Hey guys! Remember that story I was going to submit to Telltale? Yeah it got rejected. So, I may try again in the future, or at the very lea… morest publish it as a book series, but as of now, I figured I'd show it to you guys, in the form of a Forum Game. That way, I'll be able to eventually revise it based on feedback to make a better end result. The only down side is there's no character submission, as all of the characters are already fully developed. But, if you'd like to join in, here's the link to it.
The Vigilant Sky: An Original Interactive Fiction
Edit: Oh, don't worry about it interfering with this story. I've already been trying to squeeze writing it into the cracks between writing this one, so the pacing will be about the same.
Yeah, I might try again later. Oh could you help spread this around? I don't know why, but I'm never able to amass the amount of readers that a lot of the other fan fictions do.
Yeah, I might try again later. Oh could you help spread this around? I don't know why, but I'm never able to amass the amount of readers that a lot of the other fan fictions do.
After considering both options, I decided for running to Cass. Crispin appears to be a psychopath for me and too unstable to look after two little kids.
@mr.quality @janitor @TheLier @supersagig @UkilledKenny @AAA_Jane @xSensus @WildlingKing @TWD_stan @LiquidChicagoTed
Hey guys, I'm going … moreto ask you to vote on that last part again at this new link. I think something might have gone wrong with the last one.
http://strawpoll.me/6603410
57% of readers chose to [A. Tell Corvin to stay with Crispin.]
"You may not be safe, but you'll be keeping Crispin happy." Aura replied. It hurt her to say these words, but she didn't have much of a choice. "Just stay here. Keep your head down. When I get back, we'll get out of her immediately, but I won't be here to protect you or Barker for the next few weeks."
"I don't want you to leave..." He said, looking down towards the bed they were sitting on. It was a rather pitiful look.
Aura responded by reaching her arms out toward her brother and bringing him into as tight a hug as she could give him. "I know you're afraid. I'm afraid to. But, something tells me you'll turn out alright, kid."
"Thanks." He sighed. "Now if I can only convinced Barker. He was crying for half an hour when you didn't come home. He thought you'd left without saying goodbye."
"No." Aura told him. "I wouldn't do that. You guys are my brothers! You and Barker are the most important people in my life right now. If you think I'm going to leave without hugging you for two or three hours, you need to get your head on straight."
"Ok." He said, getting up from the bed. He began to sulk towards the door. Before he opened it, he turned back around to meet his sister's gaze. "You're going to die, aren't you?"
The words hit Aura harder than she expected them too. She had been trying so hard to keep the truth away from them, but chances were not that great. "What makes you say that?" She asked after a long pause. The tears that she thought had all flowed away began to stream back again. "I'm going to come home, Corvin. I would never leave you."
"Ava died." He replied. She couldn't see his eyes. "And now you're going to die too... And Dad left us here with Crispin. He's not coming back..."
"I won't... I can't..."
"I don't believe you." He told her. He opened the door and stepped out. "Good night."
Aura couldn't find the strength to tell him good night before he closed the door. She laid back on her bed and closed her eyes, trying to rub away the tears forming. "That was very touching." She heard Crispin's voice spilling from the hallway. When she looked up to see him there, he was leaning against the doorway, smiling down toward her. "I'll make sure he doesn't forget you when you are gone."
"How long were you standing there?" Aura asked, trying to distance herself.
"Not very long. Enough to realize that boy is not as stupid as I thought before..." He laughed.
"Shut up..." Aura barked.
"That's not a very nice thing to say to your father..." When Aura turned away, she could see his false expression of hurt turned into a sadistic grin. "So how do you feel?"
"Pretty fucking bad." She frowned at him. "I'm going into the Games, for crying out loud."
"Aura..." He said, coming over to take a seat on her bed. "The Hunger Games are a great honor! Don't you see? You get to take a moment in your and be part of something bigger than yourself. You bring honor to your district. Honor to your family... The Cantarella name suits you well."
"It's not an honor." Aura said. "How could you even say that? How can you praise a government that sends twenty-four of its citizens to die every year? It's wrong."
"Well, that's just not true, Aura." Crispin said, with a malevolent grin. "Twenty-four tributes go into that arena to live." He reached into his pocket and before Aura had a chance to object, the man had pulled out his switchblade and extended it. The knife was shiny and clean just like he always kept it. He began to stab into the air with it. "On the first day, I was... stabbing this little orphan girl in the woods. It was right in the sternum. She bled for a few seconds... Coughing... Screaming in agony... As the life left her little fingers, I could feel it enter mine. The adrenaline rush was so real... So magnificent. It was the first time I ever killed."
Aura pushed herself farther away from Uncle Crispin with her feet. "You're sick in the head..."
"No..." He sighed, holding his knife in his hands longingly. "I think everyone else are the ones who are missing out. It's like a drug, you know. That girl wasn't the last either. I know you know my record. Go ahead and say it."
"...most direct kills in history."
"And how many was that?"
"Fourteen..."
"Fourteen fucking kills, Aura." Crispin's eyes lit up with excitement. "I went down in history as the bloodthirstiest tribute ever to enter the arena. Those motherfuckers didn't go down by natural causes or some shit. They went down by my blade, by my rope... By my hand. And when I crushed the last tribute's face in, and I was staring down at this sort of bloody husk, I knew that I was alive. I could feel my heart pumping in my chest. The blood flowing through my veins... I felt... Alive. Aura, the Hunger Games are an honor."
"The Hunger Games are an abomination." As soon as the words left her lips, there was a squeaking noise from the corner of the room. At first, she thought it was an old floorboard, but on closer inspection, it was a small mouse with light gray fur. Crispin noticed it as well. He got up from the bed and walked over to it. Aura immediately knew his intent. "Uncle Crispin, no!"
He fumbled around with it a moment, but eventually took firm hold of it. It look so sad as he held it up to her. Its legs flailed around more rapidly and it screeched more loudly the longer he held it there. "I'm going to teach you a lesson, Aura." He took his knife and tossed it at her feet. "Pick it up."
"No." She defiantly spoke.
"Aura, so help me, you will pick it up."
"No."
"You will listen to your father!" He shouted, leaning in in anger.
Aura looked the man straight in the eye. "You're not my father."
Crispin's eyes went white with rage, but then collapsed back into calm. "Very well." He said. Crispin began to squeeze the mouse in his hand. It's squeaks became more panicked, but died down more every minute. Not five seconds had passed before the mouse's head went limp and fell to its shoulders, dead. Its solid black eyes gazed longingly into her own. Its lifeless feet hung below Crispin's palm. A single tear let loose and rolled down her cheek. Crispin reached out and wiped it away. "There, there... Don't cry. You won't have a chance if you stop to dwell on the loss of life."
"You're a monster..." Crispin cried.
Crispin walked away from the bed and tossed the dead mouse into the trash can at the foot of Aura's door. He looked back at her. "In case you were wondering... Don't worry... I'll take good care of the boys while you're away. Good night, my little angel."
When he shut the door, Aura laid back on her bed. She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep, yet she closed her eyes. But, before she was able to get comfortable, she felt a lump on her back. She reached underneath her to find what it was pulled out the wooden owl pendant. It's large yellow eyes stared back at her with a sense of empathy. Then Aura realized something.
This owl was the only hope Aura had left. She was leaving for the Games. Her brothers were being left at home with a psychopath. Her father vanished without a trace and the last words she ever said to him were to tell him that she hated him... But the Owl was a friend... She realized that this was her last hope of a better life. The Owl was a friend in a world with none left. The Owl sees where the Hawk does not. The Owl is a friend...
At first, I felt deep regret for choosing for the boys to stay with Crispin. That guy is by far the most messed up person we've seen in the story so far. I mean, there are a number of bad guys, some of them even completely evil, like Snow, but Crispin is just fucked up. And stupid me chose to tell Corvin to stay with this psychopath. However, I'm sure things would have went even worse if Aura would have told him to run, considering that Crispin most likely heard everything she said. I am absolutely terrified of this guy and I don't want to imagine what he would have done to prevent the boys from escaping. Keeping their heads down and trying to stay on his good side, if he even was a good side, might indeed be the only chance they have.
57% of readers chose to [A. Tell Corvin to stay with Crispin.]
"You may not be safe, but you'll be keeping Crispin happy." Aura replied… more. It hurt her to say these words, but she didn't have much of a choice. "Just stay here. Keep your head down. When I get back, we'll get out of her immediately, but I won't be here to protect you or Barker for the next few weeks."
"I don't want you to leave..." He said, looking down towards the bed they were sitting on. It was a rather pitiful look.
Aura responded by reaching her arms out toward her brother and bringing him into as tight a hug as she could give him. "I know you're afraid. I'm afraid to. But, something tells me you'll turn out alright, kid."
"Thanks." He sighed. "Now if I can only convinced Barker. He was crying for half an hour when you didn't come home. He thought you'd left without saying goodbye."
"No." Aura told him. "I wouldn't do that. You guys are my brothers! You and B… [view original content]
Okay, I always knew Crispin would be a psycho, but not a COMPLETE psycho. Literally, what the hell was that? Fourteen kills. Fourteen. Okay, he's messed up. I full on regret letting the boys stay with his ass, god damn.
Oh, and by the way, I shared your other story on my social media platforms in hopes it'll get some recognition! I'll try to spread it on these forums too!
57% of readers chose to [A. Tell Corvin to stay with Crispin.]
"You may not be safe, but you'll be keeping Crispin happy." Aura replied… more. It hurt her to say these words, but she didn't have much of a choice. "Just stay here. Keep your head down. When I get back, we'll get out of her immediately, but I won't be here to protect you or Barker for the next few weeks."
"I don't want you to leave..." He said, looking down towards the bed they were sitting on. It was a rather pitiful look.
Aura responded by reaching her arms out toward her brother and bringing him into as tight a hug as she could give him. "I know you're afraid. I'm afraid to. But, something tells me you'll turn out alright, kid."
"Thanks." He sighed. "Now if I can only convinced Barker. He was crying for half an hour when you didn't come home. He thought you'd left without saying goodbye."
"No." Aura told him. "I wouldn't do that. You guys are my brothers! You and B… [view original content]
Okay, I always knew Crispin would be a psycho, but not a COMPLETE psycho. Literally, what the hell was that? Fourteen kills. Fourteen. Okay,… more he's messed up. I full on regret letting the boys stay with his ass, god damn.
Oh, and by the way, I shared your other story on my social media platforms in hopes it'll get some recognition! I'll try to spread it on these forums too!
Haha. This is one of the choices that will come to fruition in a really freaking long time from now. Like Book 5 at the earliest. Or a possible Season 2.
At first, I felt deep regret for choosing for the boys to stay with Crispin. That guy is by far the most messed up person we've seen in the … morestory so far. I mean, there are a number of bad guys, some of them even completely evil, like Snow, but Crispin is just fucked up. And stupid me chose to tell Corvin to stay with this psychopath. However, I'm sure things would have went even worse if Aura would have told him to run, considering that Crispin most likely heard everything she said. I am absolutely terrified of this guy and I don't want to imagine what he would have done to prevent the boys from escaping. Keeping their heads down and trying to stay on his good side, if he even was a good side, might indeed be the only chance they have.
Okay, I always knew Crispin would be a psycho, but not a COMPLETE psycho. Literally, what the hell was that? Fourteen kills. Fourteen. Okay,… more he's messed up. I full on regret letting the boys stay with his ass, god damn.
Oh, and by the way, I shared your other story on my social media platforms in hopes it'll get some recognition! I'll try to spread it on these forums too!
Awesome chapter! Im calling it, Crispin is going to kill the boys or he is at least going to try it. He is such a psycho. But I dont think there was a good option here, because he likely heard what Aura said to her brother.
57% of readers chose to [A. Tell Corvin to stay with Crispin.]
"You may not be safe, but you'll be keeping Crispin happy." Aura replied… more. It hurt her to say these words, but she didn't have much of a choice. "Just stay here. Keep your head down. When I get back, we'll get out of her immediately, but I won't be here to protect you or Barker for the next few weeks."
"I don't want you to leave..." He said, looking down towards the bed they were sitting on. It was a rather pitiful look.
Aura responded by reaching her arms out toward her brother and bringing him into as tight a hug as she could give him. "I know you're afraid. I'm afraid to. But, something tells me you'll turn out alright, kid."
"Thanks." He sighed. "Now if I can only convinced Barker. He was crying for half an hour when you didn't come home. He thought you'd left without saying goodbye."
"No." Aura told him. "I wouldn't do that. You guys are my brothers! You and B… [view original content]
Hey, sorry if I ever seem inactive. For some reason, the forums don't work on my mobile device and it's been like that for a couple months. But I do read this when I can and it's one of my favorite stories. Crispin is fucked up by the way!
57% of readers chose to [A. Tell Corvin to stay with Crispin.]
"You may not be safe, but you'll be keeping Crispin happy." Aura replied… more. It hurt her to say these words, but she didn't have much of a choice. "Just stay here. Keep your head down. When I get back, we'll get out of her immediately, but I won't be here to protect you or Barker for the next few weeks."
"I don't want you to leave..." He said, looking down towards the bed they were sitting on. It was a rather pitiful look.
Aura responded by reaching her arms out toward her brother and bringing him into as tight a hug as she could give him. "I know you're afraid. I'm afraid to. But, something tells me you'll turn out alright, kid."
"Thanks." He sighed. "Now if I can only convinced Barker. He was crying for half an hour when you didn't come home. He thought you'd left without saying goodbye."
"No." Aura told him. "I wouldn't do that. You guys are my brothers! You and B… [view original content]
Hey, sorry if I ever seem inactive. For some reason, the forums don't work on my mobile device and it's been like that for a couple months. But I do read this when I can and it's one of my favorite stories. Crispin is fucked up by the way!
Yup, just read the first part and I have to say, it's amazing. And no, I'm not just saying that. Your writing is AMAZING. I wish I had your skill xD. I'll read the other parts later on today to catch up with the choices
Yup, just read the first part and I have to say, it's amazing. And no, I'm not just saying that. Your writing is AMAZING. I wish I had your skill xD. I'll read the other parts later on today to catch up with the choices
well, first off I have to say I' sorry. I didn't realize that I had unfollowed this story. I read it through and I'm back up to date now. I'll be on the wagon from now on. Hopefully.
Hey guys. Sorry for not posting in a while. And just at the beginning of my new story too... God... Well, when I was writing the last part, my app crashed and I lost all my progress, so I was just like "Goddamnit!" and stopped. I'm going to try to get back into it now.
Hey guys. Sorry for not posting in a while. And just at the beginning of my new story too... God... Well, when I was writing the last part, … moremy app crashed and I lost all my progress, so I was just like "Goddamnit!" and stopped. I'm going to try to get back into it now.
Hey guys. Sorry for not posting in a while. And just at the beginning of my new story too... God... Well, when I was writing the last part, … moremy app crashed and I lost all my progress, so I was just like "Goddamnit!" and stopped. I'm going to try to get back into it now.
The way the blade felt in Saul's hand was empowering, yet coarse. For the moment when Munrow placed it in his hand, he wasn't sure whether he was holding the hilt or the blade itself. On one hand, this weapon was the way he would ultimately protect himself in the arena. It was the way he would keep his sister alive... On the other, it was a constant reminder of how much his life could have been different. The sword was a constant reminder of Munrow.
"Is it too heavy?" The man asked Saul, watching him stare down at the katana. After a moment where Saul didn't offer him the pleasure of his speech, Munrow spat again. "Damnit boy, is it too heavy?"
"No." He replied, taking his hand and sliding it along the steel edge. At one point, it caught on his skin wrong and a bit of blood was drawn. It hurt, yet in a strange way, made him feel a rush of energy. "It's fine."
"You say it's fine, but you really gotta know." He continued. "Does it feel like an extra length on your arm? Does it feel like if you swung, you aren't gonna have to put in your weight just to make sure it doesn't catch you at the other end? Or maybe it's too light. Ain't gonna do anything but a scratch if it's too light."
Saul gazed up and down the blade. It had a red band wrapped around the hilt. Its silky texture felt good in his left hand. It had a bit of serration at the tip. He wondered why Munrow had given him a real blade to practice with, especially one so nice... "It ain't too light." Saul replied. "I've never held a sword before..."
"So you don't damn well know." Munrow stepped forward aggressively and ripped the sword away from Saul again, holding it behind him. "Let's see..." He began to inspect it while muttering various numbers.
"Why does it even matter what the weight is, sir?" Saul asked. "All that really matters is that I hit my mark..."
"Yup... And you ain't gonna hit your mark if your balance is off." He shook his head. He finished muttering to himself and tossed the sword into Saul's hands. "Here. Looks to be about right."
Almost the moment the katana landed in Saul's hand, Munrow's own was brought down with great force. Saul only barely managed to parry the strike in time. "What the fuck?!" Saul shouted. "You didn't even say go!"
"The tributes ain't gonna fight nice, boy!" Munrow spat a couple of inches from Saul's nose. a drop of saliva came close to his eye, and he wiped it off with his thumb. "They're gonna be hard. You're going to see things in the arena that you didn't think humans were capable of. And they're gonna do it... Not just because they're Albar scum, but because they're expecting you'll do the same." He paused for a few seconds and then raised his hand in disbelief. "Well? What are you waiting for?"
"Waiting for...what?"
"I just left a huge gap open in my right side." He pointed to a section of his torso. "In the time it took me to finish speaking, you could have sliced me open in at least three different areas."
"I was waiting for you to finish talking."
"Please." Munrow snarled. "Don't give me this polite shit. The other tributes aren't going to recognize it. If you want to survive... if you want to serve your district like a hero, you're going to have to man up, son."
Saul bit the bullet and lifted the blade high above his head. But, just as he was about to bring it down onto Munrow's cranium, he felt a pain in his side. Munrow had slid a gash into his side with his own blade. "Fuck!" Saul shouted. The pain seared through his body, and he could feel the warm trickle of blood flowing down his side.
"You left yourself uncovered." Munrow advised. "Don't ever leave a side of yourself uncovered. If I were you, I would play on the defensive side. Only go for a blow after you've parried. That way, your opponent won't have any time to-" Before Saul was given a chance, the blade was swung at him once again, this time beside his right shoulder. He blocked the blow and, in an instant, swung the blade back around into his side. When it impacted, the blade was facing parallel to his body so the face lay flat on his side. "Good. Yet, you'll want to use this side." He said, taking the blade and turning it so the edge met with his skin. He slid it backwards slightly to draw blood. Taking the oppurtunity, Saul drew back as hard as he could causing a larger wound. He grunted, yet stood up straight, bearing the pain. "This may be only practice, and I have no intention to kill, but you can be damned sure I'm going to make this as...well, educational as possible..."
After three days had passed, the only time Saul and Munrow had taken to pause the training were brief stops for lunch, and for breathers. Munrow didn't allow Saul to flee to the orphanage during the night. His reasoning was that he would take his sleep for granted. Every word that Munrow uttered made Saul hate the man a bit more. So he had spent the last three days in this room. It was a cold, dusty, plain room with no windows. Munrow had called it his basement, but he was blindfolded when they entered, so he couldn't be sure. It was times like these, picthblack in the dead of night, when Munrow had given only himself time to sleep, that he thought of home. He missed Peara. He missed Ethel. Hell, he even missed the man he used to call Mr. Munrow.
Saul sat on the ground, slumped against the concrete wall. The only thing he could see was the light from the locked trapdoor above his head. The only thing he could hear was the gentle drip of water leaking through floorboards. The only thing he could feel was the cold of the sword on his touch and a feeling of regret. What if he had not told anyone about the fire. Would the Peacekeepers have even discovered it? It certainly wouldn't have been pinned on him and his sister... If he had stayed quiet, he wouldn't be starving on the floor of a dusty basement right now. Peara wouldn't be sleeping by herself in a locked bedroom right now. Saul stabbed the blade into the dirty ground and clenched it hard in his palm.
Maybe... There was a way to stop all this... Saul slid his finger over the edge of the blade and put his bloodied finger to his tongue. It tasted of iron. It tasted of his longing for another way. Munrow had given him a sword. It wasn't a practice one. It was real... One look at it would tell anyone that. Why had he done that? Perhaps, this were more than a practice.
Saul gazed up toward the lit hole in the ceiling. He read the clock from the other side of the window, reading 6 a.m. It was morning. He knew he should have slept, yet he was consumed by such an intense hatred that it kept him going. There was something about spending nights alone in a dark room with his thoughts and a deadly weapon that seemed... soothing to him. He knew that with one final act, he could always end it. He wouldn't have to take part in the awful tournament that the world had conspired him to. There is always a choice... However, he knew if he died in his cell, Peara would never last more than a day. He knew that if he died, what Munrow said would be true. Saul couldn't let that happen.
He found it ironic how Munrow had mentioned playing on the defense when he screwed up countless times the past few days. All he ever played, in any facet of life, was defense. Yet, with a weapon in his palm, he felt strangely offensive. He felt as though he had a power he never had before. He would be lying to say he didn't enjoy it somewhat. And throughout the course of the last few days, he had grown quite good... At one point yesterday, he landed a blow on the arm that caused the man to jump in pain and have to attend to the wound. He even came to appreciate swordplay as an art like Munrow did... Even with all the hatred, there was still something admirable about how much the man poured his effort into training.
Munrow would arrive soon, and with him, he would bring his vast collection of weapons with which to dismember Saul. But, the long night had given him a long time to think. There were other ways of ending things. When the man opened the door, it would remain unlocked until lunch... That would give him a few short hours to land a blow on him deep enough to escape. Yet... If he managed to do that, there were other ways to solve the problem...
Chapter 18: The Recruit
Saul Arrem
The way the blade felt in Saul's hand was empowering, yet coarse. For the moment when Munrow placed… more it in his hand, he wasn't sure whether he was holding the hilt or the blade itself. On one hand, this weapon was the way he would ultimately protect himself in the arena. It was the way he would keep his sister alive... On the other, it was a constant reminder of how much his life could have been different. The sword was a constant reminder of Munrow.
"Is it too heavy?" The man asked Saul, watching him stare down at the katana. After a moment where Saul didn't offer him the pleasure of his speech, Munrow spat again. "Damnit boy, is it too heavy?"
"No." He replied, taking his hand and sliding it along the steel edge. At one point, it caught on his skin wrong and a bit of blood was drawn. It hurt, yet in a strange way, made him feel a rush of energy. "It's fine."
"You say it's fine, but you really… [view original content]
Chapter 18: The Recruit
Saul Arrem
The way the blade felt in Saul's hand was empowering, yet coarse. For the moment when Munrow placed… more it in his hand, he wasn't sure whether he was holding the hilt or the blade itself. On one hand, this weapon was the way he would ultimately protect himself in the arena. It was the way he would keep his sister alive... On the other, it was a constant reminder of how much his life could have been different. The sword was a constant reminder of Munrow.
"Is it too heavy?" The man asked Saul, watching him stare down at the katana. After a moment where Saul didn't offer him the pleasure of his speech, Munrow spat again. "Damnit boy, is it too heavy?"
"No." He replied, taking his hand and sliding it along the steel edge. At one point, it caught on his skin wrong and a bit of blood was drawn. It hurt, yet in a strange way, made him feel a rush of energy. "It's fine."
"You say it's fine, but you really… [view original content]
Sorry that it took me so long to comment
This was an amazing part and I am happy this wonderful story is back! I like Saul even more now and I loved the choice. Obviously, I chose to go for the kill. Just running away won't work, but with this option he at least gets a chance to kill that bastard Munrow. I'm very much looking forward for the next part.
Chapter 18: The Recruit
Saul Arrem
The way the blade felt in Saul's hand was empowering, yet coarse. For the moment when Munrow placed… more it in his hand, he wasn't sure whether he was holding the hilt or the blade itself. On one hand, this weapon was the way he would ultimately protect himself in the arena. It was the way he would keep his sister alive... On the other, it was a constant reminder of how much his life could have been different. The sword was a constant reminder of Munrow.
"Is it too heavy?" The man asked Saul, watching him stare down at the katana. After a moment where Saul didn't offer him the pleasure of his speech, Munrow spat again. "Damnit boy, is it too heavy?"
"No." He replied, taking his hand and sliding it along the steel edge. At one point, it caught on his skin wrong and a bit of blood was drawn. It hurt, yet in a strange way, made him feel a rush of energy. "It's fine."
"You say it's fine, but you really… [view original content]
Sorry that it took me so long to comment
This was an amazing part and I am happy this wonderful story is back! I like Saul even more now an… mored I loved the choice. Obviously, I chose to go for the kill. Just running away won't work, but with this option he at least gets a chance to kill that bastard Munrow. I'm very much looking forward for the next part.
Well, usually I'd be cautious, but I don't think Saul can afford it right now. He's off to the games very soon and he has a very high chance to die, so this might be his only chance to take Munrow down. Besides, the D11 people have previously showed themselves to be very pragmatic. They need Saul and Peara alive to be their tributes and they need them in good shape so that they at least have a chance to win. Munrow on the other hand has no real use to the District anymore, since he already played his part. His allies are probably going to be angry, but what's the worst they are honestly willing to do?
Well, usually I'd be cautious, but I don't think Saul can afford it right now. He's off to the games very soon and he has a very high chance… more to die, so this might be his only chance to take Munrow down. Besides, the D11 people have previously showed themselves to be very pragmatic. They need Saul and Peara alive to be their tributes and they need them in good shape so that they at least have a chance to win. Munrow on the other hand has no real use to the District anymore, since he already played his part. His allies are probably going to be angry, but what's the worst they are honestly willing to do?
Chapter 18: The Recruit
Saul Arrem
The way the blade felt in Saul's hand was empowering, yet coarse. For the moment when Munrow placed… more it in his hand, he wasn't sure whether he was holding the hilt or the blade itself. On one hand, this weapon was the way he would ultimately protect himself in the arena. It was the way he would keep his sister alive... On the other, it was a constant reminder of how much his life could have been different. The sword was a constant reminder of Munrow.
"Is it too heavy?" The man asked Saul, watching him stare down at the katana. After a moment where Saul didn't offer him the pleasure of his speech, Munrow spat again. "Damnit boy, is it too heavy?"
"No." He replied, taking his hand and sliding it along the steel edge. At one point, it caught on his skin wrong and a bit of blood was drawn. It hurt, yet in a strange way, made him feel a rush of energy. "It's fine."
"You say it's fine, but you really… [view original content]
Saul felt a tingling sensation in his sternum. He knew what it was like to kill a man. The regret weighed down on him like a thousand tons against his body. For a long time after the incident years ago, he felt like he couldn't even move. Saul knew what it was like, yet this time it was different. The pressure and the weight was not coming from outside. It was coming from within. The regret was snared in his chest, clawing its way out. If he felt this way right now, how would the Games change him? How would they change Peara?
Hours and hours went by with nothing of a signal that he was not the only one in this District. The last few days, Munrow had shown up before the crack of dawn to begin training, yet something was off today. The light shone through the trap door above his head to light up the room in front of him. It was the light of morning. Saul began to wonder whether he was coming today.
But alas, before too long, he heard the creaking of footsteps on the floorboards over his head. They were very heavy footsteps, like each one had been taken with the utmost precision and care. Saul knew them to be Mr. Munrow's. The man hardly ever did anything without being certain about it. That notion made it harder to realize his betrayal was among that list.
Above him, Munrow peered down through the slits in the trapdoor. The look on his face indicated tiredness and disdain. He twirled one of the tassels on his beard as he bent down and inserted his key into its slot. When he dropped down into the chamber, the light of day spilled in. He hung a lamp on the wall and lit a match on his shoe.
Saul wasn't sure what time it was, but he had a vague idea. "You're late." He announced.
"You have an eye for detail, Arrem." He spat, lighting the wick inside the brass frame of the lamp. "I had to pick up something from town before coming over. And I'm sure you don't mind. I worked you down to the wire the last three days. A long breather can't hurt."
"I'm going to go insane..." He stated, standing up along the wall. Saul clenched the handle of his sword tighter than he had before. He prepared for his own resolve. At the end of today, he would have more than his own blood on his hands...
"Can't hurt, insanity." Munrow replied. "There was a tribute a few years ago, Pallo I think his name was... He ate four of the other tributes before he got axed at the Feast."
"He ate them? That's disgusting..."
"Yeah, it was pretty volatile." He bent down to his bag and began to remove his sword from it. It was just as polished and sharp as it was days ago. Saul's katana had worn away so there was a thin coat of dust on it. "And the Capitol didn't spare any gory detail. You could see every time he took a bite... There was a look of desperation, and almost enjoyment... Those are the people you are going to meet in the Games. They're twisted... psychotic. They're evil. So if you think you can carry your District on nothing more than faith... You're going to get eaten."
"Then how come we didn't send in our psychotics... Why can't we fight fire with fire?"
Monroe stood to face Saul and looked him in the eyes for the first time since before he was a traitor. "Because even evil people have a place in District Eleven. It's a quality they don't share with you and your sister. You don't belong here."
"How does our not being here help the district, you old fuck?!" Saul broke into shouting. He could feel his fingers tightening so much that his own fingernails cut into his palm. "We have every right to live here! This is our home!"
Munrow stood in front of Saul for a moment, as though preparing for an attack. When it didn't happen he spoke very calmly. "The Hawk has eyes on you, Saul."
"And now you're prattling on about some metaphorical shit!" Saul screamed. "Would it kill you to treat me like an equal for once?! Even before this whole ordeal, you were always a sick son of a bitch. I understand you are doing what you can for the district, but I'm doing what I can for my sister! My fucking blood! Maybe if you had any family you would understand what I'm going through!"
"The Hawk doesn't like what it sees."
"I can accept that I will have to go into the Games, but you had to drag my sister into it. She's all that I have left... Do you have any shred of conscience at all?" Saul wished to kill this man so badly. The only way he could hold himself back was by ranting on... "I sacrificed my life to you since I was eight years old... You were like my father, Mr. Munrow... Was I not your son?"
"The Hawk will reap its prey."
"Who is the fucking Hawk?!"
Munrow stared Saul dead in the eye and held his ground. Not a word of the answer was uttered, and it was enough to push Saul over the edge once and for all. He screamed at the top of his lungs and lunged forward with a stab to the left side. Like lightning, Munrow parried it and worked his way around to the right shoulder.
Saul placed his palm on the side of the blade and fully blocked the blow. Munrow stepped back and then to the side, enough to give him space to think. In a fit of rage, Saul stepped forward again, this time attacking from the right towards the legs. Munrow lifted his leg to dodge the strike and threw his own blade towards Saul's abdomen. He ducked further below the sword and attempted to counter it with a swipe towards the face of his own.
Munrow caught it with his own sword and the two forces held tight against each other. Saul leaned into the moment and so did the man on the other side. "I'm going to kill you..." Saul whispered at him, pressing all of his weight into the clash.
"Now... That sounds like a victor talking..." Munrow barked back from the other side of the crossed swords. Munrow broke free of the bond, sending Saul flying forward. He dodged to the side to avoid Saul's blade and leapt behind him to get a clear shot at his back. Munrow landed a little jab into Saul's back before he landed on the floor. The blood flowing down Saul's back hurt like hell, yet it was somewhat freeing. For a moment, he could concentrate on the pain in his lower back rather than on the pain is his heart. A single tear of frustration landed on the ground before Saul stood back up just in time to parry a thrust at his head.
More and more lunges and parries were tossed out into the fight. Saul's threats were only complimented with pointers on his technique. Saul didn't care about technique. He just wanted this man dead. He didn't have time to be frightened by the thought. Before too long, both Saul and Munrow had grown weary and tired. Normally, if this had been a practice like the previous few days, they would have taken a break to catch a breath. But, the stakes were real.
One last burst of adrenaline came over Saul and he leapt back into the battle. He threw strike after strike at the man. He hurled them as fast as he could so that Munrow had very little time to counter them. The more he swung his blade, the more rage Saul could feel welling up in his mind... the more pain he felt being lifted from him.
When the last strike fell, it caught Munrow off guard enough to plant itself in the space between Munrow's right shoulder and his neck. It didn't cut deep, but it cut deep enough to knock him to the ground. He clutched it with his both hands tightly, trying to keep as much blood in as he could. Saul stepped over his victim with one leg on either side of him and slowly passed his blade into both hands.
"You goddamn little prick..." Munrow spat, letting his blood seep onto the floor. "I've done all I can to help you succeed and this is how you repay me..."
"You had this coming..." Saul placed his right hand on the butt of his blade and drove it downwards towards Munrow's chest with all that he could muster. He knew that in a single moment, all of his pain would be relieved. He would be free. However, as the tip collides with his skin, something unexpected happens. The katana feels as though it's going to buckle under Saul's weight. Before he can put all of his weight into it, it snaps in half, leaving the lethal end on the floor and nothing but the handle in Saul's hands.
Munrow coughs loudly and for a long time, as though he had the wind knocked out of him. But, he eventually brings himself to rise upright again and stare Saul back down in his confused eyes. The man reaches to his collar and pulls off his button-up shirt to reveal a bloodied vest of steel chain mail. Saul felt cheated when he saw it... He wasn't given anything like that... So many of the wounds he'd suffered the last few days could have been avoided. He almost won...
"The Hawk will reap its prey." Munrow repeated, lifting his leg above him and kicking Saul into the dusty ground beneath him. He bent down and grabbed his own, shinier sword. Before Saul was able to stand back up again to fight back, Munrow had driven his blade deep into the boy's right forearm, sending a jolt of pain through his system that had no other comparison. Saul was screaming at the top of his lungs. The pain in his arm was almost too much to bear. The sword had penetrated the ground and was holding his arm to the dirt. No matter how much Saul writhed around, he couldn't make it hurt any less, much less escape.
Munrow fell back against the wall, sitting in the same position Saul was in this morning. "I'm sorry, Saul..." He croaked slowly, breathing to match. "You were like a son to me..."
"Bull... shit!" Saul shouted back through pauses in his screaming.
"When I took you in... I was just doing so because I was instructed to take an apprentice at my job..." He continued. "I spent the first year completely apathetic to your existence... I mean... who could blame me? My father was a piece of shit to me as a child, and my mother wasn't there enough to matter. I never thought I'd have a son..."
"You asshole!" The blood flowed little by little from the wound in Saul's arm, and he was started to feel dizzy.
"But as the years went on... I grew a sort of liking to you. You're resourceful... caring... I've never met anyone as good at climbing trees as you."
"Why did you... fucking sell me out?!"
"Saul... boy... I had to. You won't believe me, but I knew this day would come from the moment I took you as my apprentice..."
"You're lying..."
"I ain't lying." Munrow sighed, finally managing to stop the flow of blood from his neck. "I ain't even supposed to be telling you this. But... Saul, listen. I need you to know this when you're in the arena... I am sorry for everything I put you through. I do have a goddamn conscience... It's just... It's never done the district no good."
"GO...to... HELL!" Saul shouted through his own slow breathing. "Why would you... do something like this... if what you're saying is true?"
"Because..." Munrow sighed. "The Hawk will reap its prey..."
Saul's eyes closed slowly and his head fell back to the ground. He felt himself slowly drifting back into unconsciousness. And he realized... finally standing off against Munrow hadn't brought him relief from his pain. That's what sleep did. He knew if he ever woke up again, it would all come back, but for now... he could... wait... and...
Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. What an intense chapter! I'm so glad this hasn't stopped like the other Hunger games fanfictions - this is just too good. Saul is definitely one of my favourites at the moment, hopefully he makes it far. I'm lowkey glad that Munrow actually admitted to caring for Saul and that he had a conscience. But he's still a psycho in my view ;-;
83% of readers chose to [A. Go for the kill.]
Saul felt a tingling sensation in his sternum. He knew what it was like to kill a man. Th… moree regret weighed down on him like a thousand tons against his body. For a long time after the incident years ago, he felt like he couldn't even move. Saul knew what it was like, yet this time it was different. The pressure and the weight was not coming from outside. It was coming from within. The regret was snared in his chest, clawing its way out. If he felt this way right now, how would the Games change him? How would they change Peara?
Hours and hours went by with nothing of a signal that he was not the only one in this District. The last few days, Munrow had shown up before the crack of dawn to begin training, yet something was off today. The light shone through the trap door above his head to light up the room in front of him. It was the light of morning. Saul began to wonder whether he was coming… [view original content]
Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. What an intense chapter! I'm so glad this hasn't stopped like the other Hunger games fanfictions - this is jus… moret too good. Saul is definitely one of my favourites at the moment, hopefully he makes it far. I'm lowkey glad that Munrow actually admitted to caring for Saul and that he had a conscience. But he's still a psycho in my view ;-;
Again, great part! Can't wait for the next one
Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. What an intense chapter! I'm so glad this hasn't stopped like the other Hunger games fanfictions - this is jus… moret too good. Saul is definitely one of my favourites at the moment, hopefully he makes it far. I'm lowkey glad that Munrow actually admitted to caring for Saul and that he had a conscience. But he's still a psycho in my view ;-;
Again, great part! Can't wait for the next one
Comments
Yay! I'll definitely give this a read. And sorry to hear it got rejected, but you can always try again! ^^
Yeah, I might try again later. Oh could you help spread this around? I don't know why, but I'm never able to amass the amount of readers that a lot of the other fan fictions do.
Sure! ^^ I'll try my best to spread it c:
Thanks! It'll help.
After considering both options, I decided for running to Cass. Crispin appears to be a psychopath for me and too unstable to look after two little kids.
57% of readers chose to [A. Tell Corvin to stay with Crispin.]
"You may not be safe, but you'll be keeping Crispin happy." Aura replied. It hurt her to say these words, but she didn't have much of a choice. "Just stay here. Keep your head down. When I get back, we'll get out of her immediately, but I won't be here to protect you or Barker for the next few weeks."
"I don't want you to leave..." He said, looking down towards the bed they were sitting on. It was a rather pitiful look.
Aura responded by reaching her arms out toward her brother and bringing him into as tight a hug as she could give him. "I know you're afraid. I'm afraid to. But, something tells me you'll turn out alright, kid."
"Thanks." He sighed. "Now if I can only convinced Barker. He was crying for half an hour when you didn't come home. He thought you'd left without saying goodbye."
"No." Aura told him. "I wouldn't do that. You guys are my brothers! You and Barker are the most important people in my life right now. If you think I'm going to leave without hugging you for two or three hours, you need to get your head on straight."
"Ok." He said, getting up from the bed. He began to sulk towards the door. Before he opened it, he turned back around to meet his sister's gaze. "You're going to die, aren't you?"
The words hit Aura harder than she expected them too. She had been trying so hard to keep the truth away from them, but chances were not that great. "What makes you say that?" She asked after a long pause. The tears that she thought had all flowed away began to stream back again. "I'm going to come home, Corvin. I would never leave you."
"Ava died." He replied. She couldn't see his eyes. "And now you're going to die too... And Dad left us here with Crispin. He's not coming back..."
"I won't... I can't..."
"I don't believe you." He told her. He opened the door and stepped out. "Good night."
Aura couldn't find the strength to tell him good night before he closed the door. She laid back on her bed and closed her eyes, trying to rub away the tears forming. "That was very touching." She heard Crispin's voice spilling from the hallway. When she looked up to see him there, he was leaning against the doorway, smiling down toward her. "I'll make sure he doesn't forget you when you are gone."
"How long were you standing there?" Aura asked, trying to distance herself.
"Not very long. Enough to realize that boy is not as stupid as I thought before..." He laughed.
"Shut up..." Aura barked.
"That's not a very nice thing to say to your father..." When Aura turned away, she could see his false expression of hurt turned into a sadistic grin. "So how do you feel?"
"Pretty fucking bad." She frowned at him. "I'm going into the Games, for crying out loud."
"Aura..." He said, coming over to take a seat on her bed. "The Hunger Games are a great honor! Don't you see? You get to take a moment in your and be part of something bigger than yourself. You bring honor to your district. Honor to your family... The Cantarella name suits you well."
"It's not an honor." Aura said. "How could you even say that? How can you praise a government that sends twenty-four of its citizens to die every year? It's wrong."
"Well, that's just not true, Aura." Crispin said, with a malevolent grin. "Twenty-four tributes go into that arena to live." He reached into his pocket and before Aura had a chance to object, the man had pulled out his switchblade and extended it. The knife was shiny and clean just like he always kept it. He began to stab into the air with it. "On the first day, I was... stabbing this little orphan girl in the woods. It was right in the sternum. She bled for a few seconds... Coughing... Screaming in agony... As the life left her little fingers, I could feel it enter mine. The adrenaline rush was so real... So magnificent. It was the first time I ever killed."
Aura pushed herself farther away from Uncle Crispin with her feet. "You're sick in the head..."
"No..." He sighed, holding his knife in his hands longingly. "I think everyone else are the ones who are missing out. It's like a drug, you know. That girl wasn't the last either. I know you know my record. Go ahead and say it."
"...most direct kills in history."
"And how many was that?"
"Fourteen..."
"Fourteen fucking kills, Aura." Crispin's eyes lit up with excitement. "I went down in history as the bloodthirstiest tribute ever to enter the arena. Those motherfuckers didn't go down by natural causes or some shit. They went down by my blade, by my rope... By my hand. And when I crushed the last tribute's face in, and I was staring down at this sort of bloody husk, I knew that I was alive. I could feel my heart pumping in my chest. The blood flowing through my veins... I felt... Alive. Aura, the Hunger Games are an honor."
"The Hunger Games are an abomination." As soon as the words left her lips, there was a squeaking noise from the corner of the room. At first, she thought it was an old floorboard, but on closer inspection, it was a small mouse with light gray fur. Crispin noticed it as well. He got up from the bed and walked over to it. Aura immediately knew his intent. "Uncle Crispin, no!"
He fumbled around with it a moment, but eventually took firm hold of it. It look so sad as he held it up to her. Its legs flailed around more rapidly and it screeched more loudly the longer he held it there. "I'm going to teach you a lesson, Aura." He took his knife and tossed it at her feet. "Pick it up."
"No." She defiantly spoke.
"Aura, so help me, you will pick it up."
"No."
"You will listen to your father!" He shouted, leaning in in anger.
Aura looked the man straight in the eye. "You're not my father."
Crispin's eyes went white with rage, but then collapsed back into calm. "Very well." He said. Crispin began to squeeze the mouse in his hand. It's squeaks became more panicked, but died down more every minute. Not five seconds had passed before the mouse's head went limp and fell to its shoulders, dead. Its solid black eyes gazed longingly into her own. Its lifeless feet hung below Crispin's palm. A single tear let loose and rolled down her cheek. Crispin reached out and wiped it away. "There, there... Don't cry. You won't have a chance if you stop to dwell on the loss of life."
"You're a monster..." Crispin cried.
Crispin walked away from the bed and tossed the dead mouse into the trash can at the foot of Aura's door. He looked back at her. "In case you were wondering... Don't worry... I'll take good care of the boys while you're away. Good night, my little angel."
When he shut the door, Aura laid back on her bed. She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep, yet she closed her eyes. But, before she was able to get comfortable, she felt a lump on her back. She reached underneath her to find what it was pulled out the wooden owl pendant. It's large yellow eyes stared back at her with a sense of empathy. Then Aura realized something.
This owl was the only hope Aura had left. She was leaving for the Games. Her brothers were being left at home with a psychopath. Her father vanished without a trace and the last words she ever said to him were to tell him that she hated him... But the Owl was a friend... She realized that this was her last hope of a better life. The Owl was a friend in a world with none left. The Owl sees where the Hawk does not. The Owl is a friend...
End of Chapter 17
Chapter 1 of my new story is up now as well! Be sure to check it out!
https://www.telltalegames.com/community/discussion/comment/2416789#Comment_2416789
At first, I felt deep regret for choosing for the boys to stay with Crispin. That guy is by far the most messed up person we've seen in the story so far. I mean, there are a number of bad guys, some of them even completely evil, like Snow, but Crispin is just fucked up. And stupid me chose to tell Corvin to stay with this psychopath. However, I'm sure things would have went even worse if Aura would have told him to run, considering that Crispin most likely heard everything she said. I am absolutely terrified of this guy and I don't want to imagine what he would have done to prevent the boys from escaping. Keeping their heads down and trying to stay on his good side, if he even was a good side, might indeed be the only chance they have.
Okay, I always knew Crispin would be a psycho, but not a COMPLETE psycho. Literally, what the hell was that? Fourteen kills. Fourteen. Okay, he's messed up. I full on regret letting the boys stay with his ass, god damn.
Oh, and by the way, I shared your other story on my social media platforms in hopes it'll get some recognition! I'll try to spread it on these forums too!
Oh thanks!
Haha. This is one of the choices that will come to fruition in a really freaking long time from now. Like Book 5 at the earliest. Or a possible Season 2.
Oh by the way, how exactly did you spread it on social media?
I used my Tumblr and Facebook!
Ah okay. Thank you! Have you read it yet?
Awesome chapter! Im calling it, Crispin is going to kill the boys or he is at least going to try it. He is such a psycho. But I dont think there was a good option here, because he likely heard what Aura said to her brother.
Hey, sorry if I ever seem inactive. For some reason, the forums don't work on my mobile device and it's been like that for a couple months. But I do read this when I can and it's one of my favorite stories. Crispin is fucked up by the way!
Yeah he is lol. Nice to see you back!
Yup, just read the first part and I have to say, it's amazing. And no, I'm not just saying that. Your writing is AMAZING. I wish I had your skill xD. I'll read the other parts later on today to catch up with the choices
Thanks for the kind words
Bump!
Yeah sorry i've been super busy. I'll try to get back into swing soon.
well, first off I have to say I' sorry. I didn't realize that I had unfollowed this story. I read it through and I'm back up to date now. I'll be on the wagon from now on. Hopefully.
Hey guys. Sorry for not posting in a while. And just at the beginning of my new story too... God... Well, when I was writing the last part, my app crashed and I lost all my progress, so I was just like "Goddamnit!" and stopped. I'm going to try to get back into it now.
J U S T D O I T
aw damn. that must suck:/ glad to know you haven't given up though! just take your time.
Chapter 18: The Recruit
Saul Arrem
The way the blade felt in Saul's hand was empowering, yet coarse. For the moment when Munrow placed it in his hand, he wasn't sure whether he was holding the hilt or the blade itself. On one hand, this weapon was the way he would ultimately protect himself in the arena. It was the way he would keep his sister alive... On the other, it was a constant reminder of how much his life could have been different. The sword was a constant reminder of Munrow.
"Is it too heavy?" The man asked Saul, watching him stare down at the katana. After a moment where Saul didn't offer him the pleasure of his speech, Munrow spat again. "Damnit boy, is it too heavy?"
"No." He replied, taking his hand and sliding it along the steel edge. At one point, it caught on his skin wrong and a bit of blood was drawn. It hurt, yet in a strange way, made him feel a rush of energy. "It's fine."
"You say it's fine, but you really gotta know." He continued. "Does it feel like an extra length on your arm? Does it feel like if you swung, you aren't gonna have to put in your weight just to make sure it doesn't catch you at the other end? Or maybe it's too light. Ain't gonna do anything but a scratch if it's too light."
Saul gazed up and down the blade. It had a red band wrapped around the hilt. Its silky texture felt good in his left hand. It had a bit of serration at the tip. He wondered why Munrow had given him a real blade to practice with, especially one so nice... "It ain't too light." Saul replied. "I've never held a sword before..."
"So you don't damn well know." Munrow stepped forward aggressively and ripped the sword away from Saul again, holding it behind him. "Let's see..." He began to inspect it while muttering various numbers.
"Why does it even matter what the weight is, sir?" Saul asked. "All that really matters is that I hit my mark..."
"Yup... And you ain't gonna hit your mark if your balance is off." He shook his head. He finished muttering to himself and tossed the sword into Saul's hands. "Here. Looks to be about right."
Almost the moment the katana landed in Saul's hand, Munrow's own was brought down with great force. Saul only barely managed to parry the strike in time. "What the fuck?!" Saul shouted. "You didn't even say go!"
"The tributes ain't gonna fight nice, boy!" Munrow spat a couple of inches from Saul's nose. a drop of saliva came close to his eye, and he wiped it off with his thumb. "They're gonna be hard. You're going to see things in the arena that you didn't think humans were capable of. And they're gonna do it... Not just because they're Albar scum, but because they're expecting you'll do the same." He paused for a few seconds and then raised his hand in disbelief. "Well? What are you waiting for?"
"Waiting for...what?"
"I just left a huge gap open in my right side." He pointed to a section of his torso. "In the time it took me to finish speaking, you could have sliced me open in at least three different areas."
"I was waiting for you to finish talking."
"Please." Munrow snarled. "Don't give me this polite shit. The other tributes aren't going to recognize it. If you want to survive... if you want to serve your district like a hero, you're going to have to man up, son."
Saul bit the bullet and lifted the blade high above his head. But, just as he was about to bring it down onto Munrow's cranium, he felt a pain in his side. Munrow had slid a gash into his side with his own blade. "Fuck!" Saul shouted. The pain seared through his body, and he could feel the warm trickle of blood flowing down his side.
"You left yourself uncovered." Munrow advised. "Don't ever leave a side of yourself uncovered. If I were you, I would play on the defensive side. Only go for a blow after you've parried. That way, your opponent won't have any time to-" Before Saul was given a chance, the blade was swung at him once again, this time beside his right shoulder. He blocked the blow and, in an instant, swung the blade back around into his side. When it impacted, the blade was facing parallel to his body so the face lay flat on his side. "Good. Yet, you'll want to use this side." He said, taking the blade and turning it so the edge met with his skin. He slid it backwards slightly to draw blood. Taking the oppurtunity, Saul drew back as hard as he could causing a larger wound. He grunted, yet stood up straight, bearing the pain. "This may be only practice, and I have no intention to kill, but you can be damned sure I'm going to make this as...well, educational as possible..."
After three days had passed, the only time Saul and Munrow had taken to pause the training were brief stops for lunch, and for breathers. Munrow didn't allow Saul to flee to the orphanage during the night. His reasoning was that he would take his sleep for granted. Every word that Munrow uttered made Saul hate the man a bit more. So he had spent the last three days in this room. It was a cold, dusty, plain room with no windows. Munrow had called it his basement, but he was blindfolded when they entered, so he couldn't be sure. It was times like these, picthblack in the dead of night, when Munrow had given only himself time to sleep, that he thought of home. He missed Peara. He missed Ethel. Hell, he even missed the man he used to call Mr. Munrow.
Saul sat on the ground, slumped against the concrete wall. The only thing he could see was the light from the locked trapdoor above his head. The only thing he could hear was the gentle drip of water leaking through floorboards. The only thing he could feel was the cold of the sword on his touch and a feeling of regret. What if he had not told anyone about the fire. Would the Peacekeepers have even discovered it? It certainly wouldn't have been pinned on him and his sister... If he had stayed quiet, he wouldn't be starving on the floor of a dusty basement right now. Peara wouldn't be sleeping by herself in a locked bedroom right now. Saul stabbed the blade into the dirty ground and clenched it hard in his palm.
Maybe... There was a way to stop all this... Saul slid his finger over the edge of the blade and put his bloodied finger to his tongue. It tasted of iron. It tasted of his longing for another way. Munrow had given him a sword. It wasn't a practice one. It was real... One look at it would tell anyone that. Why had he done that? Perhaps, this were more than a practice.
Saul gazed up toward the lit hole in the ceiling. He read the clock from the other side of the window, reading 6 a.m. It was morning. He knew he should have slept, yet he was consumed by such an intense hatred that it kept him going. There was something about spending nights alone in a dark room with his thoughts and a deadly weapon that seemed... soothing to him. He knew that with one final act, he could always end it. He wouldn't have to take part in the awful tournament that the world had conspired him to. There is always a choice... However, he knew if he died in his cell, Peara would never last more than a day. He knew that if he died, what Munrow said would be true. Saul couldn't let that happen.
He found it ironic how Munrow had mentioned playing on the defense when he screwed up countless times the past few days. All he ever played, in any facet of life, was defense. Yet, with a weapon in his palm, he felt strangely offensive. He felt as though he had a power he never had before. He would be lying to say he didn't enjoy it somewhat. And throughout the course of the last few days, he had grown quite good... At one point yesterday, he landed a blow on the arm that caused the man to jump in pain and have to attend to the wound. He even came to appreciate swordplay as an art like Munrow did... Even with all the hatred, there was still something admirable about how much the man poured his effort into training.
Munrow would arrive soon, and with him, he would bring his vast collection of weapons with which to dismember Saul. But, the long night had given him a long time to think. There were other ways of ending things. When the man opened the door, it would remain unlocked until lunch... That would give him a few short hours to land a blow on him deep enough to escape. Yet... If he managed to do that, there were other ways to solve the problem...
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@mr.quality @janitor @TheLier @supersagig @UkilledKenny @AAA_Jane @xSensus @WildlingKing @TWD_stan @LiquidChicagoTed
Alright guys. I'm so sorry to keep you waiting for a month now. But, I'm trying to fix my mistakes.
Yay! Glad this is back!
I chose to go for the kill. Fuck it. Munrow's twisted as fuck.
@mr.quality @janitor @TheLier @supersagig @UkilledKenny @AAA_Jane @xSensus @WildlingKing @LiquidChicagoTed
I guess I forgot to mention, I put up a new part.
Hey, great to see this back!
Kill him. Kill them all.
Sorry that it took me so long to comment
This was an amazing part and I am happy this wonderful story is back! I like Saul even more now and I loved the choice. Obviously, I chose to go for the kill. Just running away won't work, but with this option he at least gets a chance to kill that bastard Munrow. I'm very much looking forward for the next part.
Haha I kind of expected everyone to be a bit more cautious, but I guess they're jumping on the oppurtunity I provided.
Well, usually I'd be cautious, but I don't think Saul can afford it right now. He's off to the games very soon and he has a very high chance to die, so this might be his only chance to take Munrow down. Besides, the D11 people have previously showed themselves to be very pragmatic. They need Saul and Peara alive to be their tributes and they need them in good shape so that they at least have a chance to win. Munrow on the other hand has no real use to the District anymore, since he already played his part. His allies are probably going to be angry, but what's the worst they are honestly willing to do?
True true.
He is dead boiz
83% of readers chose to [A. Go for the kill.]
Saul felt a tingling sensation in his sternum. He knew what it was like to kill a man. The regret weighed down on him like a thousand tons against his body. For a long time after the incident years ago, he felt like he couldn't even move. Saul knew what it was like, yet this time it was different. The pressure and the weight was not coming from outside. It was coming from within. The regret was snared in his chest, clawing its way out. If he felt this way right now, how would the Games change him? How would they change Peara?
Hours and hours went by with nothing of a signal that he was not the only one in this District. The last few days, Munrow had shown up before the crack of dawn to begin training, yet something was off today. The light shone through the trap door above his head to light up the room in front of him. It was the light of morning. Saul began to wonder whether he was coming today.
But alas, before too long, he heard the creaking of footsteps on the floorboards over his head. They were very heavy footsteps, like each one had been taken with the utmost precision and care. Saul knew them to be Mr. Munrow's. The man hardly ever did anything without being certain about it. That notion made it harder to realize his betrayal was among that list.
Above him, Munrow peered down through the slits in the trapdoor. The look on his face indicated tiredness and disdain. He twirled one of the tassels on his beard as he bent down and inserted his key into its slot. When he dropped down into the chamber, the light of day spilled in. He hung a lamp on the wall and lit a match on his shoe.
Saul wasn't sure what time it was, but he had a vague idea. "You're late." He announced.
"You have an eye for detail, Arrem." He spat, lighting the wick inside the brass frame of the lamp. "I had to pick up something from town before coming over. And I'm sure you don't mind. I worked you down to the wire the last three days. A long breather can't hurt."
"I'm going to go insane..." He stated, standing up along the wall. Saul clenched the handle of his sword tighter than he had before. He prepared for his own resolve. At the end of today, he would have more than his own blood on his hands...
"Can't hurt, insanity." Munrow replied. "There was a tribute a few years ago, Pallo I think his name was... He ate four of the other tributes before he got axed at the Feast."
"He ate them? That's disgusting..."
"Yeah, it was pretty volatile." He bent down to his bag and began to remove his sword from it. It was just as polished and sharp as it was days ago. Saul's katana had worn away so there was a thin coat of dust on it. "And the Capitol didn't spare any gory detail. You could see every time he took a bite... There was a look of desperation, and almost enjoyment... Those are the people you are going to meet in the Games. They're twisted... psychotic. They're evil. So if you think you can carry your District on nothing more than faith... You're going to get eaten."
"Then how come we didn't send in our psychotics... Why can't we fight fire with fire?"
Monroe stood to face Saul and looked him in the eyes for the first time since before he was a traitor. "Because even evil people have a place in District Eleven. It's a quality they don't share with you and your sister. You don't belong here."
"How does our not being here help the district, you old fuck?!" Saul broke into shouting. He could feel his fingers tightening so much that his own fingernails cut into his palm. "We have every right to live here! This is our home!"
Munrow stood in front of Saul for a moment, as though preparing for an attack. When it didn't happen he spoke very calmly. "The Hawk has eyes on you, Saul."
"And now you're prattling on about some metaphorical shit!" Saul screamed. "Would it kill you to treat me like an equal for once?! Even before this whole ordeal, you were always a sick son of a bitch. I understand you are doing what you can for the district, but I'm doing what I can for my sister! My fucking blood! Maybe if you had any family you would understand what I'm going through!"
"The Hawk doesn't like what it sees."
"I can accept that I will have to go into the Games, but you had to drag my sister into it. She's all that I have left... Do you have any shred of conscience at all?" Saul wished to kill this man so badly. The only way he could hold himself back was by ranting on... "I sacrificed my life to you since I was eight years old... You were like my father, Mr. Munrow... Was I not your son?"
"The Hawk will reap its prey."
"Who is the fucking Hawk?!"
Munrow stared Saul dead in the eye and held his ground. Not a word of the answer was uttered, and it was enough to push Saul over the edge once and for all. He screamed at the top of his lungs and lunged forward with a stab to the left side. Like lightning, Munrow parried it and worked his way around to the right shoulder.
Saul placed his palm on the side of the blade and fully blocked the blow. Munrow stepped back and then to the side, enough to give him space to think. In a fit of rage, Saul stepped forward again, this time attacking from the right towards the legs. Munrow lifted his leg to dodge the strike and threw his own blade towards Saul's abdomen. He ducked further below the sword and attempted to counter it with a swipe towards the face of his own.
Munrow caught it with his own sword and the two forces held tight against each other. Saul leaned into the moment and so did the man on the other side. "I'm going to kill you..." Saul whispered at him, pressing all of his weight into the clash.
"Now... That sounds like a victor talking..." Munrow barked back from the other side of the crossed swords. Munrow broke free of the bond, sending Saul flying forward. He dodged to the side to avoid Saul's blade and leapt behind him to get a clear shot at his back. Munrow landed a little jab into Saul's back before he landed on the floor. The blood flowing down Saul's back hurt like hell, yet it was somewhat freeing. For a moment, he could concentrate on the pain in his lower back rather than on the pain is his heart. A single tear of frustration landed on the ground before Saul stood back up just in time to parry a thrust at his head.
More and more lunges and parries were tossed out into the fight. Saul's threats were only complimented with pointers on his technique. Saul didn't care about technique. He just wanted this man dead. He didn't have time to be frightened by the thought. Before too long, both Saul and Munrow had grown weary and tired. Normally, if this had been a practice like the previous few days, they would have taken a break to catch a breath. But, the stakes were real.
One last burst of adrenaline came over Saul and he leapt back into the battle. He threw strike after strike at the man. He hurled them as fast as he could so that Munrow had very little time to counter them. The more he swung his blade, the more rage Saul could feel welling up in his mind... the more pain he felt being lifted from him.
When the last strike fell, it caught Munrow off guard enough to plant itself in the space between Munrow's right shoulder and his neck. It didn't cut deep, but it cut deep enough to knock him to the ground. He clutched it with his both hands tightly, trying to keep as much blood in as he could. Saul stepped over his victim with one leg on either side of him and slowly passed his blade into both hands.
"You goddamn little prick..." Munrow spat, letting his blood seep onto the floor. "I've done all I can to help you succeed and this is how you repay me..."
"You had this coming..." Saul placed his right hand on the butt of his blade and drove it downwards towards Munrow's chest with all that he could muster. He knew that in a single moment, all of his pain would be relieved. He would be free. However, as the tip collides with his skin, something unexpected happens. The katana feels as though it's going to buckle under Saul's weight. Before he can put all of his weight into it, it snaps in half, leaving the lethal end on the floor and nothing but the handle in Saul's hands.
Munrow coughs loudly and for a long time, as though he had the wind knocked out of him. But, he eventually brings himself to rise upright again and stare Saul back down in his confused eyes. The man reaches to his collar and pulls off his button-up shirt to reveal a bloodied vest of steel chain mail. Saul felt cheated when he saw it... He wasn't given anything like that... So many of the wounds he'd suffered the last few days could have been avoided. He almost won...
"The Hawk will reap its prey." Munrow repeated, lifting his leg above him and kicking Saul into the dusty ground beneath him. He bent down and grabbed his own, shinier sword. Before Saul was able to stand back up again to fight back, Munrow had driven his blade deep into the boy's right forearm, sending a jolt of pain through his system that had no other comparison. Saul was screaming at the top of his lungs. The pain in his arm was almost too much to bear. The sword had penetrated the ground and was holding his arm to the dirt. No matter how much Saul writhed around, he couldn't make it hurt any less, much less escape.
Munrow fell back against the wall, sitting in the same position Saul was in this morning. "I'm sorry, Saul..." He croaked slowly, breathing to match. "You were like a son to me..."
"Bull... shit!" Saul shouted back through pauses in his screaming.
"When I took you in... I was just doing so because I was instructed to take an apprentice at my job..." He continued. "I spent the first year completely apathetic to your existence... I mean... who could blame me? My father was a piece of shit to me as a child, and my mother wasn't there enough to matter. I never thought I'd have a son..."
"You asshole!" The blood flowed little by little from the wound in Saul's arm, and he was started to feel dizzy.
"But as the years went on... I grew a sort of liking to you. You're resourceful... caring... I've never met anyone as good at climbing trees as you."
"Why did you... fucking sell me out?!"
"Saul... boy... I had to. You won't believe me, but I knew this day would come from the moment I took you as my apprentice..."
"You're lying..."
"I ain't lying." Munrow sighed, finally managing to stop the flow of blood from his neck. "I ain't even supposed to be telling you this. But... Saul, listen. I need you to know this when you're in the arena... I am sorry for everything I put you through. I do have a goddamn conscience... It's just... It's never done the district no good."
"GO...to... HELL!" Saul shouted through his own slow breathing. "Why would you... do something like this... if what you're saying is true?"
"Because..." Munrow sighed. "The Hawk will reap its prey..."
Saul's eyes closed slowly and his head fell back to the ground. He felt himself slowly drifting back into unconsciousness. And he realized... finally standing off against Munrow hadn't brought him relief from his pain. That's what sleep did. He knew if he ever woke up again, it would all come back, but for now... he could... wait... and...
End of Chapter 18
Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. What an intense chapter! I'm so glad this hasn't stopped like the other Hunger games fanfictions - this is just too good. Saul is definitely one of my favourites at the moment, hopefully he makes it far. I'm lowkey glad that Munrow actually admitted to caring for Saul and that he had a conscience. But he's still a psycho in my view ;-;
Again, great part! Can't wait for the next one
He is a prick, but probably a very rational one. He did what he thought is the best.
Still makes him an ass.
Thanks for the kind words. Did anyone notice the Hawk reference?