The Bloodbath

While the world buzzed around him, Benat slide from his spot along the ground, the mess from his pants now definitely leaking into his shoes as he stood to face the others. There were screams and there were hands—he could see everything happening so quickly, he barely had time to dodge around someone else. He was terrified—the only word that he could find—of winding up face down and bleeding out like Guy had last year. He didn’t want to kill—he didn’t hunger for it like anyone else—but if he could take out enough of the rest of them it would leave less for Benat to do later. And maybe he could get far enough away to spend a few days on his own, anyway. His only thoughts now were on seeing another sunrise.

[Benat attacks Ashby with blowgun]
[dice=200+4000]
[result:Shallow Cut on Chest -- 4.0 damage
(Bow)]
[picks up backpack]

.:.:.:.:.:.:.
you're a canary i'm a coal mine
cause sorrow is just all the rage
.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Sixty seconds. It takes about sixty seconds for a fire to get going, after you've ignited all the key places. Once you've lit the target areas, the spark will begin to jump from place to place, to bits of wood, leaves, paper, whatever you're using. It will leap across gaps and fill in spaces, leaving burning ash in its wake as it chugs on and on, rising and falling in a rhythmical motion until finally the only direction it can go is up, and it flares like rays of orange sunlight up towards the sky, flickerin' and cracklin' and reachin' as high as it possibly can, projecting its warmth and illumination everywhere. If you let it go on longer it might spread elsewhere, ragin' through its surroundings, harshly forging a path for itself. But that's only after. It takes a mere sixty seconds for fire to become a force to be reckoned with.

When I woke that morning, I felt like my life was movin' in sixty second increments. It took me sixty seconds to force myself to get up outta my big plush bed and stumble into the shower. Sixty seconds I stood under the stream of liquid not movin', with it turned up as hot as it could go because otherwise I felt like the water was going to extinguish my fire. Sixty seconds to pull on the clothes Bacchus left for me on the corner of my bed, even though I'd only be wearin' them for as long as it took to fly to the arena and then I'd be put in whatever monkey suit the Gamemakers thought would make us look stupidest as we died. Sixty seconds wonderin' exactly how I was going to keep myself and my deaf brother alive, before I pushed those thoughts away and decided I had to be more like fire. Fire didn't worry about what was to come as it moved along; fire just went.

After trying to choke down breakfast, Py and I were loaded onto a hovercraft and injected with some kind of strange tracker. I was pretty sure this particular type had been developed in District Six, because during one of my many hours spent snoopin' around Dad's laboratory I'd overheard a pair of scientists talking about the development of more accurate trackers for the Hunger Games, and ones that were harder to remove because apparently some tributes had tried cuttin' them out of their arms in the past. I wouldn't go so far as to say I missed District Six, but this little connection to home, though pretty insignificant, made it even harder to gulp down my misgivings and face the hell that I was about to be chucked into.

The ride was pretty long, and I didn't sign a word to Py as we rode, I just made sure some part of me was touchin' him at all times, our feet, our hands, our arms, our legs. Just brushing against each other so that we could both feel a little more secure knowin' that the other was there, knowin' that in a sea of unfamiliar faces we weren't entirely alone. When we landed, though, we had to be separated; I was supposed to go with Bacchus to my launch room while Pyrian had to go to his with his own stylist. I signed a quick see you on the other side to my brother before we parted, and Bacchus led me through an indecipherable maze of catacombs before we reached where we were supposed to be. Then after I got dressed, all we could do was wait.

The time got closer and closer. Sixty seconds spent trying to eat a bowl of stew before I realized I wasn't going to be able to keep anything down no matter how hard I tried. Sixty seconds lettin' Bacchus to brush my short hair, insisting that the pixie cut was going to be a blessing in the arena. Sixty seconds testin' how well I could run in these new shoes, though the room was small and didn't allow for much movement. Finally, sixty seconds allowin' my stylist to give me a hug, reassure me that I was better than the rest of them, and lead me onto the metal plate in the corner. My fists were clenched, my lips tight, whatever little muscle I had taut and ready for action. And then I rose, much faster than my precious flames could jump through the air, and then the real sixty seconds began.

The light was almost blinding. I didn't bother lookin' at my surroundings, not yet; first my eyes found Pyrian. He was a little ways away, and as usual, the expression on his face was difficult to read; he took a lot of care to keep his emotions to himself. I hoped he was taking in as much as he could, because he couldn't hear and he would have to rely doubly on his eyes. With only forty or so seconds left, I decided I had to stop worryin' about my brother and instead start worryin' about myself, because if I didn't I'd be killed, and then we'd both be screwed. So I looked around for the first time at the alien place in which I was expected to spend what could be the last few days of my life.

The first thing I noticed was the heat on my skin, and I immediately felt relieved. Pretty obviously I preferred hot places to cold ones. I didn't do well with the cold—wintertimes were terrible, and it was only my fires that saved me—and ice was meant to be my mortal enemy. After the heat, though, I noticed something strange; we were all standing on a sort of stone plateau, but it seemed to drop off about a hundred or so feet from the Cornucopia into... what? I swiveled around, panickin', wonderin' if we had any place to run, and my jaw dropped as I stared behind me into a chasm. Worse, the bottom of the pit seemed to be moving, a constant squirming, writhing motion that seemed to cover its entire floor. Something was down there, but I didn't have time to figure out what. I had to focus. My gaze zeroed in on the Cornucopia, the golden horn which seemed to gleam like flame in the sunlight. Flame that was about to catch.

Fivesecondsfoursecondsthreesecondstwosecondsonesecond.GONG

The fire had started, and the whole place was ablaze.