Chapter Thirty Five: Battle Plans

Tyberos Guilliman the Second

Word Count: 1371

Sitting in the darkness Tyberos sharpened the blade of the Wolf Fang combat knife on a whetstone he'd found beside a small trickling stream. The rhytmical...shhhffink...shhhffink....shhhffink...of the rock rubbing along the edge of the massive knife blade did nothing to quell his anger. They are late...he raged tightening his grip around the stone nearly causing it to crack in half. Tyberos hated lateness. But even more so now as every second he sat waiting for those fools to appear the further ahead the other competitors became and the closer Silas got to his precious girl friend. Closing his eyes as he sharpened his blade he imagined how it would feel to slash her throat with it, watching her hot coppery life force spray across Silas's smug, grinning little face before Tyberos cut the flesh from his face inch by inch. Four cannon shots had fired across the arena at varying stages of the night, he didn't look up to see who they were, he knew his prey was still alive and well...he knew. Smiling at the thoughts of death and murder trickling through his head Tyberos wondered what it would be like to see's father’s face after he'd killed everyone in this place in under three days. To take his title, his inheritance, in hands covered in the blood of his victims.

'Tyberos Guilliman the Second, the Red Wake.' he whispered the name in time with the ringing of his whetstone. They seemed to fit so perfectly. A branch cracked behind him. 'You're late.' he said without turning or opening his eyes. He knew from the sound the twig made as it cracked that the person had put their full weight onto it, roughly one-hundred and fifty pounds of weight he estimated from the sound of squelching moss beneath his feet. It had to be Monkhouse.

'Sorry bossman.' spoke the ginger haired idiot with his moronic voice. 'Had to find dis' place dint' we!' Tyberos continued to sharpen his knife with his eyes closed, listening intently to the sounds his servants made around him. Monkhouse moved around Tyberos to drink from the stream, Clayton's colossal bulk rested behind him against the thin trunk of a Paper Bark Birch, while Vira's lithe slender form snaked around to stand beside Tyberos. Her small weight making her hard to hear. But another set of footsteps followed them.

'We have a guest,' Tyberos hissed. He could almost feels Monkhouse and Vira's eyes glancing at each other apprehensively. 'Five foot five, one-hundred and eighteen pounds, right footed, wearing leather and army grade combat boots sixteen years old.' A face he couldn't remember the name of popped into his head. He was a competitor from District Five.

'Whoa...' the boy breathed.

'He wanted to help.' said Monkhouse, Tyberos heard him shrug.

'Did he now...' slipping his whetstone into a special compartment in his pants Tyberos flicked the massive knife around his wrist. Standing in a fluid motion he moved to stand before the tiny child. He was a blonde haired boy, with a thuggish face and lack wit eyes. He looked like someone Sister-dearest would f*uck. 'Know how to use one of these.' he asked staring down at the tiny boy.

'Corse' I do.' the boy spat.

'Of course you do,' he repeated with a smile. 'Of course he does.' he parroted looking at Clayton, then Vira, then Monkhouse. None could meet his gaze. 'Show me.' Tyberos said offering the boy the handle. 'Stab me.'

'Wha'?' the boy faltered.

'Go on stab me.' Tyberos insisted placing the black handle of the huge combat blade in the boy’s hand.

'F*uck off mayte! I could kill yah'!'

'You said you know how to use it so use it! Go on,' wrapping the boy’s hands around the handle Tyberos helped him place the blade point in the middle of his chest. 'Do it! Stab me.'

'No!' the boy whimpered.

'DO IT!' Roared Tyberos. The boy panicked and pulled the knife back ready for the stab. Batting the massive blade aside with the metal vambrace around the right sleeve of his jacket Tyberos broke four of the boy’s ribs with a crippling double punch. Dropping the knife as his lung was punctured by his broken ribs Tyberos caught the tumbling blade by the handle, then with a final upwards stab drove the blade up through his lower palette. Piercing his mouth and skull the blade sank deep into his brain. His hot blood trickling down Tyberos's arm. 'We...work...alone.' he whispered to his servants with a final sickening twist of the knife. Fracturing several bones and turning the boy’s brain into nothing but a scrambled mush. Pulling the gleaming metal weapon free the boy’s body dropped to the floor, twitching like a cod out of water as his body spasmed as his nervous systems tried in vain to reconnect the severed neurones. Looking at the knife with an approving humph, Tyberos wiped the boy’s blood from its blade with his pant leg of his still twitching body. 'Monkhouse you ever bring someone else into this,'

'How'd you know it twas' me!' the ginger c*nt interrupted making Tyberos try very hard not to run over and crack his neck.

'You ever bring someone else into this...I will kill you.' the ginger fool didn't meet his gaze as he threatened him. 'Am I clear?'

'Yeah...we're clear.' he mumbled.

'Excellent.' Tyberos said with a smile. 'Where do we stand?'

'Including him, that’s five dead. Twenty one left alive, Dreadlocks one of them.' Vira said softly. Her net of bright pink hair bobbing over in the direction of the boy’s still twitching body.

'And the girl?'

'The girl too.' rumbled Clayton. The huge mountain of fat and muscle encased in a black flak vest.

'Why's the girl so important?' asked Monkhouse. God I wish I could kill you.

'You all saw his interview. He loves her, I don't just want to kill this jumped up piece of cannon fodder I want to destroy him! Every part...even his soul.' hissed Tyberos. Plans ran though his head at breakneck speeds as his vast intellect was focussed on the task of reaching the girl. 'Besides if her and that blonde fool of hers do rejoin together they could be trouble.'

'Why?' asked Monkhouse yet again!

'Because she has the high ground you f*cking moron!' Tyberos roared making Monkhouse jump back. 'One killer up a height is bad enough but two who are working as a team is damned near foolproof.' pausing Tyberos let his mind run through the innumerable patterns of cause and effect each of his plans would create. 

'What would you like us to do?' asked Vira. At least she was respectful.

'All of you head to the mountains, if the girls got any brains in her head she'll stay there. When you reach the mountains split up and search, she's new to this she won't be hard to find, if you find her follow her! I want her alive. Until Silas gets to her...if she attacks over power her but again don't kill her.'  When Monkhouse looked like he was about to ask something stupid Tyberos grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him close. 'Any questions?'

'No bossman...none. Clear as crystal we are, find the wench...keep her alive.' Monkhouse said jerkily.

'There's a good lad.' Tyberos said pushing him away. 

'What are you going to do?' thundered Clayton.

'I've got an old friend to pay a visit to.' he grinned flicking his knife blade in the artificial moonlight, his crying partner from Capitol was still alive...he'd put a stop to that. 'Go. I'll be with you by sunup.' steadily his three servants left, striding over the still twitching body of the boy, when they were gone Tyberos walked over to the dancing corpse. Held his knife blade over his jumping chest. And dropped it. Gravity and the knifes weight did the rest. Piercing his sternum and heart with barely a pause. The cannon fired over head from nowhere and everywhere...his first kill in the Arena...And not my last. He grinned maniacally retrieving his knife and running off into the darkness. 

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A closed collaborative work between Lilley and rhetoric.

A Hunger Games prequel spin-off. For Mature audiences.

*the Hunger Games trilogy was written by Suzanne Collins. No copyright infringement is intended.

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Characters:

Name: Silas Alberec
Author: Lilley
Age: 19
District: 13
Personality: Hardy, Orphaned with his sister Eliza (13 years old) when their parents were murdered by Government soldiers during a political demonstration, Will die or kill to protect his sister. See's the games as a chance for her to get a better life.
Appearance: Six foot one, shadowed eyes and raven haired that is platted into shiny dreadlocks. He has the similar tribal mentality of Samurai and Sumos, believing all his strength and power to be in his hair and not letting anyone touch it or cut it for the Press meetings. Is slim due to malnutrition but doesn't lack muscle, incredibly flexible and is able to escape most physical situations via running or evading his opponent's blows.
Brief History: Born and raised in the hell zone of District 13 he has fought and clawed for survival everyday of his life. Hunting illegally, stealing food only when absolutely necessary, wants desperately to enter and win the games in order to give his sister a better life in another district.

*

Name: Ruarí (Rory) Savage
Author: rhetoric
Age: 19
District: 3
Personality: Ruarí is temperamental, volatile, and caustic. She has a nasty edge to her personality that strikes most of those around her as "meant for the Games," but Rory has never wanted anything but to leave the fences of the District; to leave and never come back, that is. Rory has a soft side but it is so rarely evident that even she forgets its there. Rory is incredibly moral and determined; she accepts no defeat, no bull*%&*, and offers no excuses. She's impatient but not impulsive.
Appearance: Rory is five-foot-eight with a very lean figure. She has glowing cerulean eyes and full lips, with a narrow jaw and dark eyelashes. Her hair is chestnut brown and falls to her mid-thigh. More often than not, her lips are drawn in a tight line and her eyes are dark with thought.
Brief History: Rory's mother died giving birth to her, and her father died during a breach in viral weaponry at the pharmaceutical lab when she was 13. She'd been given a hefty wealth from both of their insurance policies, which provided more than enough for her to live on, but she hardly touched it. Despite the laws, Rory constantly leaves the District through a small hole in the fence that seems to go unnoticed, to hunt. She made her own weapons and leaves them hidden in the woods. Inside the District compound, she goes to university and apprentices at the organic labs. No one knows of her trespasses beyond the fence. She lives her life entirely alone - associating only with those at the lab or in university when she has no choice.

*

Name: Tyberos Guilliman the Second
Author: Lilley
Age: 24
District: Capitol
Personality: Determined, single minded to the point of obsession, volatile, demands everything is given to him, no sense empathy or care for those who he sees as 'beneath him', incredibly intelligent, not afraid to speak his mind and never apologises for anything even if he was to blame.
Appearance: Six foot five, built like a professional heavyweight boxer, blonde haired, blue eyed, classically handsome with soft features, has an easy smile and can be charming when necessary but really hates everyone.
Brief History: His father Tyberos the First was the most decisive winner of any Hunger Games in history, killing everyone of his twenty six opponents, and his own brother, in less than four days. His Sponsors nicknamed him 'Tyberos the Red Wake'. His children Tyberos the Second and Francesca are Career Gamers, training a hundred hours a week with their trainers. Always feeling beneath his fathers shadow Tyberos dreams of entering the games and besting his father's record and earning his inherited title.

*

Name: Aeon Neil
Author: rhetoric
Age: 22
District: 3
Personality: Shy and thoughtful; keeps to himself but primarily does so because other people are stupid and bothersome. A bit of a hobbyist - bounces from one interest to another, never quite settling on one but nearly mastering all of them. Jack of all trades. Patient, intelligent, and self-sacrificing.
Appearance: Six-foot-two with long, smooth brown hair that reaches his shoulders. Long, sharp features and contemplative black eyes. Lean and in shape, albeit not muscle bound.
Brief History: Aeon grew up in a wealthy home; both of his parents work at the pharmacological labs and he hardly sees them. He has no siblings and no extended family. Aeon was top of his class in university but never took his academic abilities farther, despite the push from his parents to pursue teaching on a university level.

*

Name: here
Author: here
Age: here
District: here
Personality: here
Appearance: here
Brief History: here

updated Feb 22 by rhetoric