TTWTASK 011 - THE LAUNCH ( LANDON ) aka. landon vs fannypacks
The thought of possible impending death turned Landon into an insomniac. After returning from the roof he’d gone straight to his room to enjoy, what was possibly his last night sleeping in a bed. Except he didn’t enjoy it. To clarify, it wasn’t the dying that scared Landon. It was what he’d be leaving behind and the promises he would break. Promises he’d made to Hickory, Cecily and even his mother in some ways. He’d spent the whole night justifying his decision to himself over and over again. If he hadn’t volunteered he wouldn’t be here.
In the end he managed to get a couple hours rest before he was been woken up by a rather cheery stylist. Breakfast went as well as it could. Landon shoved so much food into his mouth that he wasn’t able to answer the questions of ‘How are you feelings?’ or ‘Are you ready?’ Food was something he considered the most important thing that morning. Fortunately, his large frame meant he could consume enough that would probably get him through two days. Then after an intensely awkward long silence a series of nods between the escorts and mentors told Landon that it was time. The mentors gathered round and said a few things to him, things that didn’t make much of an impact on him until Lark said some final words as she was leaving the room. He hadn’t expected her to say much that really stuck with him. Just the usual Lark-isms. But her words as she left once again reaffirmed why he was doing this. "Thanks for not sending me a twelve-year-old." Though there was selfishness behind the words, Landon still let them sink in. After all, the only thing that stopped him being driven insane by his own actions was the reminder of the promise he made to himself: He wasn’t going to let another child die.
Landon went through the motions that all tributes went through when preparing for the games. The stylists went to work on combing back his hair, which he despised. Then they brought out what he was destined to wear. When he says the simple jeans and white shirt he thought they’d made a mistake and accidentally gone through his old wardrobe. However, the ghastly denim jacket was certainly NOT something he’s choose for himself. Then there was the reflective pouch. He could already guarantee that’d be coming off if he survived the bloodbath. As for the jacket, maybe he’d pick all the odd patches off. Something about the outfit in general told him that this was going to be an interesting games. Usually the outfits matched the style of the arena. His stylist hadn’t stopped talking about how much they loved the kilts that went with the Scottish Highlands theme last year. But what went with double denim? He stopped himself from thinking about it and just waited in silence once again for another conversation in nods. These nods meant it was really time. He was ushered into the tube by a peacekeeper who apparently didn’t believe he could walk by himself. Maybe the whole peacekeeper force was still holding a grudge after his behavior at the reaping.
As the glass closed around him tightly, Landon took what he assumed would be his last gulp of reality. There was the sound of a seal closing around him, then a whirring, then he felt himself moving upwards.
The first thing he was aware of was…white. A lot of white. As his eyes adjusted he thought that perhaps they were surrounded by glaciers. However, he didn’t feel cold. And the air, it didn’t feel like he was outside. There was a reason for that. If you were to ask Landon was his worst scenario for the arena would be, he would’ve said ‘Anything inside.’ As a child he’d always enjoyed being outside. That’s why he never told his mother about the hole in the roof (And because he knew she’d never fix it anyway.) He’d hoped for an arena with air flowing through it and so much space that he could be miles away from everyone. But no, he was closed in. Irritatingly so. As the countdown started he looked up to find windows blocking the sun from truly shining down on his face. Then one, two, three floors of stuff. He’d never seen a building like this. Was he alone in that? He scanned the area to see other tributes reactions to see if they were as bewildered as he was.
He spotted Nadya a little bit away from him. He knew better than to try and get her attention. That had screwed over Katniss Everdeen. So instead he turned his own focus away from her and back to the countdown clock. Thirty seconds left of normality. He counted in his head as he looked up. There were several different paths heading off of each floor. What seemed like buildings…maybe stores. This must be some sort of market place. Fifteen. Time was slipping away from him. He eyed the weapons. However, the various bags and things were confusing his eyes. Ten. He needed to make a plan. And fast. He knew the better items were going to be near the cornucopia. Five. Shit! The times was still going…He wasn’t ready for…
The gong sounded.
Before Landon knew it, everyone else was running in or away from the cornucopia. He just followed suit, running towards the middle in a direction no one else seemed to be going. He wasn’t sure what he was running towards until he caught someone else heading for it in the corner of his eye. The boy was a career and if a career was going for it then it must be important.
The handle was sticking out of the top of a bag. It wasn’t an axe. He didn’t have time to stop and look for one of them. It was a handle he recognized though. He had been holding one in the training center as he stood next to Jude from ten. It was a sword! It was a sword that could keep him alive another day. As soon as he realized it’s importance he began to leg it. He was running fast before but now…he wasn’t sure he’d ever run this fast in his life. It was like a wave of necessity had come over him. As he closed in on both the sword and the boy he knew he needed to get him away. The boy had something Landon didn’t: The desire for blood. Desire drove a person more than necessity. It was game over if the boy reached the sword before him. So, Landon took a quick diagonal detour, mustering up all the strength he good as he approached the boy from behind.
Turned out he made a good battering ram. He drove his right side into the boy so hard that he almost flew to the side, head first towards the cornucopia. Landon didn’t have the guts to turn back, he slid on his knees towards the bag with the sword in and grabbed it, swooping it over his shoulder and beginning his search for Nadya. In his frantic search he laid eyes on the boy he’d so callously pushed out the way. He wasn’t moving. He was on the ground. He’d hit his head. He was dead. (Probably)
He didn’t think about Nadya in his haste. They would find each other. He charged through a few people and up an unguarded staircase. Then up another. When he reached the second flood he found himself having to stop the catch breath. That’s when he saw it. The body he was responsible for (probably) surrounded by others. There was blood, weapons and fighting. They didn’t call it the bloodbath for nothing. And there in amidst the chaos were two faces he recognized. Nadya and Karlin. The latter: dead at the hands of the first.
The girl that had stood beside on reaping day was dead him was dead. They hadn’t been close, that was true. However, she was part of home. They would mourn for her whilst he walked the arena with his killed. Would they think him guilty by association? He didn’t have time to think that. He needed to compartmentalize his thoughts. Main focus right now: survive. So, loosened the stupid pouch around his waist and lobbed it towards her shoulder in an attempt to get her attention.
He didn’t need that thing anyway.