no rules // storm, day 1

He lives, for now. He lives, despite the best efforts of several, himself included, in the bloodbath to determine otherwise. He lives, and he breathes, and he trudges on to the tune of three cannons at his back.

It's weird, being alone after two weeks of being anything but, of fourteen years of being one of the babies of a large family with plenty of loved ones to turn to in his hours of need. But despite everything, despite all attempts to the contrary, he can no longer trust a single soul in this entire arena, aside from himself.

The pair of boys who'd gone after him in the bloodbath for no apparent reason other than to dish out murder, the boy from Four who'd taught him how to swim to his own detriment, even his reality television star Carly - all were enemies now. None were to be trusted. None would give him the benefit of life should it really come down to it, and there was no reason he shouldn't return the favor, either.

But fate smiled on him that day for the first time, as his blind excursion out into the unknown remained blessedly absent of any potential foes, tributes or otherwise. And before he'd realized it, the sun was going down and he'd found himself camped out at the base of a group of mountains, a small stash of weapons and supplies gathered in his bag.

It would be a long, hard, difficult journey ahead of him, there was no doubt about that. But three kids already remained dead, and Storm?

Well, Storm was very much alive. He was fourteen years of pure chaotic energy, ready to be unleashed in an arena with no rules constraining him.

Let Ripred have mercy on the souls of any who crossed him.