something about this place

This was not Nine.

Trembling, she pushed herself to her feet, knife drawn. Oxfords pleas made no sense. She couldn't tell if he actually didn't know what had happened to him, or if he was trying to trick her.

Slowly, she approached the precipice where Oxford dangled. Her breaths rattled between her ribs, as though intentionally reminding her of what he'd did. What he could do.

And then the blade cut into his fingers. It didn't sever; it hardly even scratched. But it was enough for them to release. He brought his hand in front of his face to look at the small drops of blood that started to float just above his eyesight. He couldn't feel the wind as it rushed past his ears, or hear anything as he fell. He could just look at her, with an expression of stern surprise, as she shrunk smaller and smaller above him.

You're so close, a voice said to him. You're so close, Olly Olly Oxen Free.

His face found its way to a smile. "I know," he replied to the wind.

I'm so proud of you. I'll be waiting for you.

"Okay."

He could feel his sister smile. Flor had always been there, in the Arenas and in the blades. In the guards and in the other Tributes. She would guide him, and he knew it. So when his body slammed, mangled on the tracks, he was not afraid. He felt Flor there, stopping the pain of a snapped leg from reaching his brain. She was with him as his entire body vibrated, the power of the roller coaster shaking his form to the core. And as he turned his head to see the coaster car barreling towards him, he could see her there, too, riding in the front.

Her eyes were soft and warm, the same honey brown he remembered. Her mouth was pulled into a wide smile, showing off the twisted snaggletooth that had always defined her, and her dusty brown hair billowed out behind her in the wind. Her arms were up, and she was having the time of her life. Ox laughed, feeling her joy radiating off of her memory.

She saw him, and he saw her. She smiled wide and nodded, reaching out a hand to him. He nodded back and reached out to her, though he could do nothing but lay there on the track. The cart hit his body head-on and lurched from the tracks, spiraling out into the darkness of the coaster as the first District Nine firework exploded overhead.

But Ox was still on the coaster. He was there as the memory of a cart hurtled down the tracks, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He and his sister, in the front row of the car, their arms waving in the wind as it rushed past. Their laughter bounced around the metal structure as the sun, bright in the blue sky, shone down on them. The coaster turned, spun, and looped, and Flor grabbed onto Ox's arm, shrieking in delight.

He laughed, squeezing his sister's hand. "I've missed you!" he called out over the noise.

"I'm so glad you're here!" she yelled back. "I'm so happy you made it!" The phantom coaster gently slowed to a stop, resting at an empty loading station. "But this is our stop."

He looked at the bare platform, then back at his sister. A mischievous grin pulled at his lips. "One more time?"

Flor rolled her eyes at him, but ultimately gave in. "Fine. One more time, Olly Olly Oxen Free."

She gasped and struggled, stars popping in her vision and what little air she was getting squeaking in her throat. Oh God, this is it, this is it, I'm so sorry Momma, this is it--

The approaching rumble of the roller coaster drowned her thoughts. Her feet slipped more as she frantically struggled for purchase, one final, clear idea striking her.

But then she was gone. One moment, he was pressing the life into his own victory, and the next he was pressing into air. His foot, bare and beaten, twisted in the blood, which had made the metal grating slick. He fell forward only half a step, but that was all that was needed. The railing hit him just below the hips, and his giant form, following inertia, continued forward. He could see it all - the fire, the tracks, the railing, the arc of blood as his legs flipped up and over.

The only thing that stopped him from fully tumbling into the darkness was his grip. The machete clattered to the ground, threatening to drop off into the flames. His hand, wanting security, grasped, closing around the metal bar as he fell. There was a pop, loud enough to be heard over the roar of the coaster, as Ox's full weight plummeted down on his overextended shoulder and the tendons ripped bone from joint. A scream, starting deep in his stomach and boiling over from days of agony, ripped from his throat.

And there he was - dangling over the gaping jaws of the coaster, one arm made useless, but still gripping to the bar, the other flailing, trying to make purchase. And then he saw her - Farina, his District partner - the only ally he had had in the Arena.

She knew exactly what he was doing now, though, and the realization stung-- he had lied to her. He had never intended for it to be one of them, only him.

The roller coaster rumbled overhead, and the scaffolding creaked. The fire drew closer, less of a distant crackle and now a constant drone.

It had to happen, of course. But for Farina to turn on him like this... he hadn't been expecting that. But fine. Be that way. He tried to bring his machete up, but they were locked together. The blade flicked up, and he felt it slice a small cut through his own side as he tried to use to to wedge them apart.

“S’uh from Mahlon. One’a Twelve’s mentors. He ain’t really around a ton, but he came through on the good stuff, so—” she shrugged. “Think I can forgive not seein’ his face much.” Finch put her unfinished cracker between her lips and pulled another from the sleeve, passing it over to Ox between her index and middle finger.

And yet. It would have to happen. One way or another. If not her, someone else. If not now, later. And if now, wasn't that all the sooner? Thoughts collided in his head. Nothing made sense. Nothing at all.

Finch started to rifle through the container that had been dropped to her. She pulled out the small knife first, turning it over in her palm to inspect it before unceremoniously stashing it in her pocket. It would be a damn good thing to have on her from here on out, but she wasn't about to make a show of a weapon in front of Ox. Next, Finch pulled out what remained in the container: antiseptic wipes and a sleeve of crackers. "Read it for real, and I'll share with you," she offered, showing Ox the loot she'd received.

He watched as she burrowed through the canister, and pretended not to see as she pulled out a few choice goodies. He quickly averted his eyes, though, trying to dampen his natural curiosity.

He glanced down at the actual words on the paper, reading them out. "Halfway there. Don't die, dumbass." He flicked his eyes up to her. "That's what it says. Not me. From an M.M." He furrowed his brows. "M. M. Huh, I don't know anyone with those initials."

He blinked furiously, trying to bring his thinking back to the present. They were so high up. It was dizzying, the concept. The noise. The Arena.

Finch moved mostly in silence. Occasionally, she stopped to make sure that Ox hadn't fallen behind. When they reached the gate to the water slide, there was a sign and a padlock warning potential visitors away, but Finch couldn't read the sign, so it didn't much matter to her. The padlock, on the other hand, was an inconvenience. She could probably scale the fence, but she figured Oxford's injury would keep him from doing the same. She flipped the machete in her hand so the hilt was down, and she used the blunt force of it to hack at the padlock. To her surprise, the padlock was rusty, and it didn't take much strength to get it to crack. A little elbow grease and a bit of sweat on her brow, and Finch was pleased to see the lock clatter to the concrete below. "Easy," she stated, pushing the gate open.

So up they went. His breath didn't hitch, though, and his good leg held up just fine. All those years of running through the fields of Nine must have done something for him, though the snakebites throbbed mercilessly and the shirt tied around them had grown heavy with blood at the exertion. He leaned his back against the cold metal railing, briefly glad for the chill.

He watched with furrowed brow as a Sponsor package landed - clearly aimed at her. For a moment he considered snatching it from her; he could have. He was tall enough, quick enough. But up here, there was nowhere for a fight to happen. So playing nice was the only option. He took the small paper from her, speaking for the first time since they had left the tide pool behind.

"Private party for Spurius Orsini," he said, his face deadpan.

"FUCK YOU!" He screamed, trying to tear his hand from her bite. But when it didn't budge, his other hand came careening around the corner too, leading his body to pivot and bring a fist down at her head. His knee tried to lash out too, but only found the hard brick of the building as he mistimed his turn.

Instead, Oxford emerged into her field of vision, urging her to run. Her body listened— she wasn’t even sure why that worked, but it did, maybe a survival instinct born into her from a long, long time ago that her body knew, but mind didn’t.

She followed him up to the platform, realizing he was yelling about fire— and sure enough, there seemed to be a bright, hot wall of flames seizing the corner of the park, threatening to swallow more. She had seen enough prairie fires to know it would be on them in a few minutes time.

For soft-skinned kiss asses. -C.G.

It made her smile, the first spark of joy she'd felt since being thrown into the arena. Mack slipped the paper into her pocket and flipped open the sunscreen, the smell stronger than she imagined. In response, she crinkled her nose. It lathered easily, the whitecast lingering, and Mack wondered if this was what the Capitol smelled like in the summers. If this was what Cain smelled like then.

If this Tribute was like the girl from Ten, it would be a simple matter. An intimidation, a pleading, a begging to be let go. But he wouldn't let them go. If it was a fight? So be it. He had a shield and was easily the biggest person in the Arena. If it was an animal? Who cared. It, too, would die.

She gazed down at Oxford's leg with a grimace, but the true extent of his injury was hard to make out in the water. There was blood, but it was impossible to tell how much, and she didn't know if the snake was venomous. Either Oxford would be fine, or he'd be dead any second. Finch didn't have anything to help him, so she'd sort of done what she could either way. "I wasn't gonna leave ya," she admitted honestly. "I get we're all doin' what we gotta do." Finch had killed, but it wasn't like she'd wanted to. She'd been attacked. She wasn't looking for bloodshed. "But that ain't really my style."

He took a few steps forward, sloshing out of the water, and was relieved to find his leg still supported him. However, he could feel the warmth as blood ran freely from the multiple bite marks. "I think... I think I can walk," he said, gently approaching his stuff. He scooped up the damp tee-shirt and took a moment to wrap it around most of the holes in his leg, where it instantly stained a dark red.

She'd spent most of her time since the first day hiding. She hid at night while the guards patrolled. She hid last night, when the guards never came but the darkness did. Without anything to defend herself, Finch hid from the mutts that prowled the Arena, and she hid from the tributes who prowled along with them.

Finally, on the fourth day of the Games, Finch made her way back to the water park area of the Arena. She knew it better than the other areas of the park, and by now, she was pretty sure she understood most of its threats and rewards. Maybe she could swing by the Surf Shop again, or clean herself in the pool like she'd done a few days before. She could look for food or refill her water.

Instead, she found Oxford already having claimed the pool, which was significantly more shallow than the last time she'd visited. Ox and her had gotten along okay in the Tower, but all bets were off here, and Ox was a massive guy compared to Finch. She'd just grab some of his stuff while he was distracted and be on her way. Finders keepers was a fine enough rule in Twelve, it'd work all the same here. Or at least that's what she thought as she surveyed his things outside of the pool and picked his machete up in her hand, testing its weight.

Suddenly, she heard Ox shout, and it made Finch jump with the fear that he was shouting at her. Finch's head snapped up, finding Oxford trying to drag himself out of the water towards her and towards the blade. Her gaze traveled a little farther, and her eyes locked in horror on the snake that coiled around his waist. Finch could've left him. It would've been the smart thing to do to grab whatever valuables Ox had and leave him to die-- one less tribute between her and freedom-- but she couldn't do that. At the end of the day, it just wasn't who Finch was, and no Capitol death game was going to make her into a person that left someone to die.

"It... uh. Yeah." He stayed where he was, seated in the water, not wanting to provoke an attack. It was stupid, he immediately realized, to admit he was hurt. "Not too bad, though," he quickly attempted to right-size.