when the chips are down | Kass vs Jacob | Day 8

Fayre Belanger had made our fight personal.

So when I strike her down, it is not with the apathy of a laser blast from afar, it is with the slash of a blade, like the way that so many before her had fallen. Like the way that so many before me had slain with.

And when she falls, it is not with the emotional breakdown that I had suffered over Ike. Sure, it hurts - but instead of my heart shattering this time, I believe instead that the casualty is my soul.

No. There was no emotional attachment that this girl held within, so when I look at her fallen form, there is no tugging at my heartstrings, no sudden loss of tears due to emotion building to critical mass within.

I suppose you could almost call what I feel apathy.

For when I drop the sword that had painted her end red at her side, claim instead the energy blade that moments before had torn away at my flesh, there's a myriad of emotions. Sorrow, for I have become a killer twice over. Anger, that I was forced into such a situation in the first place. Rage, still burning hot over her attempts to needle away at me.

But I suppose the scariest thing is that when it comes to regret, I do not feel a single thing at all.

---

There's no reassurance to be found when the anthem flashes on my watch that night. Both Nines, a youthful looking boy and the scary looking Delacroix, start off the list. The former had never been on my radar for much of the same reasons that I hadn't been on others, I imagine, but the latter was a different story. She'd been in the same group that Fayre and Elite had been in, the quartet that had won the wealth, of of the four she'd arguably scared me the most. Which meant that someone even worse had taken her out, right when she should have been at the top of her game.

But it wasn't Fayre, her last living alliance member, because I had finished.

And neither, apparently, had it been Cedar Halt.

And truth be told, after the events of the previous days, I had almost been expecting to run into him instead of the girl from Ten. Because even though I might not know a lot of things, I know what makes a good story. And two boys from similar backgrounds, from neighborly districts, with an antagonistic history together? Honestly, I was almost more surprised that I didn't fight him than I would have been if I had.

Makes me wonder who had offed him in the end, or if there had been some narrative-heavy reason that Fayre had ended up being my opponent instead.

But as per usual, there's a lot on my mind as I wind down for the evening. And all too soon, I'm no longer worrying about what was, but instead, what will be instead.

First and foremost, I'm in the top four, which attributes to about six days more on my lifespan than I or anyone else had likely anticipated. That leaves three standing in my way - and, as luck would have it, I know who each of the three are.

First, there's Ike's district partner, a girl who I only remember from the bloodbath as she beat Kit up, and then again at Cedar's makeshift tea party on the third day. Easily the least known of the three, but the very fact that she's from Ike's home is an arrow towards a path that I would prefer remained eternally buried as long as I live.

Then, there's Red. A girl my polar opposite that I had nevertheless bonded with over one fateful meal in the cafeteria. And the girl who had killed Kit, Industria, and who knows who else at this point. Easily the scariest of the remaining four - and a lightbulb goes off over my head as I wonder if it was perhaps her that had struck Eos Delacroix down.

And last, of course, is Kassandra. Of all the years for Eleven to do as well as it had, of course it had to be the year that I break all the odds - and the year that my district partner shows an equally stubborn will to live, as well. No district should remain whole when the top four comes to pass - and yet, the most unlikely duo of all had pulled off that very feat.

One of them will meet me in battle tomorrow.

One of them could spell my end.

And it is with that comforting thought that I pass out into a dreamless sleep.

---

I'd come to the gardens to make my piece with Kit in the place that his soul had left the mortal realm, and found myself adding Fayre's soul to my burden in his place. But I do make my peace, if only by being there. And with an adjustment of the flower behind my ear that had been the boy from Six's last gift to me, I decide that today, I'll make peace with the last person I have yet to receive it from.

That is how I find myself back in the beam chamber, the very place that I'd lain Ike to rest.

That is how I spot her, hurtling towards me with a pained expression on her face.

That is how a laser blast nicks me on the cheek, reopening the wound dealt to me by Cedar back on the fifth day, followed by five words that threaten to bleed my heart anew.

"I wish it wasn't you."

There's a moment where I'm not sure what I'm feeling, no singular emotion establishing dominance as the situation around me sinks in and makes itself known. Almost lover's district partner, the girl from the cafeteria, or the girl from home, I guess there was no good way for this to end.

But of all of my limited options, this one might hurt the most.

So I say nothing for a moment, a sad little smile the only acknowledgement I show externally. Like I had done to escape Ike, I join Kassandra in the air with the simple press of a button. But this time, I'm not trying to avoid the pain coming my way - no, I've decided to face it head on.

"I wish it wasn't you, either," I say as we cross paths. And that much is genuine. Heartbreak, apathy, now something a mix of the two - for the girl I had once comforted on the path to hear was now my enemy, and the only piece of home I had to hold onto the one thing stopping me from reaching the finale.

Like her, I procure my gun, and aim it in her direction.

"But," I say, louder this time as my velocity carries me past her, "I guess we just have to deal with the cards we are dealt, right?"

The shot echoes throughout the chamber as, for the first time, I direct harmful intentions for the girl that, had circumstances been different, might have been my sister instead.

Sure, I'd come here to make peace with the last demon who haunted me.

But first, I'd need to make war against the penultimate specter standing in my way.

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Aiming at a moving, airborne target while flying through the air at a perpendicular trajectory is pretty much exactly as difficult as it sounds.

I'm not sure if it's reluctance or a simple lack of refined skill that sends the burst of plasma across her chest instead of into it. And though I'm pretty sure I know the answer, I decide that the topic isn't worth dwelling over.

Because above all else, Kass is still my district partner. It was always going to be difficult in the best of circumstances to fight her, to strike her down, and there's no reason to make it any harder on myself than it has to be. And truth be told, it was only because I had not been forced to strike first that we even were engaged in this duel of the fates to begin with.

Kassandra was stronger than me, in will if not in body. She'd killed before, of that there is no doubt, for all who make it this far suffer at least one stain on their honor, on their psyche. And she'd seen me with her own two eyes and struck regardless, not hiding behind the excuse of a mistake like I had with Ike.

Two weeks ago, if you had asked me who would be more likely to return home with a crown instead of in a casket between the two of us, I would have answered her in a heartbeat.

And perhaps I still would. Still will. For she doesn't just fight hard, she fights smart - instead of remaining an airborne, high-velocity, hard to hit target, she attaches herself to a surface, flattens herself against it to minimize an already small form, and aims not randomly, but with conviction.

And it shows, it burns, as my free arm takes the brunt of the blow. And it hurts like all hell has just burst through from the wound.

But there's no surprise anymore. I know this pain, felt this pain.

And compared to the wounded form of my bleeding heart, it isn't so difficult to bear this time around.

So I grit my teeth, plan my next move. District partner or no, stand-in for my sister or complete stranger, I cannot back down now without a fight. Not after coming so very far.

"And what cards do you think you have?"

For any other, a question of metaphor and rhetoric. For Kassandra, no doubt something to be taken very seriously. I did not choose my words randomly, after all.

"Mine?" There's a chuckle that leaks from within, though one without much power or humor behind it. "I thought for sure that the cards tied to my fate would lead me to my death eight days ago."

A button is pressed, and I rotate - so that suddenly, a hard to see form becomes dangerously exposed from my new position.

And I aim, both hands this time clutching my weapon.

"But here I am, still breathing, still fighting." Closer, closer.... "So honestly? I have no idea anymore."

There.

I take my shot, once again aiming for the kill.

"Maybe you can help me figure that out."

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Perhaps I've been spoiled the last eight days. Lulled into a false sense of security as I punch holes through swarms of nakom or snipe Cedar Halt from afar, given the illusion that I was beginning to achieve competence after I knocked Ike from the stars and burned through Fayre like nothing.

Kass isn't so easy to take out. She's more like Cedar in terms of frustrating survivability and tenacity, hard to pin down and harder to deal a decisive blow against. Instead of taking the burst of plasma head on, she flattens herself against her perch - and for the second time in a row, my strike singes instead of burns.

Perhaps it's better that way. Or worse. I'd shown that my conviction could be proved, that my desire for home outlasted any attachments when I'd struck Ike down. And yet here they give me a different test, one easier and harder all at the same time - for Kassandra Nerys isn't seeking me to give her a quick, painless death, nor has she given up her hold on life. It's the first proper fight that I've had to face where outside forces weren't there to assist me - and right now, I'm not sure I'm up to the task.

The girl from home moves, once again opting to remain in a stable spot as opposed to taking my tactic of moving around as much as she can to become as hard to hit as possible. And perhaps there's wisdom in her approach, for one second I see a flash, and the next, it's my thigh that's ignited in agony. Had I been standing, no doubt I would have collapsed - for this leg, already shuddering under a half-healed burn from Cedar and at least a few cracked bones in my foot, has taken more than it can handle.

But I'm airborne, and I'm not going to give up so easily. Even as I decide that perhaps there's wisdom in improving your aim at the cost of halving your mobility. It's not like Kass is having any trouble with hitting me even as I fly from location to location, and right now, I could use every advantage I can get.

So I rotate, my one good leg taking the brunt of my weight as I land, standing parallel with my district partner on the wrong side of gravity instead of a weird mismatched pairing. And I feel the blood not leaking from my wounds rush to my head, giving me perhaps a minute or two to make my case before I must move on.

With any luck, that'll be enough.

There's a grin on Kass's face, not unkind yet not friendly at the same time. "Afraid you'll have to pay up," she states, in response to my earlier proposition for assistance. "I've done too many free readings lately."

And this time, in spite of the pain or maybe perhaps because of it, the warmth of humor finds its way into my chuckle. "That's-" Teeth grit suddenly as a flash of pain threatens to overwhelm my system. "-Fair, I suppose," comes the response, choppy yet clear.

Already, the effects of standing upside down are making themselves known, so I raise my blaster for a third time. "Afraid the only currency I have right now is blood, though," I continue, an almost playful note in my tone despite the severity of the situation. "Hope that works for you."

This isn't a messy sobfest like Ike, nor a one-note pony of anger and rage like with Fayre. This is something else entirely, almost as if we're putting the games into the hunger as we trade blows and dodge and weave around each other.

Death is on the line, closer than it has ever been for me, and yet I feel surprisingly carefree.

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The change in tactics does not pay off - had I not seen the singing of the flesh on her hand with my own two eyes, I would have had no doubt that Kassandra had escaped my third attempt to end her life unscathed.

As it was, it does little to tip the scales of our confrontation, even as she detaches herself from the ceiling and promptly smacks into a wall. For a moment, I'm worried, worried that somehow, I'd struck something vital, worried that somehow, my plucky little district partner had sabotaged herself in an attempt to make another maneuver to strike at me.

I need not have bothered, for when I detach myself from the ceiling in turn, blood gratefully flowing out of my head and back into the rest of me as I rotate back to the way that it was meant to stand, she's found her metaphorical footing, albeit a good distance away from me. Smart, now that she's dealt a few solid blows - it forces me to go on the attack if I want any chance of equalizing, lest I bleed out as she bounces all over this confusing mess of a chamber in an attempt to avoid me. And truly, I'd never noticed it before, perhaps due to my first visit being during the bloodbath and the second being overshadowed by, well, me claiming Ike's life for my own.

A voice I distinctly recognizes as Red's blares out of nowhere, startling me just long enough that for a second I'm unsure as to whether or not the skirmish between the two halves of Eleven was just a prelude to a larger spectacle of murder. But rationality hasn't fled me yet, and the source is identified as a loudspeaker within the span of three seconds. Red is nowhere near, nowhere in a place to threaten my life - and were tradition to be mandated, it would be the girl from Eight that would rise to answer her challenge.

But we are not the girls from Eight and Twelve. We are the pair from Eleven - and now my counterpart is fighting with everything she has to claim my life for hers, relieve me of my burden and send me back home the easy way. And there's no time to focus on such things.

Perhaps it's that very shift back to the fight at hand that allows me to see the shot before it ever leaves her weapon's chamber, allows me to cut power to my jetpack just long enough that when the heat of the blast passes directly over my head, it fails to leave behind any pain for me to remember it by.

"Blood works just fine, Fel." Kass's words echo across the chamber, and though I am not so delirious from blood loss to believe otherwise, the sudden sound of what seems to be three of my district partner instead of one is unnerving enough all on its own. "But you have to pay upfront."

A grin crosses my lips even as, for a second, I gaze down into the abyss. "Already working on it, Nerys," comes the response five seconds later as my gaze once again focuses on her form.

It's ambiguous amongst us both as to whose blood is truly the currency in this situation. But it would not surprise me if we each were referring to the other in this very instant. She, demanding I pay my price in blood to receive the end that I've been evading for eight long days. Me, the boy who demands that a third person puts down their own goals and ambitions to ensure mine remain unbroken as if two wasn't already enough.

But the fact remains that, for the first time in our conflict, someone has failed to hit their opponent. And as luck would have it, it is in my favor instead of that of the girl trying to kill me. A lucky break as I fall behind, two major hits to zero, a shot that otherwise would have solidified Kass's survival now allowing me to get back in the race.

Changing tactics hadn't worked out for me, so this time I stick with familiarity. One eye closed, both hands on my gun - my chamber registers as half empty as I send another bolt of plasma Kass's way.

Or maybe it's half full, depending on how you look at it. I've never been one for optimism, but perhaps in this key, critical moment, I can allow myself just a little taste of the most powerful of Pandora's box.

Hope.

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Again, a graze. Again, damage, but too little, and perhaps, too late.

The blows seem to unbalance Kass more than actually hurt her, if the haste to avoid taking the blow head on was harder to deal with than the singed flesh of a glancing shot. A faceplant into a platform sends something clattering down into the abyss; a moment later finds her supplies sailing down to more steady ground.

In that, our approaches differ, for I had always left my supplies to the side, forgotten, so that I could focus fully on the fight at hand, unburdened, free to take to the skies as I pleased. But all this time, my district partner had been fighting with that extra weight holding down her small form, avoiding shots with an additional burden added to her shoulders.

And I wonder if she's planning her next moves, in case the fight goes on so long that our blasters become little more use than an unwieldy bludgeon. Mine had started out with six charges before I'd found the battery pack in the aftermath of the bloodbath, and I'm wondering if Kass had that luxury too, or if her weapon was nearly out of juice. There's no sign of a melee weapon on her form, but for all I know she has an energy blade under her robes just like the ones that Red and I carry.

And then I wonder no more, for, having grown complacent after avoiding one shot, I take the next square in the chest. And I barely have time to process the pain, for the force sends me into an impromptu midair backflip that takes a full ten seconds to recover from, both the attack itself and the near haywire trajectory that my jetpack had almost sent itself into.

I cough, for that one direct shot to my vitals had knocked all the wind out of my lungs. And the score is now at three direct hits to zero, a hole that is becoming increasingly difficult to climb out of.

And I feel it, too. Exhaustion, blood loss, the temporary boost to my overall energy level with my first proper meal in days consumed in the aftermath of Fayre's death all but spent. And this is with me doing naught more than press a button and shoot a gun.

There's no more witty quips sent my way, nor do I feel inclined to send one back in turn. The fight has lost its humor, lost its lightheartedness - the grim reality that one of us is moments away from death has sunk in. Friendly banter has given way to desperation - and just as quickly as I had allowed myself to hope, the cold, icy counterpart of fear snuffed it out. Just like that.

I'm breathing heavily now, and yet my focus has not wavered. Kassandra Nerys may have gained a stranglehold on the upper hand from me, but she has not put me into the ground just yet.

But that doesn't mean there's a semblance of anything resembling an equal shot at victory. Not any more. And my free hand twitches, remembering the energy blade at my hip. One good strike with that, and I could not only be back on even ground, I could transfer the iron grip of the upper hand to my own possession.

But first, I have to get close enough. Make enough space for it to be worth it. And so I grit my teeth, press another button, and sail towards my district partner.

Going directly for the slash with the sword would name my demise, most likely, or at the very least give her a free shot where I don't have room to receive one. So again, I fire - wild, aimed to distract more than to kill, completely uncaring as to its destination.

I'm far beyond such minor worries at this point, anyway. Every action I do has consequences, and I cannot afford another mistake.

One way or another - I have to get home.

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Predictably, my shot doesn't hit anything even close to resembling flesh. But then again, it didn't need to.

Kassandra Nerys is smart, strong, everything I am not. There's no wonder she's proven the superior in our sniping battle from all corners of the chamber, a born warrior against, well, me. But that's one form of battle, one type of conflict - and all this time, I'd forgotten another, more primal, more suited to my natural advantages.

Now, I'm nothing notable when it comes to size. Average height, average build, there was nothing noteworthy about my form well before it was pushed to its limits eight times over. But there's natural advantages that an eighteen year old boy has over a fourteen year old girl no matter what their location and upbringing as long as it was similar - and until now, I'd been using exactly none of them.

Regardless, my distractionary fire did its job. Kass's retaliation nicks my thigh in the same way that my shots had been grazing her, a minor inconvenience when her three previous hits on my form were taken into account. But regardless, I can feel myself fading, feel the life force ebbing from me with each passing breath.

In a war of attrition, I've already lost. But no fight is over until the cannon sounds - I've seen it time and time again on TV, from Harbinger taking out the girl from Four in his games when he himself was on death's door to Mackenzie Pryce offing the girl from One after the advantage had swung her way instead of his.

Shooting bursts of plasma at an impossibly small target isn't going to win me this battle. But maybe, just maybe, I can claw my way back with more traditional means.

Kass, for her part, has caught on, even as she jumps from one platform to the next in an effort to avoid me. But the difference between the hunter and the hunted is that I'm flying and she's climbing, and it's only a matter of time before I catch up.

Drawing level with her, I see the profanity fall from her lips more than I hear it. And for a brief flicker, I remember why I'd chosen to avoid close combat, chosen to fight from afar instead of personally deal damage up close.

But this is no time for sticking to morals or even allowing disgust to stop me. Either I do everything in my power to win this fight, or I die. And the approach I'd been taking for eight long days was, at long last, failing me.

So I take the energy blade I'd removed from Fayre's corpse the previous day in my free hand. I press a button on its hilt and watch the black glow extend into - actually, I'm not sure, but I'd call it hard light more than anything.

And as I gaze upon the trembling form of my district partner, I'm forced to remind myself that this isn't just a little girl caught in the wrong place at the wrong time - this is a battle hardened fighter who has already killed at least once and will kill me if I don't harden my heart and do what's necessary.

I hesitate for only a second before, for the first time, I swing.

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There's an odd wave of tranquility running through my veins right now that I've never felt a single time across eighteen years of life.

In other circumstances, missing a critical, point blank slash with a blade would have scared the shit out of me. And even now, looking back on the many dozens of times I've gazed at this very moment, I thought it'd be different. That I'd be terrified out of my mind, fighting against my fate with every fiber of my being.

But I suppose eight days of the same old shit has a tendency to wear down on you after a while. Had it been me instead of Kit, instead of Industria, I have no doubt that I'd be kicking and screaming every inch of the way. Hell, you all saw how I reacted when Cedar missed taking my eye out by the slightest of margins - scared me half to death, to the point that the mere trauma probably did more to shave off the years of my lifespan more than the bolt of plasma ever would.

Or maybe it's just that this has been a long, grinding fight to the finish. Ike and Fayre took minutes each to finish, and it's probably been not much longer dueling here and now with Kass, but it's felt like hours already. Lightheartedness turned to desperation faster than I could blink, and now, that very same energy is fading into a grim acceptance.

I always knew I would die within the confines of this ship. I just had never expected I would get so far, nor would I be struck down by someone whose name and traits I actually knew. And perhaps that small scale of familiarity is enough.

A weak chuckle escapes my lungs, the penultimate breath of a dying man. "Always figured that if one of us would make it home that it wouldn't be me," I murmur, for there is no energy left in my body to manage anything stronger. "Suppose it's fitting that I'm just a hurdle for you to overcome on that path after all."

Kass responds by leaping - not away, but at me - and I'm unprepared for her bear hug around my midsection. Surprise sends what little energy I have remaining into overdrive, even as a foot kicks at my sword hand and the muzzle of a blaster is pressed against my face.

My gun hand knocks the blaster away half a second before it fires, and for the second time an otherwise fatal bolt misses taking my life away by centimeters. There's wounds on both of my cheeks now, torn open by the energy, and had I been able to look into a mirror I would have seen that it looked like I was crying blood, such were the way the wounds were oriented.

A fitting final image for a boy who described himself as a coward first and foremost, I figure.

We crash into a platform, and I manage to shake myself off of the fourteen year old girl seconds away from cementing our fates into steel. With the last of my strength, I manage a few more words.

"Live on, Kass," The words are more pained gasps than anything, the last, desperate attempts to cling onto life as my body begins to shut down.

I'm so, so very tired.

"Live, and make the most-" A coughing fit breaks my attempt to seal a promise before it ever had a chance to be spoken.

For perhaps the last time, I raise a weapon with the intent to harm. To murder. To kill.

And as I launch my hail mary, for the first time, a crack appears in my calm.

"Please," I whisper. "Make it fast."

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