted him, made him think of why he was fighting to get out, made him think about his friends and his family and the people who he refused to let die in vain.
“Thank you,” he whispered to the sky, opening his eyes once more. “Can’t wait to hug you for real soon.”
A silver parachute drifts slowly to the ground. A large box is attached with a note from trainer Lana Nolan. Inside are five throwing knives. The note reads: “Don't let them break you.”
The restraints had just been released from his wrists and ankles, and he had just slowly stood up from the torture chair when a familiar beeping sound caught his attention. There was something inside him that told him to run for cover, that turned the sound in to something to run away from, but instead, he reminded himself to stay still, calm, in the same place, as a silver parachute gently floated from the ceiling to the floor.
He watched as it did, landing softly at his feet.
Part if him was scared, convinced that this was yet another trick from the Gamemakers, inspiring a sense of false hope at the idea of receiving a gift. However, he still gingerly approached the box, leaning down towards it and slowly opening. Inside, a set of knives, identical to the ones he had used in the training center with Mel. He couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face.
”Thank you,” he said to the sky. No need for those scissors now.