Author Games Compilation [Cycle 1]

Task 2 - The Bloodbath (PC)

Calm down, calm down, calm down. The feeling of ascending sent Percy's stomach lurching, and for a moment he thought he'd throw up on the metal plate sending him to his probable grave. In attempts to staunch the vomit from rising he clenched his eyes tightly shut. It worked whenever he felt seasick. Calm down, calm down, calm down.

Percy knew he would need to grow balls, and fast if he were to get through the first day. But what if it's not my courage that's faltering, he thought, but the idea that I've already lost? Suddenly the tube shook and instincts forced his eyes open, and he slammed his palms against the sleek glass. He looked up. A sheet of metal broke into two and brightness blinded him. Humidity reached down and wrapped its heated fingers around his being. He became most conscious of his sweat glands working double time to make the tight uniform stick to his skin. Calm down, calm down, calm down.

His head passed the metal rim, then his shoulders, and abdomen, until the plate underneath him locked into place. The ground beneath him glistened and shuddered.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Twenty-third annual Hunger Games begin!" Percy admired his surroundings in both fear and fascination. As his sixty seconds of preparation ticked away, he came to an inevitable realization: there was no calm when you were in the Games. And this conclusion in itself was enough to bring rationality back to him.

Percy observed the environment he'd be trapped in for the next few weeks. He'd read about places like this in books he'd stolen. Swamps, marshes, bogs. Each grassy chunk of land would be a mousetrap, and it would be best to avoid them altogether. Maybe someone else would make the mistake and plunge-- He needed to stop thinking. The spirit of the Games was getting to him, and that was the last thing he wanted.

Twenty seconds. The rest of the arena could wait for inspection; his full attention needed to be devoted to this moment, for this moment would determine how he would play the game. Briefly he glanced to either side of him. To his left was Azrael, to his right was a girl with an eleven pinned to her shoulder. Strong competitors, but he may be able to out-swim them... 

The mouth of the Cornucopia smiled at him directly, taunting him. Fleeing was not an option, not yet anyway. He needed those supplies. No one ever made it far without supplies. Ten seconds remained and he prepared his posture for snap movement. Don't look at the other tributes. What matters now is being the fastest. Deep breath in, deep breath out, three, two, one.

When the gong rang out, Percy wasted no time in diving into the murky marsh. For the first several yards he was able to cut through the water effortlessly, but about halfway through, the fraud land began blocking his path. If you can't go through it, go around it. Thankfully the chunks of land weren't too big so he was able to navigate his way around with ease.

There, the circular platform of land the Cornucopia sat on was within arms reach. One other person had arrived before him but they paid him no mind, more worried about getting in and getting out. Percy shared the same plan. He planted his hand in a thick substance, mud, and tried pulling himself onto land.

He felt something tug at his leg, weakly at first, then in a burst of force, and the lower portion of his body was yanked back into the swamp. Percy in a panic began blindly kicking behind him and only stopped when he heard an audible crack and felt the hands release their death grip on his ankle.

Percy scrambled the rest of the way up, slipping more than once, and ventured as deep as he dared into the Cornucopia. "Percy!" 

He jerked his head to the voice. It was Layla, the girl from his district. By now there were three tributes searching for supplies. She pointed beside him. "The trident--get it! And toss me a spear!"