May The Odds Be Ever In Our Favour {PurplePhone | Hunger Games}

Seven.

All was silent for a long time. Scott stared at the District 11 girl, who was gaping at him.

Her lips curled into a grimace, "Ugh! Were you about to kiss that guy?! Gross!" She lifted up a crossbow, and Scott realised that it was the same one that the boy had been shooting at him with a day ago.

"I-It's not what it looks like! I- Uh-" Scott pushed away from Vincent, looking over at the other tribute for help. He may be floating in the water, but he felt like he was drowning in his words. "We- We were just... practising?" He cringed immediately after the word left his mouth. He had a feeling that if the mood wasn't so serious, Vincent would have burst out laughing.

Instead, it was the girl who laughed now, a hoarse, grating sound, "So that's why you were so against going for the star-crossed lovers approach to the games! You had your eyes set on someone else all along. Pathetic."

She let the arrow fly, and next moment, Scott was pushed underwater.

Murky, muddy water filled his mouth and nose. It tasted disgusting and he started coughing, the little air that he had in his lungs escaping in bubbles. A hand clasped over his mouth, and he realised that Vincent had pulled them both underwater, so that the arrows couldn't get to them.

Scott's lungs burned, and he clawed at the hand over his mouth, desperate to kick to the surface and suck in all the air he could. Through the brown muck, he could just make out Vincent pointing at him, and then downwards, as if to say 'stay here'.

Then, he was gone.

As soon as he disappeared, Scott scrambled furiously to fresh air, breaking the surface of the lake and gasping, breathing heavily.

Vincent had started swimming across the lake, towards the tribute on the other side. He was going to kill her, and Scott would be helpless, forced to watch.

"Vincent, wait!" Scott choked out, starting to swim after him, willing his stone limbs to move faster, "Don't! W-Wait for me!"

"Don't get in the way, Scott," Vincent called out. He'd virtually made it to the bank by now. The girl tribute - Annabeth - had waited patiently for him to get there, evidentially deciding that the fight would be more fun on land.

"For goodness' sakes..." Scott mumbled, deciding to keep focused on swimming, and promising himself he'd ignore whatever happened on the shore until he got there.

--

Vincent's feet touched against the lake bed, and he knew he could walk from here. He didn't have his knife with him, and he knew the girl knew that. That's why she wasn't shooting. She thought he'd be a much easier kill on land. A clean picking.

We'll see about that, Vincent thought.

As soon as he set foot on the grass beside the lake, the first arrow shot past him, missing by about a foot.

"Now, that's hardly fair," Vincent tsked. "I've only just gotten out of the water." He turned to face the girl, shifting into a defensive stance.

It did not take long for him to realise that the tribute was completely inept with a bow. She strung and shot again, and the arrow missed entirely. She cursed, fumbling with her quiver and trying to load another arrow. He actually doubted she'd ever used a crossbow before today.

He ran at her, and she growled, throwing the bow and pulling a dagger out of her belt.

Vincent skidded to a stop almost immediately. He hadn't considered the fact that she may have had a concealed weapon. He'd hoped to scare her off, and now it was just his bare hands against a long, jagged blade.

She charged at him, swinging the blade in a large arc towards his torso. Vincent ducked just in time, instantly standing up and spinning around, planning to catch her knife arm, but she escaped his fingers. Without a second's break she flung around, almost slashing him across the face.

Vincent stumbled backwards, his foot catching on a rock, and he fell flat onto his back.

The girl stood over him, sneering, "Look at that. Everyone else is terrified of you, but you're not even as fierce as they say."

"Bite me," Vincent spat.

District 11 barked a laugh, before dropping to her knees over him. "I'll let the blade do that for me."

"Hold it!"

Vincent swore immediately, "Scott, what did I tell you about-" He cut himself  off abruptly as his eyes fell on the thin boy standing behind the girl. He had her bow in his arms, an arrow knocked in the string and pointing straight at her. The string was pulled taught - he was ready to let the arrow fly.

 The girl turned to look at him, surprised at first but quickly glaring, "You? Are you telling me that you are going to kill me?" She cackled unpleasantly. "Do it, then."

Scott faltered just slightly, Vincent saw the bow begin to tremble. It's alright Scott, I got this. Scott had created the perfect distraction. With a sudden buck of his hips, he flipped the girl off of him and rolled over, pinning her to the ground.

Realising she'd been fooled, her eyes widened, the colour draining out of her face. She flailed beneath Vincent, but he was strong - stronger than most - and he didn't let go.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and it made him jump. He growled slightly, "I don't care what you say, we're not letting her go, even if she was your girlfriend back in the Districts."

"That's not what I was going to say," Scott's voice was what truly shocked Vincent. He sounded so distant, like he was talking from another person. "Pin her arms down."

Vincent glanced up at him, almost worried for the fragile boy's mental state. His eyes were dark, all hint of joviality gone. Almost - almost - intimidated, Vincent shifted to the side, keeping a tight hold on the girl's arms.

As soon as the pressure was lifted from her legs, she started kicking and writhing like a cut snake. "You won't do it!" She shrieked, "You couldn't if you tried!"

Scott calmly moved, standing side-on to her, and resting one foot on her hips. He pulled the string of the bow back, the arrow hovering 15 cm or so above her heart. Enough to kill her if he decided to let go.

Annabeth stilled suddenly, her eyes narrowed into slits, "Do you really want to live knowing you've killed me? You wouldn't survive. You'd turn into a hopeless wreck, and drive yourself insane with the grief. You don't have the guts."

At the last sentence left her mouth, something indescribable flashed in Scott's eyes. He tilted his head back, as if looking through the cameras themselves to whoever was watching at home. "This is for all the times you've called me weak," he shouted. "All the times you've forgotten I existed. All the times you underestimated me. This..." He looked back down at Annabeth. "Is for all the times you've told me I don't have the guts."

Annabeth's eyes widened, her chest starting to heave slightly as her breathing quickly. "Please..." she whispered. "Please... not me."

Scott trembled slightly, but glared down at her, "Who's the pathetic one, now?"

He re-adjusted his fingers on the bow, and then, after a deep breath, let go of the string.