suffer & glow // brennan vs. dyno

[LAIN 🍽 1M | Mattio]

〖    b r e n n a n    f i t z g e r a l d    〗

Dread. I'm scared to move most of the day. The arena is calm in the aftermath of the purple haze forcing us up to the sky. I counted five cannons: two before Francine fell and two after. Pierce's list said there were only twelve after the anthem last night. Just seven of us now, I guess. Judging from the vast terrain on the peak, they probably brought all the tributes up here. We'd only seen one group a day before, and it makes sense as the numbers dwindle to tighten the constraints on where we can travel.

With the fallen cherry blossom branches, I make a small hut for my lime friend. They're persistent, that's for sure. In the face of six days of violence, it has stood by my side, floating and nudging my cheek to bring some joy. I'm sure that the Gamemakers put them in here for camera footage, or maybe to track us if they were at all concerned with malfunctions throughout the arena's altitude. The hut isn't much, but maybe it'll allow me to have some sort of privacy. Plus, if it's floating about, someone might see it and sneak up on me. I lay, legs extended opposite the creature.

It swirls and I smile, becoming better by the day at pretending to be intact. Get my head bashed in by a mare? Curl up with Pierce. Ama dies? Get angry and vengeful with Haze. Francine falling? Tie loose ends like I'm a protagonist in a story honoring something they lost as if I didn't have to kill someone to do it. My face tells the sky that's fine, I'm still put together when my body's been rearranged and scattered. What's left is a shell, scavenging for missing pieces to cover the leaks and wounds. I gave up on self-care years ago in exchange for preservation. I'm better off trying to withstand the current than swimming against it.

The sound of trumpets playing and blue holograms in the skin snap me out of the wallowing introspection. They start, with the first death of the day. Elm. I knew they'd have trouble surviving out here just by their attitude toward the fight a few days back.

After them is Itzal. Outside of my own alliance, he probably offered me the most rewarding interaction in the arena. Logic tells me that I should feel some spite towards him since he could never get my name right like the people back in Three. Logic, though, gives him a free pass. The kids at home have known me for years while Itzal knew me for a day at lunch. The quick memory brings a smirk to my face, playful of course. It's sad, obviously, as most of the deaths have been so far, but we only make the current stronger every time we wallow.

Itzal's face shifts to Francine's. It's still horrible, what happened to her. I didn't mean to swing with that much force that it'd send her back and falling off of the island. She didn't make a sound as she fell, nor did her body upon landing, from what I heard. That is if it landed at all. Both of those unknowns haunt as she stares down at me from the sky.

Mav's next. It was only yesterday that he was putting on a macho face for Haizea, congratulating her on the kill she'd gotten. I wonder how stressful this experience must be for a career who's not fully bought into what they're doing. How much more it must hurt to lose a battle you didn't want to fight in the first place.

And the last… I only catch a glimpse of him before I turn my head to the cherry blossom tree. I don't want to think about that. The trumpets blow needles through my ears. I'm not sure which was worse: the known or the unknown. Would it have been better to close my eyes and keep who's left alive as a surprise? I press up against the tree, doing my best not to cry. The water line rises. A boy standing in the current is bound to be drowned in his tears every once in a while. I cover my lips, trying to remember what it felt like to have someone want them. But all I taste is bitterness.

I curl up, feeling smaller now knowing that one of the people who's been holding me up has let go.

"I really really really really really really like you." I whisper as I pull all of my belongings over myself like a weight to feel more secure as I sleep.

I really like you, Pierce. And if we were in any other universe, maybe it could've been love. It should've been us.

...

The skylight is barely cracking past the cherry blossoms below when the fog buries in from all angles. The fog, alongside the intense heat and humidity, makes sitting still feel like asphalt being paved around my body. I stand, wiping sweat away with my umbrella. There's no sense in staying up here if the high altitude isn't going to make it feel any cooler. I release my seelie from their hut and it flies to greet its friend, unoffended that I tried to forget its existence for the night.

As long as it's not pouring, I take off the rainboots and stuff them in my bag. They're horrible to walk around in and even worse to fight in. People slip and slide on them. I'm honestly surprised I didn't twist an ankle trying to run from the boltmares a few days back. I'll take my chances against the environment without them. If the stone ends up being too hot or I find myself on some rocky terrain, they can easily slip back on.

It's hard to see which direction is out through all of the fog. My goal is to find the edge of the peak and circle around until the way down comes into view. Every little creature running by makes me jump as if it's another tribute. Even a branch snapping brings my katana ready across my chest until I realize it was one of the foxes running with their ribbons and prizes.

I find the way down a bit sooner than I expected. If you're scared of heights, climbing down this thing would be a straight-up nightmare. It's a bright light, curving from the peak in the sky all the way down to the greater ends of the mountain. I take one step onto it and the surface beneath my feet glows as if to tell me that it can be trusted. I'm hesitant but do it anyways. I want to get off of the peak as soon as possible: certainly, they moved us all up there with the purple fog. The quicker I get down, the easier it'll be to avoid them all. It's breaking dawn. After a week of being trapped in here, the seven of us are probably clinging to every second of sleep that we can. I'll sleep in a couple of hours when I make it back to the cave. Hopefully, Haizea has the same idea. I enjoy the freedom of descending through slow-moving clouds. It's a breath of fresh air in contrast to the heavy fog that sucks every bit of clarity from ground level.

The upper mountains have a more fantastical environment than the pond or the ruins. It even outdoes the cherry blossoms. The trees and plants are neon blue, although they lose some of that vibrancy as the highest part of the sun shows itself. For the most part, though, it remains dark. The glowing blue tones remind me of Ama's sword. I wonder if this is where they developed the sword or if they're at all related. The Gamemakers are telling a story, and that plot has to go beyond just the tributes. Lore is cursed, haunted, and always tied together. My seelie friend spins around in the air as they greet their counterparts who play at the tree line.

Splashes of blue make my skin glow as I move through the mountain. My feet begin to drag from walking on the rocky dirt. Some plan I had about thirty minutes ago, to walk through the arena barefoot. Frustrated, I set my bag on the ground and snap open the center to pull out my boots. I'm about to toss rubber squeaking on the ground when a sound grabs my attention from the east. Is it a grunt? A cough? A mutter? I'm not too sure. I place the boots gently on the ground and crouch between the neon plants. My lime seelie takes my cue and rushes up to play with the other seelies to seem… inconspicuous?

Of course, it's Dyno Moreno. The last career of the Games. I stay put. The last time I snuck up on his group, Haizea and I quickly gained the upper hand against Rene. I'm scared to confront him. I mean, numbers make fighting unpredictable. A career versus, well, a Brennan, doesn't seem like a great matchup. I pick my katana out from my side and fiddle with a couple of knives wrapped under my shirt's sleeves. I'm not doing anyone a favor by letting him go uncontested. Not me, not Haze, and none of the others either. Someone has to tear him down and make him sweat.

I don't make a sound as he walks past, and I leave him alone at first, going back and forth on the plan. I remember what he told Haizea before running off. I could stay and tear you three apart, but that's no fun. A threat from Dyno and a dare for me. Overstay a welcome and he'll make you pay. Silent, I rise up and walk behind him, careful not to grab any attention.

I suppose I just won't overstay. Quick and easy if it's a surprise. We're in what still feels like night, lit up by blue lamps emanating from near the grass. My katana shines as I point it toward Dyno's back. For every step he makes, I make two to catch up. I close my eyes for a second.

It's now or never. The silver lining is that if I die trying, I won't have to regret this.

I take some ideas of courage out of Pierce's book, swinging my katana at him first. "Long time no see, Dyno." I get the leg-up on him with my words, not wanting to give him any control. Dyno's a master at conversations while fighting, and speaking up first lets him know I'm not planning to be intimidated. "I wish I could say I missed you but… well…"

[ brennan attacks dyno ; katana (sword) ]
TYYne2S_qXsword
[ 1181 -- Stabbed in Chest -- 9.5 damage + 1.0 Blades ]

sword

[Benson Sharpe D3M [Tom]]

You're sick.

A fist with a kiss; bloody lips filled with the smile of a thousand sharp teeth ready to rip away the flesh of a heart. Smash a jar with the beating thrum of life. Poetry waxing on the tip of his tongue, almost deadly and filled with a dark desire to keep pushing, to keep dancing around the edge of the cliffside, and to be above it all. Smile on his face, breath in the words of the devil onto his skin and let it all burn and burn around him. Crackle with the electric taste of bitterness as if he could tell his heart no longer beats in his chest. Sick. Monster. Psycho. He's nothing more than the words people expect from him. An easy way to avoid their pretenses and let anyone in. Just the way he likes it. No one to see past the confidence, the attitude, the desire. Who is Dyno Moreno? The only one who's going to get the crown. The one who's a career out of obsession, out of desire, out of dreams. It's just how he likes everything to go.

Written beneath the ink stained pages, starting to curl around the edges from the drying of rain and the electricity of the atmosphere around them. Dyno can curl his lips up as he stares at the six names left. Pieces in this game of his that he's excited to bleed to the end with. Bury his heart in the words and build upon them. Was he really a monster? Was he really always going to be the one without a heart? Truly, he wanted to be everything worse and more. Smile through the miserable words of pathetic districts who are grasping to the last bits of life they have left. Stories rushing and colliding together. An end in sight.

A final battle coming over the horizon, building for the climax and the falling action. A burning desire to build the best fight possible. Dyno Moreno stays along the edges of the cliffside, knowing he could keep a better eye with no one to his back. Arms wrapped around his chest as he stares to the sunset, envisioning the first one back home. Memories of his sister's laugh, his mother's sweetness, and his father's ridiculously warm songs. Dinner at Dad's where he and his sister spend the afternoon playing instruments, eating what the poor kids eat, and smiling through out dinner.

His father would hate when he's become. The old man always wanted to be a career, but carried a heart too heavy. Smiled too much in a warm way. Remo Moreno was always a guide, the reason he picked up writing as a way to get the words out when his mouth feels unable to open other than the sharp blades ready to cut as deep as possible. The softer side of Dyno Moreno is unable to be spoken; words jumbled up in his chest as if he's knotted his stomach up from letting anything worthwhile comes through. Instead, there's paragraphs and paragraphs of his heart on pages. Hidden behind ink and the thick wornness of the journal, he keeps those feelings to himself. Burns the emotions to page and never looks back at them.

The sunset is beautiful; a written masterpiece to be added to his journal. A lasting memory of the beginning of the end. Ink spilled onto page after page. Surrounded by nothing more than himself, his thoughts grow heavier. Itzal and Yael's dead eyes staring behind his eyelids, almost as a warning, as a flicker of all the darkness he carries. It's both pleasant and unnerving to him. Only, anthem comes with a flash of flair. Thundering in the distance as he looks up to see the dead; six names will remain.

Pierce Littleton is dead. Already having seen the corpse of the man, Dyno can only swallow down the disappointment of being left out of the death. Life already long gone from the career's eyes. A silent pang of disappointment as he continues to stare up into the sky for long enough to see the faces switch. A sort of silence fills the air as Dyno can't help but feel a bit bad about the next one. A sort of solemn silence as he blinks quietly into the dark.

Maverick Marlow deserved to be the last one. A name to be crossed off at the end. A game of pawns and kings and queens. A career who'd been slain by Karl, the career slayer. A blossoming feeling behind his eyes forms as Dyno swallows down the feeling. Only a word expanded into the air, whispers of his own head coming forth as the stars glimmer above and the face begins to fade away. "Checkmate, Mav. I'll bring you to the end." Hand held up to the sky as Dyno starts to slide his fingertip along the edges of stars to sign out Mav's name one last time. A message for the cosmos, wherever the man ends up.

As the face fades away, Itzal is next. A sort of pleased smile burns onto his lips. The memory of blood being spilled, watching the life leave Itzal's eyes. No more comic relief for the capitol. A serious competitor who knew how to win the Capitol's favor. A truly threatening tribute, but one who died all the same. A sign of what's to come to everyone else who gets in his way. A laugh falls from his lips as he looks away to run his hands along the cliff's edge feeling comfortable. The ink's been spilled. The stories are interconnecting. This legend was meant to be his and his alone.

Izar would get what's coming to her soon enough.

Francine's face is a surprise, but not an unwelcomed sight. The poor girl seemed haunted and while their fight had led to Steele's death, he didn't know what to think. A sad sight for Seven, but now with Seven out, there's a better chance for Dyno. Another name to cross off and another name to add to the stories long lost to death's grasp. Elm was another pleasant surprise. Ten having been taken out leads to a relief. Ten got their grubby hands on a victor last games, they didn't need another.

As his mind begins to wander before sleep, Dyno remembers the ones left. Brennan from Three. A true threat in the way he's been capable of getting the jump on Dyno. Nikolas from Five. Honestly, Dyno didn't know anything about the guy other than he was Itzal's district partner. Another one to be weary of. Theo from Eight. The boy who was there during Svetlana and his fight, while Dorothy killed Duke. A mystery to Dyno. Mirage from Nine. A threat in every way. A girl who was honestly a little threatening, but Dyno didn't back down from a challenge. Amusing thoughts fill his head. And finally Karl and Izar from Eleven. Two terribly strong tributes. Ones he wants to take down as soon as possible. Karl's left him as the only hope for the careers. It was going to be this way anyways, but he can't help the disappointment in the other careers.

Izar was the one he wanted to watch bleed under his own weapon. Watch the life drain from her eyes and smile the entire time. There would be no mercy for her if he got his hands on her. A smile burns on his lips as thinks about all the ways he'd killed Haizea Rose-Izar. All the ways he wanted to let the life fade from her eyes. A sigh is all he gives as he begins to snooze. The anthem fading away and only the small sounds of thunder and electricity humming in the air.

Tomorrow would bring the true final battles. The beginning of the end.

Tribute versus Tribute.

The battle for appeal.

Stories to be written out in ink.

A legend to be earned by his own grasp.

...

Dreams of ink spill away as he jumps up with his heart racing. Two pairs of eyes having ripped him apart, piece by piece. There's a feeling of adrenaline as he sits up quickly, moving away from the cliffside. The memory of two figures pulling at his skin, ripping flesh from blood. Hands shaking slightly as he grips them tighter around her glaive. Vision coming forth as the arena's shrouded in a quiet darkness of the early morning. The sun's just about to crest over the side of the mountain, but it's not quite there. The heat's left him soaked in a cold sweat as he sighs to himself.

Alone. Dyno Moreno finds himself annoyed with the twinkling sound of PITA who's staring at him excitedly. Swatting a hand at the creature, he stands up, stretching his arms over his head before packing up. Words to himself as he mutters to the wind. "Jus' was a dream, Moreno. You're still at the top here." Shaking his head, he cracks his neck before rolling his shoulders one at a time. There's no time to let his dreams effect him. Emotions are pointless to careers. No one would be stopping him. Dyno Moreno would be the victor and that's the end of the story. Flipping through his journal, he swipes his fingertip over a line as he speaks out in almost an inaudible whisper.

"Top Eight. The gamemakers will want to push everyone together on their own. It's time to be the victor you always wanted to be, Dyno."

A smirk pulls on his lips as he slams the journal shut, focusing on the arena around him. Early morning walks were always his favorite time back in One. The days where One would be asleep and no one would be on the streets. The sun's barely over the edge as he lets the warmth start to go through the chill of his bones. Step by step, he moves away from the cliff's edge and begins his hike down the mountain. The air's growing back to the same electric hum of the storm from before. Thunder could crash at any second and Dyno didn't want to be on the peak when the storm came back.

As the peak begins to fade away behind him, the light of a forest surrounding him. The blue glow of plants and trees surround him. The twinkling of other similar creatures like PITA are surrounding the area. A grunt of annoyance falls from his throat as he swats at PITA annoyed at the sight of other creatures of a similar type. PITA floats away to play with the other ones as he takes a second to stand there quietly. The dancing light on his skin was going to fade with time as the sun is rising ever so slowly. The forest is a pretty sight of a mystical look. The type of beauty that's unnatural, but also exciting to see. Dyno could feel a chill on the back of his neck as he looks around for a second.

Something felt off.

There wasn't any way to tell why he felt off, but as the feeling comes across him, he stays looking down the path wondering if that's why he feels strange. Except, he's focused far too long on the path down only to notice the katana now stabbed through his shoulder, fulling impaling him as he can hear a voice of a boy he felt annoyed by already. "Long time no see, Dyno." The words are filled with the same venom Dyno would spill outwardly. A smiling grimace pulls onto his lips as the katana is pulled from his shoulder once more as he swirls the glaive towards Brennan of Three.

"I wish I could say I missed you but… well…"

A dark laugh spills from his lips as he backs up with the bit of surprise and anger still left. A smirk on his lips as he watches Brennan. The only tribute who seems to be able to get the jump on him. A threat to his own crown. Dyno Moreno didn't like when anyone got the jump on him, but Brennan from Three really had to be brought down a peg. Shown who was truly in control here. A dark laugh leaves his lips as he rolls his shoulder to let the blood flow a bit more. Dropping his smirk, he lets his eyes dark as he keeps his face blank.

"Oh this is going to be fun, Brennan." Standing back, he watches the other with a careful eye as the blue glow lights up Brennan's face slightly. Swirling Yael's glaive in his hands, he lets his reflection stare back at him as he continues. "You didn't miss me Brennan? Not one bit?" Grinning slightly, he stays circling Brenan like a predator does to his prey. There's a memory of Duke in his head as the training center locks down. Holograms of a dozen different types coming for Dyno as Mav and Rene take them on. A memory that's fading away with every second. Dyno swirls the glaive once more as he continues.

"Not even if I know who killed Pierce?"

Strike close to the heart. Let the wound expand before going for the strike. Dyno let's his words hang in the air before he continues. "I saw Izar the day before. Poor girl doesn't know what's coming for her." The darkening of his eyes is all he gives as he continues. "You should be more worried for yourself. We're no longer playing games Brennan." Pushing forward, he swings the glaive, this time with all the ferocity he's been feeling since the past day has gone. Only Dyno Moreno will be the one standing at the end. Brennan dies here.

No exceptions.

Death will come through his hands and take Brennan away from here.

The legend truly begins here.

"The beginning of the end. You will fall here."

A laugh from his lips as he keeps going.

"Another dead body to be added to this tale."

(Dyno Moreno attacks Brennan Fitzgerald with Naginata [Glaive])
mNHCpOREzvglaive
(Shallow Cut on Neck 4.0)

glaive

[LAIN 🍽 1M | Mattio]

〖    b r e n n a n    f i t z g e r a l d    〗

My blade burrows into Dyno's back. I caught him off guard enough to get it deep into his skin before he even knows to start turning. Familiar laughter chars the space as I retrieve the sword, half doused by his blood. I don't like how well he's managed to tolerate the pain. He spins slowly to greet me with a smile that quickly fades to an expressionless gesture. In some villainized and more violent way, he reminds me of the kids from home. Laughing behind my back and acting as if they weren't when I make them face me.

"Oh this is going to be fun, Brennan." He holds the same blade that he did a few days back when he threatened Pierce. Yael's blade, now featuring splotches of blood from the sharp tip to its hilt. I take a step back as he pushes the blade ahead. Is he… looking at himself? I understand vanity quite well as I've wished to have even an ounce of it for the past five years, but in a time like this?

He begins to circle me, but I hold my position to the last possible second before he evades my sight. "You didn't miss me, Brennan? Not one bit?" I shake my head. Can't say that I have, Dyno. The only time that seeing his face would've been welcome is if it was painted a hundred yards in the sky and glowing a dull blue. "Not even if I know who killed Pierce?"

His name distracts me. I turn quicker after Dyno mentions his name, losing focus on what I'd learned from training: never get caught off guard. It would be Pierce of all people whose name distracts me and leaves me vulnerable. He goes on to talk about Haizea, taunting me about the trouble she's going to find herself in. "You should be more worried for yourself. We're no longer playing games, Brennan." Dyno swings his glaive and I do my best to slide back out of its reach. It slices through the air, nearing my neckline. I twist my neck to protect the front, guarding my throat and taking a shot to the side of my neck instead. It stings, but it could've been worse.

"The beginning of the end. You will fall here. Another dead body to be added to the tale."

I snap my neck back toward him. The seelies around us lean in, whirring with all sorts of emotions as they witness the action. The plants and trees brighten and buzz against the fog. I shake blood from my hand and towards the ground, poking holes through the neon blue ambiance as the blood covers up part of the glow.

"Would it help your throbbing ego if I told you that I did miss you?" I've been fed up with people who think the world revolves around them for quite some time. As long as Dyno and bullies like him get what they want, our fear, they won't stop. He wants me to be intimidated, and he wants me to be frozen. I won't give him either. I throw my free hand up with a shrug, blood flicking back from my fingertips. "I'll just keep you edged on that." I smirk. If Pierce were here, he certainly would have thought it was clever. As for who killed Pierce, I'll keep it a mystery to myself for now. The focus is on Dyno and Dyno alone, and I won't be deterred from that. I inch closer to him, hands back in place to go on the offensive.

"Get a fucking grip, Dyno. I think you're the only person in this arena who ever thought we were playing a game." A game. The arrogance that District One gives to their careers is jarring. We're playing a Game. Capital G. Proper noun. Only someone as delusional as him would believe that the Capitol means what they say. I kick my feet into the dirt, bending one of the neon plants back like some sort of spring ready to trigger and catapult me toward Dyno. "Blindspots like those are going to be what gets you killed,"

The rising sun begins to draw together the forest's shadows at our feet. I leap from them and take my katana to Dyno. "One way or another, that'll be your downfall." The wisdom is genuine, even if I know Dyno won't interpret it as such. Shadows of the flaws we cannot see catch up to all of us. My shadow? Loneliness. Not acting to resolve it created seventeen years of a lonely child who only bred more of it. And Dyno's? Well, he'll do anything for glory even if it's so shortsighted that it will cost him everything else.

I've seen my shadow, thanks to the light my allies have given to me. That's where the odds bend in my favor. That's what keeps me fighting.


[ brennan attacks dyno ; katana (sword) ]
hSSTgl3056sword
[ 1150 -- Shallow Cut on Left Thigh -- 3.5 damage ]

sword

[Benson Sharpe D3M [Tom]]

A dance of a devil and a mortal; blood dripping wounds of red. A flickering of the glow as blood spills onto the surrounding plants. The reflection of a man no longer the same as he was when he came in. Dyno's eyes flickering at his own form, seeing the smile, the ease, and the persona all in place. The thrum of his heart in his throat, ever so beating with the darkness he's so easily found himself drifting towards. The same thrum of a heart shattered against the rocky depths of a pond; plunged into the darkness of a pond. A darkening smile as he lets the feeling flood him. A dance of power and ease. A dance of blood and death. A dance of two tributes; destined to win and die. Another swirl of a pen; written in the darkest of inks until a tale unlike no other is sprawled out for all to see.

The shaking of a head in response; a folly scene of a boy in denial. Who wouldn't miss him? Everyone wanted to spill his blood. Everyone wanted to be the one to kill Dyno Moreno, the true victor. A monster in the eyes of those who don't understand what true victorhood looks like. A career by all means. A killer born from obsession. A boy who's dream came true on the day he volunteered with open arms; dangling his own desire before everyone and not flinching away from words, from actions, or from his goals. Obsession leads to observation. Dyno Moreno's watched people for long enough to know how to meld them to his whims. Push the right buttons to get what he wants.

Brennan's eyes seem to flicker in a haze for only just a second. A moment of hesitation that's given Dyno a rise in his smile; the sharp teeth of a predator ready to strike at an opportunity. Take every minute detail of a way to rip apart a human and force them to swallow down their pride. There's no stopping a killer. Not when he's got an obsession larger than life itself. Threads tangled up into the notes of a leather bound journal; words spread across the lines of a legend he's aching to call his own. As the glaive flies, Dyno Moreno's taken too long in the enjoyment. Breathed too much of his own observations in and let his form grow only a fraction of a bit sloppy than normal, but just enough to preemptively be able to ease the blow from death to barely harmful.

Blood trickles in a trail down Brennan's neck; dancing with the lights of the seelies around them. Dyno's eyes only stay on target; unnervingly excited as he absorbs the red of death once more. An excited feeling beneath his veins. The memories of Itzal and Yael's own lives desperately clinging on to the edge. Words tossed his way as if he's meant to care about the words of the dying. Blue lights glittering around their skin; blindingly calm in the center of the chaos Dyno's already chosen to bring. Pockets of light fading with the splatters of blood from their weapons coating the light.

"Would it help your throbbing ego if I told you that I did miss you?" A hand thrown up as blood is flicked outwardly. Dyno's gaze can't help but to follow Brennan's hands and back to his eyes once more. A widening of the predatory smile that'd given him more of an edge than most have. Ego? Is that what people thought? Dyno can't help the fluttering feeling of proof that he's already shown he's good enough to back the ego he carries. No one else really stands up to his own confidence and strength. "I'll just keep you edged on that."

A smirk filled with the same confidence as his own.

Except, Dyno can feel a change in the air. A fog filled with mysteries, but watching and waiting, he can see the avoidance. The silence is louder than the noise. "Get a fucking grip, Dyno. I think you're the only person in this arena who ever thought we were playing a game." A game. The other tributes all saw this as survival, as life or death, but Dyno was above that. Death wasn't an idea he had to face. There was no world in which Dyno didn't go down without fighting the reaper's blade. Avoiding death by killing was the only way.

Delusional.

Brennan's words seem to scream. A dull reminder of Svetlana Forrester's words towards him. Delusion is only what other can't see. Blinded by their own fear. Dyno Moreno wasn't blind to the reality. Death could come for him at any moment, but he was obsessive. Obsessive to a fault to know the crown would be the thing he reaches at the end. Death only goes to those who can't fathom the other aspects to the game they play. A bending of the rules; except Brennan's bending a plant with his feet. Dyno reacts according to the action, feeling the tension rising by the ever slowly rising sun.

"Blindspots like those are going to be what gets you killed," Katana swings as Dyno moves just as fast; bending towards the right. Katana against thigh, he can feel the burn of the blade scraping against his leg ever so calmly, blood dripping from the wound to the blue lights. A smirks still plastered to his face as the pain blossoms forth with a red sprouting of blood. "One way or another, that'll be your downfall." Blindspots. Truly, Brennan believed he could sneakily take him out. Surprise Dyno Moreno with the moves of an intelligent tribute. Three really had a great showing of tributes. If only Duke could've shown more, Three might've had a chance to win.

A huff of a sigh drips from his lips; poised with all the venom in the world. Only, Dyno gives a smile before it fades to a blankness. The darkening look still resides behind the irises, almost glinting with the blue glow of the plants surrounding them. "My ego doesn't need your words." Swirling the glaive in an s pattern, he grins once more, letting his eyes darken. The memory of Itzal's death filling his mind once more as he continues. "Brennan's got some jokes it seems. Last person who thought they could joke around with me is dead. Itzal's jokes were much more disappointing. This. This I love." Letting the dark amusement fall to his eyes, he continues to circle Brennan once more.

"A grip? Oh Brennan. You don't even know how easy all of this is. The game's playing itself. I barely had to lift a finger other than to kill those who I wanted to kill." A dark laugh from his lips as he lets his eyes stay focused. The swirling seelies seem to be reacting in different floods of lights and emotions, but they're just annoyances. The Capitol would be watching. They wanted the drama. The chaos. The show of a lifetime. Dyno Moreno doesn't disappoint. "You've been playing the same game as I. When you're here, you're apart of the game. Survival might be all you're thinking about, but this game takes more than just survival to win. Let me show you." Circling once more, like a predator to his prey. Dyno can taste the sweetness of victory from somewhere deep within himself.

"I don't have blindspots. I am perfection. The last career left here. Don't you see? You're outmatched. Outplayed. Outperformed." Swirling the glaive once more, he lets the dark smile falter back onto his face as he continues. "You can't even see your downfall already, Brennan." Stepping forward with the confidence of the devil and death itself behind him, he continues. "All of these tricks of yours won't save you. Not against me." There's a coldness to his eyes as he swings the glaive, letting the swirl go one way before suddenly shifting his weight to his other foot hoping to shift his entire body weight to shift the trajectory of Yael's glaive to go the opposite way.

"I'll tell you what you want to know. Even if you don't want to ask it, Brennan."

Make a play; make a deal with the devil.

"Karl killed him and Maverick."

The smile falls as Dyno's eyes darken once more. The shifting energy almost filled with an entire shattering of thunder. The glow of the plants leaving a softer tone for a second before Dyno pulls the smirk back forth. Sharp teeth glittering back as if he's always been the predator here. An unfathomable monster destined to tear others down piece by piece. View their insides with his eyes as he laughs through their pain and despair. No one wanted to see behind the venom and teeth. All they wanted was the monster, the devil, and the career.

"You'll be seeing them soon enough."

Metal glitters against the blue as red continues to drip down.

"I promise."

(Dyno Moreno attacks Brennan Fitzgerald with Naginata [Glaive])
9|lbaGrEzfglaive
(Shallow Cut on Right Thigh 3.5)

glaive

[LAIN 🍽 1M | Mattio]

〖    b r e n n a n    f i t z g e r a l d    〗

I don't know why my heel stutters after I strike. Dyno laughs again, almost unphased by the cut across his leg. He still circles, getting tighter with every word that comes out of his mouth. Dyno was raised on pride, honor, and glory and captures it for himself at every turn, a snake converging on the prey it's trapped, savoring venom and energy for the kill. "My ego doesn't need your words," he remarks, enraptured by Yael's glaive again. Probably true. It's ready to burst on its own the moment he doesn't get his way.

He points out my jokes, too. I don't move as he boasts about killing Itzal yesterday. The balloon above his head only seems to grow. I catch a glimpse of his back as he wraps around again. It's black from the thick lighting, matching seamlessly with the thirst for blood growing in his eyes. I pause fully now, not even turning with him to watch him as he goes. Being a people watcher, a person observer, comes with its perks. You can tell when someone's not even close to saying everything they want to. Dyno wants me to hear every bit of what he has to say, even if it costs him precious time on his glaive.

"I barely had to lift a finger other than to kill those who I wanted to kill."

"When you're here, you're apart of the game."

"I don't have blindspots. I am perfection."

"The last career here. Don't you see?"

"You're outmatched."

"Outplayed."

"Outperformed."

I bite my lip as he twirls the glaive. The Capitol handfed Dyno whatever trip he's on and they couldn't find a cigarette for Pierce? The certainty with which Dyno speaks would be intimidating if he applied pressure to back it up. He's killed, and so have I. He's lived for a week, and so have I. Other than our size, we stack up the same. And that should scare him, given he hasn't torn someone eight inches shorter than him apart already.

"I'll tell you what you want to know. Even if you don't want to ask it, Brennan." He's back on the subject of Pierce. "Karl killed him and Maverick." Flashback to the early days as I ran away from Karl and his group when they could've very well killed me in retaliation for Calamity. I sigh. A problem for later. Dyno's tone shifts, and his breathing spikes like he's prepared to go again. The snake swats its fangs and scratches my leg. It cuts deep enough for me to drop onto one knee. I hold myself there, refusing to fall any further. I have a lot more to give than my opponent is willing to give me credit for. "You'll be seeing them soon enough. I promise."

I dig my katana into the ground to pull myself off the dirt. I wipe the grains of earth and stone from the silks.

"Are you done? Finally." I force him back with a heavy push to keep him from going again. "Like fuck, maybe you're right. Your ego doesn't need my words. It inflates itself." I privately hope that it bursts. "A bunch of hot air." I throw my arm at him again to create enough distance for a shot.

I look up to the self-proclaimed perfection and see a boy delusional enough to believe whoever told him that. "Whether you kill me here or not, this is going to be the high of your life. You're the boy who peaks playing football in high school."

Again I ignore what he says about Karl killing Pierce. Pierce'll understand. He was always so happy when I refused to back down in a fight.

"Dyno, you are not inevitable." I can promise him that. I shove him once more, satisfied with the leap and extended arm it'll take to reach him.

I lunge toward him, swinging the katana diagonally onto him. If Dyno wants to be the end-all-be-all of this arena, he needs to do more than inflict fear on a boy whose soul is already petrified and in shock. He needs to prove it.

[ brennan attacks dyno ; katana (sword) ]
G6oA2j4TNHsword
[ 1064 -- Stabbed in Stomach -- 9.5 damage + 1.0 Blades ]

sword

[Benson Sharpe D3M [Tom]]

To build a man, you have to tear away the pieces that make them up. Throw away the bits that never will quite fit in. Sprawl away the words in ink with scratched out lines and folded margins. Smudge the words until they don't make sense anymore. Isn't it perfection when he feels like the eraser rubbing away the stories of others who don't matter? Forcing his legend to be the last one that'll remain. Take away the key and build himself back up in a manner that's a hundred times better. Build a man with an ego larger than the entire globe; watch as he burns with the pain of blood stricken wounds and smile through the pain.

Dyno's own mind spins with his own weapon. Blood dripping from Yael's blade; red and thick with the life in front of him. Brennan from Three. Brennan from Three. Brennan from Three. The only one he can see is the blood dripping from him. A swirling lightheadedness fill his brain; exposing the ink behind his eyes as he smirks without a care in the world. The dirt mixing with the silver of the katana; war torn dirt against the beauty of this world. A calm before the storm. Cannons firing with death. Scythes of Death themselves coming forth in sharpened, splintered images.

Standing before the boy from Three; resting on his knee as if he's the hero in a story already written. Knight sworn to the tale. Honor wrought about by determination to be a thorn in Dyno Moreno's side. A laugh wants to break from his lips, but Brennan is faster than his mouth. Always surprisingly coordinated for a Three. A push of a blade against Yael's glaive; move against move. They're back to the pieces of a game still being played. Foes wrought by fate; destined to come blow to blow. Only Dyno's becoming obsessive with his desire for a good story. Build up the tension for too long, speak the words that'll cut the deepest and hope to see the red that lies underneath. The pain and anger hidden behind the uncaring eyes. Everyone always had such uncaring eyes.

Just how he wanted them to see him.

"Are you done? Finally." The smile bleeding dark; a devilish grin of the monster hidden behind the written words of a broken man. No one gets to see the true man underneath the career, the monster, the devil he's sworn himself to be. The written words of a dead boy who's given away every happiness for the secrecy of his own blackened heart. Enthralled by the burn of anguish hidden beneath the poetry of a kid. Dreams written into ink, told before. Except, he's living all of the tales he used to write with his own two eyes, his own two hands, and his own two feet. "Like fuck, maybe you're right. Your ego doesn't need my words. It inflates itself."

The deep, dark laugh of a selfish boy.

"A bunch of hot air."

An arm is thrown to give more distance; perfection embodied in a moment. His sister would've told him the same words. Hot air and ego are all that fill his brain. Always the one who'd had a better head on her shoulders. Emotions kept in check by her actual head. No need for a gift to be written away to keep himself sane. Was he ever sane? Was he ever normal? No. Dyno Moreno's been this way for longer than he can remember. Always pushing the buttons meant to be pushed. Eyes meet as more words are tossed back at him. Words spilled in the darkest of inks meant to soak his pages blue.

"Whether you kill me here or not, this is going to be the high of your life. You're the boy who peaks playing football in high school."

The high of his life? Truly Brennan had to be blind in order to come to that conclusion. Dyno Moreno's high comes after the games. A fame that's unlike any sort of fame anyone could achieve. Dyno would become the legend to be told around Panem. The most important story to every be told to the populace. That's what he wanted. That's what he's always seen up ahead. The burn of his pain only motivates him more. Burning away at the flesh of his skin to create the killer he's always been. Born to kill. Live to fight. The crown was to be placed upon his head since birth. The perfect prodigy built by the best of the best in One.

"Dyno, you are not inevitable."

I am.

The thought pierces through his brain; rattling around all of his adrenaline as a katana comes forth. Blade meets stomach as blood comes rushing forth. Red and dark with the adrenaline rushing through his body. A choked cough as blood falls forth from his lips, except he's still smiling. The red stained teeth glittering forward at Brennan as Dyno Moreno feels all of the pain of his wound coming forth, but he's never been afraid of pain. No, it's only motivated him to be more, to do more, and to fight more. A dark laugh leaves his lips as he pulls at the katana to remove himself from the blade, avoiding any more harm to himself.

"You don't dream big enough, Brennan." A flickering glint of his eyes as he keeps his smirk plastered with all the blood dripping from his lips and down his chin; coating him in the same red liquid he's had to clean from his face before. Yael's glaive almost being a reminder of all the blood he's spilled over already. These were just wounds he's going to carry into life. Scars to be reminders of his battle with Brennan from Three.

"You can't see beyond the crown. This is just the first step." Blood dripping from his lips as he moves with an unnerving focus once more. No one from Three could understand what a crown really could mean. Not even Atticus Manor of Three could see the meaning to a crown. The smile of his devilish persona staying as his eyes follow the seelies for a moment. "A legend is what I promised to become. A tale seen by all. I will be above the meager individuals who are nothing more than the rot they let themselves be." Flicking his eyes back to Brennan, he sways to the right for a second, sliding his feet back into a stable position as blood drips from his chin to his chest and then to the mountain's floor.

"I want everything beyond the crown. Beyond the games. I'll never hit a peak."

Venomous words ready to be thrown forward with ease, only he keeps his eyes focused on the other. Fear only would do so much to keep Brennan down. The time to change the pace of all of this was now. Swishing the glaive in his hands to keep a small heavy breeze flowing with every strike, Dyno let's himself truly breath now. A moment for the legend. The dramatics of another chapter being written out with a flair of ease. "There are none. No limit to the things I will achieve."

Ink spread across pages as the story writes itself.

Word for word.

Blow for blow.

"I have been and always will be inevitable, Brennan."

Swinging the glaive forward, he let's the breeze of Yael's weapon rush past him. A strike practiced over and over back home. The memories of his sister smiling to him as he sits late into the night waxing poetry about the beauty of death and life. Blood spilled over and over again. Light fading from the eyes of Itzal and Yael. Karl's lips pressed against his own. A game still being played. His words are filled with all the venom he can muster up; built for the crash of a storm he will bring over Brennan Fitzgerald's head.

"I'm bigger, badder, and better than you."

A legend born to fight.

"I'll put my blade through your thick fucking skull until you understand, Three."

(Dyno Moreno attacks Brennan Fitzgerald with Naginata [Glaive])
YApC|r5ZHzglaive
(Shallow Cut on Right Hip 3.5)

glaive

[LAIN 🍽 1M | Mattio]

〖    b r e n n a n    f i t z g e r a l d    〗

The sword presses through the skin, bone, and muscle of Dyno's stomach. It's nearly nauseating to watch him cough up his blood and swallow the pain. I've never seen anyone in the arena persist through pain like him. I suppose it can be explained through his unraveling and erratic nature. The wound on his stomach only makes him smile, contradicting any hope that he's got some sanity left. He pulls the katana out for me and it falls stunned against my side. The faux bravery on my face drags down to concern. Dyno's affected by my blade, there's no denying that, but he acts as if there isn't even a dent. I seem to fare much better than him, but his body won't accept that. It keeps me on guard as he speaks with a second wind.

"You don't dream big enough, Brennan." He's not wrong. I keep expectations close to the ground. If I trip up, people won't take notice. No one watches the kid who jumps into the pool from the side. They watch the ones who dive from the sky. I'm weak even if the context of the Games doesn't show it. I'm not scared of breaking myself. I'm scared of the humiliation that comes with someone noticing. "You can't see beyond the crown. This is the first step." The Hunger Games is the highest platform of them all and everyone's watching to see how we play. If we succeed or if we fail. Jump then fall.

"A legend is what I promised to become. A tale seen by all. I will be above the meager individuals who are nothing more than the rot they let themselves be."

He wants himself to be remembered, for his name to live on as if it won't be replaced by new fads, new fashion, and new fearless kids who think just like him. My teeth pinch gums as he implies I'm meager. Meager. Small. Inconsequential. Forgettable. He says what we've all been thinking. Why haven't I let myself die yet? It's not like winning will change any of that. I could hold the door, share test answers, or save someone from a burning building and it'll all feel the same. Gratitude, for a split second, will let me think I've got an in to feel like I belong, but it'll fade away before I can get the chance. Ama, Pierce, and Haze. And it's just my luck that I can't live through this with any of them. If I live, it means that they've all died.

I begin to miss those moments of bliss in the hot springs where we could relax or the cavern where Pierce held me close. I ruined things by not grabbing his hand the moment that the fog forced us out of the cave. I should have held onto him and never let him go.

I can't admit it to Dyno, but I've hit my peak here, too. Happiness popped up for a second and faded away in wisps because I couldn't hold on.

"I have been and will always be inevitable, Brennan."

His embellished maneuver drags across my hip, cutting through my silk and piercing the back of my hip. "I'm bigger, badder, and better than you."

Threats mask what I can assume is frustration hidden behind a bulky and shadowed exterior. "I'll put my blade through your thick fucking skull until you understand, Three."

It's the first time today that he calls me out by district instead of my name. Three. He doesn't know how validating it was to hear my name called out, over and over again. How strong it makes me feel that he can see me when for all my teen years, nobody's cared enough to be sure.

I shake the pins and needles out from the cut on my leg, ready to go in again. Dyno's getting weaker even if his arrogance is getting stronger, but that doesn't mean there's no chance that he can make a comeback. He's not dead until he's dead.

I focus on him, readying my katana again for what I hope is a killing blow. I hope he's okay with a short and sweet response. I'm sure he will be– Dyno knows how to make mountains out of mounds. "Oh yeah? You think so? I'll save you some of the breath. 'I know so, Brennan. My worst is still better than your best.'" I taunt him for the first time, mocking the arrogant tones and cracks of his voice. "If you're so sure, prove it." Inevitable. Bigger. Badder. Better. I'm nervous just for putting it into the universe, but I'm not known to think before I speak. I take my katana to his body once again, hoping I won't leave him the chance to prove anything.


[ brennan attacks dyno ; katana (sword) ]
5IEkrDGNlosword
[ 1155 -- Shallow Cut on Cheek -- 3.5 damage ]

sword

[Benson Sharpe D3M [Tom]]

Battered. Bruised. Broken.

A body burning in the plight of a career's last stand. Blood dripping behind poisonous teeth; coated in the venom of a thousand words. Death resides behind his fingertips. Blisteringly hot and shaky in the way death flows through him. Almost as if the scythes were in his stomach, ripping away the man who still stands tall as if he's not just another boy from One who's emotions are repressed from years of fear. Fear of being weak to those others who also were weak, so he built up the walls to the top of their mountains. Locked the door with no key to be found. Blew up at the slightest of suggestions of weakness. Delusional in the eyes of others. Dyno Moreno wasn't just a career. No, he'd always been a boy rising higher and higher for his own desires. Burning away the bridges to his heart so he could smile darkly into the night.

Death wouldn't come for him. Everyone else dies beneath his grasp. The crown is meant to be his and his alone. As the blade of a dead girl swings into a hip, the pain burns with all the motivation he needs. Blue ink spilled beneath his skin to soak through his brain and cut out all the possibilities of self doubt. Dyno Moreno doesn't die. Dyno Moreno doesn't lose. Dyno Moreno will always be at the top of everything. Blood dripping from his chest, his chin, and his lips; dancing with his flesh as the world seems to keep spinning. A crossed out line of a legend being rewritten and scratched out once more. A broken record of possibilities; recorded away in a future notebook written by an obsessive boy who's gotten too much time on his hands.

Arrogance is bliss. Confidence is the way to win. Smile through the pain. Play the perfect role. Be the monster everyone saw him as. Detach the emotions away from his heart; cut the strings holding him up. A dark laugh falling from his lips as blood splatters with every heave of his chest. Pain blossoming in the pit of his stomach; red and hot. Nothing is easier than letting the darker parts of life consume him. Accept the fate he's put himself in. A smile on his lips as if the devil's offering him the deal of a lifetime. Killing felt good. Killing felt great. Killing would always be great. The rush of adrenaline. The ease of knowing he's strong enough to rip life away from the earth he stands on.

Brennan's standing there taking all of his words; frozen in place for a second. Emotions running rampant behind those irises. A complex set of unreadable emotions. Dyno's glaive swivels as he watches and continues to circle Three. Duke had at least given as much as he got. Brennan's got wit. Words that would cut any other tribute. Not Dyno Moreno. Never him. Only the wound on his stomach, ever so large is the only one that's burned with a real risk to be taken. Dyno couldn't feel it either way. Smiling through the pain; blood coated face as he pushes forward to listen to Brennan.

The other shakes away a feeling; lets it fall away in a moment as Dyno watches with a careful eye as Brennan begins to refocus on him once more. Frustrations starting to wear thin through gritted teeth and burning smiles. On the backfoot, Dyno enjoyed giving a show. The Capitol will love them. Brennan from Three and Dyno from One. Two tributes clashing with words and blades; dancing with an ease around one another. Killers in their prime; built their towers high enough to be blinded by the sun's rays starting to come up. Dyno's got a taste of blood on his lips. Predator waiting to pounce on his prey. Only, Brennan's quicker than he was seconds ago; katana coated in his own blood. Dark ink spilled along the cold edges of the blade; a taste of a tale on the edge of his fingertips.

"Oh yeah? You think so? I'll save you some of the breath. 'I know so, Brennan. My worst is still better than your best.'" A taunt bloody and oh so sweet; filled with the sickly taste of poison. Brennan wants him to blow up. Throw out insult after insult of his own back, but he can't help the smile pulling on his lips. Words spreading through the air as if Brennan could speak for him. A laughable thought, but an intriguing one all the same. A heavy glare through the smile is all he gives as he let's the blood dribble out from behind his teeth. Metallic taste stuck on the roof of his mouth, words hanging between his ears.

"If you're so sure, prove it."

Katana coming forth, ripping the wind as the blade comes. Dyno's feet move before his head does; angling himself against the katana at a strange angle. Letting the blade cut softly into his cheek, adding to the bloody mess of his lips already. A laugh from the pits of his stomach; fire set ablaze through his entire torso as he lets the laugh hang in the air. A cackle from the deepest pits of his stomach; a guttural laugh to be left behind. Dyno Moreno wasn't going to let a guy from Three dictate what words he'd speak openly. Instead, he pivots off of the footwork to swivel the glaive around in a circle, voice heavy in the air as he continues to smile with a much more darker glint.

"Childish taunts? Attempting to portray my voice, Brennan? How kind of you to show Panem who's truly stuck in your head." A snicker from his lips as he stares coldly with a smirk at Brennan Fitzgerald. "You're right about something though. My worst will always be better than your best." Only the words don't feel as impactful, as true as they were meant to be. Bleeding from wounds larger than expected, Dyno could see the irony of his words. Only, he's blinded by the adrenaline. Rushing through his veins, he can feel the warmth of his own ego pulling out memories of those he's bested. The way life fades from Itzal and Yael's eyes. The memories of kids toppled at the career academy. His own sister giving in during one of their spars. No one could match up to him, especially not Brennan Fitzgerald of Three. Duke Nixton's partner was meant to be the wrong choice. The wrong one to root for, but yet he stands here. Alive and strong.

"Proof? You're so funny, Brennan." Circling Yael's glaive around his shoulder, his eyes focus on Brennan once more. A darkness behind their iris as he feels the burning fire in his stomach and pushes himself still. Death has nothing on him. No, he'll fight death any day. Kill death to become the immortal he's always dreamed of being. A victor with a crown so large no one else can compare to his own. "The only people who need proof of their strength are the weak ones who've never had it." Circling once more, Dyno can feel the warmth of the day around them. The sun's rising in the horizon as two boys cut into one another with both words and weapons.

"You won't walk out of here, Brennan. I will take the crown. I will kill you and I will kill Izar and whoever else is left in my way. I don't need to prove anything to you." A smirk pulling at the edges of his lips as blood continues to drip down with another heaving cough that escapes his throat. Circling Brennan, he can hear the twinkling of the seelies around them. There's no time to focus on the surroundings. Brennan Fitzgerald is proving to be more of a nuisance than anticipated. Finally, he stops for a second, letting Yael's glaive stay stagnant for a second until he swiftly swings with the full force of frustration, pain, and the last words he leaves hanging in the air.

"Prove that you have what it takes, Brennan. Because we both know you don't."

The laugh is filled with a darkened feeling; a heavy rite of death.

"You're chapter in my legend is complete, Brennan."

Blood dripping in time with the strike.

"Good riddance."

(Dyno Moreno attacks Brennan Fitzgerald with Naginata [Glaive])
NdaZzYc1p6glaive
(Shallow Cut on Right Bicep 3.5)

glaive

[LAIN 🍽 1M | Mattio]

〖    b r e n n a n    f i t z g e r a l d    〗

My heart beats faster as I wait to see what Dyno does next. Again and again, he's landed cuts across my body, but careers are the type to play with their food, toothpicks between teeth. How long will it take for Dyno to realize he's actually in trouble, he's actually got a chance of dying to the boy from Three who he's spent the past five minutes confidently tearing down. When that lever gives, things will become a lot more dangerous. Tap into energy reserves and we find ourselves jumping further, swinging harder, and absorbing more. Thankfully, I think the blindspot for Dyno tumbles on with his lack of awareness. You're not the strongest in the room just because you say so. No amount of training, pride, or hopeful confidence can displace reality. Someone should have had the courage to remind Dyno of that before he volunteered for the Games.

Even as I add more bloodied wounds to his face, Dyno finds it in his core to find amusement from within the horror. Everything I do seems to bring entertainment to his mind. In some twisted way, I wonder if he's become so detached from himself that he believes he's a spectator to the fight. I think he finds hubris in the hurt he feels, knowing that if he makes it out alive it'll be all the more epic for his legend.

"Childish taunts? Attempting to portray my voice, Brennan? How kind of you to show Panem who's truly stuck in your head." I shrug bashfully because he's half right. Stuck in my head is this boy from District One who has left me so dumbfounded by the delusion that ninety-three years of the Games have created. Grooming an obsession with violence. Cradling their favorite district so much that they'll take another's life just so the Capitol will know their name. How did we get to the point where a boy breathes his blood with the hope that he can be a legend.

Despite my puzzled and clearly thoughtful expression, he continues. "The only people who need proof of their strength are the weak ones who've never had it." He turns to his predatory movements, expending the energy he should be saving. You won't walk out of here, Brennan. I will take the crown. I will kill you and I will kill Izar and whoever else is left in my way. I don't need to prove anything to you." You won't kill her. If I die, I'll leave you so torn and broken that all she'll need to do is breathe to slay the wolf.

He takes a frustrated swipe at my leg, the circles disorienting him enough to make it easy to keep my gut away from the glaive. "Prove that you have what it takes, Brennan. Because we both know you don't." My fingers tap against the katana.

I look up at him, with softened eyes and the confidence in my brow gone. I'm honest and gentle. "Dyno." I think about the pain of seeing Ama dying by the ruins. The pain of seeing Pierce's face in the anthem. "I don't have what it takes to be the best. And I shouldn't have to, and I don't need to."

I bring pull my katana ahead again, now cleaned off from the most recent slash. "I'll settle for being mediocre at this. Killing. The best person doesn't always win." I wait patiently for the moment when he's most vulnerable to take the shot.

"If you want me to believe you're the best, though, I'll take your word for it." He's not– I know that. But if a lie brings him some peace or dignity, I'll give it to him. Like Theo, he's not evil or a villain. He's a kid, just like me, being told to 'do this' before being left to our own devices.

"I'm not going to try to be the best. I'm just trying to get through this." I swing at Dyno. For the first time, part of me wishes I didn't have to.

"That's good enough."


[ brennan attacks dyno ; katana (sword) ]
O9m0ri001Isword
[ 1080 -- Shallow Cut on Back of Head -- 4.5 damage ]

sword

[Benson Sharpe D3M [Tom]]

Breathing in the wretched burning of lungs and blood; Dyno Moreno fights on with tongue tied thoughts and sharpened laurels stabbing into his barely even human heart. A boy lost deep beneath the deep end of his own obsession. A story written in blood; swirling letters of a once kind child melded into violence and venomous words. A complex melded so deep into his entire person that he can't see past the tinted glasses of his own eyes; breath in the power of a career's story to bundle himself up to becoming the best. Always will he be remembered as the best; a true threat to all of Panem. The one who would get the crown. A devilish smile of rot and destruction behind his teeth; a predator playing with his food.

Blade cuts only slightly into the arm; dancing with the lights of the seelies and the blue glow of the plants. Signs of struggle; wounds holding back the strike from aiming true. Brennan finding a spot to maneuver away from his blade; burning fire in his lungs as he grimaces at the sight, blood dribbling from his chin to the mountain's floor. Splattering marks of death following his every step. A red feeling at the center of his torso; blossoming with flowers and thorns. An amusement in the horror of the feeling. A dark feeling of amusement in all of this. Blood spilled doesn't stop him. The pain is a motivator; no worse than the ways he's been left before by other careers. Training with the best of the best; proving he's above them all. Only, he's tasting the blood of rot on his teeth; stumbling with the scars of others' hope lingering to his skin.

They'll know his name.

They'll know he's the victor.

They'll make him a god.

They have to.

He has to.

Soft eyes; the tapping of a katana playing the tune of a siren calling for his eyes. His true eyes, the ones he's locked away from everyone else. A terrified feeling in the pit of his stomach as he forces his smiles to stay tall, but his eyes falter for a second, crinkling at the corners for just a fraction of a second. "Dyno." That's his name. The name his sister would call out to him. His father's way of calling him to dinner or to listen to a new track of his music. The way his mother would whisper it to him when dinner got too loud or his grandparents tried to tell him to become more proper. There's pain in a name; written in ink so deeply ingrained into the margins of a journal. Loops carried with love, but Dyno's meant to live as the victor he always wanted to be. Cunning, strong, and uncaring for everyone else. A true career. Killing was his hobby. Killing is all he's ever been good at.

"I don't have what it takes to be the best. And I shouldn't have to, and I don't need to."

Cutting through him; the words bring him back to the surface. Smile held with all the dark amusement in the world. Blood dripping from his body, his face, and everywhere else over the course of a week. Katana rising with the sunrise of a day meant to be his own, burning in the fire of whatever righteousness that Brennan Fitzgerald is coming from. "I'll settle for being mediocre at this. Killing. The best person doesn't always win." A rocketing of frustration fills his core; broken bonds and snapped pens. The best person will always win. The one who's spent an entire lifetime to becoming the killer all of them dream of being. Little boys destined to be the toughest, the strongest, and the scariest.

"If you want me to believe you're the best, though, I'll take your word for it."

Dyno hates the way Brennan speaks. As if he's already given him everything he's had, but Dyno could do more. He could break more than just a boy from three. A flare of energy running through him as he watches Brennan, waiting for the strike. Training kicking in as the adrenaline rushes through his skull. A high unlike any other; he's immortal and they'll all crumble beneath his blade. "I'm not going to try to be the best. I'm just trying to get through this." Surviving isn't enough. Surviving is for the lower districts who dare to defy career rule. Getting through the games isn't enough to win them. Dyno's known that since he first started training. Games of the past watched in the comfort of his own room; spilling annoyances at how the victors never match the true form of what the games was.

The katana swings as his arms twist the glaive in front of him, swiping the blade to the back of his head instead of his neck. Cutting slightly against his head as he feels the blistering pain pump through him once more. "That's good enough." Good enough? A hiss of a dark laugh fills his throat; coated with blood and vile as he laughs into the rising light. A demon's taken control over his limbs; raised them up in a way to stay in his staggering form of a career. A trained killer's instinct kicking in as he slides to the side focusing on Brennan and Brennan alone.

"Good enough? GOOD ENOUGH!"

His words are louder than he expected; filled with all the anger and frustration he's been bottling away. Hidden beneath margins of a book as if he could correct the chapter's scene by his own will. "You've never been good enough, Brennan. Just another tribute who's name will be wrapped around my own. A tale to be spun into my legend." Just like Yael's being spun into his ear; whispers of her words hanging behind his skull. Itzal's twisting with his own, melting through his skin as the pain blisters through him. "The mediocre don't win. Boys like you don't deserve the crown. You'll never carry the weight. You'll crumble like so many of those pathetic non-career district victors." Anger flaring through his limbs as he circles once more. Mustering up every strength he has to keep moving, he holds himself high as he stares forward.

"I will win. I won't falter to you." Frustration ever present as he stumbles against the dirt of the mountain's floor. Swiveling the glaive through the air, hitting one of the seelies by accident to hear the twinkling sound of life or death being shared between them. "You will never get through this. You're corpse is written here in the blood I'll spill. Signed and sealed. That's how this fight will end." All of his words tremble behind him; almost as if he can see the child of himself speaking all of these to the trainers who laughed in his face. Told him he's too weak to train with them. All of those who opposed him when he first was starting; built by a legacy of a weight that was meant to hold him down, but he stood above it all.

"I am Dyno Moreno. The last career standing."

Swinging forth with all the frustrations he's carried, he swears he can see the ghosts of Rene and Maverick. Staring at him with empty eyes. The reflection of his blade shining with the dark eyes of Itzal and Yael. The feeling of lips on his own of Karl. A hand on his shoulder of Duke. A whisper of his sister's words in his head as he swings with all of the life he can muster left. Dyno Moreno told everyone he would fight death before he died. Muster up the fire to keep up with a being so far beyond comprehension that he'll be immortal. A legend written in blood and death.

"I refuse to die."

(Dyno Moreno attacks Brennan Fitzgerald with Naginata [Glaive])
bMOF_d6Bsdglaive
(Deep Gash on Chest 9.5 +1 Blades)

glaive

[LAIN 🍽 1M | Mattio]

〖    b r e n n a n    f i t z g e r a l d    〗

The response from Dyno is almost immediate. "Good enough?" He's baffled by the mere premise of my contentedness. "GOOD ENOUGH?" Offended now, his voice booms. The seelies watching overhead scatter behind the trees with the exception of his and mine. They seem to get closer, touch tight with one another anxious for their friends.

"You've never been good enough, Brennan. Just another tribute whose name will be wrapped around my own. A tale to be spun into my legend." He still believes that he has this situation under control. Confident that he can still win this. I mark his every move as he speaks, spiraling through every word like a daze. I started this fight knowing it would be a risk, and the thought of it paying off for everyone left in the arena feels like a relief. "Boys like you don't deserve the crown. You'll never carry the weight." Dyno's movements become jagged and sharp. I shake my head. I don't want a crown of madness. He trips toward me in the dirt, vowing that he'll never falter or succumb to me. Still inevitable in his own eyes. "You will never get through this."

Night and day, the two of us are. From the way we look to our philosophies on the Games, we oppose each other in almost every way. Win versus survive. The best versus good enough. Threats versus promises. And eventually, dead versus alive.

Through all of the pain, he seems freer than ever, proud of himself for defying whatever expectations people had for him. I'd feel bad for him if I knew how to consistently feel good. At least Dyno has that for himself: goodness, greatness. He will die feeling good about himself because he refuses to feel anything less. For that reason alone, I'm jealous. If I die today or tomorrow, I don't know if I'd have the confidence to feel proud of myself for the seventeen years I've lived. Has it been "one hell of a run" for Brennan Fitzgerald, or is it just a statement as delusional as Dyno?

His voice widens as he announces himself once again. Dyno Moreno. The last career standing. He throws all his weight against me, pressing the glaive deep into my chest. I grab his wrist and push back as he bends closer toward me, almost toppling us both entirely. "I refuse to die." The words spit blood across my face, inches away from one another. The pure strength and heaviness of his body take everything I have to keep us both from falling. It's a battle over the glaive in my chest, Dyno pushing it in and me trying to push him away. The gash only gets deeper– and hurts more– the longer it stays in.

My tolerance for pain depletes faster than Dyno's. I grimace through the burning pain. He thinks he has me. I may not be strong, neither he nor I would dispute that, but I'm stronger than Dyno thinks, and that's where he has lost.

"I'm going to get through this, Dyno." Seventeen years of wanting to sob for all my pain but too scared that someone might hear me. Fourteen years of hating my teeth to the point where my parents nearly went broke getting me braces. Seventeen years of hating my body so much that I'd wear long sleeves in the summer to hide the weakness in my arms. I wavered constantly, debating the benefits of being forgotten over being remembered for my flaws. You'll get through this, I told myself every night that I had doubts, unsure if I even believed myself. You'll get through this.

I power through Dyno's all-in strength and pull the glaive from my chest. I take a deep breath in, collecting what I'd lost in the efforts.

"I'm going to get through this. I'm going to survive, no matter who it disappoints." I push my katana forward, already at close range. I'm going to survive. People who are unhappy with that fact will just have to deal with it. Past pain charges my strike.

"You lost this fight the moment you opened your mouth. You can't use your words to break me. My heart became deaf long before I even knew your name." Whoever tries to kill me, they'll have to do more than speak to sever the faintest of heartbeats in the tiniest of hearts.

Rotting things always take the longest to kill.


[ brennan attacks dyno ; katana (sword) ]
hq2f3YMCxlsword
[ 1154 -- Severed Head -- 40 damage ]

sword

[LAIN 🍽 1M | Mattio]

〖    b r e n n a n    f i t z g e r a l d    〗

The katana presses forward, sideways across Dyno's neck. I hold on with both hands, one on the hilt and the other on the edge of the blade. The force cuts skin from my palm, but it's the only way to keep Dyno from collapsing on me. The blade forces through his throat, half an inch below his jaw. I don't stop, knowing quite well that a slit throat might not even be a guarantee against him. As soon as Dyno flinches, his strength does too. The blade cuts through easily when he gives in.

I keep going, still unsure, and terrified by the blood spraying out from his neck. I twist the katana upward. It slides through, head fully detached from his body. It falls forward, a pinball falling through the trough made up of my two arms. The thud of Dyno Moreno's head as it seeps in the ground startles me back.

His body stands upright even without my force holding it up. His arm claws out toward me, slow and zombielike, and his glaive barely grazes air. I heard stories about the bodies of decapitated beings still acting for a few moments after it happens, like a line of code finishing out its commands. The glaive falls from his hand, and Dyno's body stumbles. His hand rises, still shaking, and scratches at my neck. I jump back before he crumbles entirely.

"F… I…" I try to say something– anything– but the disbelief renders me silent. The sensations of intense blue fade away as the sun climbs out from the treetops. Through cloud and fog, the light spots the boy I just killed. It shines, revealing the blood, bone, and flesh that I tore into two. The severed head and severed body leave me nauseous and anxious to get away.

Haunting words from Dyno foreshadowed this moment. "How kind of you to show Panem who's truly stuck in your head." It's him. Even as I turn to run away and try to forget, it's him.

Perhaps Dyno truly is inevitable as the imagery persists for hours after.

[flees]