(no subject)
Title: Dark Was the Night
Author: Vanz and Alexa
Rating: PG
Pairing: Gen | Hunger Games AU
Fandom: Generation Kill, Hunger Games Trilogy
Word count: 2377
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue. Character are based on the HBO representations, not on the actual people themselves.
Summary: “Guess today’s the day,” Nate said without continuing. Guess today’s the day I might have to kill you, he might’ve said. Guess today’s the day one of us might get to go home.
A/N: this part was written by the wonderful wonderful vanz.
There hadn’t been a winner in District 3 since Ray by the time the 7th Hunger Games rolled around. It wasn’t that the tributes weren’t as good, but with different arenas and the competition, it was more chance and luck than anything else. It was luck that allowed Brad to find the radar in the trees and chance when Ray made friends with the buffalo-mutts. It could’ve also been that the tributes after the two weren’t nearly as smart, but that’s not something they were planning on telling those kids. The best Brad could do was make them believe that they had a chance. Just rely on their instincts and what they were taught at home. The other tributes relied on strength and intimidation. Two things that the District 3 children were typically not genetically gifted with.
Their girl, a thirteen year old named Opal, didn’t stand a chance in the Cornucopia and was one of the first killed. Their boy however, an 18 year old named Garza, made it to the finale four where he accidentally electrocuted himself. It was an a serious stroke of bad luck when Ray and Brad saw it on television. Here he was, with a nearly completed make-shift tazer, when a snake slithered down from a tree and around his neck that it scared him so bad, he fell off the rotting dock and into the water below. One of the disadvantages of the arena being a swamp this year. Water fucking everywhere. It was a wonder that Garza made it that far.
In the Victor’s Lounge, per usual, Ray and Brad were yelling, if not screaming, at the television, urging Garza on every step. Brad was on the phone at least 10 times getting him supplies sent. He was actually on the phone when he heart Ray yell “YOU HAVE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME.”
Brad hung up the phone and by the time he got to the television, they were already showing replays of Garza falling into the water, tazer in hand and the electric shocks that instantly shot through his entire body. They stood, dead silent in complete disbelief. The other Victors were telling them to get out of the way, but they just couldn’t believe that they had gotten, Garza had gotten that far, just to die by a stupid little snake.
When Poke came up to give Ray and Brad his condolences, they were sulking in the back of the room. Well, Brad was sulking. Ray was laying face down on the floor against the wall in complete and utter devastation.
“He made it really far, considering the arena.” Poke wasn’t really sure what to say to make them feel better. He hadn’t gotten that good at it over the years, just as they hadn’t gotten that good at watching their kids die. The Victors of 1, 2, and 4 stopped caring and treated it like they didn’t even matter. Per usual, there was at least one or two Careers (as they were beginning to be called) left. Brad and Ray didn’t really care for them all too much. There was something about the way they cared more about the winning than caring whether or not their tributes lived.
The next day, as the year and years before, the two Victors found themselves on the couch, watching the remainder of the games. Not shouting and on the phone continuously with sponsors. But mostly to see who was going to come out alive.
Most of the alliances had broken up by the time it got to the final three. The boy from 7, a giant boy nicknamed ‘Manimal’, wandered alone since day one. Picking off kids when they were unfortunate enough to get in his way. A tribute from District 4 named Walt, came to the aid of a boy from 2 named Nate some days before Garza died and decided to stick together as long as they could.
The tributes from 4 had gotten extremely lucky in this arena. It was mostly swamp water with large cypress trees and floating docks that allowed the tributes to get to and from the small patches of dry land. The dangers of this games was not just each other, but what was in the arena. Walt, and his childhood friend and fellow tribute Flora, grew up where a swamp like this was only twenty minutes away. They knew which plants were edible, which snakes were poisonous, how to fish, what to listen for. Walt and Flor were unexpectedly split up shortly after the Cornucopia bloodbath and without making the audience think weak of him, had secretly been hoping to find her alive. But when the cannon boomed and Walt looked into the night sky to see her face as the tribute deceased, he knew where she was. And it no longer mattered.
Nate was trained for these Games as the people in his District had started doing. Hand to hand combat and weapons mostly. He could tell the difference between 15 different types of swords, could assemble and dissemble guns in record time without even thinking about it. He once asked his father if it was all to be trained to die. But his father told the then 10 year old, that it was more like training to give them a fighting chance. But dropped into the swamp, it felt more like he was set up to die- or at least, being from 2, give the audience the bloodbath they wanted.
He did kill, Nate wasn’t going to admit that he hadn’t, but he took no joy in and saw no point in dismembering and torturing his victim. He’d seen some strike blows to children’s heads over and over to make them feel their deaths coming, stabbing in the stomach so they can feel themselves bleed out, strangle their life out so they will know that they had no chance. He’d seen it year after year and it made him sick to watch it. If he was going to kill them, he decided, the least he could do was not shame their deaths.
It was the morning of the second week when Walt and Nate both woke on their dock. It was barely after sunset and it was well into the high 80s, and would only get hotter as the day wore on. Though shaded by the trees, the sun was nothing compared to the humidity and mosquitoes. Both boys were already sweating through their wetsuits, with red mosquito bites all over any bare patch of skin.
When Walt sat up, Nate was digging out whatever food supplies they had left. It was dangerously low. A half loaf of bread that one of Nate’s sponsors sent him, little water, and a few pieces of fish that Walt had caught the day before. But it didn’t matter. And they both knew it.
“Guess today’s the day,” Nate said without continuing. Guess today’s the day I might have to kill you, he might’ve said. Guess today’s the day one of us might get to go home. He didn’t say those things because he knew Walt was thinking the same thing when nothing came out of his end, just an uncommitted grunt and nod of recognition.
“Gotta find that Manimal first,” Nate said through a small bite of dried fish.
That was something neither of them were too excited about. They both saw him during the week of training before the Games started. One word that came to mind was brutal. An unnecessary amount of brutal. It was the first time they ever heard of anyone actually volunteering from the Games.
“Either he finds us,” Walt mumbled, “Or we find him.”
“And I’m in no rush for either.”
They knew the audience would be getting restless if there wasn’t a showdown soon. When it got too boring, the Gamemakers would send something horrible down to make things interesting.
They had two oars that allowed them to paddle through the water and test the depths of it if in the event they had to leave it. It was silent as they paddled slowly, dodging trees, watching for gators and other creatures, and listening for anything and everything.
That’s when they heard him.
“COME OUT COME OUT WHEREVER YOU ARE,” Manimal’s voice was low and booming, bouncing off the trees and hitting them both in the chest.
“Ahh shit, here we go,” Ray said suddenly getting interested. He and Brad moved to the edge of their seats when the camera showed both all three boys. Manimal with a sinister smirk wielding an ax, Nate and Walt scared frozen with their weapons (a spear and dagger respectively), tight in their hands.
Manimal called for them again and they knew it was time. Walt tested the depth of the water with his oar. “Not that deep,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Better get going.”
Walt and Nate slipped gently into the water as to not make a sound. The water came up to their knees. They waded slowly, probably hoping some animal would get to them first before suffering at the hand of the boy that would be glad to kill them in any way he would get a kick out of.
The dry patch of land was about a half an acre of open green. Built for showdown.
Manimal saw them and smiled when he saw the two boys come out of the water.
All three of them gripped their weapons tight and and the audience held it’s breath.
In the Victor’s lounge, they were all on their feet waiting just like the rest of Panem to see what would happen.
“I’ve got money on blondie,” Ray said eyeing Walt.
Brad shrugged, “Nah, I think Nate might have this.”
One of the Victors from 8 chimed in. “You don’t think Manimal might have it?”
Brad and Ray both looked over at her and shook their heads. “Too much muscle.”
What happened next was one of the most intense battles between tributes so far. Though Manimal had considerable strength on both of them and power as he swung his ax at them, both Walt and Nate were faster and better skilled and understood how to use their weapons, rather than just swinging them around hoping to hit something.
But it didn’t mean the two got out unscathed. Nate had a nasty gash on his hip and was holding his side while trying to fend off Manimal. When it seemed that he was done for, Manimal stood above him and laughed holding up his ax for the finale blow. But when Nate opened his eyes again not dead, he saw the better half of Walt’s spear lodged in Manimal’s chest.
Nate rolled out of the way before he fell onto his knees and onto his chest with the long end of the spear sticking out through the center of his back. Walt was about ten feet away. He wasn’t as beat up as Nate, but there were a few cuts on his arms and legs that could’ve used a few stitches.
He came to Nate’s side and looked at the gash that was spilling blood. He was laying on his back trying to not think of the pain. But his dagger was gripped tight in hand when Walt kneeled down.
“Guess you got your chance to kill me now,” he said weakly.
Walt’s face was unchanged. “I’m gonna get you something for your leg.”
Nate pulled his eyebrows together. This was not what was supposed to happen. Walt was supposed to take his dagger and put it through his chest and win the games since he had the advantage.
“If we’re gonna fight to the death, it better be an even fight right? Wanna keep the audience on their toes for a little while longer, right?” Walt looked up at the sky, towards the audience, so they could hear.
Nate didn’t say anything.
“This will at least give you a minute to figure out how you’re gonna kill me.”
Walt disappeared into the swamp, dragging this ending out as long as he could. When he returned, he had a handful of Spanish moss and a handful of berries in his hand. Nate was sitting up now, trusting Walt on his proposal for an even fight.
Walt crushed the berries in his hand and smeared it on his hip. Nate winced.
“Something my grandmother taught me.”
He stretched the moss out and wrapped it around Nate’s stomach holding it all in place.
“Just give it a minute,” Walt said not looking Nate in the eye. “It should start working soon.”
When he walked away to retrieve his spear, Nate tried standing. Walt kept his back to him, but spoke anyway.
“Thanks for having my back this whole time.” It was all he could say before he heard a thud which would’ve only been Nate falling back down. He couldn’t look at him or even listen to the twitching and groaning. It was something Nate taught him. Not shaming his death.
The cannon boomed signalling Nate’s death and Walt was crowned victor after the body was taken away.
But the cameras didn’t show a smiling, proud Victor. But what Brad, Ray, and the others in the Lounge saw in complete disbelief, was a boy so disgusted with what he had done, he couldn’t even keep the tears from spilling out. He threw his spear aside and let them call him a champion.
“Well I sure as fuck didn’t see that coming,” Brad admitted with agreement from the other Victors.
What they didn’t see coming, and what everyone else didn’t see coming, was what happened on the hovercraft that took Nate’s body.
Just as he was being prepared for muttation, a crash was heard. The doctors went into the room where Nate’s body had been laying. But Nate wasn’t on the table.
He was on the floor, heaving, sick, and confused. “Where am I?”
This was the first time the Capitol fucked up. Because by the time Nate woke up, everyone and Panem saw that he was dead and Walt was the Victor.
But Nate was in fact alive. So what were they going to do about that.
Author: Vanz and Alexa
Rating: PG
Pairing: Gen | Hunger Games AU
Fandom: Generation Kill, Hunger Games Trilogy
Word count: 2377
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue. Character are based on the HBO representations, not on the actual people themselves.
Summary: “Guess today’s the day,” Nate said without continuing. Guess today’s the day I might have to kill you, he might’ve said. Guess today’s the day one of us might get to go home.
A/N: this part was written by the wonderful wonderful vanz.
There hadn’t been a winner in District 3 since Ray by the time the 7th Hunger Games rolled around. It wasn’t that the tributes weren’t as good, but with different arenas and the competition, it was more chance and luck than anything else. It was luck that allowed Brad to find the radar in the trees and chance when Ray made friends with the buffalo-mutts. It could’ve also been that the tributes after the two weren’t nearly as smart, but that’s not something they were planning on telling those kids. The best Brad could do was make them believe that they had a chance. Just rely on their instincts and what they were taught at home. The other tributes relied on strength and intimidation. Two things that the District 3 children were typically not genetically gifted with.
Their girl, a thirteen year old named Opal, didn’t stand a chance in the Cornucopia and was one of the first killed. Their boy however, an 18 year old named Garza, made it to the finale four where he accidentally electrocuted himself. It was an a serious stroke of bad luck when Ray and Brad saw it on television. Here he was, with a nearly completed make-shift tazer, when a snake slithered down from a tree and around his neck that it scared him so bad, he fell off the rotting dock and into the water below. One of the disadvantages of the arena being a swamp this year. Water fucking everywhere. It was a wonder that Garza made it that far.
In the Victor’s Lounge, per usual, Ray and Brad were yelling, if not screaming, at the television, urging Garza on every step. Brad was on the phone at least 10 times getting him supplies sent. He was actually on the phone when he heart Ray yell “YOU HAVE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME.”
Brad hung up the phone and by the time he got to the television, they were already showing replays of Garza falling into the water, tazer in hand and the electric shocks that instantly shot through his entire body. They stood, dead silent in complete disbelief. The other Victors were telling them to get out of the way, but they just couldn’t believe that they had gotten, Garza had gotten that far, just to die by a stupid little snake.
When Poke came up to give Ray and Brad his condolences, they were sulking in the back of the room. Well, Brad was sulking. Ray was laying face down on the floor against the wall in complete and utter devastation.
“He made it really far, considering the arena.” Poke wasn’t really sure what to say to make them feel better. He hadn’t gotten that good at it over the years, just as they hadn’t gotten that good at watching their kids die. The Victors of 1, 2, and 4 stopped caring and treated it like they didn’t even matter. Per usual, there was at least one or two Careers (as they were beginning to be called) left. Brad and Ray didn’t really care for them all too much. There was something about the way they cared more about the winning than caring whether or not their tributes lived.
The next day, as the year and years before, the two Victors found themselves on the couch, watching the remainder of the games. Not shouting and on the phone continuously with sponsors. But mostly to see who was going to come out alive.
Most of the alliances had broken up by the time it got to the final three. The boy from 7, a giant boy nicknamed ‘Manimal’, wandered alone since day one. Picking off kids when they were unfortunate enough to get in his way. A tribute from District 4 named Walt, came to the aid of a boy from 2 named Nate some days before Garza died and decided to stick together as long as they could.
The tributes from 4 had gotten extremely lucky in this arena. It was mostly swamp water with large cypress trees and floating docks that allowed the tributes to get to and from the small patches of dry land. The dangers of this games was not just each other, but what was in the arena. Walt, and his childhood friend and fellow tribute Flora, grew up where a swamp like this was only twenty minutes away. They knew which plants were edible, which snakes were poisonous, how to fish, what to listen for. Walt and Flor were unexpectedly split up shortly after the Cornucopia bloodbath and without making the audience think weak of him, had secretly been hoping to find her alive. But when the cannon boomed and Walt looked into the night sky to see her face as the tribute deceased, he knew where she was. And it no longer mattered.
Nate was trained for these Games as the people in his District had started doing. Hand to hand combat and weapons mostly. He could tell the difference between 15 different types of swords, could assemble and dissemble guns in record time without even thinking about it. He once asked his father if it was all to be trained to die. But his father told the then 10 year old, that it was more like training to give them a fighting chance. But dropped into the swamp, it felt more like he was set up to die- or at least, being from 2, give the audience the bloodbath they wanted.
He did kill, Nate wasn’t going to admit that he hadn’t, but he took no joy in and saw no point in dismembering and torturing his victim. He’d seen some strike blows to children’s heads over and over to make them feel their deaths coming, stabbing in the stomach so they can feel themselves bleed out, strangle their life out so they will know that they had no chance. He’d seen it year after year and it made him sick to watch it. If he was going to kill them, he decided, the least he could do was not shame their deaths.
It was the morning of the second week when Walt and Nate both woke on their dock. It was barely after sunset and it was well into the high 80s, and would only get hotter as the day wore on. Though shaded by the trees, the sun was nothing compared to the humidity and mosquitoes. Both boys were already sweating through their wetsuits, with red mosquito bites all over any bare patch of skin.
When Walt sat up, Nate was digging out whatever food supplies they had left. It was dangerously low. A half loaf of bread that one of Nate’s sponsors sent him, little water, and a few pieces of fish that Walt had caught the day before. But it didn’t matter. And they both knew it.
“Guess today’s the day,” Nate said without continuing. Guess today’s the day I might have to kill you, he might’ve said. Guess today’s the day one of us might get to go home. He didn’t say those things because he knew Walt was thinking the same thing when nothing came out of his end, just an uncommitted grunt and nod of recognition.
“Gotta find that Manimal first,” Nate said through a small bite of dried fish.
That was something neither of them were too excited about. They both saw him during the week of training before the Games started. One word that came to mind was brutal. An unnecessary amount of brutal. It was the first time they ever heard of anyone actually volunteering from the Games.
“Either he finds us,” Walt mumbled, “Or we find him.”
“And I’m in no rush for either.”
They knew the audience would be getting restless if there wasn’t a showdown soon. When it got too boring, the Gamemakers would send something horrible down to make things interesting.
They had two oars that allowed them to paddle through the water and test the depths of it if in the event they had to leave it. It was silent as they paddled slowly, dodging trees, watching for gators and other creatures, and listening for anything and everything.
That’s when they heard him.
“COME OUT COME OUT WHEREVER YOU ARE,” Manimal’s voice was low and booming, bouncing off the trees and hitting them both in the chest.
“Ahh shit, here we go,” Ray said suddenly getting interested. He and Brad moved to the edge of their seats when the camera showed both all three boys. Manimal with a sinister smirk wielding an ax, Nate and Walt scared frozen with their weapons (a spear and dagger respectively), tight in their hands.
Manimal called for them again and they knew it was time. Walt tested the depth of the water with his oar. “Not that deep,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Better get going.”
Walt and Nate slipped gently into the water as to not make a sound. The water came up to their knees. They waded slowly, probably hoping some animal would get to them first before suffering at the hand of the boy that would be glad to kill them in any way he would get a kick out of.
The dry patch of land was about a half an acre of open green. Built for showdown.
Manimal saw them and smiled when he saw the two boys come out of the water.
All three of them gripped their weapons tight and and the audience held it’s breath.
In the Victor’s lounge, they were all on their feet waiting just like the rest of Panem to see what would happen.
“I’ve got money on blondie,” Ray said eyeing Walt.
Brad shrugged, “Nah, I think Nate might have this.”
One of the Victors from 8 chimed in. “You don’t think Manimal might have it?”
Brad and Ray both looked over at her and shook their heads. “Too much muscle.”
What happened next was one of the most intense battles between tributes so far. Though Manimal had considerable strength on both of them and power as he swung his ax at them, both Walt and Nate were faster and better skilled and understood how to use their weapons, rather than just swinging them around hoping to hit something.
But it didn’t mean the two got out unscathed. Nate had a nasty gash on his hip and was holding his side while trying to fend off Manimal. When it seemed that he was done for, Manimal stood above him and laughed holding up his ax for the finale blow. But when Nate opened his eyes again not dead, he saw the better half of Walt’s spear lodged in Manimal’s chest.
Nate rolled out of the way before he fell onto his knees and onto his chest with the long end of the spear sticking out through the center of his back. Walt was about ten feet away. He wasn’t as beat up as Nate, but there were a few cuts on his arms and legs that could’ve used a few stitches.
He came to Nate’s side and looked at the gash that was spilling blood. He was laying on his back trying to not think of the pain. But his dagger was gripped tight in hand when Walt kneeled down.
“Guess you got your chance to kill me now,” he said weakly.
Walt’s face was unchanged. “I’m gonna get you something for your leg.”
Nate pulled his eyebrows together. This was not what was supposed to happen. Walt was supposed to take his dagger and put it through his chest and win the games since he had the advantage.
“If we’re gonna fight to the death, it better be an even fight right? Wanna keep the audience on their toes for a little while longer, right?” Walt looked up at the sky, towards the audience, so they could hear.
Nate didn’t say anything.
“This will at least give you a minute to figure out how you’re gonna kill me.”
Walt disappeared into the swamp, dragging this ending out as long as he could. When he returned, he had a handful of Spanish moss and a handful of berries in his hand. Nate was sitting up now, trusting Walt on his proposal for an even fight.
Walt crushed the berries in his hand and smeared it on his hip. Nate winced.
“Something my grandmother taught me.”
He stretched the moss out and wrapped it around Nate’s stomach holding it all in place.
“Just give it a minute,” Walt said not looking Nate in the eye. “It should start working soon.”
When he walked away to retrieve his spear, Nate tried standing. Walt kept his back to him, but spoke anyway.
“Thanks for having my back this whole time.” It was all he could say before he heard a thud which would’ve only been Nate falling back down. He couldn’t look at him or even listen to the twitching and groaning. It was something Nate taught him. Not shaming his death.
The cannon boomed signalling Nate’s death and Walt was crowned victor after the body was taken away.
But the cameras didn’t show a smiling, proud Victor. But what Brad, Ray, and the others in the Lounge saw in complete disbelief, was a boy so disgusted with what he had done, he couldn’t even keep the tears from spilling out. He threw his spear aside and let them call him a champion.
“Well I sure as fuck didn’t see that coming,” Brad admitted with agreement from the other Victors.
What they didn’t see coming, and what everyone else didn’t see coming, was what happened on the hovercraft that took Nate’s body.
Just as he was being prepared for muttation, a crash was heard. The doctors went into the room where Nate’s body had been laying. But Nate wasn’t on the table.
He was on the floor, heaving, sick, and confused. “Where am I?”
This was the first time the Capitol fucked up. Because by the time Nate woke up, everyone and Panem saw that he was dead and Walt was the Victor.
But Nate was in fact alive. So what were they going to do about that.