A/N: So, as I promised, here is the first one-shot of the finale in the 275th Hunger Games. I know they all got POVs, but they weren't detailed at all. Vex's was quick but you know he won. What if one of the others won? Please read on!

Maxine Hunter,

of District Twelve

The moment I slam the hatch on the Cornucopia building shut, I feel a wave of relief wash right over me. I'm so glad that I didn't end up like what I assume happened to Eddy. I shudder at the thought of my skin bubbling and my flesh melting. I can only imagine what pain Eddy went through. My wound from the weasel mutt a few days ago burns, and I rub it to calm it down.

Oh crap.

I look up, and I come to realize that I'm a bit slow. Vex and Raven have already made their way up here, and by the determination in their faces and their urge not to attack each other, they seem to be in an alliance. This doesn't put the odds in my favor. I clench my hands into fists and open them a few times as we stare each other down. Raven makes the first move.

She tosses her knife at me with barely any skill at all. I merely sidestep to dodge it. It clangs on the concrete and skids over the edge of the building. This gives me the perfect opening. I whip out two knives, just to be sure. The first one misses her as she dives to the side, but the second one finds its mark and lodges itself in her skull. She yelps out in a moment of pain, before collapsing onto the ground.


Vex seems very angry with me, and he comes rushing at me with his scythe ready to go. As he swings at my head, I swiftly duck under the offensive move and pull out a knife. I plunge it into his calf, and he grunts in pain, but he's not in the mood to actually slow down just yet.

In his weakened position, I throw my foot out, catching him in the back. He staggers forward but uses the momentum to swing at me again with incredible speed. I narrowly manage to jump backwards, so narrowly that my hair gets a little trim. This infuriates me, as I don't want to lose a single bit of my curly blond locks.

I rip out a knife and slash it through the air blindly. I'm highly surprised as Vex screams in pain as I spin around to face him. I widen my eyes as blood streams from the ginormous gash I've cut across his throat, a shiny red waterfall of crimson that contains his life. Tears roll down his cheek as he cups his throat, trying to stop gargling and drowning in his own blood. I watch him curl into a ball as the last seconds tick away.


I can hear the movement of the breeze, but everything else is silent. I take one last look at Raven, with the knife sticking out of her forehead, crimson trickling from the wound, and Vex, curled up in a pool of his own blood. I look at my hands, stained with the stuff. Despite being a career, despite being able to handle killing, I still can't get a hold of myself.

I collapse onto my knees and begin to cry into my knees as Caesar's voice echoes through the vast yet empty arena. "Everybody, please congratulate, from District Twelve, Maxine Hunter, victor of the 275th Annual Hunger Games!" I try to imagine the crowds roaring, as I assume a lot of bets were put on me. That's all they think of me, though. That's the ditzy girl from Twelve who joined the careers and made me a bucket load of money. Well, fuck them I say.

The ladder rolls down, plummeting from the sky. I manage to stand up shakily; just enough to latch onto the ladder tightly, so the electric current can freeze me in place. As the hovercraft takes off, I notice certain places that I remember. A giant scorched patch where I assume Lolita died in her train crash. The edge of that horrid desert where Xander fell. Four lines burnt through the landscape that marks the path each tribute took to get to the finale. I recognize mine, remembering the treacherous run.

And it hits me. I've survived the Hunger Games. Because nobody ever wins.

I sit by the screen, drinking my life away. You know, ten years ago, I was able to handle killing. But when I've sent eleven innocent tributes to their deaths, it really hurts inside. Like so many before me, I've defaulted to good old alcohol. But it's starting to make things worse. Maybe tribute number twelve will have a piece of luck, with their district and their placing and all.. what am I saying? I'm really just going insane.

They've held a feast at the Cornucopia, but I'm sure it will turn into an epic four-way showdown. I sit with Jiminy, the mentor from Eleven, Tomas, the mentor from Six (he won the year after me), and the clueless Matthias, victor hailing from District Nine last year. He's only fifteen. It's too young for him to understand. Our tributes are surely all meeting up very soon.

Finally, the nimble boy from Six, Persei, darts out from the bushes, sprinting straight towards the pack with his district number labeled on it. Obviously, someone doesn't approve of it as Markus, the hulking brute from Eleven, thunders towards his general direction. Farrah from Nine takes this opening to get herself what she needs. My tribute, Holland, follows suit. I watch in horror as Markus clutches Persei by the head. He lifts the boy high in the air as if he weighed nothing, and pulls out a knife, the long piece of metal glinting in the fading daylight. Markus runs the blade through Persei's throat a few times, just to finish it quickly. The cannon booms as he drops the lifeless body.

Farrah thinks she's in a good position but Markus anticipates her movement. As she snatches up the pack that must be precious to her, the mound of muscles spins around and buries the knife in the poor girl's head. I hear a short whimper before another cannon goes, fueling Markus' bloodlust. And his next target is Holland.

The two boys face off, but I already know that Holland doesn't stand a chance. He pulls out a small dagger, coated in blood. I think back to a few days ago when he took down the girl from Eight in self-defence, claiming his first kill. Markus lunges at my tribute, but he ducks and stabs the other boy in the leg. A grunt of pain is followed by a haymaker, smacking into Holland's temple, sending him flying into the metal table that the feast packs were placed on. I sigh as Markus snaps the boy's neck with one swift movement. I guess my luck has diminished.

I look to my left as Jiminy goes wild. I get up and slap him across the face in my drunken state. He holds his cheek as I stagger away. This life isn't suited for me. I make my way to the elevator, now fully aware of what I must do. The small metal compartment whizzes to the top floor and I'm already making my way to the kitchenette.

I find the cooking knives and I pull one out, its sharp and deadly wickedness evident. I close my eyes as I thrust the blade into my chest, in a similar fashion to Terrilyn in my Games. The pain is quick and it shoots through me, but I'm already going before I know it. I realize that my tributes won't have a mentor from their home as the darkness swirls into my vision.