hello again | flynn&nanette vs. saylor&silk [day five]

n a n e t t e .




You thought you had me
You thought that I was done, but
I'm stronger up against the ropes

I take another drink, tilting my head back to take a generous mouthful. It was a mistake, I knew it was, but I couldn't hide the fact that the more I drank the less I felt. Or maybe it was the less I remembered, the less I thought about the last few days and dear Ripred did I want to forget. Even if the forgetfulness was temporary.

“Tommy’s big brother George. He threatened my sisters. He made me do it.” He speaks so fast, the words tossed into the air with barely a second for my sloppy brain to register. For a moment I just stare at him, seeing two Flynn's. My head was spinning, and my stomach was cramping, neither stopping me from taking another drink. Idiot, Lang had called me, she was right of course. I was a damn fool. The words slip through my foggy mind, slowly but surely coming together to form a sentence. "Threatened you?" I say slowly, the burning embers of rage beginning to warm me- well that and the alcohol that simmer in my bloodstream.

Maybe it shouldn't have shocked me as much as it did, but the thought of kids threatening kids with such violence cause my hands to shake with anger. Maybe it was because they grew up in a world where violence seemed to be the answer too many major issues, case and point at the fucking stupid 'game' I was being forced to play now. But Flynn was thirteen. Thirteen and already violence seemed to be the answer... It was fucking messed up.

"Thats- I- I am so sorry Flynn. Sorry I judged you earlier. Sorry that this prick of a kid has done this to you. It's wrong. It's just fucking wrong." I try to sit up, but the world tilts and I throw myself back down onto my pack, dropping my bottle in the process. Damnit. But I don't bother reaching for it, I might of, but my stomach was churning, and I grasp my belly as though that might stop the impending situation. I was going to be sick, my stomach growls and I groan, rolling to the side and hugging my legs to my chest.

“Will you punch him in the face for me if you win?” Flynns voice are a welcome distraction, I'd do more than just punch the fucker in the face. This George kid should be quivering in his boots. If I made it homered better keep his distance. If Flynn died, if I had to hold onto his tiny fucking body while his life slipped through my fingers, that boy better know better than to ever show his god damned face because I don't know how forgiving I might be. But I don't say this to Flynn, a harsh bark of laughter escaping my lips, “I’ll do more than that, I’ll kick his damn ass across the district.”

“Finish him off by kicking him in the nuts for me!”

“You got it kid, hard kick to the nuts, courtesy of our mutual friend: Flynn." Laughter slips past Flynn lips and I give him a grin. I fight off the next wave of nausea, hand over my mouth. If Revan had been here he might have laughed at my foolishness, or maybe he would be lying right next to me, head spinning fighting off the urge to expel all the contents in his stomach onto the glass beside him. I liked to think it was the second, for selfish reasons. “Tell me about your sisters. You must really love them, coming here to save them.”

I listen quietly as he tells me that they are all younger than him, meaning George threatened the life of kids that hadn't even reached the teens. Fuck, I hated this kid. Flynn deserved more, more than having to die for one mistake. For a game that lead to something darker than any of them would have expected. "I don’t look forwards to when they all hit puberty.” George is suddenly forgotten as I burst into laughter, he had no idea what he was in for there. “Ahhh puberty, you think you love to hate them now? Wait till they hit the early teens..." My laughter dies down, but an intoxicated smile still tugs at my lips. "They don’t know how lucky they are to have you protecting them. One day they will though."

I wonder if Callan could have if he would have stepped forward in my place. But again, how could he had when he hadn't even bothered rocking up. I wonder if he regretted that now. I wanted to hold onto the thought but I was slipping, my mind fuzzy, my head spun even with my eyes closed, my stomach dancing along with it. It wouldn't be long now, I could feel it creeping higher, preparing its exit. I take a deep breath, squeezing my eyes shut tightly. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Suddenly I flip over onto my stomach, scrambling to my hands and knees as I dry retch, my stomach cramping, my eyes water. But it stays put, taunting me.

I look for another distraction, curling back down on my side. “What would you say to George?”

“I’d tell him I was sorry I killed his brother. And maybe, I would stand up to him if he threatened me or my sisters.” I nod at him, the movement causing me to groan. Another mistake. "You’re a good kid, Flynn. I hope you know that.” And I meant it. Flynn was a good kid, he sacrificed himself for his sisters. He put them before himself even if that meant that he would die an anodising death that torture him days before it was executed. Or maybe he would make it home, but the ghosts of the Arena would follow him until the day he died. He would never fully escape, none of them would-

I am scrambling to my feet, a few unsteady steps away from where Flynn lay and hurl my guts onto shards of glass. My throat burns, and my eyes water. I stay bent over for a moment longer, waiting for the cramps in my stomach to ease before I stagger back to my pack, collapsing onto it as darkness closes in on me. “Hey Flynn... Is it weird that I miss Revan’s snoring? It’s so quiet without it.” Then I am gone, thrown into a restless sleep, one that I knew would leave its mark by the time the sun rose in the morning.

*   *   *

A scream in my ear drills into my brain like a nail. Pain splits my head in two, and I groan, trying block Flynn out. My throat, my tongue, my mouth was dry, and I smelled like vomit. I struggled to breathe, the air felt so thick, lodging itself deep into my throat, attempting to reach my lungs. I had been hungover before, but this was new. ”Get up now you loser!” he nudges me with a foot and I try to swipe at it, my eyes opening and I prepare for the blinding light of the sun. But instead a thick black smog surrounds us, blocking out the light of the sun, suffocating anything and everything caught within it.

Cause a handover wasn't enough.

"I'm up, I'm up! Keep your voice down," I grumble, voice cracked and dry. I drag myself into a sitting position, cursing myself for letting it go to far last night. My body felt stiff, my muscles heavy. My hand moves to cradle the pounding in my head, I reach for something to drink, only to remember that the only thing left was a beer or two from last night. For the briefest moment I ponder the idea of have a drink, anything try and remove the dryness that had me smacking my cracked lips together.

”We have got to go," his voice causes me to cringe, my fingers abandoning their attempt to reach for the bottle. Instead they wrap around the handle of my pack. With great difficulty I pull myself from the ground, hoisting the pack onto my back. Flynn has already started moving, and a panic sound escapes my lips as he almost disappears into the smog. Feet unsteady, head pounding I move after him, rubbing at my eyes.

I don't realise we've run into others until Flynns speaks, I look over to see his hands steady, aiming the barrel of his revolver at the boy from ten. For the first time he doesn't hesitate, doesn't ask me for directions. Instead his words are laced with taunts, his finger heavy on the trigger.

A bang fills the air, clashing into my skull and causes a string of curse words to slip past my lips. It echoes in my ears too loudly, the pounding in my skull magnifies, until it feels like my head is about to explode. Then there is another bang, moment before a new type of pain tears through my body. "Wha-" my eyes widen in shock, my hand moves to my chest, cradling the searing hole that had been torn through me. 'Flynn- I," the bullet had stopped inches from my heart. The metal still buried inn my body.

My eyes travel from the bleeding mess, to the barrel of the gun, to the eyes of the boy who had pulled the trigger. "You missed," I say between clenched teeth. I don't break eye contact as a finger digs into the hole, feeling for the bullet. I hold back a scream, eyes pooling with tears of agony. The tip of my finger brushes against metal, searing hot pain crashing into me like a storm, raging though my body. Digging around it, I manoeuvre my finger to be able to hook onto the tip. Gasping, I can't hold back the scream dancing around the edge of my tongue. It rips through me, filling the air as I rip the bullet from my flesh. I hold it between two fingers before it slips through blood stained fingers.

"That was a poor move, kid, or is your memory so poor you forgot what I did to your ally just yesterday?" Silk approaches, spear in hand. I try not to bring away from it, my eyes glued to its tip. If I wasn't careful my fate could be exactly the same as Revan's. One second fine, the next spasming on the earth, mouth foaming, heart stopping. "If Nanette here lasts as long as her district partner did when it came to a straight up fight," a frown knits my brows together, did silk kill Turner? I feel the featherlight kiss of anger against my cheek, my fingers curling into tight fists.

"Then you won't have to wait very long to know what it's like to be completely and utterly alone in the midst of the Hunger Games."

My lips curl into a snarl.

"Should have killed me yesterday, Carter. Too bad all hindsight will do here is, well, see you fried like a crisp." She lunges, spear cracking with the gentle hum of electricity. My head pounds, my chest burns and I stumble from her reach.

"Gotta do better than that, Miss Le Roux. Unlike Turner, my scales are more slippery."

Instantly my shotgun is tucked into the crook of my shoulder.

Finger rests heavy on the trigger.

I couldn't pull the trigger yesterday, I had froze.

But the pain in my chest was a grim reminder of what might happen if I failed again today.

I couldn't fail.

I wouldn't fail.

Eyes cold and unblinking I gently squeeze the trigger, I take aim at Silk first. For Revan, I would become what they wanted me too.

A shot sounds, the butt if the shotgun recoiling painfully into my shoulder. But I don't lower it, I aim it directly at the boy who had shot me, at Ten.

For myself, I would become a murdered. A monster.

"This isn't about revenge, kid. This isn't even fucking personal. It's survival. Personally I would have preferred you to just laid down and died." A bark of sharp laughter slips past my lips, "don't pretend that's not what you want either." I take a deep breath, stepping in front of Flynn to protect him from any misfires on my behalf. "But when I kill her," I jut my chin in silks direction, "it will be personal. You? just like Nine, are obstacles and it's time to get out of my way, because I ain't in a forgiving mood."

I squeeze the trigger.

I am a, a fighter
Before this fight is over
You'll know my name before I go

n a n e t t e .




You thought you had me
You thought that I was done, but
I'm stronger up against the ropes

Both shots ring out through the arena, and I grind my teeth through the pounding in my head which was only intensified. The lasting effects of my intoxication, combined with the suffocating smog was making it hard for me to breathe, hard for me to see, hard for me to keep my panic at bay. The sound of a canon echoes through the arena, so close that I instantly look for Flynn, terrified that I might have missed the moment Silk or Ten landed a fatal blow.

But he is fine, eyes filled with agitation, ”Nan please!” Frustration burns through me, hotter than pain, and I throw the shotgun onto the earth. I was fucking done with it. I remember the moment it had landed in my hands. I had thought it to be a gift, a blessing in disguise. But it was a curse, a useless piece of junk that had already caused the death of two people who were relying on me. I bet the Gamemakers were laughing now, taunting me as I failed at each and every turn.

"Fuck, I'm sorry Flynn-"

Ten's gun is aimed right between my eyes, his finger heavy on the trigger. For a moment I felt as though my whole world stopped. I couldn't hear anything, I couldn't feel anything, all I saw was the barrel that had my name written on it, all I could imagine was the bullet that would stop my heart. No. No no nononono, it was too soon! I wasn't ready! This- this couldn't be it! There had to be more, more than dying in a toxic wasteland, alone, and broken. I was supposed to grow old, wasn't I? I was supposed to get married. Have a family. I was supposed to finish school, get my heart broken. I was supposed to get a chance to live. Love.

I was supposed to make a lifetime worth of mistakes.

His words are muffled as though I was drowning, my head pushed under the water. "I have to do this."

I panic, movements too slow, struggling to breath, I was suffocating. 

It was excruciating.

Pain hot and violent rips through my neck, something hot dripping down my skin, down my chest as I am pulled from the water and back into reality.

"I'll never be like you, Nanette."

He says the words with such certainty that I almost believe them to be true. But wasn't he already like me? Wasn't the bullet holes in my chest, in my throat evidence that he was worse than me? I choke on blood, spitting it onto the ground. "You already are like me," I hiss, my hand cradling my neck. Blood instantly leaks through the creases in my skin, "you are just like me." My pain fuel my frustration as I pull out the iron knuckles, fitting them onto hands glistening with blood. My blood. "Get off your fucking high horse, Ten."

I prepare to lung when Silk is before me, she does not hesitate as she strikes. Maybe, had we of been somewhere else I might actually be impressed, the way she moved was predatory, her form was perfection, her blade finding its mark. She rips open the skin on my back, blade slicing through me like I was nothing more than a piece of meat. I hate that I scream, I hate that it starts deep in my throat ending with a pathetic sob. Gasping, I am on my hands and knees. I breathe fire, the bullet hole in my neck sending searing pain through me with each ragged breath.

For the briefest moment I wished that it would end. All of it. I wished that I didn't have to wake each morning in fear. I wished that I didn't have to go to sleep each night in pain, teary eyed and fractured. I wished that I didn't have to hurt anymore, that I could just fade away into the background and be forgotten.

I was so sick of fucking hurting.

But I would not beg for death. Because even thought I wished to feel nothing at all, I was a fighter. And even though I wanted to give up, I wasn't done fighting. I couldn't be done. Not when I had family back home fighting for each and every breath.

Grunting I pull myself to my feet, "lucky I'm not some goddamn fish. I am a shark," I growl, moving around her and her fucking spear. "Now get out my way," I hiss, balling my fists into tight balls. I was a shark and I was ready to bite.

I am a, a fighter
Before this fight is over
You'll know my name before I go

n a n e t t e .




You thought you had me
You thought that I was done, but
I'm stronger up against the ropes

"You should be using your shark teeth not your fins Nan. I thought you had a spear?” Spitting blood, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Flynn was right, I knew that my best bet at surviving this, at both of us surviving this, was to be using the spear. It put more space between me and my target. It was the logical choice, the one drilled into me after years and years of training. I knew the spear as though it was apart of me. It was my favoured weapon, and yet it had failed me when I had been so desperate to save Lang. No. It hadn't been the spear, but me, who had failed.

"Stop joking around…Le Poo." Le Poo. Despite the situation a smile breaks my lips, my eyes dancing with amusement as I meet his gaze. "Okay, Smartass, no more mucking around." In the next breath my spear is in my hands, putting distance between Saylor, between Silk.

Flynn raises his revolver once again, barely pausing before he took aim, squeezing the trigger with determination. It was kind of shocking to watch how quickly he had changed in the space of one night. He no longer seemed to hesitate, the sounds of gunfire ripping through the smog hazed air. It was unnerving in a way to see a thirteen year old boy shoot with the intention of killing when only a few days ago his fingers had shook with fear and discomfort.

"You're wrong." The growl draws my gaze, "I said I'm nothing like you!" He throws his gun at my feet, for a moment I just stare at the gun at my feet, a frown knitting my brows together. Was he giving up? Did he not understand that giving up meant dying? Or did he simply not care? Was it really that bad to want to survive? Did it make me a monster that even though his gun was useless discarded that I knew that I still needed to kill him? He needed to die. As I told the boy from Twelve and Benedict what seemed like a lifetime ago, it was either them or me and Flynn. And every time I would choose us.

"No, you aren't like me," I breathe, hands tightening around the shaft of the spear. "I won't give up because things are getting hard- impossible even." I bend over, picking up the gun, I spin it between my fingers, my eyes locking with Saylor's, "are you really so scared to become like me- like Silk- that you would prefer to die?" I toss the gun over my shoulder, the heavy thud sounding behind me. Fine, if he wanted to die, I wouldn't give him the option of changing his mind.

"Fine," I hiss, directing the tip of my spear towards his chest. Better him than Flynn. Better him than me. "If you want to die, then so be it."