WHO: Basil Lumineer, Marlin Felucca, Dory Skipjack. WHAT: The breaking of the fellowship. WHEN: Day 13, early morning. WHERE: The rocky mountains, southish of the meadow. STATUS: Completed log.
The alliance was still holding, and they were back in decent shape, with Marlin’s second kill to their names now, fights to keep the Capitol interested, and Dory’s bite looking a hundred times better thanks to the medicine her mentors had sent. Even their food situation had improved between Basil’s goat meat and Marlin’s fish, and Dory could feel the difference: she was more chipper and alert than she’d been in a long time, and tonight was her turn on watch while Marlin and Basil slept -- or at least rested. How much longer Basil would be willing to stay with them, with the number of living tributes dwindling and the time when they’d all need to become enemies drawing closer by the day, she didn’t know.
The sound of movement from near the tent had her whipping around, her trident clutched tight in her hands. It was just Basil, though, and she lowered the weapon a bit and gave him her most reassuring smile. No reason to make him cautious around her. After all, they were still allies. For now.
“Is it your turn on watch already?” she asked brightly. “I’m not tired -- you could get some more rest if you want it, Basil.”
It was getting close to time, Basil knew that. He would have to leave them soon, which was too bad. There were only ten tributes left standing. But part of him didn’t want to have to leave Dory and Marlin, but if he wanted to live they had to die. He would have to leave and finish off the hunger games on his own. His hand tightened on his knife and he sat down across from her.
“I’m having trouble going back to sleep,” he told her.
Inside the tent, Marlin stirred at the sound of voices outside. Just Dory and Basil outside. No danger there, not with so many tributes, including District 2, still left standing. Nevertheless, Marlin felt uneasy about the two of them sitting outside, and that felt more like his instincts than the delirium of a concussed man. He'd bragged about those instincts to Caesar Flickerman so many lifetimes ago, and he trusted them, reaching for the knife lying next to him on the tent floor.
Marlin poked his head out of the front flap, turning the knife over in his hand, flipping the blade against his arm and out of view. "Yeah? I can't sleep either," he called out. He wasn't strictly telling the truth. "Maybe we should get a move on."
Dory glanced over at Marlin, lifting one eyebrow carefully at him. “If you want to,” she answered, after a short pause. “We aren’t finding anyone to kill sitting around here, that’s for sure.”
It was oddly tense, what should have been a normal moment of discussion between allies; Dory hadn’t missed how Basil was gripping his knife. She flicked her gaze at Marlin again, and shifted slightly, putting a little more space between her and Basil. Just in case. Her trident wouldn’t do her much good if he got too close, after all.
“What do you think, Basil?” she asked, keeping her voice sweet and blithe, even if her eyes were sharp. “Is it time to move on?”
Are you fucking kidding me Basil thought to himself. Things had gone from fine to tense in a matter of hours and even more so in the last few seconds. This was fucking bullshit, fucking Twos and fucking Ritz and that fucking girl from Five if the dumb ass outlier was to be believed. If only fucking Ritz hadn’t gone off on her own, then she would be here to have his back. He should have left while the Fours were sleeping, fuck putting on a good show, he should have murdered them in their beds.
He wished he had Ritz’s broadsword. He wasn’t as good, but it was something to have in his hands. He stood still and then without warning grabbed his weapons. He was outnumbered, he had to get away but he didn’t want to seem like a coward either. Fuck being like a coward, he decided, you didn’t care about being a coward when you were dead. Then he ran like he was on fire trying to get away from the Fours, maybe he could lead them to a cliff and then throw both of them off of it.
Marlin burst out of the tent as soon as Basil took off. He regretted that this meant breaking their pact -- a part of him still thought that, in another life, they could have been friends -- but if Basil was going to run like a coward, then Marlin wasn't going to let him get away with it. Not in the Hunger Games. Gripping the knife, he gave chase. "Don't you fucking dare!" he snarled.
Dory was a second slower than Marlin, surprise keeping her from reacting immediately. If anything, she’d have expected Basil to rush at her, not run away -- but he’d made his choice. What was left of the alliance was over, that was clear, and so she leapt after him as well.
Both boys were bigger and stronger, but Dory was fast even on her fishbitten leg, healing well thanks to the cream her mentors had sent, but not back to full capacity yet. Every step tugged at the still-healing wound, but the adrenaline of the chase was enough to let her ignore the pain. After nearly two weeks together she’d almost been able to trust Basil -- it was amazing how quickly none of that seemed to matter anymore, how quickly she was ready to fight and kill him because he stood in the way of her own survival.
Basil had his spear and he was already cursing himself for doing something so stupid, but if he could get away - Dory had gotten injured so many times, she was probably the next one to die and maybe Marlin could kill the twos and then they could wind up at the end. In the back of Basil’s head though, he knew that wasn’t likely unless he got away or could take one of them out right now.
He turned around quickly and threw one of his two remaining knives at Dory, even if he didn’t kill her, he should have paid closer attention to where he’d thrown it. It might distract her and she wasn’t as good at throwing knives as he was. He turned to run again, but Marlin was catching. He was concussed right? A slowed down Dory and maybe if he could get Marlin now - yes that was a better plan and he abruptly turned around and charged at Marlin.
Marlin stopped and faced Basil head on, bracing himself for impact. He couldn't believe their alliance had come to this so early, and the imminent fight felt even less real than the rest of the Hunger Games had so far. Before the arena, he'd hoped for glorious, thrilling fights, and he could feel his blood pumping, but strangely not in the same way as when he had killed Laurel and Thread. Maybe it was because he knew Basil, had once trusted him, and a part of him hoped he still could. But the arena was no place for trust.
Holding the knife in a reverse grip, Marlin wound up his arm to take a bladed punch. Even with the buzzing in his brain, he could do that. He could be the iceberg that sunk Basil’s charging ship.
There was part of Basil that didn’t think that this felt real, it seemed more dramatic when he had watched it and now he was running at his former ally and this was all kinds of fucked up. But Basil wanted to live and that meant Dory and Marlin had to go. Marlin’s knife cut part of his arm as he moved to have it miss something more crucial, it was bleeding but it didn’t hurt. Too much adrenaline was flowing through his veins.
Blood dripping from his left arm, he used his right one and lifted his arm to punch Marlin in the face.
Marlin swayed back, Basil's fist just barely grazing his face. He had known even in the Training Center that it would be different when the time came for him to fight his allies, particularly Basil, over whom his slim height and weight advantage meant essentially nothing. He would have to think fast.
Unfortunately, Marlin still wasn't quite up to the task of thinking fast. All he could think to do was lunge, head first, into Basil's torso.
It pushed Basil back a little and he swung at Marlin again. This felt surreal like it wasn’t happening to him, but it was. He was fighting the closest thing he had to a friend in the arena, the closest thing besides Ritz, he’d had to a friend since his arrival at the Capitol. Well, at least they were putting on a good show.
The impact of their bodies colliding and of Basil's fist on his back was enough to send Marlin stumbling back in a daze. He had been able to push through the confusion when he'd fought Laurel, but the blow knocked stars into his eyes and bells into his ears. "Fuck you, man," he coughed as he tripped away, nauseous.
It took a few seconds for Dory to understand that the knife Basil had thrown was stuck in her left shoulder right next to the bite mark from what seemed like months ago -- it felt like fire, even though her arm was numb and heavy and hanging useless. There was no time to pull the knife out, though; everything was happening so fast, the boys swinging at each other, and then Marlin staggering away. “Marlin!” she shrieked. For a sick moment she was sure Basil had stabbed him, that he was dead, and if Marlin was dead (too soon, much too soon, she wasn’t ready for him to die yet) then she had no one.
The thought made her wild. She leapt forward with nothing in her head but getting Basil before he turned on her. He didn’t even look like a person anymore -- he looked like a threat. Dory’s trident was in her hand, angled just so as she rushed him from behind, and she thrust out with all her strength. It was a good strike, swift and true, straight into his back; the momentum of her lunge carried Dory right up against him, and she didn’t even pause before reaching up, yanking the knife out of her shoulder with a scream, and driving it into the side of his neck. Just like she’d practiced at home with her sisters so many times, just like she’d shown the Gamemakers during her training session. She knew where the soft spots were; she knew how to make people die.
There was a brief flash of pain and then nothing. There was no time to think on regrets, just Marlin’s words and before he could process that Dory was behind him the sound of her voice and then nothing. He fell forward towards Marlin, the trident still stuck in his body and blood pouring from his neck. The was the boom of the cannon in the distance and District 1’s chances to win this year were officially done.
The thud of Basil's body on the ground rang in Marlin's ears almost as loudly as the distant cannon. He could attribute that, too, directly to the concussion, and he remembered, with a flash of regret, how Basil had saved him from worse than mere head trauma. He had owed Basil, and now Basil was dead. Though Marlin had always known it would have to happen, something about it was different from when he had killed Thread and Laurel. He felt pathetic, which was unacceptable with everyone watching, in the Capitol and the districts. The nausea hit his stomach, and Marlin leaned over and retched, a mix of bile and fish meat spilling onto the ground, mixing with Basil's blood.
Dory yanked out the knife, sending a spatter of his blood across her face. The heat of it startled her, but beyond that, she didn’t feel anything about Basil’s death. Not relief, not guilt, not horror, not regret: he was just a dead thing now, not a person and certainly not an ally.
She was shaking, though -- not from emotion, but from the wound he’d opened in her shoulder. It was bad, she could tell that much: deep, cutting through muscle and nerves to leave her arm hanging useless like that. Dory pushed her hand down on it, hard, though the pain of that made her bite back a scream. “Marlin?” she said again, and took the few steps to get to him. Vomit didn’t bother her, not after fish guts and bite wounds and tongues, but it did worry her a little. She didn’t know much about head wounds, but he’d probably made his worse running into Basil like that. Vomiting probably wasn’t a good sign. “Are you -- I need you to take care of this.” She kept her eyes on him and away from Basil, lying still on the ground with his blood still spreading over the rocks. “The deal is still on. We’ll still get the Twos. Just… without him.”
"I'm fine." Marlin stood up straighter, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He could still taste the acid in his mouth, but the nausea had subsided considerably, expelled from his body with last night's fish dinner. A concussion shouldn't have had him vomiting a week later, but then he shouldn't have been so active with one either. Did the injury make him look weak? Marlin inhaled deeply. The air burned at the top of his throat, but he ignored it. "Good plan. We didn't need him anyway."
She bit down on her lip for a minute, because they had needed Basil and neither of them would even be alive right now if he hadn’t been there. But it had been his choice to break the alliance, she reminded herself firmly, and even if he hadn’t, it would’ve happened soon anyway. All she and Marlin were doing right now was surviving. There was nothing wrong about that. “Right,” she affirmed, with a decisive shake of her head. “Here -- get the bandages, will you? We’ll fix up my arm, and then we’ll keep going. We can’t stop now.”