The Bloodbath

You know that today is when everything starts. There was no surprise in it, even when your stylist came to fetch you. In fact, you had surprised him by being awake and up as he opened the door. You had slept little last night, not exactly due to worry but because you were busy planning. Whatever happened in a few hours, you wanted to be as prepared for it as you could be. Having interacted with few people and been friendly with less, you had denied yourself the chance to entertain allies. This suited you fine, though, as you had never been the type to travel in a group. While there was arguably safety in numbers, there were also tricks a lone person could manage that even a pair of people could not. Besides, this was a good chance for you to regain your comfort in silence and solitude.

Knowing the principle behind what happened to the tributes, you followed Orland without a word. He had tried talking to you as he had fitted you with the outfits that you had worn for the parade, and your interview. The interview hadn't gone very favourably for Caesar Flickerman, though he had tried his best to wheedle words from you. Blatantly refusing to speak in response to his questions, you used looks, minor gestures, and nods or shakes of your head to communicate bare minimum answers. This had frustrated a continually more flustered Caesar until you both sighed after the buzzer sounded to signal the end of your interview. Such frivolities were not something you took pleasure in, and that was very clear to everyone by now. You also didn't pay much mind to whether the audience enjoyed your silence or not. After all, you weren't doing this for them. You knew that, with enough cunning and planning, you wouldn't need the aid of people you might never meet.

silence now the sound, my breath the only motion around
demons cluttering around, my face showing no emotion

You were loaded into the hovercraft unceremoniously, practically tossed into your seat by the struggling attendant as you recovered from the temporary paralysis that had been used on you so they might inject the tracker into your skin. Looking at the bump that it made under your flesh, you studied it closely until the other tributes were also taken aboard and strapped in. When you saw Mach being moved to his seat and strapped in, you gripped your arm harder for a moment, feeling a prick of pain as you squeezed the sore injection site. The jolt you feel at the moment Mach's eyes meet yours is only partly the pain blossoming from your arm, the other part of it is something that you can't describe and try hard to push aside. One moment of weakness didn't mean anything in the long run - as long as you didn't let any more weakness occur. As the hovercraft began to move, you began to try and sink into a comfortable silence that you planned on upholding until you died - or won, but you were never one to build your hopes up like that.

No one felt much like talking, either due to the early hour or the looming peril they would all be subjected to by the Gamemakers and each other in only a scant amount of time. Grim, but determined, you stared at a single rivet in the hovercraft, letting the ride pass by as a blur. There was no point attempting to find where the arena was located, or trying to get a sneak peak at what was in store. As you once more acknowledged that fact, the windows flickered to black. Like you had assumed, there were measures in place to prevent any one tribute from having an advantage over the others when it came to the arena. Past life skills may grant benefit, but without knowing what to expect until a literal minute before the Game started would leave everything up to last moment planning. It was a good thing you were proficient at thinking on your feet, because you would probably be running for a good long while once things got started.

shackled by my sentence, expecting no return
here there is no penance, my skin begins to burn

The hovercraft shuddered as it landed, touching down gently. One by one, tributes were marched out into the tunnel under the arena that would lead them to the last room they would see before the arena. Obedient, but by no means meek, you allowed yourself to be dragged along by Peacekeepers until they reached a room and opened the door. You braced against the shove that followed, choosing then to put up the smallest of fuss in being able to walk in at your own pace. One of the pair drew a nightstick from his belt, but you ignored him. Entering, you heard an angry noise from the Peacekeepers before the door slammed and locked behind you.

Orland greeted you, still not giving up on his attempts to get you to talk. He offered you some food and drink, just a quick breakfast that was designed to only last you until you entered the arena. Barely touching it, you go to where the uniform sits and begin reaching for it. Orland doesn't reach you in time to help you until after you have put on the underwear and bottoms. You try to shove him away for a moment but eventually his insistence caused you more issue than simply letting him aid you and so you gave in.

When the first announcement for launch sounded you immediately disengaged from Orland, still refusing to say so much as thank you - you weren't thankful, so why would you say you were - before stepping into the tube that would bring you to the arena's surface. Impatiently, you stand waiting for things to start. While you weren't one to rush into things, standing around here wasn't doing you any good. You would be better off seeing what lay in store, as maybe then you could properly formulate a plan.

so I held my head up high
hiding hate that burns inside
which only fuels their selfish pride

Finally you were rising, moving toward the hell that would be the home of yourself and twenty-three others for as long as it took for all but one to die. As your head crests over the lip of the ground, you are already surveying your surroundings. Firelight flickers over everything, casting a hazy orange-red glow over faces and structures alike. In front of you, looming large, is what looks like some sort of strange cage. Only once you are fully clear of the ground does it sink in: this is two hands with fingers interlocked. Your eyes narrow as you look over the items that are scattered around. With certainty you can say that the items within the hands - seemingly taking the place of the cornucopia - would be the best. What pickings were nearest were mostly useless or could be made into something only if combined with another object.

Aside from the flickering firelight, the arena was entirely still. For a moment it seemed as though time had stopped and you were the only one able to move. Due to the small concern of potentially blowing yourself up - perhaps even a tiny bit of fear over that - though, you didn't move. The minute was shown on the clock, sixty seconds to strategize, to connect with allies using only your eyes, to remember home. You did none of these things, not for the first thirty seconds anyway. Instead, you focused on internalizing the quiet that was around you at this moment, because you knew it would be gone for some time.

we're held captive, out from the sun
a sun that shines on only some
we the meek are all in one

Only when there were twenty-two seconds left did you once more look at the items and the cornucopia and try to figure out your best course to pick up the most useful supplies. With a rough course planned, and the expectation that expectations were pointless, you watched the time tick down.

The last three seconds were dedicated to the only point of weakness you would ever let yourself have: your mother. In that last breath of calm, you spared a thought for her. Despite the high chance that you would die here - twenty-three had to die, odds were that you would be among them - you were glad that your mother could see you before then. Even if you couldn't see her, couldn't hold her and tell her that you would take care of everything, you were glad that she would see you when everything came to an end. She could watch you, see you, for the first time in nearly two years. That was enough for you.

The gong doesn't startle you, you are too deep in that moment of accepting calm to be surprised, but it does shake something within you. That sound signified the beginning of the end of twenty-four lives, even you couldn't deny that there was something beyond worry here. For all you wished you weren't, for all you wished that you could have gone without it, you were terrified.

[Ross Wolfe enters the bloodbath]