by SunnyJustice » Tue Aug 17, 2021 7:17 pm
(Super long! But here's the conclusion of one arc... and the beginning of the finale. The mutt voice is super annoying and pretentious, it'll be a relief to everyone when this is over!)
Now securely in the possession of a strong, robust body, one that could fight and kill with ease, the marauding mutt felt a rush of what could be described as pride. Any weak and pathetic sentimentality that remained in the worthless husk had to be purged for this to succeed. This one had fought with the rage of roaring waves, weeping hot tears as it clawed back from the brink to warn its ally of the impending horrors. It fought, and it lost. In the end the outcome was the same. The mutt tightened its grip on the feeble creature's nervous system, hijacking its primitive synapses with its own authority.
But the child from District Four wasn't dead, simply imprisoned in it helpless mind as something else pulled the strings to puppeteer its body. The horror and resignation that overcame it before was gone now, replaced with rage, much to the mutt's amusement. Let me out, you half rotted sea urchin! Let me out this instant or I'll string you up like bait on a rod! And get your big words out of my head, it barked, yapping away in its little prison. Not much room between the confines of its thick skull.
The mutt laughed, and with it the body laughed, too. Huffing in indignance, the imprisoned tribute continued to beat at the walls confining it. Each feeble blow nearly drew the child mad with the headache it caused, but the mutt remained stoic, indifferent to the pain. If this troglodyte wanted to beat itself senseless from the inside of its own skull then so be it. It wouldn't make much difference.
Soon it found its quarry, the most entertaining prey of all. The female from District Two showed promise ever since her stoic debut in the Training Center, a memory the mutt borrowed from Theo's own mind. In the arena, she'd racked up quite a long list of kills - the last of which the mutt knew from its connection to the Gamemakers. As powerful as it felt tormenting these tributes, it was still only a tool employed by deities crouched behind holographic control panels in a distant, sterile room.
Five kills. Five so far, and all were motivated by the same morbid compassion that kept Careers sane, focused on a mission. It was time to test exactly how far Kritanta Sioux's commitment would run.
"Balthar Septus was the first. You cried into his shoulder, thinking the microphones wouldn't pick it up. But the tracker under your skin heard every tremble in your breath." As it approached from across the plain, it spoke in a cruel mockery of Balthar's gruff tones.
"Joline Sutton was the second. You were so in touch with her emotions, told her everything she wanted to hear. Perhaps you were so connected that you felt the cold knife in your heart, too."
"Vera Silander was the third. Your ally tried to save her life, but you'd seen enough to understand the alternative would be easier. Easier for her, or for you?"
"Otto Exmoor was the fourth. When you found him, cold and drained of nearly all his blood, you helped him in the only way you saw possible. Or maybe the only way you understood at that point."
"Rainer Redwood was the fifth. Or rather, his remains were. He couldn't even speak, not that it would do him much good."
"Theo Hale." When the thing finally reached Kritanta, it smiled at her, revealing the sunny crinkle of Theo's eyes and the little dimples in their cheeks. "I won't let you make me the sixth. We had a good run, but it ends here."
It raised the trident that once belonged to a silly, sunbaked fool, a child who loved shellfish and long nights spent swimming in the bay, loved hugs and constellations and not being led around by some scurvy sea dog, loved freedom and - "Kritanta!"
The trident sailed far over Kritanta's head and landed several yards away, a perfect throw gone awry by a last-second jerk of the hand. Interference. This wasn't supposed to happen. As soon as the mutt regained control, it twisted its host's features into a rabid snarl and launched its body forward. If Theo wanted to screw themselves over so badly then let them die like a reckless fool, charging into the melee armed with nothing but bare hands and blind rage. Let them die like the dog they were.
In the small, cramped space between the prisoner's ears, a District Four child couldn't stop laughing. A mutt could pilot a Career's body, but it would never understand what it meant to be a Career. To deliver your life up into the hands of the reaping, a sacrifice, offering your blood so the children could enjoy one more year of safety. To stand under a falling blade and smile, knowing you accepted this outcome long ago. To look into your killer's eyes - golden eyes - and see the mutual understanding of a true friend.
You can do it, Kritanta, Theo sent their silent encouragement even as the thing forced their body to attack. It lashed out at her with desperate, vicious blows uncharacteristic of District Four's fluid style, totally disgraceful if you asked them.
Sixth time's the charm.