DOOMSDAY || TREECH

It's been days since a peacekeeper had come back into the zoo, the only way Laurel knew they were there was from the stomping and yelling just beyond the walls. This morning one decided it was time the break the streak, "Up everyone, you're being moved." He bashes a club against the bars to draw the tribute's attention.

The strongest ones stood first making their way towards the gate. It swings open and a peacekeeper takes Laurel by the collar of her jacket, dragging her into the back of a van. Treech follows taking his spot beside her. The boy from District 9 was so poorly they had to throw him in by his wrists and ankles. He didn't react with more than a pained groan as he hit the hard metal floor, lying there for the whole drive. His district partner sat beside him her eyes tear-streaked staring down at him.

When Treech caught the glaze of premonition in Laurel's eyes, he pressed his fingers into the inside of her wrist, feeling her pulse. She looks up at him for a moment before mimicking the action, counting softly under her breath.

The truck screeches to a halt and they tumble out of the tray, shackled upon emergence. In front of them stood a colossal building. Its outside has warped and cracked with water damage and age, leaving the ghost of a once magnificent structure.

"Wait here for your mentor to find you!" a man orders, hearing the tributes together.

A few students, still dressed in their stupid red uniforms trickle towards the group. Leading them over to a large archway.

"Calla." Pliny finds his way to her side, "Come on."

He has an excited air about him, which confuses Laurel considering their decrepit surroundings.

"Where are we?" She questions following him up a set of concrete stairs.

"This is the arena," He replies animatedly, "They're letting us have a little wander around, to figure out strategy and stuff."

"Right." Ahead of them, Treech's mentor is arguing at him exasperatedly throwing her hands in the air. He only responds with a firm shake of his head.

A musty scent fills Laurel's senses as she gets closer to the area's entrance. The tall metal gates are dragged open with a screech and they enter a dark hall. Red lights are flashing around them. On instinct Laurel reaches out, grabbing a hold of Treech's jacket, he brings his hand around to hold her wrist.

"I'm sorry we haven't had a chance to talk strategy more," Pliny startles her, "They've decided to do interviews to, you know, help the capital citizens get to know you better. I wanted to ask if you would do one with me?"

His blabbering is cut in half by an animatronic voice, 'Enjoy the show!'. Her throat constricts, hand gripping tighter onto Treech, "No I don't think so." She rasps, "What good would that do?"

The boy groans, "They'll give me stuff, stuff I can send to you in here." He gestures around to the large field they have entered. Laurel didn't understand what bringing them here would help with, there wasn't very much to consider. It was little more than a large dirt patch surrounded by walls of seats.

"I don't think I'll need stuff." She turns to face the boy.

"Don't you want to win though?" He presses, "Go home and all that."

She would be deluding herself to think that was really what he wanted for her. Maybe her winning also won him something. Money? Fame? A title? Laurel doesn't care anyway, "You think really I could do that?"

He hesitates, solidifying her decision, "Yeah! Of course." She scoffs wandering away from him. Towards her partner.

"He trying to get you to do the interview?" Treech scoffs, eyes trained on the tall rows of seats around them.

"Yeah." She replies, "You going to do yours?"

"No. What would I even tell them?"

Laurel kisses her teeth, "You should, it'll help your mentor to send you stuff."

"Yeah right." He replies distractedly, "We could hide out up there for a while." 

Above them sits a scoreboard, a few feet above the highest chairs. It would be an easy climb for the pair who had grown up playing in the forest. The rusty support beams holding it are flaking in the wind but they were thin enough that it might be hard for others to follow them. 

"Not a lot of cover though." She rebuts.

The pair turn observing their surroundings in silence. Then, in a flurry of dust and noise, it collapses. To children who have spent the first decade of their lives at war, the sound of bombs is an unmistakable one. The two dropped to their knees curled with their arms over their heads. After the last explosion has rung out, a moment of silence follows.

Laurel stands first peering through dust and rubble, trying to decipher the yells and screams around her. The dust is too thick to see more than a foot in front of her, before it breaks and two bodies barrel past her, the pair from District One continue before a third figure follows. The girl is thrown off balance as a hand grabs her arm, dragging her along with them.

"The gate!" he yells, "It's blown open! We can go, come on."

For a moment the girl catches a glimpse of light, a glowing arch. She could have and maybe she should have run but Laurel's instincts force her heels into the ground, "I can't!" she screams tearing her arm out of the boy's grip. He doesn't spare her another glance before continuing.

The figure overtakes the pair from one, bursting out into the light before disappearing. The girl from one is the first to go down, holes litter her body as she falls to her knees. The boy lands only a few feet from the exit arms outstretched in front of him. Laurel can't hear the gunshots over the ringing in her ears but as Treech tackles her to the ground she can feel them fly past her head.

His weight and the thickness of the air are suffocating. Laurel can feel his heaving breaths brush over her face as she pushes and claws at him in a fight for air, but he stays in place until black dots cloud her vision putting her to sleep. 

a/n i'm a snow hater, he gets no screen time, he's irrelevant, he's ugly, he's stinky. sejanus stans rest easy