Public 89th PTSes!

"Abel O'Malley, District Eleven male."

This was my final chance for redemption. I was so close to tasting the sweet nectar of victory in my spar against Bastian. But, it was ripped away from me. I had flown too close to the sun and burnt out. But this time, I couldn't allow myself to fail once again. I would taste victory now and within the arena. Failure was not an option here.

I told myself not to be nervous, that I had to prove myself more than just some boy from Eleven. I had to separate myself from my cousin - and whatever the Hell he did to pull such a low score. But when I entered the room? You'd be stupid not to feel even a little bit nervous. A little nervousness was good though, it kept me alert, on my toes. And for what I had planned that's exactly what I needed to be.

In my fight with Bastian, I learned something about myself. My biggest disadvantage was also my biggest advantage. I was small, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Sure, facing an enemy head on might be a death sentence. But who said I had to do that? I was more agile and harder to hit. And I was quick. That's all I needed. It didn't matter how much bigger or stronger the enemy was if they couldn't even hit me in the first place.

When I came up with this idea, I wasn't sure if it would be possible. And to make this work, I had to talk to a few people. After all, does the Capitol even keep spare mutts on hand? Apparently, they absolutely fucking do. Avoxes wheeled in three large cages, each covered with a white sheet. The cages were in the center of the room with a makeshift fence surrounding an "arena" of sorts. After all, the last thing we need is some mutt running loose in the training center.

Before doing anything, I needed to make a good "first" impression of the Gamemakers. Of course at this point they had already seen me in action. The interview, training, the spar, the opening ceremony, the ball even. But, this is the first time they would really see what I can do. I needed to push my limits, I needed to show what I was truly capable of. They needed to see I was worthy of being the next Victor, that I'd be entertaining enough.

"I'm so glad y'a- all of you could make it today! And I'm sure you're excited as well, after all, you're about to see the 89th Victor in action. You three have an exclusive view of it too - the 89th Victors first ever kills."

Maybe I was playing it up. Maybe I was exaggerating my confidence. But that didn't matter. What mattered was convincing them I wasn't bluffing. What mattered here was appearances. And I needed appear to be what they wanted me to be. Before entering the arena, I grabbed a bow and arrow as my first choice of weapon for the session. A bit of a boring option, but showing diversity is important.

I made my way into the arena and removed the sheet from the first cage revealing a sheepish. It was a relatively small beast - an easy one to start on and slowly work my way up to a bigger prey. I then went to the other side of the arena and nodded at the trainer just outside the fence. She had a remote and  could unlock as well as open the cages without having to step in and altering the outcome of the fights.

The sheepish seemed uncertain, scared. It huddled to the back of the cage, trying desperately to hide from any predators. I had to antagonise it. I needed it to charge, to attack me. And for that, I had to strike first. So I took my bow and my arrow and I shot at it. But first, I had to keep in mind what this was really about - sponsorship money. Getting a good score. Proving myself. I glanced at the Gamemakers before I shot, "Any of you fancy a new wool coat?"

[ roll one ]

[ abel o'malley attacks sheepish | bow and arrow ]

[ 4018 | arrow in neck | +7.0 damage ]

[ sheepish: 7.0/20 damage ]

A hit right in the neck. I let it know I meant business, I let it knew that it had to become the predator or be the pray. It turned and stared at me, and then it charged. Perfect. The thing about these mutts is they didn't just attack - they can't reach this far. They have to charge first. And if I can evade them while charging? They can't attack me. A sheepish was slow, easy to avoid. At least, I hoped they were as easy to avoid as they looked on tv.

[ roll two ]

[ 1-3 means abel o'malley could not evade the sheepish and it may attack, 4-10 means abel o'malley evaded the sheepish and it cannot attack this turn ]

[ 10 | the sheepish cannot attack ]

[ abel o'malley: 0/20 damage ]

It tried, and it failed. The arrow sticking in it's neck probably didn't help it too much. As I side stepped the beast. I grabbed the arrow and I yanked before running. The arrow got ripped out, letting the blood it may have been holding in pour out. I wanted this thing dead and I wanted it dead now. I threw the arrow to the side and got out a fresh one from my quiver. "Don't be sad I took back my arrow, you can have a new one now."

[ roll three ]

[ abel o'malley attacks sheepish | bow and arrow ]

[ 4196 | miss | +0.0 damage ]

[ sheepish: 7.0/20 damage ]

[ accuracy fight one ]

[ roll four ]

[ abel o'malley attacks sheepish | bow and arrow ]

[ 4088 | shallow cut on left calf | +3.5 damage ]

[ sheepish: 10.5/20 damage ]

I missed initially, but it was slow. Slow enough I was able to try again. And the second time, I hit it in the leg. It had a limp now as it charged as me, slowing it down even more. This was starting to feel almost too easy. Though I definitely wasn't going to be complaining. The difference between this mutt and a trainer was this mutt was aiming to kill, it knew it was life or death. A trainer had to avoid killing you.

[ roll five ]

[ 1-3 means abel o'malley could not evade the sheepish and it may attack, 4-10 means abel o'malley evaded the sheepish and it cannot attack this turn ]

[ 8 | the sheepish cannot attack ]

[ abel o'malley: 0/20 damage ]

I wasn't surprised it missed yet again the way it stumbled around on it's bad leg. It was pathetic, really. The way it so desperately tried and failed to attack me. I just hoped that my luck would keep up on the later fights. This sheepish was nothing compared to the beasts in the other two cages. And I'm sure they were anxious to get out. But they'd have to wait their turn. I aimed yet again, hoping to end this thing sooner rather than later.

[ roll six ]

[ abel o'malley attacks sheepish | bow and arrow ]

[ 4130 | arrow in back | +6.5 damage ]

[ sheepish: 17/20 damage ]

Part of me glad the wool of the mutt was so thick. I couldn't see the wounds on it. Instead, I saw small patches of red stain its fur - the patches growing larger with every passing second. The animal was on deaths doorstep and we both knew it. Death for it was inevitable, and it barely seemed to try any more. It was ready for death. And I was ready to bring it. My first time killing a living creature would come soon.

[ roll seven ]

[ 1-3 means abel o'malley could not evade the sheepish and it may attack, 4-10 means abel o'malley evaded the sheepish and it cannot attack this turn ]

[ 6 | the sheepish cannot attack ]

[ abel o'malley: 0/20 damage ]

I took a deep breath, knowing I was about to kill the animal. I looked at the Gamemakers. I reminded myself that no matter how many lives I would take after this that they had far more blood on their hands than I ever would. Did they feel guilty about the lives they would take? About the suffering they would inflict? If they did, they were damn good at hiding it. And I would have to learn to do the thing. No matter how hard it was, I forced my eyes open. I would watch myself take a life for the first time.

[ roll eight ]

[ abel o'malley attacks sheepish | bow and arrow ]

[ 4088 | shallow cut on left calf | +3.5 damage ]

[ sheepish: 20.5/20 damage (DEAD) ]

It suddenly fell to the ground, eyes still open. They were staring into my eyes, my soul. They were judging my soul. My dirty, sinful soul. My soul covered in the blood of the innocent, stained red just as its fur. But, my soul would be cleansed. Sins were made to be forgiven, and God had chosen me for this path of wrath. Victors were the ones who had been tainted with blood, marked by death, but still emerged pure on the other side. And I prayed I would be joining them. I hoped I was showing I was as worthy as any of the other volunteers.

I was sort of glad my first death was here. I could go to my apartment after and process it in private. Others would have to process their first kill on national television. Once in my apartment I could cry or scream or nap or take a shower or do whatever I had to do. But here I had to continue. Just like in the Arena I'd have to move forward. I called to some avoxes to remove the body. As one passed me, I couldn't help myself. I spit on it as it walked by and muttered out a damned traitor.

I then went back to the weapons. I put away the bow and quiver. When preparing for this moment, it was tough deciding between axes and knives for my second fight. In the end I settled on axes. The knives seemed more accurate and I could throw them quicker. And for my last fight, I would need speed more than anything. The current mutt I would be facing wasn't as fast as the last mutt, but it was bulkier. The axes seemed to be the right choice.

I went back into the makeshift arena and removed the second sheet from the cage, revealing my next fight. A duowolf. I then stepped back again and spoke both to the remote holder as well as the Gamemakers, "We're about to prove who the true beast is here. Go ahead and open the cage. I know your time is valuable, so I'll try to make this as quick as the last one for you."

[ roll ten* ]

[ abel o'malley attacks duowolf | thrown axe ]

[ 10183 | deflected | +0.0 damage ]

[ duowolf: 0/25 damage ]

[ accuracy fight two ]

[ roll eleven ]

[ abel o'malley attacks duowolf | thrown axe ]

[ 10082 | miss | +0.0 damage ]

[ duowolf: 0/25 damage ]

I missed my first attempt, this fight wasn't off to a good start for me. I missed with my first throw. The axe impaled itself into the training center floor with a loud crash. Luckily, this caught the wolfs attention. It hadn't noticed me standing back in my corner yet. It focused on the axe itself rather than the source of the axe, which is what I needed to try to throw another axe and it hope that it would hit. The second axe also missed, but it got their attention. It got their attention on me as they ran towards me.

[ roll twelve ]

[ 1-4 means abel o'malley could not evade the duowolf and it may attack, 5-10 means abel o'malley evaded the duowolf and it cannot attack this turn ]

[ 1 | the duowolf may attack ]

[ roll thirteen ]

[ duowolf attacks abel o'malley | "knife" ]

[ 2003 | deep gash on left forearm | +8.0 damage ]

[ abel o'malley: 8/25 damage ]

The wolf was quicker than me this time and got a good bite on my left arm. I managed to hold back a scream and let out a grunt instead. I wanted to scream and cry, but I told myself I couldn't. I reminded myself how dangerous showing weakness could be in this situation. And I told myself that there would be worse ahead I had to deal with. That it was truly kill or be killed. And, I got ready to kill this thing. It had to be done. "Come here puppy, let's fucking play!"

[ roll fourteen ]

[ abel o'malley attacks duowolf | thrown axe ]

[ 10071 | broken rib | +7.0 damage ]

[ duowolf: 7/25 damage ]

When my axe made contact with the wolf, a loud crack filled the room. The same sound Six's leg made during the bloodbath almost a year ago exactly. The advantage of axes was they didn't have to hit with the blade to do damage. They were heavy enough that if thrown with the right amount of force, they could break bones. Just like it broke the duowolf's ribs. The animal let out a cry, yet I felt no pity for it. And it felt no pity for me as it attacked once again. The wicked have no room for pity.

[ roll fifteen ]

[ 1-4 means abel o'malley could not evade the duowolf and it may attack, 5-10 means abel o'malley evaded the duowolf and it cannot attack this turn ]

[ 3 | the duowolf may attack ]

[ roll sixteen ]

[ duowolf attacks abel o'malley | "knife" ]

[ 2122 | shallow cut on cheek | +3.5 damage ]

[ abel o'malley: 11.5/25 damage ]

That time, it went for the kill. It aimed for my face. And if I was a second slower, I would have been dead. The Peacekeepers weren't faced enough. They were supposed to shoot the mutt if I got too injured or it was about to kill me. They were supposed to keep me alive. Yet, in that moment the only thing that managed to keep me alive was myself. It reinforced everything that I already knew deep down. In the end, you can't rely on anyone but yourself. You can't trust anyone but yourself. That's what Pa always taught me.

[ roll seventeen ]

[ abel o'malley attacks duowolf | thrown axe ]

[ 10071 | axe in bicep | +8.5 damage ]

[ duowolf: 15.5/25 damage ]

When the axe plunged itself into the animal, for the first time I could see the wound I had caused. The blood poured out and I got sick yet sweet feeling. A rush of adrenaline, a feeling of power I had never felt before. It was like I was high, the feeling was addicting. It kept me going despite the pain. It got my ready to face this next charge from the wolf head on. I was ready to fight, to kill. And I was ready to enjoy every second of it.

"Ready to die so soon!?"

[ roll eighteen ]

[ 1-4 means abel o'malley could not evade the duowolf and it may attack, 5-10 means abel o'malley evaded the duowolf and it cannot attack this turn ]

[ 3 | the duowolf may attack ]

[ roll nineteen ]

[ duowolf attacks abel o'malley | "knife" ]

[ 2124 | deep gash on right bicep | +8.0 damage ]

[ abel o'malley: 19.5/25 damage ]

It attacked my opposite arm this time, getting another good bite in. I let out a scream, but I didn't care. Every wound, every injury, every attack only got my blood pumping more and more. I only got more and more excited, and ready to kill. I craved the pain and I craved the feeling of hurting the mutt. I finally understood the cruelty of Pa and Cain. It felt good to finally be the predator instead of the prey. It felt good to finally have some power for once in my life. "Nice try, but you'll have to do better than that!"

[ roll twenty ]

[ abel o'malley attacks duowolf | thrown axe ]

[ 10023 | axe in chest | +9 damage ]

[ duowolf: 24.5/25 damage ]

For a second, I thought it was dead. But, it still was clinging to life. It wasn't going to lie down and die like the sheepish. It was going to fight until its last breath. Admirable. Unfortunately, that wouldn't be enough. It looked like a light breeze would take it out at this point. And I had proven I could do a lot fucking more than a light breeze could. It came for me, and I was ready. I wasn't planning to let this thing be killed by the Peacekeepers. I deserved this kill. I earned it. I craved it.

[ roll twenty-one ]

[ 1-4 means abel o'malley could not evade the duowolf and it may attack, 5-10 means abel o'malley evaded the duowolf and it cannot attack this turn ]

[ 8 | the duowolf may not attack ]

[ abel o'malley: 19.5/25 damage ]

It missed, as I expected. I wasn't going to miss, I wouldn't let myself. I wanted to kill it. After all, it caused me pain too. It caused me suffering too. It's what it deserved. "You're a bad dog and need to be put down." It was, it bit me twice now. I felt some hesitation as I raised my axe. But, I was already a killer I reminded myself. Whether I kill one animal or a hundred at this point, a kill is a kill. A sin is a sin. I'd have to pray for forgiveness the same regardless. And I let the axe fly.

[ roll twenty-two ]

[ abel o'malley attacks duowolf | thrown axe ]

[ 10022 | bruised arm | +2 damage ]

[ duowolf: 26.5/25 damage (DEAD) ]

The axe hit the wolf, and that was the last thing it needed it kill it. It tried to come towards me, but it slowed down until it stopped moving completely. It slowly fell to the ground, struggling to survive. And then it gave up and the life left it once and for all. My second kill. Once again, the avoxes came to remove the corpse. I cleared my throat, speaking to the Gamemakers, "I have one more fight planned for you all tonight. Let me get these wounds quickly stitched and then we can move onto the finale!"

On the side, a medic patched me up so I was ready for the last fight. I put the axes away and grabbed the throwing knives for my final fight. I felt confident, I felt ready for whatever this beast wanted to throw at me. Six could take it on, so I knew I could. I was stronger than my cousin was. I was faster than my cousin was. And I had already taken more lives than he had. I could do this. I went back into the arena and moved the final sheet. The dart jaguar had death in it's eyes, my eyes were mirrors. "Open it up, I want to play with the kitty-cat!"

[ roll twenty-three ]

[ abel o'malley attacks dart jaguar | thrown knife ]

[ 9114 | knife deep in forearm | +8.0 damage ]

[ dart jaguar: 8/30 damage ]

It was fast, but I was faster that time. It tried to run, but the knife dug itself deep into it's leg, stopping it in its tracks. Try and hit me now fucker. Oh it was pissed. It was ready to fight. But so was I, and I was just getting warmed up with the last two fights. I was hungry for more. I was hungry for victory. I was hungry for the golden crown. I was going to be remembered, I was going to fix the O'Malley legacy once and for all. God had picked me. This mutt had no concept of that fact. It knew it was going to die though, that's why it tried so damn hard to attack me.

[ roll twenty-four ]

[ 1-5 means abel o'malley could not evade the dart jaguar and it may attack, 6-10 means abel o'malley evaded the dart jaguar and it cannot attack this turn ]

[ 6 | the dart jaguar may not attack ]

[ abel o'malley: 0/30 damage ]

It missed, it was slow. It was close, but that knife in it's leg was slowing it down. I decided to leave the knife in for now. Sure, it was keeping some blood in. But, the disadvantage to the beasts speed balanced it out in my mind. My body was tired, it was sore. I was slowing down too. That knife was evening the playing field for the both of us. "This is cat and mouse, except I'm sure as shit not the mouse." I was done playing games, I was tired. I wanted to go to bed. I was ready to just end it all.

[ roll twenty-five ]

[ abel o'malley attacks dart jaguar | thrown knife ]

[ 9054 | knife in back | +6.5 damage ]

[ dart jaguar: 14.5/30 damage ]

It wasn't as deep, but at least I got it pretty good with the knife. The knife cut into it's back, but it managed it get it out. The knife being out was probably more comfortable for the mutt. But it didn't realise it was contributing to blood loss. I was thankful I left the knife in it's leg. It suffering slowed it down, made it easier to hit, and made it easier to dodge. Maybe it was the adrenaline talking, or maybe it was genuinely easier than fighting the duowolf. Either way, I felt cocky.

[ roll twenty-six ]

[ 1-5 means abel o'malley could not evade the dart jaguar and it may attack, 6-10 means abel o'malley evaded the dart jaguar and it cannot attack this turn ]

[ 10 | the dart jaguar may not attack ]

[ abel o'malley: 0/30 damage ]

Another miss, this time it barely got close to me. Was it even trying anymore? Or was it trying to ruin the show? What it didn't realise was I didn't care about the show anymore. I promised a quick fight and the beast was giving me a quick and easy fight. I looked at the Gamemakers, and I wondered what was going through their minds. Six never killed anything. He apologised for cutting off someone's ear. I would be doing nothing of the sort. I hoped they could see that. And honestly, I was starting to care less and less what they thought of me. I was proving to myself what I was capable of. I felt a lot better about going into that arena.

[ roll twenty-seven ]

[ abel o'malley attacks dart jaguar | thrown knife ]

[ 9054 | knife in back | +6.5 damage ]

[ dart jaguar: 21/30 damage ]

Another knife in the back, another brick in the wall, another sin to wash off of my damaged soul. Another prize to hang upon my wall. It was getting closer and closer to death. We could all tell. The avoxes were starting to get ready to remove the body once again, and probably try to wash all of this damn blood out of the room before the next session. The Peacekeepers were lowering the guns, understanding I could handle it. And the Gamemakers? I didn't know how they felt. Part of me worried they had soft spot for the mutts, and part of me really fucking doubted it, "I'll let you gents get back to business soon enough. It's just about over."

[ roll twenty-eight ]

[ 1-5 means abel o'malley could not evade the dart jaguar and it may attack, 6-10 means abel o'malley evaded the dart jaguar and it cannot attack this turn ]

[ 6 | the dart jaguar may not attack ]

[ abel o'malley: 0/30 damage ]

The animal was desperate, but desperation makes you clumsy. That's what I learned from my fight with Bastian. The only time I didn't hit him was the time I needed to the most, the time I was most desperate. When you're desperate you're not thinking, you're not aiming, you're just acting. I wasn't desperate. I have never been desperate. That sort of action wasn't fitting for a Victor regardless. I addressed the Gamemakers once more, "Place your bets now y'all! One hit or two?" I didn't even realise I said y'all that time.

[ roll twenty-nine ]

[ abel o'malley attacks dart jaguar | thrown knife ]

[ 9054 | knife in stomach | +6.5 damage ]

[ dart jaguar: 27.5/30 damage ]

We got out answer, two more hits to finish it off. It, just like it's predecessors, was making it's last stand. And it would die by my hand just like the others had before it. I had proven it. Bow and arrow. Axes. Knives. No matter what ranged weapons the Gamemakers gave me, I could put on a show. I could kill. I didn't know if I could kill humans, but I was going to have to. And it wasn't like I could just kill a trainer. The jaguar, an apex predator, had become the prey. 

[ roll thirty ]

[ 1-5 means abel o'malley could not evade the dart jaguar and it may attack, 6-10 means abel o'malley evaded the dart jaguar and it cannot attack this turn ]

[ 6 | the dart jaguar may not attack ]

[ abel o'malley: 0/30 damage ]

Another miss, I had fought one of the quickest mutts in last years arena without a single scratch from it. After all, all it would take was one hit to finish it off. I just couldn't miss. I wasn't going to miss. I felt satisfaction knowing what was to come. I picked up one of the knives I had already used off the ground. It still had blood on it. Why should I bloody a clean knife when there's so many bloody ones free to use? I'm sure the jaguar won't mind there being blood on it. After all, its the mutts own blood. "It's over."

[ roll thirty-one ]

[ abel o'malley attacks dart jaguar | thrown knife ]

[ 9054 | knife in forearm | +5.5 damage ]

[ dart jaguar: 33/30 damage (DEAD) ]

I simply walked over to the weapon rack and put away the last of my knives, I didn't need to watch it crumple to the ground to know it died. Without waiting for orders, the avoxes removed the body for the last time of the evening. I stood at the center of the room and did a little bow. My blood was absolutely pumping, it's been a blast. I gave the Gamemakers a polite smile, "It's been an absolute pleasure. I hope I didn't take up too much of y'all's time."

Tyrone can't get out of bed today. It's been drilled into his head that today would be the biggest day for him before the Hunger Games formally begin. His Private Training Session, or PTS, as some called it. Show off all the kills you've learned in your life like a dancer in their final performance of a lifetime. Do well and he might just get a high enough score to attract some sponsors. Do poorly and he'll be worse off than if he doesn't show up at all.

Rocko and Pepper plead with Tyrone to get up and dressed, but with every knock on the door, his head sinks deeper into the pillow and is lost in the gentle music playing in the bedroom. He's terrified to walk in there. It's been two weeks in the Training Center, but it'd take Ty two years to be half as good as the other tributes. And once more, what's the point in making a fool of himself if it will hinder him in the arena, anyways? And what can a few knives thrown at a stationary target prove about how he'll survive in the wilderness, anyway? Target practice is just an act, and he has never been good at playing the role picked out for him. He keeps in mind the risk of injury, as well. He couldn't take the chance on a trip or fall. He's already slower, weaker, less instinctual: no need to top things off with an injury.

The worry sets in about whether or not he'll be punished. Surely his interviewers will question his absence, but Tyrone doesn't move a muscle. Maybe they'll call it brave, or ballsy, or even so bullish about his chances that he didn't need to prove anything.

A knock on the door forces Tyrone up one last time.

"Tell them that I'm sick," he yells to Rocko, who opened the door to beg him to come out tonight.

{"How sick?"}

"Like, dying sick."

{"If you're dying sick, there are doctors here that can help you."}

Tyrone leaves them with no response after that. Doctors that can help him? Sweet, sweet Rocko, he thinks, you're the reason I'm dying! The Hunger Games, the Capitol's desire to make Peacekeepers into Chaosbringers. If it wasn't for them, people like Rocko and Pepper and all of the Gamemakers, he'd be alive. Hell, maybe he'd even be happy.

Too self-centered, they are, though, to realize that they have prescribed death to every baby in the districts the moment they're brought into the world. A medicine filled with agonizing pain, a remedy for the flaws of those living almost a century ago.

Over time, the knocking fades and stops altogether. Pepper and Rocko must have given up on trying to get him out. Or maybe they're getting Peacekeepers to force him down to the main floor. Whatever they choose to do, Tyrone will rest until it happens: the main performance begins soon, and it's best not to waste an ounce of energy until then.

For now, though, Tyrone sleeps: dreaming of the war away idea of feeling alive.


[Tyrone Hope-Less, District Eight: No Show.]

N y l o n .

"All my friends are heathens, take it slow
Wait for them to ask you who you know
Please don't make any sudden moves
You don't know the half of the abuse"

Weightless.

Pressed between two rafters up toward where they kept the cargo net, Arthur had hauled himself and a collection of sewn together sheets over his shoulder. He could hear his heart pounding through his ears and taste the metallic hum that washed over his tongue. Below was the same mat that kept them from tumbling onto hard concrete and smashing their heads open like overripe melons.

He’d spent enough time in the training center to know he didn’t have the grace of a career, nor he indefatigable determination of someone like Abel from eleven, to put together some strange display of physical prowess. He couldn’t juggle knives, and any mention of fire had him imagining his whole track suit catching flame and he running around like an idiot until he’d combusted. And he didn’t have some sort of moralizing speech to attack the game makers, because that much would serve to piss each of them off, which he didn’t need before the games. Or worse, to make them bored out of their skulls.

He liked to think that it was a message. That he might’ve been reckless, willing to do the unexpected, to go after the strongest or boldest even it’d meant death, if only because he didn’t believe in a natural order of things. Or just because he felt like it, which was a perfectly acceptable reason to do half of the stupid things he’d made his mind up about.

But mostly it just reminded him of his brother, Stanley.

When he was ten, his older brother had gone with him to the roof of their little apartment building and decided that they would play paratrooper. So, they’d taken their bedsheets and tied them together, then grabbed a box to tie twin to, attached the sheets, and sent the thing over the side of the building, and watched it freefall to earth.

Over the years, they’d tested plastic, cotton, and nylon. Cut the square sheets into rectangles, hexagons, octagons.

So, he’d create this from the nylon tarp he’d found near the camping supplies, cutting the eight-sided shape, the hole to reduce oscillation, and the ropes needed to attach the thing to himself.

Arthur stood, shaky legged and wide eyed from the top of the rafters where he’d sat, said a prayer to whatever non-denominational creature might’ve controlled his fate, and with a one-two skip, slipped over the side of the bars and fell.

Down, further still until the parachute expanded, crackling upward, catching air as he came further down, still fast, but slower, he holding the cords that ripped upward, eyes down at the ground below. He couldn’t tell how much time had passed – no more than a number of seconds that felt like whole minutes – before he’d landed with a thud across the waiting mat below.

He’d tucked and rolled himself out, pulling off the ropes he’d gone and tied too snugly to his body. He sauntered closer to the front, and gave the game makers a salute.

“Mind if I get a selfie?” He said, kneeling down to give a ‘v’ sign to his token, the camera he’d pulled out of his pocket. He stuck his tongue out too, just as the flash burst.

With that, he head back out the door.