ORBS {day 1}

As he put more and more distance between him and the carnage he had left behind, Cyril felt himself able to think again. The bloodbath had gone by in a blur. Fueled by adrenaline, he knew he had fought with a couple others. Someone had hit him with the same high-tech weapon he had managed to pick up just before fleeing. He paused briefly to inspect the wound on his arm and relaxed; it only nicked him, he'd be able to heal it easily. At least now he knew more about how the weapon worked. The word gun came into his mind, although undoubtedly this was a much more advanced technology than the guns he had seen back in District 9.

Cyril checked the communications feature on his watch. He couldn't help but find it twisted, that the tributes could all talk to one another this way as they fought to survive at the cost of each other's lives. Nonetheless this feature proved itself useful. A few tributes were missing from the group messaging page. The boy from 5. The girls from 6 and 2. He had a suspicion this meant their absence extended beyond the messaging system. It was hard to believe, though. The girl from 2 was known to be a Career tribute, and Cyril had always viewed the other two as on the stronger side of his competition. Were they really dead? He guessed the anthem that night would confirm or disprove this.

More importantly than seeing who had died, messages from his allies told Cyril that they had all managed to survive. It was strange how much relief this brought to him. He barely knew them, he knew the unspoken truth about their alliance, about any alliances that existed in here. And yet he had worried for the safety of these other kids, feared losing them in this death trap. Perhaps it was because their presence brought the illusion of safety, of people who would have his back. Perhaps it was because they were the closest he had to a family in here. A family that now needed to find each other in this strange metal arena.

Cyril supposed they were meant to be on some type of spaceship. Everywhere he looked was metal and advanced technologies. The weird weightless feeling he had experienced back at the Cornucopia lingered. As he thought of the Cornucopia, he realized it was less of a Cornucopia per se. The chamber had been incredibly tall, stretching on for ages both high above and deep below where the tributes began their Games. If they were on a space ship, he imagined that might have been akin to the barrel of a gun, ready to set a path for a bullet of some sort. As he thought once more of the beams firing from the laser guns at the bloodbath, he replaced the name Cornucopia with Beam Chamber.

Cyril wondered what other places he could end up finding on this ship. He assumed there'd be a place for the crew to live; eat and sleep and socialize with each other. There was bound to be a control room, perhaps a storage room of some sort. Places to find food and medicine and weapons to help keep him alive.

And maybe he'd get to see a star.

Soon the corridor he had been travelling down came to an end, and Cyril found himself looking down a stairwell. He was at the top of a pair of spiralling stairs, leading down to a giant room filled with a variety of crates and boxes he was certain contained things that would be valuable to him and his allies. The gently humming lights were bright, although he could see that farther down the room they were still turning on. As though someone had just recently activated them.

There were others in here.

He hesitated. Was he making the right move? Would the plethora of resources come at the cost of more blood? He messaged his allies, trying to figure out where they were, whether they should meet in this new place. He was so curious to see what treasures he could find. He was so terrified to take a step closer to death. His mind was at war with itself.

And then he heard it. The melodic beeps that told him a sponsor would help end his mental turmoil. His spirits raised as he eyed his new gift. He had a sponsor. Someone out there was on his side. Someone wanted him to stay alive. He wished he could thank them for the gift, thank Colgate for working hard.

His gift turned out to be a jetpack. At the sight of it, Cyril broke into a grin. It was excellent, it could help him move better in this weird environment. The jetpack brought with it some confidence that had left him at the start of the Games. A dance with death wasn't as scary when Cyril could take the lead.

He ventured down the stairs now, ready to face whatever dangers lay in waiting for him. As soon as he reached the bottom he dashed behind a pair of metal crates. He moved around the room from crate to crate, trying his best to stay out of sight of the other tributes he was certain would be here. All the while keeping his eyes out for those who had agreed to fight by his side. Messages between them flash across his watch, and before long he's found them. His new family.

A family fighting the force that brought them all together.

Table by Arrows / Graphic by Mattio