Writer's Games Entries

Task 4: "A Change of Heart"

Note: The original name of the task is "The Webs We Weave", but I only found it appropriate to those actually in the Arena fighting giant spiders. Other tributes are stuck in a control-tower, like mine, all of a sudden changed to the direct opposite of how they usually act and are as a person so I've changed the title of my task to "A Change of Heart". You'll understand if you've read the previous tasks before this one ;)

After hitting the button, the elevator starts its journey upwards as I randomly glance down at the tools I have, some of them bloody and used, others still unused. I can hear the clockwork work inside my head as I try to figure out a way for them to help me do what I do best. The ideas aren't there yet, but they will come. They always do. I've been through the cleaning chemicals, the screws and the drill (damn, that was a fun one) and the tape. A master of planning my attacks - that's what I am. Now I've got to put my brilliant mind to work and do it again. There are bound to be tributes up in the top-floor. I've got to be prepared.

As the elevator continues to travel upwards, I look over to my left and see the crippled body of Isabella. Damn that girl nearly slipped away from my fingers when the doors were closing. She was probably hoping that they would close on me, but I got through the doors just in time. The moment I stood in front of her, it was like she already knew she was as good as dead. It so amusing. She didn't even fight me as I made sure to savor every second of it with her hips, her knees, her ankles...God, the sounds of those cracks sent waves of pleasure through my entire spine. You know, these Games might even be more fun than I imagined.

Since her death, I've heard six cannons after the bloodbath and then things actually calmed down. Six criminals weren't criminal enough to make it through the first three seconds. Weak. Idiots. Whimps. That describes them more than enough. The rest of us, myself included in a higher standard of course, are way stronger than the dead ones ever were. I'm the strongest, there's no doubt about it. Nobody will ever out me.

Just as I snap out of my realistic daydream, the elevator comes to a halt. I take a breath of slight frustration and get over to the panel on my right. I push the same button over and over, but nothing happens. "Move!" I let out frustrated as I bang the panel repeatedly and almost break it. The heat rises inside my chest. "I am the Joint-Wrecker! I do not get stuck in a freaking elevator!" I yell as I bang the door again before a sound from the vents catch my attention.

I look up and I see some sort of gas enter the room. I sense it enter my nostrils and it starts to tickle in the back of my throat as I start coughing. I inhale more and more gas and I start to feel heavy and drowsy as I start to lose my balance and lean against the wall before I fall to the floor and hit my head. When I open my eyes something is...something feels different. I sit up against the wall and I sense something that I haven't felt inside of my chest in a long, long time. Why am I...why do I have this strange feeling that weighs down on me inside my chest?

As I look over at Isabella's body, my entire body starts to react. I sense something inside my chest as I feel overwhelmed by all of these...emotions, and they're starting to act out. I sense something travelling up my entire system and I end up throwing up in the corner to my right as I turn away from the body. "What the..." I try to get up on my feet and I sense the dizziness hit me and I lean against the wall. "What the hell is this, huh?! You get tired of our wicked minds, already?" I yell out frustrated and in a shaky voice as the elevator starts to move again. That's when I sense something else: my hands, they are all sweaty and shaky.

What the hell happened? Less than five minutes ago, I was my normal self: confident, ice-cold, the Joint-Wrecker. The gas has done something to me. Now I'm nervous, shaky, sweaty...different. I sense a scary and familiar sensation come back to me.