I need a miracle {fbrd vs t3g; day 3}

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I'm not sure why I do it. Tributes had gone toe to toe with muttations before, and despite their ferocity, they always seemed to be more of an annoyance than a true threat to the vast majority. Sure, the weak got picked off here and there, sometimes you had a giant beast that claimed the lives of two or three before it was subdued, but never were mutts deemed the primary threat of the Games over other tributes.

Yet something felt different this time. I'd thought that I was simply imagining shit at first, when the first set of solid strikes had failed to take the muttations down, and yet I had simply shrugged it off, coming to the conclusion that I was simply the anomaly in this case.

Larceny's words changed that.

"Maxwell, get her out of here. We're right behind you."

For a second I wondered why, exactly, he had told me, in terms of both word choice and target, to take his sister and run. Two of the muttations were dead - one by Auto's hand, the other by my axe - and we now had a numerical advantage of two to one.

Yet these ones seemed fiercer, stronger than the first. A giant sloth that dwarfed all of us in size, and another canine that was clearly superior to the two we had struck down, and I understood.

For whatever reason, we had incurred the Gamemaker's wrath. And now they were punishing us.

My thoughts flicker briefly to Carter, wondering if it was his golden Eleven that had set these beasts upon us. Then they arrive at the conclusion, and I decide to heed the younger boy's words.

Yes, the fight was winnable. But at what cost? Larceny was already bleeding profusely, and Auto and I were still weak from the previous day. We could win, but how much would we lose trying to end the lives of not other competitors, but muttations that had no chance of winning regardless as to whether or not we killed them here and now?

His words from the previous night still rung true. He was fully expecting to die for his sister, if not today then before this was all said and done, even if she didn't quite realize it. And he was fine with it, too.

Plus, as selfish as it sounded, it wouldn't be my life on the line. And I don't care how much the Capitol tries to romanticize the bonds of warriors and friends in their last days, I'm not letting the life of anyone I met mere weeks ago - not the twins I took under my wing, not Carter, not anyone - take precedence over mine.

I have a brother to return home to, a life that I'm not ready to give up after eighteen years.

So I heed Larceny's words - "C'mon Auto, you heard your brother," - grab her around the waist, and begin to put as much distance between myself and the beasts as I could.

Auto, for her part, seemed intent on making my life as difficult as possible in the process. She struggled like a wild animal, profanity streaming from her mouth like smoke from a factory, her pet bird or whatever adding to the din. Yet my grip does not falter, nor does my purpose. If by surviving we have to run, then so be it. I'm not dying over my pri-

An elbow catches me in my exposed stomach, and reflexively my grip weakens. Fucking shit. Hindsight smacks me across the face, for I should have guessed that Auto would not take too kindly to being snatched up and separated from her brother, but oh well. I'm human for fuck's sake, I can't see all of the possibilities in the future.

One hand massaging my solar plexus, the other withdrawing a spear from my collection, I turn and follow her. If she's going to charge back into the thick of battle, I might as well have something that will defend us both.

But I must have stalled for long enough or something, because the next thing I see is Larceny stumbling along in our direction, bleeding from half a dozen wounds but still very much alive.

But Auto has run past him, and a second later I see why. Collapsed on her knees, over a very familiar fallen form.

I decide that from here on out, I'm going to trust my gut whenever it screams at me that something's wrong.

I give Auto her space, and when she inevitably leaves, I take her place at Carter Laws' side.

"Pretty boy, you came back." Even his voice sounds like death. I'd know, I've heard death rattles before. They don't get any less creepy with time and experience.

"I did." I'm not sure what to feel. Revulsion? Pity? Right now I'm just numb.

"Looks like I'm dying," he rasps, before a horrible sound that could only be a laugh follows the words.

I look over his form fully for the first time. There's a hole in his head, though unlike Larceny's that's not due to the lack of an ear, and a gash in his chest so wide I'm surprised I don't see his heart beating its last. "Yeah, I'd say that's accurate," I respond.

What. I'm blunt and words are hardly my forte. What else was I supposed to say?

He begins rambling, and I see no reason to stop him. A nod to his score, and surprisingly, an emotion I vaguely interpret as positive regarding the three of us getting away? I feel there was so much more to Carter Laws that lay beneath the surface that I never got to see.

A hand digs around in his pockets, and a solitary card is withdrawn. "Take this," he demands more than asks, and I can only accept. A Joker card, comes the realization a moment later.

"I believe him to be the bringer of death. Don't lose him." Despite the solemnness of the situation, I almost grin. Figures as much. Verbally, I respond with, "Don't worry, I won't."

The words seem to sap the energy out of the boy from Twelve, and I can't help but wonder just how much pain he's in. Muttations rarely bring a quick death, and they sure as hell didn't accomplish that with him. "If you get out, pretty boy," he says, and already he's starting to fade. "T-Tell Jack, he's a coward."

This time I can't help myself - I snort. I have no idea who Jack is, but I'll be sure to keep that in my mind. Just in case. "Your wish is my command, card boy," comes the response.

I almost turn away, even as he fights so desperately to cling onto life. And then I stop.

If that was me...

I'd always known that when my time came to pass, however that might be, that I'd want it to be fast. Quick and easy, over just like that. And empathy isn't my strong suit, especially not with a boy I barely know, yet I can't help but realize that if our situations were reversed, I'd be begging him to end it.

I look back. He's got minutes left, if he's lucky, but his fate is nevertheless a foregone conclusion.

The least I can do is grant him some peace before I go.

Goodbye, card boy.

I turn, direct the point of my spear to the left side of his chest, and stab.

In the next instant, a cannon sounds.

Carter Laws is no more.

---

We wake the next day, and we walk, some sort of agreement to put these pits as far behind us as possible. Nothing good came from there, and there was no point in sticking around any further. The resources were scant to none, and I think we all agreed that if we were to die, it would not be in the same way as Carter, savaged by mutts during a doomed retreat.

Luckily for us, the terrain changes before too long, and we find ourselves near a place with the only prominent landmark being a steep, dusty ass hill. Which, not going to lie, after the silent woods and the pits full of tar, was just a tad bit on the plain side.

Perhaps the Gamemakers had forgotten to design this part of the arena during arena creation class or whatever. Not that I was complaining - less oversight meant less of a chance of being savaged to death by muttations. And the less muttations, the better.

Less muttations, however, did not equal less conflict.

They see us before we see them - or at least before I see them, because one moment, we're strolling along peacefully like a pair of kids and their exasperated babysitter - even though both twins had proven their worth since we'd teamed up and I was only a little annoyed at Auto for the bruise she'd left on my stomach - and the next, I'm jumping back in surprise, for a weapon had shattered the brightly decorated shin guards I'd found in the woods and damn near taken my leg with it.

I reach back and grab the first hilt I can find - one of my axes - before taking in the situation. The girl from Eleven made the strike, which would normally trigger a response from me, yet she's even smaller than Auto or Larceny. A mere child, and one that I'd rather not strike if I could.

So instead I chuckle, ignoring what will certainly be another bruise forming on my left leg. "Nice try, but no," I say, as if I was a parent scolding a child.

I blame Jordan for that, personally.

Then my eyes land on the girl's partner, and recognition flashes through my skull.

Fiona.

I'd avoided my district partner throughout the entirety of our stint in the Capitol - and why shouldn't I have? In the grand scheme of things, she was just another competitor, just closer to home than the rest - and one of my concerns had been about just how many resources she'd siphon off from hopeful sponsors looking for a champion in one of the lower districts.

When our scores had been revealed, I hadn't been too worried - eight was greater than six or whatever it was that she got, after all - and yet thus far, we as a collective trio had received next to nothing. Not that we'd needed it yet, to be fair, but still, it was a little off putting to have gotten nothing while your district partner strolls up to battle clad in some sort of chain mail.

Looks like I still need to prove myself after all.

Auto charges to intercept the girl from Eleven, so I fully commit my focus onto my district partner. For a moment, I consider speaking, maybe offering some sort of taunt or apology, before I realize something.

I don't need to justify myself to anyone. Least of all a girl I barely know who right now is my number one rival for resources key to my survival.

They say that calm is what proceeds the storm, yet when I toss my axe at the girl from home, all I feel is a slow, burning rage.

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yoink this is a filler since arrows is unable to tribute for the time being ~xoxo hacker lance

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The lips of my weapon kiss against metal with a harsh clang. The guarding vest upon our enemy nearly shatters to destruction by my growling need to protect the ones I still have. Not even a scratch is left by my raft, while her own protection is now dangling by a mere string - a simple poke away from crumbling from her person. It’s far from the result that’s drooling from my thirst, while it does rid of an undesired barrier. It’ll have to do. Even so when insults begin brewing from both opponents alike, as if believing their words may paint their blades with poison. Internally I laugh at their desperate strive.

What was probably concocted to be offensive breaches my ears as a compliment from the overly-trusting girl from Nine. She claims that before I had been cute, now that’s rather rude, & now I’m a child of the devil himself - accurate and pleasant to hear. And for the cherry on top she claims I’m not just a spitfire. She’s being awfully sweet for being a foe. A smile curls my cheeks in gratitude to such considerate comments. “How do you know about my Father?” Jokes from the tip of my tongue with a rather truthful tang. But the joyful tune is tainted within the matter of a second, as her’s and her weapon’s attention shifts to my brother.

“Don’t you fucken-“ But she does, and another unforgiving gash marks my Brother in a match to his previous indentations that are just finally forming a heal. It doesn’t falter him in the least however, as he turns towards my victim and tastes at her neck. If only he were a step closer, he would have drained the life-force from her existence - while the opportunity luckily still remains to do so. Such a reward would be satisfying, especially with the following words to seep from her foolish lips.

It’s rather adorably pathetic that she underestimates my aim, not batting an eye to the crumbling of her armor like it means nothing to her. Destruction from my fingertips has generously left exposure to the ribs caging her heart - but the less concern she puts towards that, the better for myself and my unite. And she gains a foolish nature to puff out her chest and claim I won’t understand her crave to be a second to someone else unless I grow up. How cute. In the likes of my youth there had been a desperate crave to be a second version to my father - and it wasn’t until maturity hit that I realized being more then him is what should be aimed for. Such knowledge doesn’t exert from my voice however, solely a chuckle in response to her illogical ways.

Stupidity spreads amongst the two of them, as she also alters her brutality towards my other half. The likes of my diminishing heart aches in a push for their punishment, revenge glistening against my irises. And she has the nerve to sarcastically claim I’ll enjoy her force against my Brother. “I’ll enjoy watching you die.” Corrects in a growl from my core, softly without a need to vocally prove my point.

Enduring a fourth of us perishing was torturous enough. A strive to maintain all of our breaths failed me without forgiveness. Never did I want Carter to leave us in his heroic act to push us to survival. But when it comes to Larceny it’s not that I don’t want him to die, it’s that I wont let him. Together we were brought into this Panem. Together we survived it. Together we’ll take it over.

“Bad choice.” Merely whispers through my throat, with a flex of my fingers around my weapon’s graceful handle. Another insult doesn’t spark from me. Another taunt doesn’t prepare them. All that’s permitted is the drive of my force, pummeling to protect the ones I can still hold close.

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Ow.

My head hurts like a motherfucker, and even as my vision clears it's a straight up wonder I haven't bit the dust yet. Must be that old Temple luck striking home - Jordan's guardian angel deciding to have pity on me for half a second to avoid my death by falling debris.

Fiona's shouting, but I can barely make out the words. Three coalesce into two into one blurry figure, and I more or less have an idea of where she is - but what she's saying is still drowned out by the ringing in my ears.

It's weird, yanno? I've had my senses knocked silly during fistfights, and even once barely avoided a concussion when I was roughhousing with my brother a couple years back. It's not something you really ever get used to, having your central nervous system knocked off its rocker, and honestly? I want nothing more than to just sit down and get my bearings for a moment.

But the blood rapidly drying on my hand and beginning to drip into my eyes reminds me as to why I cannot do that. For every amount of pain that I feel, I can only imagine how Larceny is feeling. Suffering wound after wound, day after day, acting as the literal meat shield for his sister, yet at just fourteen, he pushes on.

And beside him is the sister, Auto, fiercely charging into battle with every intent to make those that would lay harm on her brother pay. My vision is hazy still, even if I'm no longer seeing triple, but I'm pretty sure I see her weapon - wasn't it a mace of some sort? - tear open a crimson waterfall in her opponent's chest.

I grin, stupidly. You go, girl.

Everything is still in and out of focus. But it's a little more in focus than it was.

And besides, I can't let Larceny tank all the hits for me. The dude might break sooner or later, and then I'm not sure what I would do. Probably do what I can to keep Auto alive, I guess. It'd be the least I could do.

But we aren't going to get to that point. Not today.

I rise - when did I sit down? - and grab another spear from my arsenal. But before I can so much as take one step forward, I stumble, sending the spear digging into the dirt.

Fucks sake.

It's a good thing I already told myself I wasn't going to let myself become a close range fighter, because if I tried to do that with anyone right now, whether it's Fiona or her plucky little ally, I'd get cut down faster than you can say concussion.

But I won't let myself be sidelined that easy. No matter how banged up I get, I can't let the kids take on all the pressure.

C'mon, you useless fuck, I chastise myself. Do something.

And so, with great difficulty, I withdraw another spear, using the first one as a crutch, take aim at the girl from home, and throw.

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