DOOMSDAY || TREECH

In all of the inactivity of the last few days, Laurel had almost forgotten she's a part of a game. Right now, there were thousands of people watching her and waiting for something exciting to happen, surely, they were disappointed. It's sick, here she was worrying about whether the boy sleeping across her thighs would make it home and they're all probably out there betting on who would be the next to go.

About a foot above them sat a chunky black camera, the same kind that were stationed outside the peacekeeper's barracks back in Seven. Its black, glassy eyes are staring directly at them, waiting. It makes Laurel's blood boil as she tries to avoid eye contact with it, but as she looks out into the arena, they're the only thing she can see. A huge swarm of flies, here to pick at their decaying bodies. A small tear made up of rage trickles down her cheek. Before it can reach the ground, the camera above them whirs into life, focusing right on her.

"Fuck you." She whispers, turning away from it, only to be met by another on the opposite side of her.

Coming to the surface had seemed like a good idea when she had asked. The sun is nice and Treech's mentor had been able to send some water in with a fancy little drone, but the down below had been private. Somewhere she could have died in peace with just Treech there to hold her hand.

Slowly, Laurel moves the boy's head from her lap where he had been sleeping soundly and rises with the biggest rock she could hold without losing the little balance she has. Her legs buckle slightly under her but she doesn't dare look down at them. All she would see would be dull skin and bones.

The jagged edges dig into her palm with the force of her grip, "Fuck you." She states staring the big black eyes down, "Monsters." This is her death. She chose it and she would do it again. But Laurel is going to go on her terms.

With all the strength she has, Laurel lobs the rock into the camera. It cracks off the wall and clatters, down, down, down onto into the arena below. She grabs hold of a new rock, turning towards the second camera, but before she can let it fly a large hand grabs her wrist.

"Laurel." The noise of her fit must have woken Treech. Laurel drops the rock quickly turning to face him.

"Sorry." She whispers, moving her gaze down to her tattered brown boots.

"It's okay." He replies seriously pulling her down low onto the floor quickly.

"What's wrong?"

He holds out a finger pointing towards a large hole in the arena's wall where a gaggle of tributes emerge. The group is made up of the pair from District Four and the boy from Ten, all of them are carrying a weapon of some kind. As they reach the light they stop to observe the area for a moment, before the girl, Coral locks her eyes on the pair high above her head. Her face cracks into a terrible grin and she lets out a bellowing laugh. The two boys follow her gaze and the group starts moving quickly over the rubble.

"Shit." Treech mumbles climbing to his feet, axe in hand, "Shit, shit, shit. Fuck."

The group makes light work climbing up the walls but halts at the base of the scoreboard, warry of the rotting metal in front of them. "Are you going to come down or are you going to make this harder for all of us?" Coral calls out tauntingly.

Treech has one hand gripping the roots of his hair, his eyes darting from side to side, looking for an escape, "Fuck."

Without a weapon, Laurel picks up another rock, though in her state Treech doubts how much she'll be able to do.

The girl below them lets out a strained laugh, "I guess we're coming up."

The floor rattles under the pair's feet, Coral to the left of them and the boy from Ten to their right. The thin metal and great distance underneath them make their progress slow. Treech takes a few swings at Coral with his axe holding her in place, but the boy continues towards them, a bloody knife held between his teeth. When he has one foot on the platform he pulls it from his mouth, smiling wildly.