User blog:Ahalosniper/Fanfiction: The Last Arena

This story is very different from what you're used to reading. It doesn't center on the Hunger Games themselves, but on the characters who have been through them afterwards, and is written in the third person, so it's a bit of a departure from what you may be used to (it's also currently incomplete). But I hope you're able to enjoy it all the same. Cheers,
 * That Damn Sniper

Prelude
As war settles over Panem, Katniss Everdeen finds herself part of a larger game. But she isn't the only one to have challenges to overcome. The Victors of the Hunger Games have long been symbols to the people, and symbols are dangerous things. Now, there are no more mind games and threats to convince Victors to act appropriately. If the Capitol believes a Victor would support the rebellion, they will be dispatched quickly and quietly.

But Victors are a breed of their own. They know what it takes to survive, and have done it before. And now, all that separates them from freedom is one last Arena: the streets of the Capitol itself.

Chapter 1: The Blood Begins to Flow
Terra always had been a fast runner. In the forests of District 7, she’d learned to sprint while ducking and jumping over low branches and fallen trees. It was one of the things that not so long ago, had kept her alive in the Hunger Games. And she was running now.

But at least now, she wasn’t running from immediate danger. With people calling after her, she’d fled the building in the Capitol’s core, trying to put distance between it and her. Only one in this place of decadent, lazy rulers could keep up with her.

“Hey,” Kai shouted after her, vaulting a group of pompous Capitol citizens Terra had knocked over, “wait!”

But she didn’t. Running headlong forward, ignoring whatever chaos was left in her wake, she ran all the way to the edge of the Capitol’s safe zone. Even then, Terra was only stopped by a forcefield the Peacekeepers had put up to keep out the rebel army. She stood, staring up at the top of it, the wavy edge more than fifty feet up. Terra’s brown hair had been freed from the Capitol’s grooming and now was free to fall to her shoulders.

Kai caught up with her at last, checking behind him to make sure none of the Capitols were angry enough to follow them and complain. “Terra, why did you have to do that? It could only make it worse.”

“I don’t care.” She said, not sure she meant it. Her brow furrowed in uncertainty, the soft brown eyes searching for the words. “They threatened my family. I just had to. . . run. Clear my head.”

She spun to face him, and Kai nodded. He was almost a head taller than she was, with broad shoulders. The usual mischievous light was missing from his eyes as he held her gaze. “I know how it feels. My little sister. I’ve had to worry about Alyssa every moment I’m here. No one gets used to it. We just have to deal with it.”

They’d just left the mansion of Panem’s leader, President Snow. Until maybe a month ago, Snow had been the unchallenged, undisputed ruler. But in such a short time, almost every District had rebelled, turned against the Capitol at the realization that District 13 had survived fighting them, and now came back to bring the Capitol down.

They began to walk back the way they came, taking a different route to avoid the people they’d trampled earlier. Terra Storm and Kai Shivers were Victors, the sole survivors from deathmatches known as the Hunger Games. They’d been in the Capitol when the war started, and now weren’t being allowed to leave. The tight quarters with so many Capitol politicians demanding things of them was becoming unbearable. It was why Terra had started running. Just to try, pretend for a moment, that they could escape.

“I was surprised you could run that fast,” Kai grinned, “in that mess of clothes they stuffed you in.”

Terra laughed. The stylist who had forced her to wear it was a pushy Capitol dignitary, obsessed with the perfection of every small meeting. Just to shut her up, Terra had agreed, and was now bundled in layers of soft, flashy materials. It was actually very beautiful, but a bit harsh in color and very constricting. She’d had better stylists, and would have gladly traded the things for something more practical.

Of course, the same thing went for Kai. In the heat of another perfectly sunny day in the Capitol, he was sweltering under wool and cotton layers. His tight belt and tie looked like they were trying to strangle him. “You’re one to talk.” Terra teased back.

As they walked, each started to get rid of the more useless, tacked-on items, Kai throwing away his tie and jacket and Terr as much of the dress as she could get rid of without losing all of it. Able to breathe easy now, they readied for a fight with the dressers when they got back.

But as they neared Snow’s mansion, it became clear there was something wrong. Noticeable between the excessive costumes were plain, paper-white suits. They carried guns, stark black against the suits. Peacekeepers, the Capitol’s soldiers, were searching the grounds of Snow’s mansion.

Terra looked over it. “Maybe we should come back later?”

“Yeah. . . let’s go.” Kai said, taking hold of her arm and turning away. As he did though, someone spotted him, and a Peacekeeper walked after them calmly, about a block behind. Despite how he kept his distance, the two Victors knew he was tailing them.

“We’ve picked up a fan.” Kai said softly.

Terra was glad to have gotten rid of the cloth, it hindered her running. “There’s more. Across the street, at the corner. And a block ahead, they’ll cut us off. Make a break for it?”

“Not yet. . .” Kai waited until they reached the next corner. The Peacekeepers were advancing from ahead, behind, and the right. . . but Kai and Terra took off left when he shouted, down a side-street.

The two now cared even less for the pedestrians in their way. Behind them, the Peacekeepers scrambled after them, but not to follow. Kai was shocked when only a foot away from his head, a glass lamp he was passing was shattered by a bullet. He kept low, and followed in Terra’s faster trail.

More rifle shots echoed off the walls of this concrete canyon, and the crowd instantly began to scatter, crying hysterically. Most couldn’t see where the shots came from, and ran in random directions. It only made running harder for the two being targeted.

As Terra tried to part a group ahead, she caught a glimpse of another Peacekeeper squad lying in wait. Instantly, she pulled Kai to the side and ducked into another path. The alley was narrow, but there were no people to get in their way. The move seemed to have worked, until another white suit showed at the end of the alley. Three turned the corner behind them, and raised their rifles.

They were trapped, Kai realized, and stepped between Terra and the riflemen behind them to try and take the bullets himself.

Three shots rang out. Kai shut his eyes tight. But a moment passed, and he was still alive. More than that, he wasn’t hurt. He looked up, and saw the Peacekeeper who had headed them off walking towards them, holding a revolver in his right hand, smoke still leaving the barrel.

Terra wasn’t sure what had happened, but wouldn’t die without a fight. She grabbed the man’s arm and raised her other fist to pummel him down, when the white suit shouted, “Don’t fight! Mockingjay! Mockingjay!”

It froze her with the fist raised. That was a codeword. She looked back toward the other Peacekeepers, and saw them lying still on the asphalt, red liquid seeping across the white fabric from holes in their suits.

The resistance agent pulled the hood and mask off his head. Under curls of amber hair, his forest-green eyes were narrowed, looking back and forth for more enemies. “No time to explain, at least not here. My name’s Kyler Teak, and you need to come with me, now.”

He led them to a doorway in one wall, and wordlessly they hurried inside. As they filed in and shut the door behind, Kyler stepped out of the Peacekeeper uniform, revealing a simple black bodysuit and dark green vest under it. But what really caught attention was that his left arm, which had stayed at his side, when pulled out of the suit’s sleeve ended just below the shoulder.

Kai froze as he heard the heavy clatter of footsteps running past the door. The Peacekeepers were still searching for them, but it meant that they hadn’t been seen.

Kyler finally got free of the suit, and pulled out a small earpiece. “Tyce, you copy?”

The two Victors could hear the buzz of static and an excited boy’s voice. “I’m reading two other heat signatures with you, so that means it worked? I’ve got the detonator rigged, and it’s waiting on your mark.”

“Mark.” Kyler said. There was a moment of calm before the storm, and he said, “Might want to turn off your electronics about now.”

The lights suddenly went out, and Kai cursed as his ear implantation suddenly went haywire. Within a moment, he’d pulled out a small piece of it to stop the ringing. Though he wasn’t in auditory pain now, his side felt as vulnerable as it had when he’d received the wound in the arena.

“What was that?” Terra asked.

Kyler turned and started walking, and they quickly followed. “Electro-magnetic pulse device.” He explained. “We set it off to disrupt the Capitol’s monitoring systems. It’ll take them almost ten minutes to reestablish control, and by then we’ll be in hiding. There’s a safehouse a block over, let’s hurry.”

Leaving the alleyways, Kyler ushered them into the apartment in another building, taking great care to ensure no one saw them. As he entered the room, Kai found two women were already inside, whom he recognized instantly.

One was another District 5 Victor, Kipcha Pryor. She had long brown hair like Terra, but while Terra’s fell freely to her shoulders like District 7s often did, Kipcha’s was held back in braids in a fashion closer to the Capitol. She was something of a damaged person, in her Games she’d lost a hand and was given a working prosthetic afterwards. What’s more, towards the end an explosion had killed all other remaining tributes, and Kipcha suffered amnesia that wiped out all but her memories of her struggle in the arena. Her earliest memories were of blood, fear, and how to kill.

The other was Ronda Grouge of District 4. She stared with distant blue eyes out the window into the alley below. Terra knew she had recurring bouts of depression because she had been one of those unfortunate enough to be called in the reaping with their sibling. Ronda had killed her brother by accident in a struggle, and never fully recovered from the shock. Kai had seen her around during the Games, slipping away from Capitol reporters easily. She had to be the stealthiest human being he’d ever known.

Kai and Terra were noticing a pattern. Kyler was gathering the Victors of previous Hunger Games. The one-armed man motioned them inside and shut the door behind himself, making sure to lock it. He whispered for Ronda to stay away from the window, fearing someone might see her.

“How did you. . .” Terra asked Kyler, but was cut off by an early answer.

“Get them here? I’ll just say it was no easier than getting you two.”

Kai watched him intently. “What is this? What’s going on?”

All four of the Victors turned to him, apparently none of them had been told. Kyler sighed. “It’s something of a long explanation. We don’t have much time, so first I have to ask that you get out of the fancy dresses and such the Capitol puts on you. They’re not much good for running, and we may have to do a lot of that later.”

Chapter 2: The Depth of Treachery
In the past, Kai had had better stylists. Getting rid of the stuffy silk-and-satin suit was done without complaint, but he’d paused at the bundle Kyler had thrown his way. The black shirt, pants, both with a myriad of pouches and pockets. Military boots that matched. It reminded him a little too much of what they gave to tributes each year.

Walking out of the bedroom where he’d changed, he saw that he’d been third to finish, Ronda and Terra were already waiting in the main room. He knocked on the door of Kipcha’s room to tell her to hurry up, and then paid for the mistake of opening the door with a ball of packed cloth smacking him upside the head.

Shaking his head and laughing, he joined the others and asked, “So, you feel like talking yet?”

“Just waiting on two.” Kyler replied. As Kipcha emerged from the hall, there was a noise at the door. Kyler swiftly moved to it with his revolver drawn and listened. Someone knocked outside.

tap, tap-tap-tap, tap

Kyler counted silently, one, two, three

tap tap

Holstering the pistol, Kyler removed the lock and in came a shorter boy, only about seventeen or so. His complexion and choice of clothing instantly identified him from District 3. A headpiece with a mic in front of his wide, smiling mouth, eyes twitching back and forth among the Victors, with all sorts of electronic gadgets hanging from his vest.

Kyler remained stern. “No one saw you?”

The kid turned his smile on him. “If they did, I’d of known it, and lost them by now.”

A smile finally broke on the one-armed man’s face. “Good answer. Come on, I’m going to explain a few things. Everyone, this is Tyson Webster.”

Tyson took a seat at the floor near the window, and opened up a small laptop as Kyler cleared his throat. Before he started speaking, Kipcha asked from where she stood against a wall, “Who are you, really?”

He turned to her. “Does it matter?”

“I’d like to know who’s saving our lives. . . or trying to get us killed.” Her hard eyes demanded an answer.

“Fair enough. Do you remember the Hunger Games from almost a decade back? When automated guns were used as an environmental hazard?”

Kai nodded, as did the others. “The Arena was a recreation of District 13, just before it was destroyed.”

The man smiled. “Kyler Teak. Tribute, District 7 male.”

“I knew there was something familiar about you!” Terra said, startling everyone. “You just looked like you were a Seven. We were in the same school. . . but you. . . you died in the Games.”

Kyler’s smile turned dark. “Glad to see someone remembers. But I’m very much alive. I escaped, and joined the people who right now are taking over the Districts and closing in on the Capitol. But what’s important right now is you.

“Because the war has broken out between the Capitol and a very real, alive District 13, your position in their politics has changed. You’re heroes to the people, and that can be dangerous. You four have gone against President Snow’s decisions, he thinks you would convince people to join the revolution.”

Ronda said quietly, “He’d murder us.”

Kai frowned. “No. . . he couldn’t do that. Could he?”

“He’s never held back threatening our friends and families. He would, if he had to.” she said.

“And now that you’re a danger to his power, he has to.” Kyler confirmed. “When he finds out his assassins failed, he’ll start a city-wide search for you, and won’t stop until he’s seen your bodies.” He crossed his one arm across his chest. “District 13 doesn’t approve of their hospitality. So, I’m here to get you out.”

A new voice spoke up. Tyson had his hand raised. “Hey, Teak, they’ve reestablished the systems in the area. But I’m keeping them permanently out of cameras. Peacekeeper squads are inbound.”

Kyler moved over to see what Tyson had on the screen. The others watched curiously, and then joined him as he cursed and looked out the window.

“Do they know where we are?” Ronda asked.

“No. But they know we’re nearby.” He said. “This isn’t good. The plan was for Tyson’s EMP to go off, and have the Capitols think we ran toward where the District battlefront is, on the other side of the city. Then we’d make our escape into the wilderness and circle around to reach them. But it looks like they figured it out and are searching for us in the woods.”

Kipcha drew a conclusion. “Then if we’re leaving, we’ll have to go through the city to the Districts.”

“And past Peacekeeper soldiers, pod traps, and muttations. Right?” Kai added.

“Right.” Kyler said solemnly. The odds of surviving it were low. But he’d just have to count on odds being in their favor. “There’s some food here. Grab a meal, and after that. . . let the games begin.”

Chapter 3: A New Sponser
For a time, it was silent in the apartment except for the unwrapping of ration bars and chewing. Tyson kept typing into his keyboard, and Kyler stared out the window while keeping hidden by its side. Finally, Ronda spoke.

“I give up.” She said, looking to Kyler. He glanced at her questioningly. She held up a bar. “Is it animal, vegetable, or mineral?”

“Keep going.” Kyler said, smirking. As his gaze swung back to the window, he caught Terra staring at him. After a moment, he asked, “Yes?”

She looked up, startled, and mumbled, “It’s just. . . you were dead. And now you’re here. . . how did you survive?”

Kyler’s remaining arm reached up and held his left shoulder, above where his arm was gone. “I was determined. . . and had insane amounts of luck.”

“A cannon strike. That was how they killed you.” She said, bringing the memories up. “A house you were in was hit and collapsed. They could only find. . .”

“My arm. . . a slab of concrete came down on it, and cut right through. But it took my tracking chip with it. I woke up hours later, and stumbled out when the forcefield passed over me. Stowed away on a truck and got help in District 2. But freedom carries a high price.”

“Yeah. . .” Terra thought for a moment, and then took off her boot. It was hers from the Capitol, and because she could run in them she’d kept them. Beneath the custom-fit, something not human was revealed. Kyler, Tyson, and a couple of the others gasped, not having known about this.

Below her knee, the human skin ended with the leg flowing into the silky-furred leg of an animal. Blood red, and claws on the foot. “. . . I didn’t get out without some scars of my own.”

“That’s a helluva surgical job.” Kai pointed out.

“It was a mutt that attacked me.” Terra stated. “My district partner, Oak, cut its leg off and bandaged it on as a splint. When I won, the doctors made it permanent. One of their ways of reminding me of him, of the Games, what they can do. . .”

“No one escapes unscathed.” Ronda said sadly. She had drifted into memories of her brother, and his death in the arena. Kipcha no doubt had her own ghosts to think about.

The silence that had once again settled over them was broken by a beep from Tyson’s computer.

Kyler stood up and checked his pistol. “Alright. It’s about time we get going. Tyce, you got the weapons?”

The young rebel stood and pointed to where the television sat dormant, waiting for a signal to display the Capitol’s propaganda. Grabbing hold of its sides, Kai and Kipcha pulled it away. As its screen shattered on the floor, an alcove was revealed, stocked full of sharp objects.

“Firearms would have been too difficult to hide.” Tyson explained. “And we thought you might be more effective with these, anyway. Consider them gifts from your new sponsor, District 13.”

Kai took hold of the shaft of a beautiful spear, the wood wrapped in a light metal to protect it with intricate carvings representing District 5 cut into it. The whole thing was just about as tall as he was, and the mirror surface of its tip gleamed silver in the low light. The head was made of one piece of metal folded again and again into layers to be thin but very strong. It was balanced for casting, but could just as easily be used in a two-handed grip and go through a mutt's hide or Peacekeeper's suit.

Kipcha withdrew a bundle with her name written on it. Within was a bow made of a solid, flexible wood, which also had scenes cut into it of District 5. But what was truly special was the short sword. Tempered metal ran in an elegant curve like it was quicksilver frozen in place, and its razor-sharp edges ran smoothly to the stained wood handle, with no crossguard interrupting. To protect her hand was a ring on the handle for her pointer finger to loop through and secure her grip for the fast, sweeping slashes it was made for.

Terra didn’t wish for anything more than the recurve bow Kai handed to her carefully. A single piece of treated yew, it had a leather-bound grip and when she went to string it, it flexed powerfully against her. A quiver of arrows came with it, each one razor-tipped and wide enough to open a fatal wound in its target. The serrated back edge warned that even if they were able to pull it out, the head would cause more damage on the way out.

Ronda was at first puzzled by the two belts that hung for her. Then she noticed each had a dozen cylinders looped into them, marked around their tops with different colors. The last cylinder was a spool of shining platinum wire, the multiple strands reflecting light in mysterious ways. She realized this played to her strengths, the long hours spent weaving snares for wild game. These were various types of grenades, with strong material for tripwires. There was also a glove. Slipping it over her left hand, she found that now when she moved her palm up, a short blade flicked out from under her wrist. The hidden weapon would be useful if an enemy got too close.

Each of them had used similar weapons before, if not in the Arena then in outside life, but there was a distinct, ominous difference. The weapons in the Hunger Games were used to kill, but in design meant to hunt for food and be used as tools; these were tools meant solely for the purpose of ending human lives. Despite their bright façades, the dark intentions behind them made the weapons they held feel. . . evil was one word to use.

Kyler sighed and pulled out a long knife about half the length of his forearm. "This was supposed to be for another of you, Kevin Keverson of District 3. But the Capitol caught up with him before I did." He began to sheathe the weapon's deadly edge and put it on the inside of his vest.

Kipcha knew him. "Do you think he's . . . dead?"

"I don't know anything at this point. He could be, or he could be in a holding cell somewhere, or he could have even fought his way out himself." He checked the pistol again, pulling the hammer back until it clicked. “The Avox tunnels underground will be our best bet.” Next to him, Tyson had packed up his computer and was looking to them expectantly. There was no more reason to stay here.

Chapter 4: Dark Corners


To be continued shortly, nothin to see here yet. . . (innocent whistle)