'What can I expect?' Nebraska questions herself as she steps inside a giant glass tube. 'Will I see trees? Miles of grassland? Snowy hills? Scorching desert? Death in the face?' She slowly rises to the surface of the arena, shielding her eyes from the white light above her.

'What the fuck am I looking at?' Rhode Island can't believe his eyes, thinking in disgust, 'This place has no right to be this bright and colorful. Fuck the Gamemakers.'

The sun is shining. The sky is sparkling. The air is refreshing. The bees are buzzing. The butterflies are fluttering. The flowers are blooming. Everything is beautiful and wonderful. It's hard to believe this place is the center of the 50th Hunger Games—soon-to-be the resting place of many tributes.

'This feels very familiar...' Oregon looks around and takes her first breath in the arena, feeling homesick already.

All 48 tributes arise on top of metal circles, encircling a giant curved horn called the Cornucopia at the center of a flowery field. Atop the Cornucopia is a clock displaying 60 seconds, 59 seconds, 58 seconds, and so on, continuing to tick at a steady yet slow pace compared to their heart rates. It's hard to stay still. The land around them smells so sweet and inviting. They want to step down. They want to hop into the blue-violet hydrangeas and golden yellow daisies like innocent frolicking children. But if they do that, they'll explode.

Staring at the ground in front of her, Kansas gulps nervously. 'I must not jump. I must not jump. I must not jump.' She doesn't trust her eyes to look at the clock. She prefers to hear the gong than watch the number tick to zero. It's the only way to keep herself from being the first tribute to die.

45 seconds left.

Adjacent to her, Missouri stands aloof, behaving the complete opposite. She trusts she won't act before the gong sounds. Her only concern is where to go after that. Despite being the literal center of attention, the Cornucopia isn't the only path she can take. She scans her surroundings, taking note of the piney hills encircling the meadow. As recommended by her mentor, she plans to make a run for the wilderness and get away from the tributes as far as possible. Nature can provide supplies to her. There's no need to risk getting killed in a squabble at the Cornucopia.

New York thinks otherwise. Admittedly, he isn't blessed with the ability to craft a piece of wood into anything he desires; he sucks balls at it. He believes a tool or a weapon made out of wood or stone can't compare to steel, only available at the Cornucopia. The possibility of running into a tribute and getting killed by them is high. But New York isn't weak. No fucking way. There's no motherfucking way he's going to die before the end of the first day. All he needs is a weapon to prove he's not to be messed with.

30 seconds left.

'They better keep their word.' Ohio eyes Nevada and Texas on platforms across from him, recalling the truce they made with each other.

North Dakota eyes the Cornucopia, coming up with a strategy to grab the items he wants most. 'A bag... A first aid kit... Throwing knives may come in handy...'

Wyoming stares at a mossy green bag, hidden behind a clump of wildflowers a couple of feet in front of him. He plans to grab it and immediately flee the area. However, that'll depend on the tributes standing adjacent to him. Conflict so early in the Games isn't ideal. But when push comes to shove, he'll do whatever for the bag. Grabbing something as simple as a bag can mean a difference in survival. Hopefully, the tributes don't have the same idea as him.

15 seconds left.

'Everyone looks so confident in themselves...' Delaware glances at the large vulture soaring above them this entire time, wondering if it's a creature of nature or a mutation concocted by the Gamemakers. He hopes it's the former. On second thought, it may not be alive; it may be a robot filming them live to the people back at the Capitol and the Districts. Such an ugly thought makes him sick to his stomach.

'I can't believe this is happening...' Georgia clenches her fist.

'This is going to be fun.' New Jersey smirks.

Maine takes a deep breath. 'It's almost time. It's almost time for the Games to begin.'

10 seconds left.

'Fuck the Capitol.' Louisiana scowls.

9 seconds left.

"Live free or die," New Hampshire mutters with his head held high.

8 seconds left.

"Bring it on!" South Carolina shouts, her words echo across the field.

7 seconds left.

'I wish I had some weed on me.' Colorado sighs.

6 seconds left.

'I don't want to die.' Iowa fights back tears.

5 seconds left.

'For my District.' Utah trembles.

4 seconds left.

'For my friends and family.' New Mexico prepares to jump.

3 seconds left.

'For my survival.' Arizona's eyes are full of determination.

2 seconds left.

'I refuse to die here!'

1 second left.

'I will become the victor!'

0 seconds left.

"Let the Games begin..." Washington D.C. utters as she sits back in a chair, watching the 50th Hunger Games unfold on the main screen of the control room.

☆☆☆☆☆

As the tributes stand on their podiums, the horn sounds.

There are no explosions as the tributes leap off their podiums.

Many tributes think it's too risky to get anything from the Cornucopia at the start of the Games. Kentucky runs away from the Cornucopia. Minnesota runs away from the Cornucopia. Michigan runs away from the Cornucopia. Missouri runs away from the Cornucopia. North Carolina runs away from the Cornucopia. South Carolina runs away from the Cornucopia. They all run into the forest, fleeing as far as they can go, away from the chaos.

Meanwhile, there are tributes brave enough to go to the Cornucopia to get supplies and equipment despite the risks.

Washington speeds ahead of the other tributes. He runs into the Cornucopia, becoming the first tribute to get there. He easily gets first pickings. The first thing he grabs is a backpack stuffed with expensive camping equipment. He considers running away immediately, but he'll likely have to face an incoming tribute. He grabs a trident from a rack for protection. However, he realizes he can't fight properly with a heavy weapon in one hand and a hefty bag over his shoulder. In the two seconds given, he goes deep inside the horn of the Cornucopia and hides.

Fortunately for Washington, the other tributes arriving at the Cornucopia don't seem to notice him; they're probably too concerned with their survival to care what he's doing. New Mexico snatches a pair of sais. Oklahoma copies him and snatches a pair of sais. Tennessee looks around and finds a bow, some arrows, and a quiver—it's his ideal weapon of choice. He takes it and runs away from the Cornucopia before more tributes show up.

Not every tribute wants to be the center of attention, so they instead grab the scattered items of lesser value closest to their podiums; anything is better than nothing. Wyoming is lucky as he grabs a bag and retreats without getting hassled. The same can't be said for others who think like him.

Oregon and Colorado find a bag hidden underneath the wildflowers. They grab it and instantly realize they're not the only ones who need it. With one hand each on the bag, they try to convince the other to let go using words.

"There's another bag behind you," the District 7 female tells him.

The District 2 male chuckles, "Nice try. Even if there is a bag behind me, I prefer this one." Using the immense strength of his arms, he yanks the bag out of her reach.

'Darn it.' Outmatched in terms of power, Oregon gives up and retreats rather than fight him on her own.

"Let go!"

"No, you let go! This bag is mine!"

Mississippi and Wisconsin fight over a bag. Their tug-of-war, however, is more evened out.

Back at the Cornucopia, Iowa finds a basket of bread. He grabs the handle at the same time as Pennsylvania. Neither tribute wants to let go.

She smirks, "Excuse me."

"What—" Pennsylvania breaks Iowa's nose via a sucker punch to the face. He falls back, holding a bloody nose. "A-Aaaaah! W-Why did you punch me?!"

She stands over him, still smiling cruelly. "For a basket of bread, I'm willing to do anything." She takes her basket of bread and leaves.

He moans in pain. "H-Help... My nose..." He looks around and spots one of the siblings from District 9.

North Dakota clutches a first aid kit when he hears someone call his name. He quickly grabs the first weapon he finds and points a pair of throwing knives at Iowa's chin. "Stand back!"

"P-Please. Can you fix me up? My nose hurts really badly," he whimpers, inching closer to him.

"Uh..." He backs away.

"P-Please! I'll be in your debt."

"I... I need this more." North Dakota can't bring himself to continue looking at Iowa's wounded face and runs away.

'How heartless...' Virginia pities a distraught Iowa from afar as North Dakota runs past her, paying no attention to why she's standing around. Watching everyone fight for themselves is like seeing a family come apart. Training alongside them, eating beside them, and sharing laughs with them: the memories of yesterday are replaced with the thought of survival. Now isn't the time to be selfless. The arena is no place for pleasantries. Like many tributes, she runs away from the Cornucopia without looking back at the people she once considered to be friends.

Idaho also runs away from the Cornucopia, not intending to die early in the Games. New Jersey runs away from the Cornucopia. Alabama runs away from the Cornucopia. Even South Dakota runs away from the Cornucopia, not planning to meet up with her brother for now. So far, this Bloodbath is lacking blood (besides the blood coming out of Iowa's nose).

"Hey! Check out this sword I found!" Illinois waves around the sharp weapon. "Pretty neat, right?"

Indiana backs away, unable to grab anything with him around. "S-Stay away from me!" She flees.

"Hey! Come back! Why are you running?"

Unintentionally, Illinois scares Indiana away from the Cornucopia; it brings laughter to the bored people at the Capitol and the Districts watching the Games on holographic projectors.

Delaware is searching around the Cornucopia for supplies when he hears a commotion of familiar voices.

"Let go, scum!"

"No way! Go find another bag! This one's mine!"

Maryland of District 1 and Montana of District 12 fight over a bag. The fight is intense, resorting to jabs and the clawing of skin. Yet, neither give way to fatigue or cowardice. The bag isn't at all fancy like the ones in the Cornucopia. But in their eyes, it's the equivalent of Kobe beef. A hungry bear versus a starving lioness, who needs it more? Who's more willing to kill to survive another day?

Delaware doesn't want to see them fighting. However, he's unsure what to do to interfere. 'Should I help Maryland? Or, should I help Montana?' He can't seem to decide on his loyalties. Unfortunately, he'll never make that decision.

Without warning from afar, West Virginia sets Delaware on fire with a Molotov. He doesn't see it coming. The glass bottle shatters against his back, and he's abruptly swallowed up in flames. Screams of panic are released as the searing pain burns him from head to toe. He drops to the ground and starts rolling as taught at the Training Center. But all he's doing is setting the grass and flowers around him alight. Unless he's imagining things, the flames appear to be growing. The fire blurs his vision. The smoke fills his lungs. The tears in his eyes evaporate and do nothing to soothe the scorching agony. He writhes and screeches for help, but no one comes to his aid. He loses his voice as well as the will to live beyond the torture of living.

"He'll probably fall off a cliff to his death."

"No way! He'll choke on his own blood from eating poisonous berries."

"That's weak. I hope he gets his head cut off with a sword."

"Or, a sickle."

"That'll be sick!"

"Ahahahahaha!"

He lays motionless on the scorched ground, his last thought to come to mind before going blank, 'I don't think anyone predicted I die from a Molotov. Oh well... It is what it is...' The fire feeds on his flesh as a cannon boom fires into the sky to signal a tribute's death.

"Delaware..." Montana watches her ally lay motionless in the flames, turning to her fellow tribute of District 12 for answers.

West Virginia takes a step back from what he did. 'Shit... I... I didn't think it would be that bad...' Though killing is expected and permitted, the first death by a tribute—by his hands—burns an unpleasant memory into his conscience. Out of fear or out of guilt, he flees the scene.

"You..." She gives up the bag and retreats to go after him.

Though she won the bag, Maryland doesn't feel victorious. Despite watching countless footage of previous Hunger Games, becoming numb to such horrors, seeing the fire crackle around his lifeless body makes her heart stop. It's a traumatic sight—an example of death being merciless without bias. She falls to her knees, still and emotionless, as the world around her rushes into a frenzy for survival.

"Time to go!" Georgia snatches a pair of sais before running off, not wanting to get burned like him.

"Shit, man..." Louisiana mutters, holding a Molotov in her left hand. Originally considering the testing of a Molotov—since Molotovs are forbidden at the Training Center—she decides to store the Molotov in her bag, saving it for another time. She runs away from the Cornucopia, paying no more attention to the dead body.

Nebraska glances at the gruesome sight with a scowl. 'It's not good to stay here for very long. Otherwise, anyone can end up like that.' She retrieves a trident from inside the Cornucopia and quickly leaves the area.

Utah gulps, still shaking in his boots at what just happened. "N-No way... This can't be happening..." His back turned, he doesn't realize he's being stalked until a gust of wind blows against his back. He spins around. His eyes widened at New York swinging a sword above his head. He ducks and rolls out of the way, dodging what would've been a killing blow. "W-Wait! N-New York! Stop!" he pleads. "There's no reason to kill each other!"

The Yankee scoffs, "No reason? This is the fucking Hunger Games! It's kill or be killed! And I don't intend to let you live after that stunt you pulled at the Training Center!" He swings again, scratching the Third Boy's left cheek.

"A-Ah!" Utah touches his cheek, his eyes widen at the blood on his hands. "P-Please! I don't want to die here! Aaugh!" He narrowly dodges the giant blade.

"You'll never survive acting like a pussy!" He swings again.

"Ack!" He trips and falls onto the ground.

The District 5 male looms over him, his eyes cold and ruthless. "Give up. If you do, I'll give you a swift death. You won't have to suffer like Delaware."

"Still,"  he winces, trying hard not to remember what happened to the First Tribute, "I rather not have anyone's hands be stained with blood. Even though I dislike you, you shouldn't be burdened with the sin of murder." His eyes glance to the right, noticing a wooden handle behind a box of canned food.

"That's cool." New York raises his sword above his head. "The only thing burdening me will be the crown on my head when I win this fucking game." He swings the sword upward. "Say your prayers, Mormon."

"P-Please! Just let me go!"

"Fuck off!" He swings downward.

"Aaaaaah!" Utah grabs the wooden handle and throws it with his eyes closed; he kills New York with a hatchet to the face. His eyes remain shut at the loud thud hitting the ground in front of him, refusing to open them until he hears the boom of the cannon. One of his eyes peeks open nervously. He sees what he has done, and he is speechless.

"Utah!" Arizona approaches him with a sickle in hand. "Are you—"

"S-Stay back!" He promptly stands up, grabs the ax, and points the blood-stained blade at her.

She does as he says and takes a step back. "Dude. Calm down."

"N-No." He shakes his head, appearing teary-eyed. "Please. Stay away."

"But..."

"STAY AWAY!" He points the ax at the tributes surrounding the Cornucopia. "All of you! Run!"

"Utah..."

"RUN!"

California grumbles, "Fuck this. This isn't worth dying today." She takes a spear off a rack. "Come on, Arizona. Forget him." She runs away from the Cornucopia.

Mississippi notices her run away, yelling, "W-Wait for me!" She gives up the bag and retreats to go after the District 1 female, letting Wisconsin keep the bag.

Thinking similarly, Massachusetts runs away from the Cornucopia. Maine runs away from the Cornucopia. New Hampshire runs away from the Cornucopia. Connecticut runs away from the Cornucopia. Vermont runs away from the Cornucopia. Even Rhode Island runs away from the Cornucopia. They all don't want to be killed by a sociopath in the making.

No matter how hard she tries to calm Utah down, Arizona can't stay around much longer. She takes her sickle and runs away from the Cornucopia to follow California, leaving him alone to contemplate what he has done.

"Dude! Snap out of it!" Colorado throws a canteen full of water at Utah's head, snapping him out of dangerous thoughts.

"I-I... I killed him." He trembles. "I killed him..."

"Yeah, you did. If you didn't, that would've been you instead of him." He approaches New York's dead body and takes his sword for himself. He looks back at Utah and gives him a single pat on the shoulder. "You're not a killer. You're a survivor. Okay?"

"A survivor..."

"Yeah. Unless you want to stay here, I suggest you move along." He jogs off the flowery field, going off in his own direction.

Utah stares at the hatchet in his hands. 'I'm not a killer... I'm a survivor...' He drops the weapon and runs off.

Once he's gone, Arkansas and Kansas appear from hiding inside the Cornucopia. Both of them consider taking the last ax available until Texas, Nevada, and Ohio show up. Arkansas runs away from the Cornucopia, knowing better not to mess with the Yeller Rose. Seeing his frightful reaction, Kansas runs away from the Cornucopia as well.

"Did I scare them?" Texas laughs at the cowards as she grabs the bloody hatchet off the ground. "If only they offer guns at the Games. I would've easily been the victor."

"Watch your tongue, Tex," Nevada smirks. "You don't want to jinx yourself."

"Let her talk all big and mighty," says Ohio. "If she does get jinxed, I hope it ends with her dying worse than what happened to New York or Delaware."

She scoffs, "Lucky for the both of you, I'm an honest cowgirl. The truce we made has allowed us to work together to get as many supplies as possible. Otherwise, I would've used this ax to chop off your tongues."

"With your shit aim, I think not."

"Shut up before I change my mind!"

After clearing out most of the Cornucopia, the three tributes go their separate ways.

'... Is that everyone?' Washington reappears from inside the Cornucopia.

He notices Florida scavenging for supplies. She finds a canteen full of water and gives a hoot of laughter, "Nice! Holding back does pay off!" Her eyes look around, noticing her fellow tribute of District 4 is still around and breathing. "Oh, shit! You're alive!" She smiles and waves.

"Yeah..." He fakes a small chuckle, his wary eyes staring at the dead bodies. "Fuck. This is so sad."

"I know. I can't believe only two people die so far."

"Dude."

"I mean, this part is supposed to be the infamous Bloodbath. I thought seven of us were going to end up dead before exiting the Cornucopia. I didn't think there would be a lot of pussies. I was ready to fight anyone to the death!"

"I guess we're lucky," he mumbles, yet something feels off to him. He can't explain why he feels this way. He just knows he can't stay here for very long.

With the departure of Florida and Washington from the Cornucopia, the Bloodbath comes to an official end.

☆☆☆☆☆

• So-called "Bloodbath" that was. It was somewhat disappointing to see. Then again, with 48 tributes participating in the Games, it could've been a bloody bubble bath if I had to write more than eight deaths in a single chapter. Oh well. I wonder how the Head Gamemaker is feeling seeing only two tributes die during the Bloodbath.

~

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