The Bloodbath

He does not sleep that night. Instead, he kneels at his bed side and prays. With his elbows pressing deep valleys into the too-soft mattress, his palms together as though glued there, and his forehead leaning against his hands as though his neck were too weary to hold his head up any longer, he was the image of stillness. His body rests as his mind reaches out to his father, his guide, and his deity.

Ripred, tomorrow they will ask me to begin this game of theirs. They ask me to kill each person I meet until I am the last one left. You aim to test me through them, to see how far I will go for you. I will always serve you. I will sacrifice myself for you. This test is one I shall not fail, for you mean more to me than my life. Guide me tomorrow, show me how to survive in the chaos that will come. Allow me the chance to experience the full challenge of the Games. I come willingly if you call, but I ask that you not call too early.

My mother and brother will be watching, Father. Show them more mercy than I will see. Give them the courage to watch me for I know it takes much more strength to watch a loved one die than it takes to let the breath leave one's body. I give my breath to you, O Ripred. I give my body, I give my soul, I give my trust. You have all of me, Father. Use me as your vessel. I will demonstrate the power of faith to all those who do not believe.

I will find the lost for you.

I will banish the damned for you.

Father, I pray. Ripred, I pray. I ask only that you gift me with the ability to do the task you set me.

- - - - - - - - - -

His stylist finds him still bent in prayer, his eyes closed as though he is asleep. She hesitates before reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. Before she can, though, his eyes opened and he immediately sat straight up. Startled, the woman froze, arm half extended, as he got up. "You need to come with me, Ansgar, it is time." He nods once to her and begins to head toward the door. There is a small cough behind him. "I'm sorry but... uh... you'll need to change into this." This happened to be a white dressing gown, which looked like it was more at home in a hospital than in the lavish rooms the tributes had been supplied with until this point.

He looks at the garment for a long moment before taking it briskly from the stylist. She looks as though she is going to protest but the look he gives her keeps her from saying anything. Having had numerous experiences with his disapproval of a female stylist, she knows better than to try and help him with his clothes. Even though at this point she already knows how he looks undressed, he still glares at her until she turns around.

Having stripped off the training gear and put on the gown, he turned to face his stylist again. This time, he makes it into the hallway before she can say another word to him. "We have to go to the roof," her hand stretches to wrap around his arm, "I can show you. He dodges and keeps walking, having already searched for a way onto the roof for previously nights of prayer. Having the open air surround him was refreshing in a place that seemed so ready to suffocate them before allowing them to die on the end of each other's weapons.

The morning was chilly as the sun had yet to rise over the Capitol. Two large hovercrafts hummed ominously in the dark, the lights flooding from their open hatches a sinister spotlight that focused on the figures of two others climbing ladders to become trapped inside. He did not believe that people were supposed to fly in boxes of steel. There was nothing natural about it. Even so, a silver shape scampered up the ladder of the nearest hovercraft and sat perched on a rung halfway up, waiting for him. There was much fuss as he went to follow the sign, complaints that he was entering the wrong hovercraft and threats to remove him that went unheard until a commanding voice eventually shouted that it was fine and they would just move one of the coming boys to the other craft.

Ripred chose his seat for him as well, further disrupting the order that the Capitolites had attempted to create. This was all a part of the test, asking him to do what wasn't easy and to stand against the devils and demons in every way he could. Accomplishing that much in these early stages was satisfying, but a small fear that he might not be able to do so later on was hurriedly quashed lest Ripred were to hear it. He, as the spear of Ripred, could show no fear. Not even in the face of certain death.

The time spent in the hovecraft was also spent in prayer. Resuming his usual position of elbows on knees, palms together, head bent to hands, he also resumed his speech with Ripred. I follow your lead, Father. I follow your light. In this darkness and this pit of hell I will follow your instructions to guide me back into the arms of paradise. Let the arms of my mother and my brother steady each other while I am unable to do so. Let their love keep me solid and steady against the onslaught I will face in your name. Ripred, give me the strength of my brother to shield myself from the blows that will come my way, and give me the strength you see in me to strike true when the time arises so I might live another day. I wish only to spread your name and demonstrate that it is faith that keeps me grounded even when the world turns upside down.

I trust you will give me only what I can handle, and I trust that you believe I can handle this. Give me the courage to face the rising sun and the spilling blood. Give me the courage to face the unknown and conquer it. I will claim that cursed land in your name so it may become hallowed in my final moments. With the spilling of my blood will come the spilling of faith to bathe the ground and show those who died the light of paradise, or the light of hell for those who do not believe.

- - - - - - - - - -

The hallway they guide him down is white-washed and large. There is no way even two people with arms outstretched could block off this tunnel. Underground, he had been pulled from the hovercraft by rough hands. One had closed around the sore spot on his arm where a tracker had been embedded, causing him to snap into a very stiff walk so as to maintain his composure.

They didn't release him until they had tossed him bodily into a small room with a glass shoot, a set of clothes, and his stylist. Without a word, he moved to the garments and gave his stylist a meaningful look. She turned around without incident this time, aware that it was pointless to argue, and he set about dressing. The shirt, a long-sleeved cotton flannel, fit him comfortably when he wore it. Even so, the brown colour was different from his usual grayscale style. Black denim overalls, while feeling somewhat tacky, were more comfortable in terms of his taste. Even the odd sweater, as useless as it seemed, was at least made of wool and thus met with his standards enough to put it on.

He immediately drew issue with the boots. The sound of displeasure he made alerted his stylist and she made a small noise of her own, though it sounded sheepish more than irritated. "I tried to get them to give you something more reasonable, but the Gamemakers always have the final say." They sighed nearly simultaneously but neither made mention of it. He didn't move for a long while, just staring in disbelief and outrage at the ridiculous footwear they expected him to wear. They were not natural in any sense of the word, and they didn't look comfortable either. He would refuse to wear them.

"There's no help for it, though, you do have to wear them." It was as though she had read his mind. She turned to face him then, giving him a small sympathetic look. Even at the stubborn set to his jaw, she didn't turn from this conflict. There were certain battles she had no choice but to fight. "Look, you can ditch them the moment you enter the arena if you want, but I will lose my job if you don't at least leave this room wearing them." She tried to make her slender figure look more imposing but he paid her no mind. With a prayer to Ripred he asked for the strength to deal with the folly of the devil. It took another couple minutes of cajoling before he had even sat down to put the cursed things on.

As he gingerly pulled the vile shoes toward himself, treating them as though he were putting on shoes made of his own feces, a voice rang from the small speaker in the corner of the room. Ripred's voice filled the room, drowning out the real voice with a high-pitched tone. He called a warning, saying there were only two minutes until launch. Ansgar hurried to stuff his feet into the boots and stand, unsteadily. His stylist reached out to help him but stopped at his look. This, as many other parts of this Games were, was another test. He could not rely on someone else to give him aid for Ripred was testing his own strength and not that of others.

Even when he nearly fell making his way to to glass tube, he refused the woman's help. The third time he stumbled she simply watched him regain his balance, a frustrated look in her eyes. He stepped into the glass tube and the entrance slid shut. By this point there was almost no time left to launch. The remaining moment was just long enough for him to look at the woman who had attempted to help him through these past few days. "Ripred bless you, Florenza." Her flushing face was the last thing he saw before the panel under his feet began to rise.

- - - - - - - - - -

The ascent was not long enough for him to form a whole prayer, but the few words of worship he managed steadied him as he rose. In the moment that his head lifted above ground level he immediately started searching for any clues he could gather. Items were scattered around a large, one-roomed cabin. He could see a number of weapons around, including a single spear which shone briefly silver from across the room. He would aim straight for that spear, for it was destined to be his, after all. He was the spear of Ripred, his weapon was the spear, as such that weapon was meant for him and no one else here.

By the time his entire body had emerged from underground he had focused almost entirely on the spear, only remembering once the timer had started to count down that he should perhaps look for the three people he had linked up with; allies, as many would deem them. He, however, could not consider three people without faith to be something as dear to him as an ally. Perhaps he could save them, for that was what Ripred had asked of him. If he could bring paradise to even those three souls in this mass of darkness and hatred then perhaps he could feel as though he completed at least part of his task.

There are a mere forty-five seconds left on the clock by the time he looks up again. It is just enough time to send up one more prayer of strength to Ripred. Ripred, I stand on the brink of war. The horns have yet to blow, the hounds have yet to bay. We wait in bitter silence as the world prepares to scream our misery to their skies. They know us by name, but few know us for who we truly are. Preserve us, Ripred, for from this moment forward we will no longer be able to preserve ourselves.

And Ripred, forgive my selfish questing but, please save me from the demons that will be let loose today. I do not want to die yet. I do not want to fail you.

Let me live through this.

The whistle blows and all at once there is a mighty upheaval as twenty-four soldiers go over the top.