Making Lies

It was one thing to 'know' you were still in peak condition and entirely different thing to have that knowledge tested. As far as Barbie was concerned, he'd passed with high scores.

The second that countdown had hit '0' and the bombs around the pedestals had deactivated, he found himself bolting from the starting line and straight for the cornucopia. The first thing his hand had found was a long, viscous looking blade and that was what he used to chop down anyone who tried to get between him and a pack of supplies and then again when he made for the tree line.

Despite the misgivings he'd developed over the years from his first time in the arena, he was remorseless in taking out anyone who made for him. His plan was to take them all out, but this wasn't the best tactical time to do that. 'The environment will do most of the heavy lifting and the less blood on my hands the better.'

He wasn't going to hold back--this time his competitors would be fine, a little traumatized but alive and well after their deaths--but he also didn't want to be a butcher. That wasn't him anymore.

So he headed East, hoping that would take him to a river or something before he maybe found himself a little cluster of rocks to lay in wait and set up traps. That was the plan, anyway, he had no doubt the gamemakers would do what they could to try and kill him. He wasn't supposed to come out of this alive, after all, the government was through with him. 'Works for me. Luckily, the government never does anything right.'

He'd win this and then he'd disappear and not even damn President Snow and his Peacekeepers would be able to find him.