#d13

I forgot about you Tmblur that's my bad.

Like when he became President and they gave him the whole “oh hey D13 is still alive and we can’t do much about it” debriefing.

His family fortune was lost with D13 and to find out it was still there…

There's no cornucopia, all the supplies are hidden underground in bunkers, the arena is slow and quiet, tons of water and stuff to hunt for the first few days until the bombs drop which turn it into a hellish place

There's a random countdown constantly in the sky so some tributes hide underground, most either die due to the bomb, radiation sickness or the nuclear mutts who basically poison you if they come near

The bunkers are small underground but there's lots of them (about 5), there's a radiation suit in one

One night, all the light in the bunkers turn off n the mutts are let in, they look like your family with extreme radiation sickness, begging you to help them.....

If they get bitten or touched, they have 3 days to live but this sickness makes you blood hungry before all the other symptoms kick in....

And since your locked in with them it doesn't turn out well....

Games last: 2 weeks

More illusion ruining art. More painting/style practice, this time with D-13. I'm sorta getting better at the folds, though it's still a pain to do.

KILOTRONYX: ... Considering what D13 has seen in that D-Class's helm, I have my suspicions.

D13: I didn't see much Soundwave or Starscream. But I did see a lot of this one twerp called Orion Pax. I think D16 like liked him, y'know?

KILOTRONYX: Orion Pax? You mean the Head Archivist's new little bitlet?

D13: Yeah! That cute widdle bitlet that threw up on Termagax!

KILOTRONYX: *snorts* She deserved it.

Chapter 1

Nightmares waking to more nightmares, till my eyes open and the room is white, not grey.

My wrists are shackled with padded restraints, so despite the prime painkillers pumping into my arm, I’m still some kind of prisoner. Unable to focus my eyes I can’t make out much, except the bed I’m half reclined in is a real bed. There’s sheets and blankets, even a pillow.

A voice, a girl’s, sings softly, lulling me into a gentle sleep.

Every time I open my eyes the haze seems to clear a little more. I’m never conscious for long, but nothing concerns me floating on this painless cloud. Through the drug fog I feel my limbs moved, or hear voices, usually just one. Sometimes she seems to be reading out loud to me, sometimes she sings, and sometimes she monologues. Sometimes she’s quiet, but I feel she’s still with me.