Task Description:

The Bloodbath, tributes must collect supplies without getting killed first.

I didn’t like the people in the capital. They were too strict. They were all like, “Nooooooo you can’t burn that!” and “Nooooooo you can’t burn this!”

What the hell was I supposed to burn then, people?

In fact they’d been so concerned about my ability to start fires they hadn’t even let me do my interview! That had been racist against pyromaniacs! - Even if it had been my intention to light the interviewer on fire.

My stylist, who stood directly in front of me yelling something that I wasn’t listening too, still bore the burn marks from where I had lit her head on fire a few days ago.  It had been an especially beautiful fire, the flames dancing across the blue hair of her scalp. I loved the fire like a son- AND THEN SHE HAD FREAKING MURDERED MY SON WITH WATER!

I would never forgive her for that.

My ears perked up as I heard an automated voice call out over the speakers in the corners of the room, “Ten seconds until tube departure.” My stylist paused her rant, glancing up at the ceiling as if the voice had startled her.

Then she turned back to me with a frown. “You weren’t listening to a word I said, were you?” She snapped, her eyes shooting daggers of accusation.

I shrugged, “I don’t listen to stupid people” I shot back, glowering at her.

She rolled her eyes as if I was crazy. “You are utterly the most irritating tribute I’ve ever had to deal with!” She said crossly, placing her hands on her hips.

I smiled kindly, “Thank you. I try.”

She pursed her lips as if he was using everything ounce of willpower in her body to keep from pouncing on me and ripping my throat out- which we both knew she couldn’t do without being fired and executed.

I started to walk towards the tube then threw one final glance over my shoulder, “Guess what?” I asked stepping onto the silver plate that would lift me into the arena.

She squinted her eyes at me as if she was trying to decide whether to bite or not. She gave in pretty quickly. “What?” She asked very slowly, as if she had crammed too much peanut butter in  her mouth and was now trying to talk.

I smiled devilishly, “I’m going to win and then you’re going to have to be my stylist for the rest of your life.” I threw my head back and laughed maniacally as the glass doors slammed in front of me, segregating me from my stylist. Through the glass I watched as my stylist fell to her knees, screaming a long drawn out “No” at the sky.

I smiled, my revenge was complete.

The plate jerked upwards and I slipped, banging my head against the wall of the tube. A rush of chilly, moist air rushed downwards sending chills racing down my spine. Bright light blinded me as I was lifted into the arena sitting on my butt and squinting my eyes closed. I must look heroic.

I forced my eyes opened only to see white. My breath caught in my throat- this was no place for a boy on fire.

Snow covered everything. Snow was frozen water. Water kills fire.

I glanced over at the plate next to me to see if Brooke was as concerned as I was about the lack of dryness? Why couldn’t have the arena been scorched prairie or melting city or something that I could burn? Brooke looked terrified too, though it was more of the face she wore when I invited her to come and burn something with me; terror.

I slowly lifted myself to my feet as the countdown started, I found myself staring at Brooke as I often did. She was so pretty. I sigh. Especially her hair. It looked like fire.

As I gazed at her dark red hair being tossed by the wind I found myself wanting to change her name- not her last one. Her last one was fine. It was the first one that needed to go. A brook was a channel of water. Water kills fire. It had to go, perhaps the name Fireball could substitute for it? I was very fond of that name.

I shook my head reminding myself that it would never work. I’d tried everything to get her attention, even setting her mother on fire. I’d just have to settle for being  her friend.

A few plates beyond her sat Paris, the stuck-up duck-faced snob from eight. I didn’t like him. I watched as he adjusted the collar of his jacket nervously. I wanted to set him on fire.

I glanced to my left at Venus, the girl we’d allied with. I loved Venus like a sister, it was pretty impossible not to like that girl. It had been her idea to bring ‘IT’ into the alliance. I can’t see her reason behind it, he's absolutely useless except for the fact I heard some of the girls whisper behind his back that he was eye-candy. Whatever that meant. Maybe it meant that when he died his eyes turned into lollipops? Unlikely.

The countdown reached 10 and I forced myself to focus, adrenaline ran through my veins like horses, powerful fast and unstoppable.

5,

I felt my heart rate accelerate.

4,

I stanced myself in a running position, setting my gaze on partially dusted flamethrower at the foot of the cornucopia.  

3,

Flamethrower = Fire.

2,

The prospect of fire almost made me forget the danger that was the bloodbath.

1- Go! I leapt from my pedestal, my legs pumping with adrenaline as I pushed myself as fast as I could, my eyes fixed on the prize. The careers raced past me clearly training for your entire life worked. I scowled and pushed myself faster, if anyone touched my flamethrower I would have to destroy them, sadly.

An arrow sailed over my head and I ducked and continued running, my heart thudding in my chest. Ahead of me I saw the boy from four reach down towards my darling firearm. “No!” I screamed, throwing myself on his back, my hands clutching his neck.  

He stumbled backward making a choking sound as fingers tightened around his flesh. A blonde haired girl came charging at me, “I got you’re back Jackson!” She screamed raising her battle ax above her head, a look of utter vengeance scrawled across her face.

I let go as soon as she was sent the ax barreling toward us, my body hit the ground hard, a crunch of snow cradled my fall. This ‘Jackson’ fellow let out a loud cry as he hit the ground as well with a large ax protruding from his back. “You sure do have his back….” I commented looking over at the career girl who only looked more pissed if that was even possible.  She thrust her hands out in front of her, her face contorting into… well to put it politely she looked downright demonic and charged me letting out a war cry.

I scrambled backwards, my hands reaching for the cool metal of the flamethrower. I quickly slung the strap over my shoulder and aimed the bulky instrument at the oncoming career. Her eyes widened with fear, it was too late though. I squeezed the trigger and the instrument kicked back into my shoulder as a large flame erupted from the spout, enveloping her. I watched in utter fascination as her body curled in on itself as her dying cries enveloped the arena. After a few seconds she collapsed and I let out a low giggle. That was fun.  Don’t get me wrong, I knew killing people was wrong… but it felt so right! The giggle turned into a maniacal laughter as I spun around looking at the war going on around me.

I started squirting people with flames, I watched in utter joy at they blew up. This was not normal. There was something wrong with me. I ran through the blood, jumping over the bodies that littered the ground. Everyone got out of my way quickly, seeing I had the prize of the arena. My eyes flitted to a Brooke who was in a battle with a tall boy with blonde hair. “Pick on someone your own size!” I screamed, though I’m not sure if he heard me over the flames that were roasting him.

I ran over to Brooke, grabbing her wrist as an arrow pierced the fabric of my coat, grazing my skin. “Does your knight in shining armor get a kiss?” I asked on a whim, my breath catching in my throat a little as my lungs heaved.

She looked at me as if I was insane. “Are you crazy? Run!” She shrieked tugging me towards the thin lining of the trees, I followed her, not nearly as concerned about the arrows soaring around us as I should have been.

I let out a ragged laugh, “I was just kidding you know.” I said quickly, throwing a final glance over my shoulder as we broke through the tree line, nearly running directly into Venus. She clutched a backpack in her hands, I glanced over at Brooke; she had one too.

“Where’s Paris? Is he dead?” I asked, realizing suddenly I saw him nowhere in view. I tried to keep the eagerness from my voice. I failed.

“No. He’s very much alive.” A masculine voice growled from behind me. I didn’t have to turn around in order to know it was Mr. Eyecandy, a long depressed sigh escaped my throat. Oh well. At least now I could be the one to kill him!

Venus’s eyes darted between us, I knew she was assessing the situation, Brooke looked a bit more oblivious. She tapped her throat nervously and glanced over her shoulder, “Guys we’d better get out of here. The careers are going to regroup and come after us.” She said anxiously.

Paris snapped to attention, “Indeed. Its good to see someone has some sense around here!” He said, then without waiting for our consent he started running into the woods.

Venus and Brooke didn’t seem bothered by this and took off after him. I hesitated, then sped after them, my feet crunching into the powdery snow, falling in rhythm with my alliance. The Gamemakers might have tried to put me in an arena where I couldn’t start a fire, but little did they know that’d I’d burn them all.

Especially Paris.