We meet again [Zack vs. Olivia]

[sbeeg]

Zack Detroff

After actually sleeping through the night, Zack arose to stiff limbs and a dry throat. He had been trying to save his water but he couldn't resist anymore- he drank nearly half the jug for breakfast. His stomach rumbled and Zack ignored it.

After packing up everything, Zack started walking down the side of the rumbling mountain, reaching the base by mid-morning and finishing off his water. Hiding his water jug in the depths of his bag, Zack started around a bend when he saw them.

Another tribute. Every muscle in his body tensed up and his hand was on the handle of his machete. It was a girl, Zack could tell that from this distance.

She could've killed Enigma.

No longer did anger bubble in his gut, just the searing pain of loss. He crept along the side of the mountain, stalking towards the girl.

She could kill me.

His steps were almost silent, just the shifting of dirt underneath him gave away his presence. He held his breath, forcing to take the shortest route.

Then, once she was within range, Zack just went off and slung his machete at her. No thinking, just blood-lust.

Back home, when he would talk with the guys about the Games they'd each say what they would do if sent in. Zack's idea of being the Games was the careful thinker who never went into a fight without planning it out first.

Obviously, he forgot about those discussions.

[Attacks Olivia- Machete; knife]
[dice=200+2000]
[Severed Finger on Left Hand- 8.5]

His blade sliced through the girl's hand and that's when he saw her face. The girl who fought beside him. The girl that helped kill the District Three boy. The girl- who could've killed Enigma.

"I didn't ask you before," his voice was harsher than he had intended. "Did you kill Enigma Lane?

[Zack has drunk his jug of water.] [rand=8729056792799383160824373131617956521506072022029993012931663543]

[HEY, ALEX!]

My eyes suddenly opened as the sun hit my eyes. The ball of gas and light was probably there prior to my awaking but my eyes must have just realize the time and situation. It was odd, in a way. I slept soundly last night. Perhaps it was the fact that I passed out from the toxic, volcanic gas that filled my lungs minutes after I tried to kill someone. It was the only explanation for falling asleep in front of a hot spring and being completely open for attack.

I suddenly rose to my feet and walked away from my location when I heard the sound of another person. I knew people would come to this watering hole for obvious reasons. Instead of walking away now, I was running from the hot spring. The noise was following me. It was getting closer. My heartbeat fasten with the speed of my legs. My dirty locks of hair whipped into my face and became a terrible obstacle that I must now face. My weak arms swung with the movements of my legs yet the Machete was still gripped tightly. Now, the backpack had became a problem since it slowed me down. For most of my life, I figured I was a quick runner but, now, not so much.

I felt the pain in my hand before I saw my absent finger or the blood that poured from the hole. I screamed not only in pain but for the person that made brought my suffering. It was the person I assumed was my knight but ended up being as evil as the devil I thought Karl to be. “You bastard,” I yelled back at him. It was my ring finger that was severed. How exactly he got to that particular finger was beyond me. I knew now, if I could kill this fucking kid, actually win the Hunger Games, and find someone odd enough to marry someone that was in the Hunger Games, on our wedding day, my absent finger could propose a problem.

My hand no longer hurt due to shock but I still knew my finger was not there and blood would be pouring from my hand. I would not dare to look down, in fear that whatever I saw would make me vomit. Instead, I did not move. I couldn’t. It was like I was back at the fight with Karl and this little bastard. After the cannon sounded, I was frozen. This really was not the best time to do this again.

[-1 for self-defense?]

[sbeeg]

Zack Detroff

Her the girl's finger hit the dirt, floating in a shallow pool of blood. Just like he's own ear had, this piece that helped make up a person had been severed. That girl wasn't whole anymore, just like Zack.

There was a brief moment after she has cursed him and growled at him that the girl froze up. Zack could see her muscles tensed, her machete was held tightly in her hand, but did not swing out at him. In this moment, there was peace. Silence, and the briefest second of eye contact. Usually, when he caught someone's eye, Zack felt something. He channeled his emotions through that invisible bond so that the other person would get his message. His eyes held nothing. They were blank, all reason and feeling swashed clean, leaving a mind set that had a rather small vocabulary. Enigma. Blood. Enigma. Death. Lane. Tributes. Enigma. Have. To. Enigma. Lane. Enigma Lane. Enigma Lane...

She didn't answer his question, and the moment was ended as quickly as it had begun. Zack slashed his machete out at her.

[Attacks Olivia; Machete= Knife]
[dice=200+2000]
[Shallow Cut on Forehead- 4.5]

His blade cut through her skin and once again he demanded of her "Did you kill Enigma Lane?!" impatient, his voice was a growl that could not be controlled.

[rand=34837281191721568390064993873239354488094570115213086840393953025]

[HEY, ALEX!]

The cut allowed blood to spill from my forehead and, momentary, block my view. The liquid was somewhat of a signal for me. It triggered something in my head that made my feet move and my grip on my machete tighter. Courage I did not think I had rose and I could move. I did not want to die but, if I did, at least I’d go down fighting. It was as if my sister was telling me to get to my feet and fight. I wanted. No, I needed to get back to District 10 and take care of the rest of my family. They were the reason I was fighting and the reason I will do about anything to leave this arena alive rather than in a casket.

His voice got louder which only fueled my bravery more. I can blamed my attacks on self-defense rather than cutting his skin in pure rage. He was an insane person and the only way he could move along is if I kill him. Yes, blame my actions on something that had nothing to do with my intentions. It did work with Karl. He died. So, yes. This boy is insane and the only way to stop him is if I kill him.

[attacks zack with machete]

[dice=200+2000]
[Shallow Cut on Back - 4.0]

[rand=4262841315008832350812188723820368928046126758413270445033220475]

[sbeeg]

Zack Detroff

The girl struck him, cutting his back like he had the flesh on her forehead. This, he expected, he had attacked cut off one of her fingers- but why did she refuse to tell him if she had killed Enigma? Was she trying to hide something? Or was she just to dim to figure out how much she had meant to him?

Gritting his teeth, Zack turned to look at the girl again. She had the same weapon he did; same chances- as far as he knew.

At that moment, what Zack wanted more than anything in the world was for the girl to answer his question. Every second she remained silent, his heart cracked a little bit more. Does she even know what kind of pain she was inflicting on him?

Zack lashed out again, just hacking at her like he had with the District Three boy- mostly because it was the only thing he could do.

[Attacks Olivia; Machete= knife]
[dice=200+2000]
[Shallow Cut on Left Thigh- 3.5]

"I'll ask you one more," Zack said through gritted teeth after his blade had caught the girl's attention. His voice was more like a hiss now, as he bit past the fresh pain of his back and his mind. "Did you murder Enigma Lane, the District Eight Female?"

[rand=974635339109227110205178614705801265130605548620233282805304042995]

[HEY, ALEX!]

I guess someone may call me lucky. I was in the Hunger Games, fighting for my life. So, perhaps lucky is not the word that describes me best. Anyhow, the knife sliced in my thigh rather than my neck. So, I suppose, I was lucky there. However, I was weak and I knew I would not be longer before I would die. I was going to die at the hands of an insane person. Why couldn’t luck be on my side in order to allow this person to escape his insanity.

After I while, I suppose I should answer the guys questioned. He would surely kill me so it was best he knew I did not commit such a terrible act. “I did not,” the words spilled from my mouth. It was odd how calm I was being since my death was just around the corner. Maybe my mind made peace with death without really negotiating it with myself. However, I still did not mean I wished to die now. I wanted to live. So, with that thought, I swung my blade again.

[attacks zack with machete]

[dice=200+2000]
[miss]

I missed. How the hell could I miss? A sitution like this does not call for such errors. I am going to die. I just know it.

[rand=208379793354430024485734584986616425601231316589669517146745239469]

[sbeeg]

Zack Detroff

“I did not." The words made a whole bunch of emotions blend up inside Zack. There was relief, sadness, disappointment, and even failure.

This girl had not killed Enigma, but Zack had hacked her to within an inch of her life. Just like he had with the District three boy. This was wrong, wasn't it? Taking his revenge out on people who didn't deserve it?

Doesn't matter anyway. The Capitol wants to see blood, right? Better to finish her off now with some mercy than let some disease ridden mutt get her later. Mercy. This was a mercy killing. That makes it right... right?

Half-heartily, Zack swung out his machete again, his stomach twisted with guilt and satisfaction that he might be the one that walks away from this fight.

[Attacks Olivia; Machete = knife]
[dice=200+2000]
[Severed Thumb of Left Hand- 8.5]

His blade sliced off another finger. Shame gnawed at his brain- but he stood firm. This was the best for both of them. She was close now, Zack could tell- he'd seen that glimmer before int he eyes of the District three boy.

"When you see her," Zack started, choking on the sob that was trying to form in his throat. "Tell her..."

He trailed off, he couldn't expect this girl he was killing to be his messenger. Was he that self-righteous?

[rand=640359569340944328746652812696993482056949986144927800075453706086]

[HEY, ALEX!]

What up with the guy and my left hand? I screamed with the blade sliced through my thumb, chopping off yet another fingers. Lucky I was again since, well, I am right handed. I wanted to scream at myself for thinking such ridiculous things. Luck has nothing to do with this. Luck did not put me in the Hunger Games. It was not luck that made my hands give weak shots. It was not luck that was keeping me alive even if it was for a few more moments.

I watched the “insane” person carefully. I felt sympatric that I would not be able to relieve him of his insanity. The blood lose was making the world spin before me. Colors mixed together and the vision of the other guy had become blurred. I knew the chances of me hitting the target would be slim since my equilibrium was off. I knew my left hand was useless. I knew I was screwed. I knew that somewhere in District 10, a little seven year old girl would be crying. I knew that even if I hit my target, I would be dead soon.

[attacks zack with machete]

[dice=200+2000]
Shallow Cut on Right Shoulder - 3.5

[rand=954175013465868918983369306436976752277224743445505843791832980039]

[sbeeg]

Zack Detroff

How could she take that kind of pain? Zack couldn't fathom it, he'd of stabbed himself long ago instead of dying at the hands of his attacker. Right now, it was like shooting fish in a barrel. No fun for the audience really, the Capitol must be upset. For a moment, Zack forgot the audience and did only what he thought was right.

He'd kill her so no one would have to watch their daughter or sister or whatever she was to anyone go through all that pain. He thought of his little brother back home and how he wouldn't want him glued to the television as he died.

He wanted this girl to have a painless death, a little late for that, but he could at least make it go a little faster.

[Attacks Olivia; Machete- knife]
[dice=200+2000]
[Block- 0.0]

What was it about the Games? Did this Capitol weapon just become heavier in his hand? Or did Zack just not want to kill this girl? Either way he failed. What had happened to him since yesterday? He had killed in cold blood and now he couldn't bring himself to give a dying girl a quiet death.

Zack ran the back of his hand across his eyes trying to banish the tears that were starting to sprout there.

"What's your name?" Zack felt all of six-years old when he asked the question but he truly wanted to know since he'd probably never know his other kill's name. Zack wondered if Enigma's killer had known her name. What if someone had loved this girl as Zack had... cared about Enigma.

Guilt fell over him like a waterfall and for once in his life, he found that Zack Detroff had been better off without it.

[rand=085312964394688638681366504170382158644497394567300520860590041]

[HEY, ALEX!]

Luck again. It was lucky that my arm was there to block the boy’s shot. Why the hell could I not give up on luck? It was not on my side and, well, it does not exist. Luck is something people blame things on when something great happens to them. So, actually, it was possible that this imaginary luck was on my side. I really do not classify hurting another person luck so it was likely that luck was keeping me from killing this boy. The area was already spinning and my confused thought were not helping the situation much.

I regret not being able to save this boy from his insanity. I regret not attacking him when I meet him the day he killed Karl. Why did I not take the shot when I had the chance? I would I have killed him when he was vulnerable from the damage Karl had caused. Now, he was attacking me like he had Karl. It was my fault Karl was dead in the first place. I would I’ve seen past my own insanity and fought along side Karl rather than against him. The thoughts of regret made he almost forget my current situation. I had one more attack in me and I really hope it would really make the difference.

[attacks Zack - Machete]

[dice=200+2000]
[block - 0]

I could not believe it. He blocked my last shot. Before he could make his final blow, I answered his last question. “I’m Olivia Bell. I‘m the fifteen year old tribute from District 10. I‘m the oldest sibling of eight in my family. The youngest is seven. So, you better hope you don‘t win the Hunger Games ‘cause if you do, I guarantee you will have 9 people waiting for you in District 10. If you don‘t, well, I guarentee they will be cheering when your final blow comes.” I was only saying this because, well, I had no chance. As for my family, I doubt they would do anything. They were already angered with me and wishing the death of another tribute was above them. Still, it would be great to make him feel terrible since I knew his next blow would kill me for sure.

[rand=7878778575363921549299654081965962579623327681535753651190649799]

[sbeeg]

Zack Detroff

The girl threw a pitiful attack at him that his arm easily blocked. This was it. She dropped to her knees in front of him and Zack couldn't stop his legs from doing the same.

I’m Olivia Bell.

Olivia Bell. 15. District 10. Has a family. One that cares about her. How could Zack explain that he was doing this for them? For her too? He couldn't. You can't tell someone that you're putting them out of their misery. To a dying child, death is misery.

His eyes filled with tears, he was killing someone. He was going to land the final blow knowing full well that it was the final blow. Welcome to the Hunger Games.

Zack would not ask her to bring any foolish message to Enigma now. He would not steal this moment from Olivia. She would get her screen time, she would get her glory.

"Good bye, Olivia Bell," his voice choked out before his machete swung out for that last blow he could not put into words.

[Attacks Olivia; Machete = knife]
[dice=200+2000]
[Shallow Cut on Right Hip - 3.5]

"May the odds be forever in your favor."

[rand=86594611895270653367708218283951322344729886390273380935010500252]

[HEY, ALEX!]

If I die young bury me in satin
Lay me down on a bed of roses
Sink me in the river at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song

Never had I thought about how my end would come. I assumed I wanted to die of old age like everyone else did or by dieing in my slumber. All my limbs would still be attached and pain would not exist. I suppose some sort of the sensation would occur but the feeling surely would not feel this terrible. I would have a loving family on my side which would make my journey into the afterlife more pleasant. I would be happy knowing I gave life to other people but, at the same time, ashamed that I forced them into this chaotic world. They would have been excited when their names were not drawn for the Hunger Games. We would have all celebrated with a picnic in the meadow I discovered when I was my children’s age. Together, we would work on the family farm, herding cows and raising sheep. My younger children would help feed our pigs and collect the eggs from the henhouse. However, I had no future because, well, my life will end here. Now, finding my end in the Hunger Games, I was sort of happy to die. This way, only nine people would be grieving rather than the army I would have produced from the many children I planed on having in the future.

The sharp knife of a short life, well
I’ve had just enough time

I once heard waiting for a blow that was expected was so much worse than one in which the a person was unaware of. The statement was, in fact, true. I watched as the male tribute swung his matching Machete into my delicate skin. It was as if the whole thing was in slow-motion. I could see the blood drip from my blade as I allowed it to drop from my hands onto the hot, blood-soaked ground. Sweat dripped from my bloody forehead and into my mouth, causing a tainted, salty taste to explore the inside of my mouth. Along with my blood tasting sweat, my once glossy, wavy hair entered my mouth. I could not even bother to even take the strings from my mouth since it was a waste of the little time I had left. Instead, my eyes continued to watch my villain. His mouth moved as he spoke to me but I did not bother listening to him. My mind was more concentrated on the item come toward my body. The other blade, the one in which my slayer wield, glistened once the sun hit its surface. Not only was the metal of the blade exploding in light but one could see my blood shine its crimson shade upon the Machete’s surface. His arm came slowly across, blade in hand, and sliced into my delicate hip. On cue, my bloodcurdling scream erupted from my mouth and my body suddenly fell back upon my knees. The noise I made seemed to echo through the area or perhaps it was my mind playing a cruel joke on me.

The blow was not worth the wait as it immediately exerted pain throughout my body. It was as if fire had taken the place of the little blood I had left in my body. No, I was sure that I was on fire. I just know it. My body automatically began to roll, causing the hot rocks of the volcano to sink into my already damaged skin. I could not stop. My body was on fire. I must have fallen into a pit of pure flames. I could not escape the flames. I tried to climb from the hole but the exit only seemed to become farther. The rocks I used to ascend from the hole only burned my hands more and, I notice, they were slowly melting from my touch. It was also quite difficult to climb up such a steep height using the only hand that was usable. I was a lost soul in this pit and, well, there was no saving me now. The fire was melting my skin as well as burning my once gorgeous locks. If was as if I could smell the scent of burning flesh and hair. The mix of scents was absolutely awful. Then I fell back, further into the flames. My body was engulfed in fire and, then I knew, my life would end. The screams increased in both quantity and frequency as my body ached more and as the fire burned me alive.

Back in the arena, I could feel the rocks crunch beneath my fragile body and feel the blood continue make its escape from my body onto the already stained ground. I did not notice that I was crying until now. The thin fluid fell from my eyes unto the damp ground, making my vision blurred. Perhaps it wasn’t just my tears that made my sight unclear but, maybe, my brain was beginning to shut down. Either way, I could not make sense of the shapes that formed around my eyes. The tangled mess that I call my hair surrounded my head, making it seem like I was laid upon a damaged animal. Blood, both dried and fresh, clung to my face, making me appear as some sort of savage. I was one, though; therefore, I suppose the looks suit my new personality quite well. Odd how things, such as personality and appearance, change here in the arena.

A penny for my thoughts, oh no I’ll sell them for a dollar
They're worth so much more after I’m a goner
And maybe then you’ll hear the words I've been singin’
Funny when you're dead how people start listenin’

White light had taken the place of my blurred vision. Hey! I thought my life was suppose to flash before my eyes!? Where is the moment in which I was born or the time I took my first steps? How about the instant I pushed my brother down a hill to see how far he’d roll? Come on! Anything! Not even the slightest memory of me holding the hands of my younger siblings as I coached them in the art of cattle herding? There was nothing but the intense light that only made my eyes blink more. Perhaps I was already in heaven or hell, which ever I was doomed to live in for eternity. I was confident I would be in hell since I helped murder a boy or even the time I stole a cookie from my sister’s stash. I was doomed to live in torture for the rest of my life. I know I am so what is up with all the freaking light?!

Out the intense brightness, I could spot an object moving toward me. It was a bubble. Scratch that. The item more resembled a floating orb. Within the sphere, I would spot an event occurring. It was me. About time some sort of my past made an appearance. About time! I began to examine the orb more carefully. I was standing in City Hall with Peacekeepers surrounding me in every direction. Of all my memories, why did this one had to be shown? It was the day after the reaping and the last time I would see my family but not the last they’d see of me. They will be forced to watch me die. At the very moment, they’d see the Bell blood scattered on the ground that surrounded my me. Anyways, I watched the orb since the only other option would to stare into the blinding light. Plus, this was more exciting.

It was as if I was back in the room. At the moment, I was alone. Well, besides the Peacekeepers. They really don’t matter. My thoughts were so crazy that day. I volunteered to take the place of a stranger’s death. I did not know who the girl had been or her what her name was. Sure, they announced the name but I was just concentrated on whether the last name had been Bell. When my last name had not been called, the other person’s names did not matter and were erased from my memory. Anyways, I would not think straight; therefore the fist that went in my face had been quite the surprise.

Seeing this from the outside, I noticed the way my sister had looked at me when before she ran toward me. I think the Peacekeepers thought she’d hug me rather than that a healthy lick to my face. Also, I noticed how rapid the swing was. If I could see my sister again, I’d comment her on the great blow. But it did not matter. I was as dead to her as much as I was, well, dead. When the blow was delivered, I found my tears rolling down my once clean face. The Peacekeepers lunged at the small girl as she screamed terrible things to my face. I am pretty sure “stupid bitch” was among the many words used. My bodyguards pullered her away yet I could still see her face and hear her words. “Why would you do this to me?” The twelve year old girl screamed as buckets of tears rolled from her eyes. She swallowed as her voice lowered. “Why would you do this to us?” And that was the last words I heard from my sister since she was dragged from my holding room.

I was crying hard in both the vision and as I watched the video. A hint of silver caught my eyes as it feel to the floor. I noticed it had come from my dear sister’s pocket but I knew that much already. The object was resting in the hole in my neck at this moment. I had almost forgot its presence. It was the only family heirloom we still had. All the others had been sold to help living with a big family easier. Still, there was not much money in this District so the past heirlooms were sold for little money. Still, they were sold and this was the only remaining one. “She wanted you to have it as a token,” my mother said calmly. It was as if she was preparing for a situation like this for a while. I think she knew one day one of her own children would be reaped. “It is rusted so you probably cannot tell what flower this is,” she continued as she picked up the object and got closer to me. Once she reached me, I stared into her eyes. I got my irises from her beautiful ones. My mother took the necklace and stretched it around my neck. She then clicked it into place. “It is a single bloom of a white Hyacinth. It means ‘my prayers will be with you.’” With that, my vision was over and the pain arrived once more.

The ballad of a dove
Go with peace and love
Gather up your tears, keep ‘em in your pocket
Save them for a time when your really gonna need 'em

I noticed I was gasping for sweet oxygen the moment I returned to the real world; the world in which I was dying in. The rest of my fingers, once tight in fists, weaken. My heartbeat had slowed to where I could not feel it. Odd. This was the first time in which my heart was beating slowly since I entered the Capitol. My eyelids were feeling heavy and, soon, they were closed. I hadn’t the strength to keep them open. The beautiful, the ones that were a gift from my mother, rolled in the back of my head. My ears were the only thing that worked at the moment. I would hear the boy speak. I wanted to argue with the boy but I knew there was no point. My mouth was dried and I was positive it would not function correctly. I figured the only thing that would come from my mouth would be my blood. I can taste it now. Although I could not say what I needed to, my thoughts were still there. I volunteered for the Hunger Games. Rocks explode when I touch them. Volcanic gas tired to kill me. Now, I was murder by this boy. Stupid boy. The odds were never in my favor.

[sbeeg]

Zack Detroff

Olivia Bell.

The District Eight tribute is certain that name with haunt him for the rest of his life. Quietly, as if Olivia was sleeping, Zack tip toed around, wiggling her packs off and collecting her machete. She had some useful items that Zack can see at the opening of the bags, but he can't bring himself to riffle through them while kneeling next to her still warm body. The boy hooked all three bags onto his shoulders- a familiar feeling that gave him a brief image of home. Oh, the loads he had to carry around at the factory. Mostly heavy tools for the mechanical crews, but Zack was sometimes recruited to haul fabric around. Grateful that the labor prepared him for something, Zack slid Olivia's machete into his belt on the opposite side.

What does he look like right now? A blade hanging on each hip, his back piled with bags, his skin scratched to no end, an ear missing and standing over a corpse. If Enigma was here he might have made a joke. Well, if Enigma was here he probably wouldn't be in this position. As the sun beat on his bare skin, Zack asked himself the ultimate question.

What now?

The sudden shock of a cannon jolted the air and clinched tight fingers around Zack's heart. He needed to clear out so they could collect the body. His eyes scanned Olivia's face. All he felt now was guilt.

Guilt doesn't get you home. Shame doesn't put a Victor's crown on your head. Disgrace doesn't keep you alive.

With a final, fleeting glance at Olivia's body, Zack tip toed away- careful not to wake her.

__~*~__

After walking as far away from Olivia as his body would allow, Zack rested. Still in the shadow of the mountain, Zack shrugged off the bags and emptied their contents. The most appealing thing he saw was a jug full of water. There were also some wire and fishing line but Zack lacked in those areas. Finally, he pulled out the medical kit. Pulling off more bandages, Zack wrapped the fabric around his head, covering the gaping hole where his ear should have been. He swaddled other cuts before he found in the kit, a needle and thread. Sewing, something Zack knew how to do. For what felt like a few hours, Zack cringed and sewed up the worst of his cuts. He wrapped the worst ones up and actually felt better.

After shouldering the bags and standing up, he stopped. Where would he go?

There was an uncontrollable loneliness bubbling inside the District Eight tribute. His only ally was dead, and he killed the only two people he's seen since the Bloodbath. Zack had to tell himself that this was the Hunger Games and that bad things happen int he Arena and to deal with it. Taking a step forward, Zack whispered to himself.

"I'm alive."

Over and over and over again. Zack used this as his motivation as he walked aimlessly about the mountain. His chant stopped once, the moment the name of the special mountain came to him.

A volcano.

[Zack has Olivia's items and used 5ft of bandages and 1 needle and thread (with the First-aid benefits)]