Panem's Got Talent: Grand Finale!

And what do you know about a bad bitch?

The fact that she made it this far mustve meant something right? Maybe she was a slow burning candle, the judges just needed a moment to really get a feel for her talent. Now? She was blowing up like a firework and she was ready to burst. She was ready for this, because while she didnt know where her career was actually going, she always felt like she belonged on the main stage. She was looking for her big break, and now, she just had to show that she was better than the four other people that had made it just as far as she did.

And sure, she did feel somewhat bad that she had to crush peoples dreams, but honestly, if she had it in her to crush tributes dreams of winning, then why should she even feel bad for this. Maybe because they too also shared some sort of want to make it to the end of the road. Zara could feel that. She almost didnt make it twice. The difference is, they worked hard, and she worked harder.

They tell her that she needs to have a mentor watching over her, and while most of the time she would have just ignored them and did what she knew, she did have to admit that getting Ridley Le Roux was quite the impressive feat. Even Zara could admit that she was a talented victor, though she was a career and Zara had always put her money on them before anyone else.

Working with Ridley was an experience to remember. Of course, Zara had already prepared a routine if she had gotten this far, but to have someone else look over it and critique it? that was going to be important here. The day started from the top, and when Ridley came into the room, Zara had calculated enough to at least spin and turn to greet her.

"So what do you do before you are put in front of a huge crowd of people?" Zara had been curious to know what might make a victor tick. She was never going to be forced into the spotlight herself after all.

"The biggest performances we give are in front of audiences of one or two people. The bigger the crowd, the less I care, because they don't care. Not as much as you think they do."***

Her response is somewhat poetic, and Zara got a feel that Ridley truly was someone deserving of victorship. Sure, it might not have been the exact answer that Zara was looking for, but at the end of the day, she was here to prove that she was ready for greater things, and realizing that in this moment, proving something to oneself was more important that showing it to the world. Zara knew that if she believed in herself, then the rest would fall into place.

"Well, said." She gave a light smile before picking up a sword. "Let me show you what I got." Zara throws the sword at the target across the hall and then music begins to play. She moves with the music elegantly, making sure her movements are precise, the dances falling in toe behind her. Zara made sure to tell each of them her vision, and so far, she was impressed with the caliber of talent she did get to help her. She grabbed a scythe from the floor and began to twist it in the air, dummies falling from the sky and each one losing its head as Zara aimed it closely, all timed to the music. It was all about grace and civility. With a deep breath, she opened a jar of tar and sprinkled it all over a black canvas in a formation that represented her name. She grabbed a gun from the edge of the stage and shot it point blank at the corner of the Z and watched it go into flames.

She took a bow and looked at Ridley. "Thoughts? Anything I can do to polish it?"

"Excellent form. Don't be afraid to take risks, though. No matter how difficult something is, no one will be impressed if you make it look too easy."***

Zara shifted her weight between her feet while she listened to what Ridley had to saw. She could tell something was off, but that Ridley was right at the end of it. She needed to take a risk here or there in order to really show the capitol that she meant business. Even now, she is still quite confused on what exactly she needs to do, but her time was up with Ridley, and that meant she needed to think long and hard as she prepared for the night of her life. She thanked Ridley as she walked out of the room, and sat for a minute as she focused on what exactly she needed to do next.

She was in it to win it after all.

The cameras were hot, but Zara felt hotter. She was dressed a silver sequin dress that was made for easy movement across the stage. She made it very clear that she wanted to be the center of attention, and that this prize, was hers. She did not wish that Ridley was here, because at the end of the day, she probably had so many other things that she needed to attend too. However, her words were going to replay in her mind as she tried to do everything exactly how she said she was going too. Zara Bradford was in this to win this, and if that meant she had to pull out all of the stops, she would.

She thanked the judges for the chances that she had recieved from them. She knew that there was a chance she wasnt going to make it, but obviously there did see some sort of star quality in her for her to make it this far. She introduced her routine before the music started.

It was all eyes on her now.

She started with the scythe again, but this time, she did not twirl it right away. She tossed it into the air, high up and timed a backflip in order to catch it mid air. The music was fast, but she knew she could at least keep up with it. She moved on quickly, the dancers behind her moving in sync with her as she tried to focus on the beats. She still, wasnt the best dancer, but she thought about how she would do it if she was fighting someone, that rhythm is what helped her keep going. She grabbed the scythe again, this time twirling it like she did in front of Ridley, as dummies fell from the sky. Each one losing its head as Zara slashed at each of them. She then took the scythe and twisted her body, flinging the weapon towards a target board, watching it sink into the bullseye. She was trying to show that she was still agile, even with any weapon.

The music changed tempo and she made up for it with a bit more energy, now performing tricks inbetween flame lit jump ropes. She jumped as she saw them coming, pulling out throwing knives from her hair and flinging them at various dummies that popped out from behind the two swinging the ropes. She was not worried about hitting them, because she was confident that her aim was near perfect.

She did not waste any time, still taking tar and pouring it on the black canvas that was brought onto the stage. A gun had been placed on the other side, to which she had thrown out a bunch of gymnastics to get too as various dancers threw things at her to dodge. As she got closer, she timed her body to stop right before the gun, which, when she picked up, she let out a bang from it, and she had waited for the words to ignite.

But it didnt.

Zara didnt waste anytime, she pulled her last knife out of her pocket and threw it directly where the bullet had landed, she didnt hear the impact, but she did see her name lit up in fire a moment after. She grinned for a moment, realizing that her routine had gone off without a hitch. Sure, it was probably nothing new, but a grand display of fighting was always something the capitol was excited about.

She smiled as she let the audience settle down, making sure to wait for them instead of trying to talk over anyone.

Zara wasnt sure where her fate was in all of this, but she hoped that she had done just enough. She was born for this stuff.

[ ✰ ]

I throw a knife and the judges goes fucking feral. So, new strategy!

No more knife throwing.

It's poetry time.

My therapist always says it's good to journal, express myself or whatever.

I juggled the thought on that canoe ride with Av – I guess water really does make a man think. Maybe it's why there's so many poets and lovers in the universe all maudlin and crying over fucking hurricanes and oceans and rain. So I've got a scrap of paper tucked into my back pocket, laboured over it the night before in between drinks, and here's my genius idea, a stroke of utter brilliance from the disaster that is my brain.

I walk on, the stage goes dark. Then, single spotlight. Archie Jr's sitting in his bowl on my lap, swimming serenely and he really knows his stage presence.

The other day, I finally sat down and read the fine print of PGT, combed through letter by letter while resting on my bed and realized I made enough money to square away that intern's leg and settle my bets. Money gets a person far in life, so much farther than they ever wanted to go haha. But enough is enough, let's roll.

Mic in hand, I start, "This one's dedicated to my fish and all the other fishes I had before him. Hashtag blessed."

Or something. Alright, here we go:

"Archie Junior is my fish,
Look at him! He's one big bad bitch.
I never met a fish this brave,
Archie even survived a rave (kinda).
I throw knives and he’s also there,
and together we make a really good pair.
Love that guy yah he's my bro,
and he's gonna help me get that dough."

Bars bitch!

I get up from my seat, drop the mic, put the paper down on the stool, and stab it in with a throwing knife from my other pocket.

That's cinema.

"Tada."

And a handstand for good measure.

[ ✰ ]

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I really didn't think I'd make it to the finale. Huh. That's wild.

I'm definitely not mad at it though, I mean, come on, whatever happens now doesn't really matter at all. The platform is incredible and like, if I were to just drop from this contest before this last performance, I think I'd be okay... like... critics are raving about my last song. Good for them, good for them! Old people should like cool music too.

These other contestants seem to be doing the most to try and bag this win, but meh, I'm not about trying so hard it's visible in the wrinkles on my face. With a fresh powder of my face, I head onto the stage for the last time and feel the power an adoring audience gives me. I always said that one day, everyone would know my name. Cute. I like when things actually happen.

Makes a girl feel good.

The music starts chiming in. More experimental than my past songs, the sound is industrial with a touch of a deep house beat. As the pots and pans start clacking about in the intro, I take a deep breath and eye not only the audience in the studio, but the world down the camera.

"GOT MY ASS PUMPED RIGHT UP!
GOT A BIG BOOB, D CUP!
GOT A SMALL WAIST, SNATCHED UP!
YEAH I ATE YOU UP!

'CAUSE I'M SCHYLAR BITCH!
BITCH YOU'RE NOTHING!!!!

NUMBER ONE GIRL, YOU'RE UNDER ME
'CAUSE I GOT A LIFE FULL OF LUXURY
SITTIN' AND SIPPIN', DRINKIN' AND DREAMIN'
I'M EVERYTHIN' YOU WANT TO BE
LOOKIN' MY WAY WHEN YOU ENTER, HEY HEY
FLY ICY GIRL ON HER SLAY SHIT, BAE
BODY SO GOOD, SHE'S A MEAL, GOURMET
WITH A POSH VOICE LIKE SHE PLAY CROQUET
AND IF YOU COME FOR ME, I'LL COME FOR YOU, BITCH
COUNTRY CLUB ****, I'LL DECK YOU QUICK
AND WHEN I GO TO SHOOT, I NEVER MISS!
I KNOW YOU CAN'T COMPETE, COMPETE WITH ALL THIS...

BARBIE SUPREME, YOU KNOW IT'S TRUE
LEAVING KEN'S BALL A SUPER BLUE
I KNOW YOU'RE JEALOUS OF MY BIG MELONS
BOUNCING SO HIGH ALL OVER YOU!
YOU'RE UP IN MY PLACE, ALL IN MY SPACE SPACE!
BETTER WATCH YOURSELF, YOU'LL CATCH A CASE
I'LL SUE THE BITCH BEFORE SHE GETS A TASTE
OF MY PRETTY LITTLE RIGHT HOOK IN HER FACE...
SO IF YOU COME FOR ME, I'LL COME FOR YOU, HOE!
TOP OF MY CLASS IN THE NAVY SEALS? (NO!)
TOP OF THE WORLD IN MY HIGH HEELS THOUGH,
AND I'LL THROW ONE AT YA HEAD IF YOU COME TOO CLOSE...

'CAUSE I'M SCHYLAR BITCH!
AND BITCH YOU'RE NOTHING!!!!!"

[ ✰ ]