The Bloodbath
Scott looked to his left. Jean was all the way on the other side of the cornucopia, next to the dark-haired boy from District One. She met his gaze and nodded once, a clear signal. We make a run for it.
Scott still couldn’t believe his luck. He was just a boy from Twelve. Sure, his family was from the richer end of the district, but it was still Twelve. His parents were a coal mine overseer and a schoolteacher. He wasn’t favored to make it past the first twenty minutes, much less win the whole thing. So how had he, Scott Summers, managed to win an alliance with Jean, of all people?
His training scores hadn’t been terrible, but they hadn’t been great either. A six was, quite literally, average. Jean could have allied herself with the other tributes from One, Two, and Four, like her mentor had told her to. Or she could have sought out the boy from Five- he’d made a ten in training. Or the pair from Ten, Okoye and T’Challa, who had scored a nine and an eight (respectively). Pretty much anyone would have made a better alliance than Scott, and yet Jean had come to him anyway.
He couldn’t help but think back to their shared kiss on the roof. “They don’t think I can win it.” She had said. “They think I’m weak.”
“I think you can win.” He had told her, honestly. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”
She had laughed at that. “I think Thor would disagree with that.”
“But it’s true. I’m not just talking about physical strength. Thor doesn’t have what it takes to kill. Charles doesn’t. Neither do I. But you do. And that’s why you’ll win this thing. When it comes down to it, you’ll do what it takes.”
She’d kissed him, then. It had been soft, chaste, but lingering all the same. “We’ll both get out of here,” she had promised, “I’ll make sure of it.”
Scott wasn’t going to win. Of that, he was sure. He would do his best, he would stand by Jean, and when worst came to worst, he would do what it took to save her. He’d only known her for a few days, but he was fairly certain he was falling in love. That was a dangerous thing in the games, and he knew he didn’t deserve her, but he felt it all the same.
“Survive the bloodbath.” She had told him. “I’ll help you. The others think I’m on their side, they won’t hurt me. Get away from the Cornucopia and I’ll find you. I’ll bring weapons, food, supplies. Just get away, and I will always find you.”
The countdown ticked down slowly. Ten seconds. Nine. Eight. As soon as the timer hit zero, Scott would be taking off, running through the trees as fast as he could to get away from the bloodbath that was sure to come.
“Hey, T’Challa.” Eric’s voice called. Scott’s eyes snapped to him, senses jolting at the unexpected noise. Who was stupid enough to talk during the countdown? A distraction was the last thing any of them needed.
“What?” T’Challa fixed him with a heavy, no-nonsense stare.
“Watch this.” As Scott watched on in horror, Eric lifted something from his pocket. Scott couldn’t quite make out what it was- some sort of small metal bead, about the size of a quarter, that Eric had brought as a token from his district. He swung his arm over his shoulder, releasing the bead with pinpoint accuracy.
He flung the bead through the air, headed straight towards his unsuspecting target. It hit Bruce’s shoulder with just enough force to make him stumble. Ordinarily, that wouldn’t be a problem; when twenty-four teenagers were standing on motion-activated landmines, it most definitely was.
There was a moment of hushed silence as Bruce tried and failed to catch his balance. Scott was on the other side of the Cornucopia, unable to do anything as the bombs activated and a loud boom shook the arena. In the shocked stillness that followed, Eric was the first to move; he ran towards the Cornucopia, a proud smirk resting on his face.
Scott forced himself to tear his gaze away from the bloody crater that used to be Bruce Banner. He ran towards the forest, trying to tune out the sounds of screaming behind him. Once he has crossed into the trees, he ducked behind a tree to catch his breath.
“Scott!” Jean’s voice came from behind him. He looked back over his shoulder, ducking underneath a tree branch as he did so. She was running towards him, carrying two bags over her shoulder and holding a knife in her free hand.
At first he was confused. Why was Jean changing the plan? She was supposed to stick with the Careers until the bloodbath was over, and then join him when things were safe. But here she was, running at him with a look of horror on her face. “Behind you!” She yelled, tossing the knife through the air.
Scott reached out to catch it, turning around in an attempt to dodge the attack. Drax was standing behind him- that thirteen year old from Eight, the one they’d all thought was completely useless and overconfident- and Scott felt a thrill of fear. He ducked Drax’s punch, catching Jean’s knife and wincing as the blade cut his skin. He adjusted his grip and lashed out.
Drax caught his wrist and jerked it to the side. Scott couldn’t help but scream as he felt the bone pop out of place. How was Drax that strong? He dropped the knife.
“Get away from him!” Jean snarled. She was getting close now. But Drax was closer. He bent down and picked up a branch from the ground, swinging it at Scott as he ducked away from the blow. Drax swung again, and again, and it was only a matter of time before one of his blows connected. Where was Jean? She should have been here by now.
Drax’s branch caught him on the side of the head. Scott screamed in pain as the bark tore into his skin, knocking him to the ground. He tried to struggle to his feet, but Drax was already swinging again. This time, he caught him squarely in the face. His vision was red with blood. Someone was screaming- was it him? The branch came down again for a third and final time.
This time, Scott Summers did not get up.
Ororo ran towards the Cornucopia. She wasn’t an idiot; she knew that it was a bad idea. But how was she supposed to last a day if she didn’t have any food, weapons, or water? So she ran for the Cornucopia, looking for something small she could grab and get out of there.
The hotshot tributes from One, Two, and Four had formed an alliance. She was supposed to be a part of that alliance. Her mentor had told her, time and time again, that her only chance of survival was to side with the alliance. They had done it last year, and almost all of the alliance tributes had made it to the end. Of course, then the boy from Two had killed them all, but still. It was the thought that counted.
The problem was, they didn’t want her. She had tried to convince them she would be a useful part of the alliance. Natasha had just looked her up and down once and given her a look, as if to say “What could you possibly have to offer?” Erik, at least, had been nicer about it. But they were right. She was a nobody. She was only 14, and even her makeshift electric snare and uncanny ability to tell the weather had only earned her three points in training. Which meant that, for all intents and purposes, she was on her own.
The boy from Twelve was running for the trees, the boy from Eight right behind him. The girl from One- Jean, she thought- was going after them, although Ororo couldn’t imagine why. Jean was part of the alliance, a weak tribute from the outer districts was worth nothing to her.
She hadn’t been next to Bruce. That, at least, was something to be thankful for. Those who had been next to him- Carol from Six and Mantis from Seven- were covered in a fine layer of blood and gore from what had once been his body. Ororo was far enough away that, when the timer stopped, she wasted no time and sprang down from her pedestal.
The ground was hard beneath her feet. Clouds of dust stirred beneath her as she ran. The boy from Three and the boy from Nine were fighting, grappling over a sword that lay forgotten on the ground. Behind them, the girl from Two was picking up a knife and turning on the boy from Eleven. Ororo ducked around them, making a mad dash for a small backpack that is leaning against the Cornucopia.
There was a scream. A terrible scream, a scream of pain and anguish. Moments later, there was another- this one from someone else. Ororo glanced towards the sound as she dropped to her knees, skidding under another tribute’s outstretched arms and grabbing the backpack. She didn’t have time to linger on it, but she thought she saw the girl from Nine collapsing to the ground. Laura, the one who might have been pregnant.
There was a cannon. She didn’t know who it was she didn’t have time to know, she dodged an attack from Eric and kept running.
She war almost to the trees when the knife hit her. It took her a moment to realize it, to understand why her back suddenly felt like it was on fire. She stopped running and fell to the ground.
Maybe, she thinks, she can still make this work. She’s in pain, but she’s not dead yet. Maybe if she just stays here for a few minutes, just until she can catch her breath, she can escape without being noticed. Another cannon has just gone off; maybe they’ll think it’s hers, leave her alone until she can figure out what to do.
She lays there for what feels like hours. The battle rages around her. She’s slipping in and out of consciousness, still feeling the knife digging into her back. Footsteps approach her.
“This one’s dead?” A half-familiar voice asked. Chase? He was her district partner, maybe he would help.
There was a moment of silence, and then something slammed into Ororo’s side. She couldn’t stop a groan of pain from escaping. “Guess not.” Natasha Romanoff’s voice said.
The knife was pulled out of her back. Ororo wanted to scream, but she couldn’t quite manage the sound. She was rolled over onto her back.
Chase and Natasha were standing over her. Chase almost looked like he felt sorry for her, but Natasha’s face was cold. She held the knife in her hand, still covered in Ororo’s blood. Ororo blinked hazily. Natasha moved the knife in one swift, deadly motion.
Moments later, another cannon sounded. Ororo Monroe’s body stared up at the sky with glassy, unseeing eyes. Eyes that would never see again.
Gert wasn’t the strongest of the tributes, or the fastest, and she probably wasn’t even the cleverest. That’s not to say she wasn’t clever, just that she wasn’t the same level of genius as Tony Stark or Alex Wilder. But she had allies and she had a plan, and that was all she needed.
She was, quite unfortunately, standing fairly close to Bruce Banner when the bombs went off. As such, his unfortunate demise left her covered in dirt and chunks of flesh. She stood there for a moment, frozen, as the other tributes began to run.
“What are you doing?” Nico screamed. “Gert, run!”
The sound of her friend’s voice spurred her into motion. Gert spun on her heels and ran away from the Cornucopia, pelting towards the woods as fast as her legs could carry her. The boy from Eight loomed in front of her, holding a blood-splattered branch in his hands, and she veered away from him, adjusting her course accordingly.
“Gert!” Alex was suddenly beside her, matching her pace. “We need to get out of here!”
“I know that!” She snapped, breathing heavily. “I’m not an idiot!”
Karolina’s scream came suddenly, unexpectedly, and Gert skidded to a halt. She and Alex exchanged a glance. “Karolina.” She realized.
“Nico will help her.” Alex told her. “We need to get somewhere safe.”
“We can’t just leave her!” Gert argued. “She’s our friend!”
Alex hesitated. Mentally cursing herself for doing something this stupid, Gert turned and ran in the other direction. Towards the bloodbath, towards Karolina and Nico and Chase.
Karolina was battling the boy from One, although it was clear that neither of them had any idea how to use the swords they were holding. There was a deep cut on Karolina’s arm, blood running down her flesh.
She needed a weapon. Everything from the ground had already been picked up, but- there! The boy from Nine was surveying the battle, a large knife strapped to his side. His back was to Gertrude. If she could just-
A long spear blocked her path. She fell, unable to stop herself in time, and found herself pinned beneath the spear. The girl from Nine- Okoye, Gert remembered- was glaring down at her.
Gert looked up at her with wide eyes. It was one thing to know about the Games, to know you were going to be a part of them. It was quite another to actually be here, surrounded by blood, staring death in the face.
Okoye hesitated. After a moment, she drew back her spear so that Gert could get up. “I will not kill you this time.” She enunciated clearly, “but if you threaten T’Challa again, I will not be merciful.”
Gert lay there, paralyzed by fear. She was seconds away from having a panic attack. She knew she was an easy target, here on the edge of the bloodbath with no weapons, but she couldn’t force herself to move.
A hand grabbed her arm. She jolted sharply, expecting to feel a knife in her throat at any second, but instead was met with the dark eyes of Nico Minoru.
“Run.” Nico told her. Karolina was beside her, clutching her wounded arm and carrying a sword. Gert allowed herself to be pulled to her feet and joined the others in running.
Alex should have been waiting for them in the woods. That was the first sign that something was wrong. He hadn’t followed her back to the bloodbath, so he should have been waiting for them. But they had no time to look for him. While there was no sign that they were being followed- yet- it was still suicide to stay so close to the other tributes.
They had been hiking for almost an hour in silence when Karolina tripped. It wasn’t her fault, really; she was injured, she was carrying a heavy sword, and she hadn’t even had a bit of water to drink. She tripped over a stone in the ground and fell, catching herself with both hands as her sword clattered to the ground. They had been heading up a hill that fell away at both sides, and unfortunately for Karolina, her sword fell just a little bit too close to the edge. It clattered down the steep incline, vanishing into the bushes below.
There was a moment of silence. “I’ll get it.” Gert offered. She was in desperate need of something useful to do, after all. Karolina and Nico had gotten supplies and fought with the other tributes, Chase was undercover with the tributes from One and Two, and all Gert had done was lose Alex and almost get herself killed. She climbed down the hill after the sword.
She ducked underneath a particularly thorny bush and reached for the hilt of the sword. But as she picked it up, she paused.
“Hey, guys.” She called. “Come down here.”
“What?” Karolina asked, climbing down the hill after her.
“Do you hear that?”
It was faint, but clearly there. The sound of running water. If nothing else, they needed fresh water. Karolina and Nico had gotten supplies, but there hadn’t been any water at the Cornucopia. Gert forged onwards into the bushes in search of the source. As she pushed through the brambles, she was greeted with a welcome sight.
There was a clearing between the trees, hidden from the hills above by the sheer amount of brambles that surrounded it. Tree branches arched over it, shielding it from the hot summer sun. At the back, there was a jumble of boulders that seemed to have rolled down from the hill above. There was a steady flow of water down the rocks, forming a small pool of crystal clear water below.
“Guys.” Gert turned to Karolina and Nico, who were standing behind her. “I think we’ve just found our camp."