Nothing Personal

Fatalis - 12

He couldn't see Rian giving Klaus a thumbs-up.

"You're a chatty lot, aren't you? To say you're meant to be vicious and everything," he drawled. Then he checked himself. Baiting them to provoke a mad attack was one thing, getting cocky was another. That was Career behaviour, brawn behaviour. It was for people who wanted to make up for lack of intelligence, which he didn't need to do.

He knew he had a good chance of winning as long as he stuck to his strategy. That wasn't being cocky, that was simple mathematics and fact. Indisputable.

"Why don't you come out here and say that?" Amber demanded. She raised the spear, ready to throw the moment he came closer or ran away. Her throwing skill wasn't great; Dark would have been more suited for this. But Klaus had killed Dark.

"Because why should I put myself at a disadvantage when I can kill you from here?" the voice murmured, and there was a quick phut sound. Amber winced but didn't cry out, wrenching the dart from her shoulder with a grin. "Is that all you got?" she taunted, throwing it aside. Out of instinct, Crete caught it. 

Sebastian had vanished.

Now she was nearly spooked. Her shoulder hurt; the dart had been sharp. And she'd missed a chance to lower the competition. But at least all three of them were still alive. What a pathetic attempt. Had he been aiming for her throat? Klaus stared intently at the place where Sebastian's face had been.

Crete was going pale. Paler. 

The dart was slim and perfect, either a very good find from the Cornucopia or a gift from sponsors. So either way Sebastian wasn't to be underestimated; it was only a matter of time before he got his hands on something bigger.

But that wasn't what was bothering him.

"Berundius fatalis," he muttered to himself. It had to be, though it was hard to tell the true colour while it was dark. Why else would Sebastian think it was enough to kill?

Amber was back up on the watch tower, her hair swinging over her shoulder, her face slightly contorted in pain even though it was just from the dart; should he say something? Or wait until she was...asleep...and Klaus had nodded off, before he grabbed the bag and ran for it.

But then what if he ran into Klaus later on? It would be painful for him, that was for sure.

Klaus was behind him.

"Whatus whatis?" he grunted, "Looks like a dart to me." Crete was about to dab his finger in the encrusted gunk around the tip of the dart, speckled with Amber's blood, but he realised just in time what a stupid thing this was to do. It was dried; that was why she wasn't reporting any ill effects yet. The poison would have to dissolve into her bloodstream.

"Berundius fatalis," he repeated in a whisper, "In miniscule, and I mean almost molecular, amounts it's an effective painkiller, and if the componant parts can be harvested without the poisonous structures, it can be used in larger doses, which means that..."

"Cut to the point, pinprick," Klaus growled softly. Crete felt the tip of a blade poking at his back and sweat sprang up on his forehead. He nearly dropped the dart.

"What are you doing, boys?" Amber called at them. Did Crete detect a tiny amount of weariness in her voice?

"Just having a friendly chat," Klaus called back, before leaning in to Crete again. He stumbled for his words.

"It's poisonous!" he blurted, remembering to keep his voice down, "Deadly, hence fatalis. No cure yet."

Klaus thought about this for a second. "How does a District Five kid know about berries anyway?" he asked.

That wasn't the question Crete was expecting. But it was one he could answer without risking his own life. The blade was removed from the small of his back and he sighed with relief. "We've got small forests and stuff. Kids like to play in them, so they teach us stuff in school about berries and other harmful stuff we might find." It suddenly struck him that the berry Amber had been about to eat before he stopped her - was it really less than two days ago? - had been berundius fatalis.

"So you're sure?"

"Deadly serious."

Klaus frowned at him, trying to work out if he was being ironic or just plain stupid. Crete looked back, fear wobbling in his eyes. He was only young, Klaus realised. SIxteen at best. But then again, he wasn't that much older. 

No. No conscience. Not for what he was about to do.

"Sit over there, don't say a word and don't move," he ordered. Crete ambled off to the roundabout, gripping it tightly until his knuckles glowed white in the silvery moonlight. He'd killed Lizz, seen the light go out in her eyes. But this was different, somehow. His plan was ruined now, anyway. He should have checked nobody was looking at him before inspecting the dart.

Pop.

A little box landed next to Amber, with a number one on it. "About time too," she sneered. It was too small for any effective weapon, but maybe some binoculars or something, so that she could keep an eye out for the smartass coming back.

It was fluffy.

"Is this a joke?" she asked cautiously, holding the teddy bear by the scruff of the neck. In the spooky light its smile looked more like a leer, the beady black eyes reflecting the moon with a menacing glint. It didn't feel like there was anything in it. The sponsors would be having a real laugh at her right now.

"What's that?" Klaus called up. He'd released Crete, who was now clinging desperately to the roundabout. Whatever Klaus had said, it had clearly scared the living daylights out of him. She waved the bear, nearly dropping it. "Some fool sent me a teddy bear," she said.

"Maybe there's something in it," he suggested. She shook it.

"Nope."

"Come down here." It was an order. He'd used that tone a lot with Dark, but never with her. She was the leader of the pack here, the alpha female. The only female.

"Any particular reason?" she asked.

"Just thought we could talk." He shrugged noncholantly, giving her a handsome smile. She bit back her teasing grin.

"Can't we talk like this?"

His eyes twinkled. How did he do that? She knew he was stubborn, and what harm could he do anyway? She threw the teddy bear at him.

"Talk to that!"

"I'd rather talk to you, anyday."

"Put the charm away, I'm not stupid."

She was getting groggy. Perhaps she should let him have watch now. "There's nothing else to do," he said.

"Okay, okay. I'm coming." She didn't have the energy to argue with him anymore. She was sure she'd had plenty of sleep. Maybe it was an adrenaline kick-back. She slipped off the frame and landed clumsily. Klaus patted the space next to him on the bench. She fell into it, not quite with her usual poise.

Klaus readied himself. This time he had time to think. But Rian had convinced him that it was best. Best not to see death coming, to take it on your own terms. Not begging on your knees, seeing it coming. Carefully, he put an arm around her shoulder, the arm with his sword in it. He was being merciful. That was what Rian wanted, to make up for what had happened with the little girl.

Crete had that horrible sick feeling that came after Klaus had murdered Dark.

"So," she said with a grin, though it felt like a lot of effort to keep her mouth moving, "Anything in particular you want to talk about?"

Klaus slit her throat.

Crete was already running.