#finale36

[watchoutformutts]

The Finale: Part 4 - A Victor Rises

In the midst of almost solid darkness, Alastair decides to get low to the water, thinking that if he goes unseen for the most part he can sneak up on the other tributes for the rest of the finale. Hoping that just maybe if he had somewhat of an advantage he could finally rest in his new home at Victors Village. Wishful thinking.

He floats about, ignoring some of the commotion for a little bit, picking up his quarterstaff in the job. Now armed he looks around for some action. Eventually he finds himself on the other side of the cave, inches behind the girl from One whom besides looking a mess, has no physical injuries. Without further care of who it was, Alastair sticks out his staff in-between her legs. With it being so dim Mika doesn’t spot the sneak attack, forcing her to slump onto her knees.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Mika hisses as she whips her head around spotting Alastair’s signature curly locks.

Mika had never met Alastair, so as far as she was concerned, he was just a small obstacle in her way. She wasn’t fueled by anything except the desire to get back home. She could tell, as she had before, that she remained completely uninjured while Alastair seemed to have been thrown through the ringer. Even in the darkness of the cavern, lit up only by the glowing worms and plants, Mika could tell he was nearly done for. He had a broken nose, was missing a pinky finger, and was nursing a limp; Alastair looked like a drowned rat. But his eyes were wide, ready for the battle. Alastair had nothing to fight for, no one to go home to, and yet, here he was.

Alastair rises from out of the shallow water, looking down on the girl as if he’s caught prey, “I was thinking about how I’m going to enjoy picking you clean from my teeth.”

Mika scoffs in astonishment, almost borderline arrogantly, “Oh please you half wit. I will strut circles around you and those pubes you call hair.”

Alastair squints in frustration, swinging the quarterstaff towards her head. Mika dodges while gaining her footing, taking a stab at her assailant with her sword. Alastair fails to move in time and the Dao Sabre sinks through his already injured thigh, making him scream in agony. Mika proceeds to slice again, this time towards his chest but mercifully the chainmail blocks the penetration, leaving Alastair time to retaliate. The boy throws a clenched fist at her jaw, splitting her lower lip wide open. Mika backs away in pain, bringing her hand up to touch the blood. After dabbing her forefinger on the wound, she seductively places it on her tongue, taunting the poor boy.

“Down to the nitty gritty, huh?” Mika smirked, flashing her axe around like a regular lumberjack. She’d grown accustomed to the weapon, she was comfortable with it, and would bring down her foes with simple calculated movements and a scare tactic.

“Let’s skip the small talk, shall we?” he replied, twisting his quarterstaff in his fingertips. The all too familiar mace was in his other hand, he was armed to the teeth, a whip hanging from his belt and the shine of a chain mail tunic glowing under the worm’s light. Mika knew this would not be easy, as she’d survived her other fights with the sheer luck of the chain mail.

“Fine by me,” she nodded, pulling out the vial of black widow venom from her pocket. She held it up between her index finger and thumb, smiling as she looked from it to Alastair. “This oughtta make things go by real quick. Don’t worry, it won’t hurt a bit and you’ll be dead before you know it.”

She unscrewed the cap as Alastair looked over the vial, wondering what kind of poison it was most likely. Mika talked it up, her ploy was to make it seem as though it was the worst poison there was, something so deadly that Alastair would panic over. She dripped the venom onto the blade of her axe an on the tips of her brass knuckles, smiling as she did because she knew Alastair was running through a bunch of scenarios in his head. He seemed as if he contemplated asking what it was, but Alastair was smart. Whatever it was, he knew he wanted no part of it.

Before Mika could screw the cap back on, Alastair lurched forward, smacking her hand with the end of the quarterstaff and sending the vial flying into the water.

Mika looked up, shaking her hand from the pain and growling. “Doesn’t matter anyways, you skinny little shit, I’ve got enough!” she cackled, trying to intimidate him. Alastair wordlessly swung his weapon around again, prodding Mika with the end of the quarterstaff. The butt of the weapon smacked into her sternum, knocking the wind out of her as he pushed her back in the water. Grabbing the weapon with her free hand, she held it in place and swung out towards Alastair, but missed because she was too far away. Alastair pushed back again and this time she twirled away from the weapon, allowing her to swing the axe out again. Avoiding his torso and therefore the chainmail, Mika sunk her blade into his thigh, having locked in on a previous wound. The axe blade sliced through his previously wounded flesh, the venom seeping into his bloodstream immediately.

Crippled by the impact, Alastair crumbled into the water, losing grip on the quarterstaff but keeping the mace in hand. Mika yanked the axe from his leg, tearing more flesh away as Alastair screamed in pain. Mika backed up, watching his reaction and waiting for him to realize that the poison was now coursing through his system. He gripped his leg, unable to stand on it. With blood pouring out the slashes, Alastair is forced to cover them with his hands, pushing through the discomfort. “You fucking cunt! You’re going to regret that!”

Mika cackled, knowing that her plan was working. He was expecting something awful, something that would immediately impact him. Little did he know that the black widow venom wouldn’t really do much, if anything at all, at least not by the time he bled out or she finished him off.

“Too late now, kid. You’ll probably drop dead in… hmmm… any second now,” she teased, her axe at the ready in case he countered. Panic seeped through Alastair as evident on his face, and in a last ditch effort to take Mika out before his cannon fired, he lurched forward, fueled by fear and adrenaline, and swung the mace in Mika’s direction. Clashing against her torso, it hit the leather of her jacket and the chainmail, preventing much damage. The blow still hurt, but not enough to knock her back into the water and causing her to lose her weapon.

She spots her axe not far from her, but Alastair is closer than she is. The duo lock eyes slowly drifting over to her weapon. Ironically both Alastair and Mika dive for the axe at the same time, fighting tooth and nail to gain the upper hand. For a minute all anyone could see was blur of leather as each of the tributes tossed and rolled in the water. Alastair wraps his hand around the handle but Mika chomps down on his wrist, impelling the boy to let go. Mika tugs the axe towards her body and kicks Alastair in the face with her boot. The kick was more powerful than expected and Alastair struggles to remain conscious.

Mika dropped the axe, reaching out with her free hand to grab a handful of Alastair’s wet curls. She gripped him tight as he swung back around, knocking the mace into her belly. She wheezed, but didn’t let go of his hair. Instead, she squeezed her fist, her palm gripping the venom coated brass knuckles, and popped him square in the right eye, twisting after impact. As Alastair screamed, she pulled back, yanking out his eye and ripping tendons from the socket. Not even stopping to shake the eyeball off her claws, she followed it up with a second punch, cracking his nose again and bursting eye juice all over his face. The impact of the hit sent Alastair back into the water, Mika letting go of his hair and letting him fall. He splashed in the glow of the algae, bleeding out extensively and losing control of his body. The placebo effect was working wonders on Alastair, and it delighted Mika to know that he was psychologically beating himself as his own game. She smiled, wanting nothing more than to end this once and for all. Stomping on his chest, she held him under the water until he stopped struggling, drowning him until his cannon fired. Pushing his body away once she was sure he was dead, she inspected her brass knuckles, washing away the parts of Alastair that were still stuck to her weapon.

“Worked like a charm,” she chuckled as she stepped through the murky, bloody water, realizing that she had just killed the very last tribute…

The arena shook and rocks fell from the cavern ceiling, causing Mika to back up against the cave walls. Suddenly, the cave floor opened up beneath her, the standing water rushing out as a hovercraft lifted through the rock. Wind whipped her in the face as the voice of Gwen and Avalon announced in unison. “Mika Valentino, congratulations! You are the winner of the 36th Annual Hunger Games!”

[watchoutformutts]

The Finale: Part 3

Tired, beat and exhausted beyond belief, Alastair manages to keep standing, fresh scars and all. Only a few more moments and this entire journey comes to an end, an experience he wishes to put behind him forever. Can he do it? Can this underdog from District Ten manage to come out a Victor? Or will his life come to an abrupt end in the cavern; making everything he’s ever fought for a waste. Whatever happens within theses last few moments is entirely up to him at this point.

Making his way towards the middle of the cave, Alastair wraps his hands around his mace, tucking his hunter’s knife in his right boot once finding it in the water. He appears emotionless and stoic, carefully and quietly moving his boots through the water. Using the preexisting lighting conditions, he keeps his eyes peeled on the lookout for other tributes. Always on the move he creeps his way around until running into Raf, the boy from Six.

Raf spots Alastair almost immediately, approaching him without caution. He always appeared confident, even in the face of certain danger.

“Did anyone tell you Alastair? Metal just isn’t your colour.” Raf said the second he laid eyes on the boy he had had some good banter with at the beginning of the tournament. Alastair laughed and gave him a shocked expression on his face.

“What? No! Thank you for telling me Raf, it was very nice of you.” He replied nearly as sarcastically, it seemed as though it was a mutual thing, and the people watching at home would probably be really confused by the exchange, but it wasn’t as if either Raf or Alastair cared what they thought.

“I guess it’s too late to ask for a date?” Alastair laughs, twisting his mace.

Raf lets out a smile in compliance, “Nah, I can squeeze you in for an hour or two. Just fuck the finale right?”

“That’s what I’m sayin man! Lets have a picnic under the stars!”

Raf’s eyebrows shoot up, revealing a repulsed face at Alastair’s bizarre comment; “You’re a peppy little spit fuck now aren’t you?” he taunted a little with a smile on his face as he waved the sabre in his hand.

Alastair shrugs, leaning in closer to Raf, in what would be perhaps the weirdest conversation from a finale in recent Hunger Games history. The two had never held a conversation longer than half an hour back at training but for some reason they felt a mutual understanding to fuck with each other.

Raf twirled the handle of the mace in his hand and slowly walked towards Alastair who slightly backed off from Raf’s advances.  There was blood still gleaming from the metal blade, and the idea of more being on it didn’t faze Raf at all.

While Raf was secretly readying himself to release the jar of spiders, Alastair was busy at work calculating how much time and energy it would take to kill his next opponent. He knew with his current condition, wounds and mental status, it would have to be quick, otherwise he would simply pass out from exposure.

In the midst of a laugh Raf finally pops the lid off the jar under his jacket, carefully scooting closer to Alastair, “Yeah well, all good things must come to an end my friend.”

Just as Alastair flips his head to reply, Raf dumps the spiders into the back of his leather jacket, hoping that at least one of the buggers bite the friendly outlier. Alastair jumps to his feet, wiggling outrageously to get the spiders off, that could have been poisonous for all he knew. He frantically removes his jacket and tosses it to the side while the other boy watches with laughter.

“You fucking son-of-bitch!” He wails out.

Raf didn’t reply to his last comment before swinging his mace towards Alastair’s head. The boy from Ten ducked, and swung his own mace to meet Raf’s and the two boys stood there fighting for dominance. Alastair stood taller than Raf by a few inches, and looked down at the boy as he pressed his whole body weight against him. But despite this, Raf was still stronger; years of hauling himself up trees, and onto trains had done him some good, and he was going to utilise it in the battle for sure. Raf pushed forward using his body as well and it wasn’t long before Alastair began to falter under the pressure Raf was putting him under. As soon as Raf got close enough, he brought his knee up to Alastair’s abdomen, before headbutting the boy in the face making him snap his head back and instinctively drop his weapons to cover his face. Blood was pouring from his nose, the break that he had not so long had re-broken and the boy was feeling slightly nauseous as the blood flow just wouldn’t stop.

“Now, that definitely is your colour!” Raf said as more blood dripped down Alastair’s face. The boy swings his mace aiming for Raf’s jaw. Raf ducks, picking up his sword and stabbing Alastair in the thigh with one smooth movement, grazing along his femur. Raf forcefully dislodges the blade, striking Alastair in the face with his closed fist. Alastair stumbles backwards trying to focus on his target. Seeing an opportunity is gained, Raf quickly pulls out the flare gun, aiming at Alastair’s head.

Alastair stops his fidgeting, noticing the loaded long ranged weapon in Raf’s hand. He gulps, eyeing down the barrel, “You any good with that thing? You have one shot. Better make it count.”

Raf laughs, cocking his head back, “Not that I have to be at this range but yes, yes I am. I’m a regular Annie-fucking-Oakley with this flare gun as far as you know, care to press your luck?”

Alastair tries to run but Raf’s finger twitches over the trigger, firing the ball of flame. It soars into Alastair’s left side, melting away a large chunk of the chain mail. His flesh sizzles under the flame, burying itself deeper than expected. Tears and screams begin to escape Alastair’s mouth, covering the walls of the cave. Raf immediately takes charge of the situation, rushing his combatant to the ground. Gaining the upper hand, Raf waited for Alastair to get closer, before throwing himself on top of him. Raf grabbed onto Alastair’s throat and pushed him down as he slammed his fist into the boy’s face. Through the struggle one of Raf’s throwing knives has fallen out of his jacket, making enough noise for Alastair to hear. He stretches his fingers out and manages to blindly get the knife rolling closer to his palm. After several attempts he can finally wrap his hand around the blade and wield it. The boy brings up the weapon and jams it into Raf’s left ear, easily slicing through his eardrum. Raf flinches at the sight of gushing blood, feeling the effects of hearing loss soon after. Alastair painfully removes the blade before Raf has the chance, readying himself to stab again.

Raf begins screaming into Alastair’s face at his latest injury, “Fuck you, fuck you, and FUCK YOU!”

With the throwing knife still in Alastair’s hand, he latches onto Raf’s chest, ripping through the thin cotton material that was his shirt. Growing increasingly pissed off, Raf grabs at Alastair’s arm as the two fight over control of the knife. Alastair swipes the blade around towards his opponent’s face, luckily managing to drag the blade along Raf’s cheek, leaving a gash from the ear to the corner of his mouth. Raf is obliged to cover the fresh wound in torment, lashing back at the boy by sticking his fingers in the flare gun hole. Alastair reciprocates by bringing the small throwing knife up to Raf’s left nipple and slicing it off, a very odd attack to say the least but effective nonetheless.

Gaining momentum, Alastair forces Raf off of his body, shoving him to the side with his boot. He spots his mace not to far from his leg so he limps closer towards it. After a few footsteps, his eyes meet Raf, eyeing him down to end this mess.

With everything he has he locks on to Raf’s shoulders, using him at a way to support his weight. Raf happily greets him with his new found weapon, the Dao Sabre, pushing it through the chainmail hole and penetrating out through the other side.  With one last ounce of luck he snatches his unused hunters knife from his boot and cleverly slams it into the center of Raf’s chest. The tip of the blade pierces his heart, while Raf instantly spews blood, breathing heavily. Raf flops to the floor, hopelessly trying to outlast Alastair’s injuries.

“I never wanted any of this man…” Alastair begins to mumble. “I just wanna go home. We all just wanted to go home.

Raf smiles weakly, trying to speak but his wounds finally succumb his body first. As his eyes close ever so gently, Rafaele Cipriani ‘s cannon fires, finally giving him peace from this wretched world.

“You’re free…” Alastair whimpers to Raf’s cannon, “You did it, you made it, you… can r-r-relax—.”

[watchoutformutts]

The Finale: Part 2

Although the cavern was dark, Mika recognized the face of the one person she hated the most in the arena. She had vowed since they met that she would take his life and as she stepped towards him, her brass knuckles glistening in the glowy light of the algae. Her boots splashed in the water as she approached her district partner, her eyes alit and a smile curled onto her lips.

“Fancy seeing you here, Cool Whip,” she cooed, gripping the handle of her axe. “After all this time, I finally get a crack at you.” She had carried the rage she felt for Elias quietly, hoping this moment would come.

Of everyone, he had to be her. “Miss me? Mika asked as a seductive smile grew on her face. Seeing the glow in her eyes, Elias knew she was aiming to win and wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Not really,” he said, grabbing his saber, readying himself. He saw the brass knuckle on her fingers and the axe she was holding. He was maybe a master at sword but he wasn’t fooling himself; this will be a hard fight. “But I am glad to find you again,” he said, preparing himself for the combat. They were like wolf, dancing against their prey, waiting for the first wrong move to launch into a deathly battle.

“Oh?” cooed Mika in the voice that always irritate Elias.

“Don’t fucking flatter yourself princess,” he spit, laughing. “I’m happy to be the one killing you, I fantasized about it all week.”

Mika laughed without joy. “Well for once we agree on something.”

“Fuck you,” Elias hissed, squaring off with her and twirling his trident confidently. Yet, Mika could tell that something was off in Elias and moved in to locate his weakness quickly.

“You wish,” she laughed. “Lookin’ awfully beat up there, Cool Whip. The arena wearing on you?” From watching the Fallen, she knew Elias had lost his allies, or at least one of them. “What’s the matter, huh? Lose your little girlfriend? Sad about Roman? Can’t handle the pressure can you, Cool Whip?”

Elias’ blood boiled, the redness of his face giving his anger and annoyance away. His chest heaved, and he looked tired. Mika had no idea the effects of tracker jacker venom was working it’s way out of his system, all she knew is that he was injured and she was not. This was her advantage. “God dammit, Mika, shut your fucking mouth!” he growled, stabbing out with the trident even though he knew the gap between them was too wide.

“I’ll never give you the satisfaction!” Mika screamed back, lurching forward and kicking water up to distract Elias. Her axe handle struck his trident as she pressed forward, knocking it away from his body and leaving him open to attack. Like a feral cat, Mika lashed out, the claws of her brass knuckles ripping through the heavy leather of Elias’ jacket.

He grunted back, but was unaffected by her advance, easily knocking her down into the water with a shove of his left hand. Water splashed up around her as Elias laughed, bearing down on her with the trident. The forked points were inches away from her now as Elias threatened to stab through her like a knife through butter, the only thing keeping the tips from her skin was the pressure she put on the axe, locking it into place. Using her free hand, Mika reached into her belt loop and pulled out her trench knife. With a quick flick of her wrist, she made Elias think she was going to throw it. He reacted, flinching slightly and pulling back on the trident. The change in pressure allowed Mika to kick out, booting Elias in the wound Mika assumed was on his leg due to the amount of blood soaked through his jeans.

Hyper extending his knee, Elias fell into the water, landing on his knees and splashing against Mika. The tip of the trident grazed her shoulder, ripping her jacket. The chain mail underneath protected her from getting sliced, but not from the impact. Pushed under the low level of water, Mika came up gasping for air as Elias held his knee.

“You cunt!” he gasped, reaching for his dao sabre that had been strapped to his belt. “I’m gonna make you suffer!” His eyes were wide as he reminisced over his kills in the arena, each one more gruesome than the last. “I am going to rip out your intestines-” he carried on as Mika pushed herself out of the water.

“Think again, asshole,” she sneered, kicking water up on him again and tackling him down with a splash. The tip of Elias’ sabre tore through her jacket, ripping a giant hole in the side, just underneath her left arm. The handle lodged against the leather as their bodies pressed together, Mika kneeing him to gain control, noting a box of matches falling out of his pocket and into the water. Mika chuckled, wondering what he thought he was going to do with them down here. The two were both soaking wet, and now that Elias had a bum knee and was stuck fighting against the leather in her jacket, she had full control. The blade scraped against her chain mail, cluing Elias into her under layer of protection.

Crawling up onto Elias’ huge form, Mika slashed at his face with the clawed tips of the brass knuckles, punching into his throat and puncturing his trachea. Blood pooled on his neck as he finally ripped the sabre out of her jacket. Choking, he slammed the handle of the weapon into her side, sending her flying back into the water. She skidded, splashing through the neon algae, her own weapons scraping against the hard cavern floor underneath.

“You really think it’s my first beating?” she spat as she managed to get to her feet and get out her knife.

“Ah!” Elias snarled as he choked, still grasping his sabre and thinking he could fight back. “That’s more like you.” He’d seen her take out a shiv and try to kill Brenda for now volunteering. He’d heard her so many time threatening to get kill by that weapon, it was only fair their last battle would come like this: both with their best weapon. As she rose from the water, Elias sputtered and choked, the water thickening with blood. He dropped his weapons in favor of holding his throat, lifting his hand up to see the amount of blood. His eyes were wide and his voice caught as he thrashed in the shallow water.

“Not so tough anymore, are you?” Mika laughed, reveling in the fear she saw in Elias’ eyes. “So much for redemption. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of your family for you after you’re gone.” Mika gripped the axe, he favored weapon since the bloodbath. “Actually, fuck that, they can suffer knowing they had such a worthless piece of shit in their family.”

Mika’s words enraged Elias and as she swung down to connect the blade of the axe with his neck, he reached out for her ankle and pulled, sweeping her off her feet before she could strike him. Searching in the water for any weapon he could, Elias weakly pushed himself towards Mika. Before he could secure a grip on the trident, Mika’s axe blade found his wrist as she swung out blindly. The cracking of his bones echoed in the cavern, followed by the screams he elicited, smothered by blood. The bottom of her boot connected with his bloody neck, popping his spine. The sickening noise that leaked from Elias’ lips only brought a smile to Mika’s face. As he lay in the water, shaking and choking, she crawled up to him, trench knife in hand.

“Tsk tsk tsk. Link would be so disappointed in you, Cool Whip,” she smirked as she brought the blade of the knife down in between his eyes. “Night night now.” His cannon fire shook the cavern and water droplets fell from the ceiling. Mika yanked her weapon from her dead district partner before she pushed him, flipping him over and letting him float away from her. One down, she thought. One down.

[watchoutformutts]

The Finale: Part 1

With everything happening all at once, Alastair’s mind finally begins to collapse. His blood pressure is sky rocketing out of control, removing any of the inhibitions and patience that remained. The pressure to win is at its pinnacle and in order for this boy to survive he must become ruthless.

Seeing his mace lay untouched in the water, Alastair happily snatches it up and returns it to his hands. Well equipped, he begins looking around for someone to battle; It’s only just a few lives left and then he could finally do the one thing he never has: relax.

On investigating the cavern, a soft whimper is heard from behind his stance compelling him to explore further. As Alastair hones in on the location of the sound, he spots Malia whimpering near a rock by her lonesome. Unfortunately out of all the tributes left he did in fact have a stimulating conversation with her during training. Too bad it was the finale and no options are given for sympathy. Alastair begins to swell on the inside, mentally preparing himself to outsmart perhaps the most intelligent tribute left.

The things the venom of the tracker jacker had made her seen mixed together by the nightmares she had because of the people she had killed were making Malia go past the point she could not come back from. By now Malia was beginning to accept that she was finally embracing her true genes; she was finally becoming the person her father wanted her to become. Someone who took down anyone that stood in her path and did it with no remorse.

At that moment none other than Alastair stood in her path. The boy that had once manage to make her laugh and the boy she found her first connection with. But now things were different, they were no longer there to make each other laugh but instead to kill each other.

“Malia? Is that you?” Alastair asks advancing towards her. “Funny how things work out in the end right?”

She smiles weakly, cluing in to his off behavior and backing away with her axe. “Back off. Don’t make me kill you, Alastair.  I had to do it already so don’t think I wont…”

“Don’t worry, I’m not out for you. I just figured I could play it smart like you are, hide out until the end sort of deal.”

He shuffles his feet closer towards the new opponent, unaware of how each step blood continues to dribble out of his wounds. Alastair is definitely fatigued, but using every last ounce of energy remaining he somehow carries on, treating it like some kind of job back at home.

After a brief awkward pause, he finally closes the gap between the two, unclear on where they stand exactly. For some reason Alastair runs his finger throughout her hair, trying to gain trust. Malia grievously fails to see the hidden agenda that lied behind Alastair’s eyes. Behind her missing ear was Alastair concealing a box of matches hidden up his jacket sleeve. Trying his best to distract the fragile girl with words of comfort, Alastair carefully pulls out a match and strikes it against the cavern wall, successfully lighting the tip. Malia’s eyes light up to the familiar sound, reacting rapidly by stabbing the boy in the chest using the trench knife she had hidden as well. The blade fails to penetrate past the chain mail, but the blunt force is felt knocking the boy back a step. Alastair laughs in astonishment, dropping the lit match onto her head. Malia’s hair immediately goes up in ablaze, spreading from her crown to her ears. The girl wails out in pain, desperately patting at her head to extinguish the flame. She drops her weapons and clings to the ankle deep water, bobbing her head in and out.     

“Oh shit!” Malia says in disbelief finally smothering the flames.

“No shit.” Alastair commands, swaying the mace up to his right shoulder like a baseball bat.

Malia retrieves her axe and tries her best to shake off the stinging pain of her burnt head. Slowly she rose to her feet, only to met by Alastair and a mace. Malia pivots to the left just as the metal prongs brush past her temple, narrowly missing a knockout blow. As Malia straighten up after dodging the blow he swung his mace in the reverse direction. Malia tried to move away from the target but wasn’t fast enough. The spikes of the mace connecting with her shoulder, eliciting a scream from her as she buckled to the ground, holding onto her shoulder she most likely expected to be broken or dislocated. Slowly but surely the girl from Twelve returns to her feet.  Now that her life was really threatened her survival skills kicked in.  Without even wasting her breath Malia slashed towards him, noticing his chain mail tunic she aimed for his face. Alastair attempted to move out but wasn’t fast enough and a long red mark was the caused of it. The boy winces at the pain, looking up just in time to see her ready for another attack. Malia sent her whip towards him in a perfect arc and as she expected, he blocked it. With a small smile she whipped it at him once more and this time he used his mace to block it. Not giving him a chance to react she pulled her whip back towards her, bringing the mace with it as well, disarming him. The brunette female jumps on top, wrapping her legs tightly around her combatant’s waist. Alastair fights back any way he can, clawing her back, rapidly jabbing at her sides, and biting her forearm but with Malia’s adrenaline pumping it has almost no effect. The girl bashes Alastair’s face with the blunt end of the axe, busting open his already broken nose. Alastair can’t help but let out tears and fall backwards under the pain, landing on his back. Raising her trench knife she was ready to end his life when she felt a sharp pain in her stomach. Without even noticing Alastair had plunged his hunting knife into her side and was twisting it around, causing for Malia to scream slightly.  Malia frantically begins to search through her jacket looking around for the taser. Alastair finally recovers, latching onto her frail arm on instinct. Malia panics and releases the charge too early, but luckily for Alastair it was facing the wrong way. The metal spikes soar into the girls flesh, forcing her to seize up and convulse violently. Alastair takes the opportunity and rolls Malia off of him, grabbing the axe from her hand in the process. Alastair raises her weapon, striking it down onto her right arm without hesitation, severing it completely. He quickly bends over and plucks the unattached appendage out of the water, sticking it in her mouth as a sort of gag. Leaving the severed arm in her mouth, Alastair goes back to work and chops away at the remaining limbs. The boy works his way around her, separating both legs as well, leaving gallons of blood to surround her. Inhuman noises escape out from Malia’s lips, bouncing off the cavern walls.

Seeing that Malia has managed spit out her severed arm he placed in her mouth, Alastair can’t help but pick back up again, casually toying around with her.

“Say young lady, do you need a hand?” Alastair laughs as he forcefully waves Malias arm.

After a quick laughing fit Alastair tosses the arm back, focusing the attention on how to end the tortured girls life. The boy slams the axe against her jaw filling her mouth with teeth and blood. Over and over again, he begins smashing at any available surface on her face while screaming out into the massive void. Each shout is emphasized with the sound of the axe crushing bone. A cannon fires but he doesn’t stop, repeatedly crushing her face until it’s not even recognizable. After practically removing her head, Alastair finally stops to catch his breath, removing the excess blood off his face in the process.