Test5

Welcome everyone to my eleventh ever Hunger Games! Unlike all the rest of my previous Games, these will be a prequel. Keep reading for more information!
==Introduction==
First off, I’d like to note that these Games are a prequel. They are the 333rd Hunger Games and take place sixty-seven years prior to the War of the Hunger Games. That means things that happen here will not affect the storyline happening in the present day. These are meant to be a standalone project that, while canon, are not going to drop any major story news or events. Also, these are a side project of mine and will not be my main focus. I will not even begin writing these until the Black Games have finished and afterwards War of the Hunger Games will be my main project. So if you aren’t comfortable joining a Games that may take many, many months to finish then I recommend that you do not. If you don’t mind that, however, then keep reading!
==Rules==
1: There will be twenty-eight Tributes
2: You may have up to two Tributes (this is subject to change)
3: Each Tribute starts with $150 in sponsor money for their mentor (creator) to use as they see fit.
4: I will write Reapings, Group Training, and of course the actual Games
5: I will not accept any Tributes that have been in my previous Games
6: Reservations last 72 hours (this may be extended)
7: The Capitol is a Career district in my Games
8: Tribute Form: 
Name:
District:
Gender:
Age:
Personality:
Backstory:
Height:
Appearance:
Weapon(s):
Strengths:
Weaknesses:
Fear(s):
Bloodbath Strategy:
Alliance: (can be filled out later)
==Tributes==
District	Gender	Name 	Age	Height	Weapon	User
Capitol 	Male 	 	 	 	 	
Capitol 	Female	 	 	 	 	
1 	Male 	 	 	 	 	
1 	Female	Reserved	for	 	 	
2 	Male 	Reserved	for	 	 	
2 	Female	 	 	 	 	
3 	Male 	 	 	 	 	
3 	Female	 	 	 	 	
4 	Male 	Reserved	for	 	 	
4 	Female	Reserved	for	 	 	
5 	Male 	Reserved	for	 	 	
5 	Female	Reserved	for	 	 	
6 	Male 	 	 	 	 	
6 	Female	Reserved	for	 	 	
7 	Male 	Reserved	for	 	 	
7 	Female	 	 	 	 	
8 	Male 	Reserved	for	 	 	
8 	Female	 	 	 	 	
9 	Male 	 	 	 	 	
9 	Female	 	 	 	 	
10 	Male 	Reserved	for	 	 	
10 	Female	 	 	 	 	
11 	Male 	 	 	 	 	
11 	Female	 	 	 	 	
12 	Male 	 	 	 	 	
12 	Female	Reserved	for	 	 	
13 	Male 	Reserved	for	 	 	
13 	Female	 	 	 	 	
==Alliances==
Careers: Alcmene (1), Valor (1), Lilith (2), Atticus (2), Zekel (3), Marina (4), Mako (4), Opal (5), Yewan (7), & Matiss (12)
Achlys Siblings: Discordia (9) & Harmon (9)
The Trio: Remus (C), Teal (6), & Solomon (13)
Briar's Alliance: Talia (3), Faren (5), Aiku (8), Briar (10), & Damian (10)
District 6 & 7 Alliance: Maximo (6) & Killen (7)
Loners: Mercia (C), Notcher (8), Shiloh (11), Chrome (11), & Lucia (13)
italics means that they have yet to be accepted by the alliance 
underline means that they are the leader of the alliance
==Sponsoring==
===Sponsor Table===
User 	T1	T2	T3
AerialChinook 	
Marina Mattel (4)
$150	
Damian Squires (10)
$150	
Enraptured Misfit 	
Remus Ring (C)
$150	
Teal Arden (6)
$150	
Notcher Stott (8)
$150
EternalLuna 	
Mercia Occisor (C)
$150	
Alcmene Eudia (1)
$150	
TBD (13)
$150
FrostyFire 	
Lilith Lovelass (2)
$150	
Talia Migonette (3)
$150	
MistyMolla 	
Opal Crane (5$
$150	
Briar Destry (10)
$150	
Lucia Shale (13)
$150
Philosophical Msft	
Aiko Kinu (8)
$150	
Shiloh Masego (11)
$150	
Poisoned Poetry 	
Faren Gomery (5)
$150	
Yewan Felling (7)
$150	
SpiritStormGamer 	
Zekel Zin (3)
$150	
Chrome Kimathi (11)
$150	
TheAmericanDream 	
Valor Forge (1)
$150	
Discordia Achlys (9)
$150	
Harmon Achlys (9)
$150
Tehblakdeath 	
Mako Melanesia (4)
$150	
Maximo Gallardo (6)
$150	
Matiss Ferrum (12)
$150
DrXax 	
Atticus Rockwell (2)
$150	
Killen Timmerhout (7)
$150	
Items
Antidote (cures poison): $150
Anti-Infection: $125
Awl: $50
Alcohol: $50
Axe: $150
Ball and Chain: $175
Baton: $75
Blanket: $50
Blowgun: $150
Bow: $150
Bread: $50
Burn Cream: $125
Canteen: $75
Camouflage Paints: $75
Chakram: $175
Chlorine: $25
Cookies: $25
Crossbow: $175
Crackers: $15
Dagger: $100
Darts (12): $25
Dried Meat: $50
Dried Fruit: $50
Flail: $125
Flares x3: $125
Flashlight: $100
Iodine: $100
Knife: $50
Knife Glove: $100
Mace: $150
Machete: $125
Matches: $100
Metal Ball Bearings x25 (for slingshot): $75
Morning Star: $175
Gasoline $150
Hatchet: $125
Needles (3): $125
Net: $75
Net Trap: $125
Night-Vision Glasses: $150
Piece of Plastic: $15
Painkillers: $75
Poison: $150
Quiver of Arrows (12): $75
Raft: $100
Rocks: $15
Rope: $25
Scythe: $150
Shield: $125
Shield (Spiked): $200
Shurikens (5): $125
Sickle: $125
Sleeping Bag: $50
Sleep Syrup: $125
Slingshot: $75
Soup: $75
Spear: $125
Spike Trap: $225
Spile: $50
Sword: $150
Throwing Axes (3): $200
Throwing Knives (3): $200
Trident: $225
Water: $100
Whip: $75
Warhammer: $125
Wire: $75
Wooden Club: $100
Wooden Club (Spiked): $150
==Reapings==
===District One: Alcmene Eudia===
Today is Reaping Day.
I stand before a mirror, taking in my own image as the scents of sakura blossoms waft through the room. A ribbon plays between my fingertips. In the past Mother would have tied this in my hair as she dressed me for Reaping Day. Oh, she’d spend most of her time doting on Citria and Hyacinth, but on Reaping Day she always had time for me. She made sure that her girls were at their best on the biggest day in the District. The Eudia family had a reputation to uphold.
I let the ribbon fall.
When I stare into the mirror and see my curly blonde hair, grey eyes, and notable jawline, I see my Father. A stern, serious man who so loved showing off his family. On Reaping Day he’d always gather us down in the garden and have us board the family carriage. The Eudia Family Carriage. Father was so proud of that. Would always boast of how it had been in the Eudia family possession since the Dark Days, and that it was passed down from father to son from generation to generation. 
We would all board the carriage and have it take us to the square, where the Reaping was held. Citria and Hyacinth would sit next to Mother, laughing and arguing over who was prettier. Marcus would sit up front with Father and attempt to mimic his stern demeanor. Whenever we passed a Peacekeeper he would remind us that one day he would be out there, protecting the peace in the Districts. 
I turn away from the mirror. Exit the bathroom and make my way down the hall. A servant bows as I pass. I give her a curt nod and descend the staircase, entering into the main foyer. I try my best not to notice the portrait hanging over the fireplace, an artist’s rendition of my family from back before…The Tragedy.
I fail.
Claude would sit across from me. He would stare out the carriage windows as we crossed main street. He would pretend not to care about the decorations and celebrations, but his face let me know he was loving every second. I would sit in the very back of the carriage. Solomon and I would whisper and play games, always—
Solomon.
I stare up at the portrait of my family. At Mother and Father. They stare right back at me. My brothers Marcus and Claude. Little sisters Citria and Hyacinth. Their eyes drill holes into me. Questioning. Begging. Even Bijou, who competed in the 316th Hunger Games and died before I was even born, watches me with those sad, somber eyes. 
“The carriage is ready, Miss Alcmene,” A servant appears at my side. I thank him quietly. Say that I’ll be outside in a moment. But my eyes never leave the portrait. Never leave him.
Solomon.
“You have to kill him, Alci,” Mother’s voice whispers in my ear. 
Solomon, my older brother, was once my best friend in the whole world. Then one day he murdered my entire family. He took a sword and just slaughtered them. Mother, Father, Marcus, Claude, Citria, and even little Hyacinth. I came home to find their bodies waiting for me. And him. 
Solomon.
His grey eyes watch me from the portrait. I can still remember how they looked when I found him hunched up against the wall, covered in our families blood as he clutched the sword he used to slaughter them. And his eyes? They were glazed over. Devoid of any emotion.
It’s been four years and I still cannot get those eyes out of my head.
I rip my gaze away from the portrait. The Tragedy of the Eudia. That was the named given to the massacre of my family. It sounds so sterile. So unimportant. The Tragedy of the Eudia. My life was torn apart. I lost everything. It was a Tragedy, everyone agreed. The Capitol and the Districts mourned the loss of the Eudia family, one of the most prestigious families in all of Panem. They mourned, but they didn’t understand. How could they? They weren’t the ones to lose everything. To have their whole life ripped away by their beloved brother…
“Kill him, Alci,” Citria pleads. “You have to avenge me. Kill him.”
“Miss Alcmene, you’ll be late if you don’t hurry,” The servant reappears beside me and this time I heed his words. I exit the manor and make my way down the steep steps that lead down from the front door. When I reach the bottom I stop and turn to gaze back at my family home, aware that if my plan goes wrong this could be the last time I see it. It’s redbrick topped with copper domes and spires that shine brilliantly in the morning sun. Over a dozen windows gaze out at me. It is fantastically large…yet it is only a small part of the Eudia Family Estate. The dojo and several other buildings that make up the estate are equally as large. Just as impressive. 
Yet their size didn’t save my family from Solomon.
I soon come upon a roundabout with a fountain at the center. Sweeping around it, I continue down to where a carriage awaits. Gilded and decorated with the Eudia Crest, I have to force away the emotions that bubble up at the sight of it. Not now. I can’t allow my focus to waver. Must keep myself steady as I press onwards to my goal.
I enter the carriage and rap on the side to let the driver know it’s time to go. Seconds later we’re on our way, the clopping of the horseshoes the only sound that fills my cabin. Even this, the simple act of alerting the driver, brings me thoughts of Solomon and the Tragedy. For years our carriage driver had been an elderly man named Luncan. He was a retired Peacekeeper who was quick with a smile and skilled at magic tricks. Oh, he’d always have a trick or two ready for me and Solomon anytime we asked. Oftentimes he’d give us candy, and he’d never tell if he spotted us misbehaving, which was quite often. Solomon and I loved Luncan like a grandfather, but then…
Luncan wasn’t working the day of the Tragedy. He wasn’t at the Estate when Solomon performed his massacre. He never got over the guilt of not being there when the Eudia’s needed him most. Even though he would have been knocked out by the same sleeping gas that took out the other servants, Luncan insisted he’d have been able to stop Solomon if he was there. 
Two days after the Tragedy Luncan was found hanging from a beam in his house. He had killed himself.
Yet another casualty of Solomon’s.
The road bumps beneath the carriage as we turn off the private road that connects to the Eudia Estate and join the main thoroughfare that runs through the District. Even through the closed windows of the carriage I can hear the cheering and revelry on the streets. District 1, like always, is celebrating the arrival of Reaping Day.
Confetti rains from the sky as we join the procession of other vehicles headed for Main Street, where the Reaping stage has been set up. Little children call to each other, their excited laughter spilling into the air. I can remember a time when Solomon and I were like that. So joyful and full of life. But then he was sent to District 2 and when he came back…he wasn’t the same.
We didn’t hang out like we used to and he spent most of his time sleeping. Solomon hardly ate and refused to return to the Academy. Anytime I listened by his door I would only hear the sound of sobbing and incoherent muttering. I don’t know what caused the change. Solomon would never tell me and I wasn’t going to just ask him outright. I tried to get him to talk on his own. Thought maybe if I was nice enough he’d open up and tell me what was wrong. 
Naive. I was so stupid and naive. 
I was out buying gifts for Solomon on the day of the Tragedy. I wasn’t there when he murdered our family. Was it coincidence? Luck? Divine intervention? I don’t know. The only person who might know is Solomon, but for me to find out I’d have to ask him—
“He doesn’t deserve the privilege of speaking with you,” Father says sternly. “He killed the very people who ensured that he had food in his stomach and gave him a comfortable, luxurious life. You must kill him. You must.”
I absently touch the pendant around my neck. The same yellow crescent-moon pendant on a golden chain that Solomon had given me as a gift. Once it was a beloved item of mine, but now it is something more. A reminder. A constant, painful reminder that Solomon is still out there, still breathing.
“He stole my future, Alci,” Hyacinth whispers. “You must kill him. Bring justice, Alci. Kill him.”
The carriage begins to slow. I peek out the window and see that we’ve arrived at the Event Square. A large, gilded stage has been set up in the center of what normally is reserved for festivals and other celebrations. Peacekeepers line the square, directing the reaping-age children into their proper lines, organizing the assembly of the crowd, and ensuring everything proceeds in a orderly fashion. I take a breath and exit the carriage. Almost immediately everyone’s eyes swivel to face me.
I take in their speculative looks, their wary countenances, and do my best to ignore them all. They recognize the family carriage. They know who I am. Everyone in the District has heard about the Tragedy. Not a person here doesn’t know about me and what Solomon did. I do not want their pity. I can handle their curiosity, their disgust for Solomon, but I will not accept their pity. Never.
I take my place in line, ignoring the murmured whispers that rise as I do so. Let them talk. They’ll have even more to say once I go through with my plan. 
“It’s the Monster with the Club,” One of the girls in line whispers to her friend. 
“The Disgusting Kin-Killers sister?” A different girl asks.
I keep my face stoic. Once their hatred of Solomon enraged me, but that was back before I accepted his role in the Tragedy. I kept myself in denial for too long. It took awhile for me to admit that Solomon was a murderer, but when I did my anger boiled over into cold rage. This rage was what fueled me during my long training sessions at the Academy. I dedicated myself to training, to finding any and all advantages that would give me the edge over Solomon. My proficiency with the spiked club is what led to the creation of my moniker “The Monster with the Club”. 
It is a fitting name. The Eudia family has a long history with spiked clubs; my sister Bijou even used one back when she competed in the 316th. 
I hope to fare better than she did.
The whispering falls silent as, up on stage, the fanfare and celebrations pause as the Mayor and our escort make their entrance. The crowd roars with excitement when the Mayor reads off the customary introduction, then hands things over to Puffy Heglow.
”Greetings, District 1!” Puffy beams at the crowd and bats her eyelashes. She’s been our escort for more than thirty years and is well liked by the citizenry. “Are you all excited for the 333rd Annual Hunger Games?”
A roar of approval rises from the crowd. I remain silent. There is no joy to be had for myself. Not until Solomon has breathed his last breath. I cannot allow myself to rest easy until that has happened. 
“Before we get to the Reapings, allow me to introduce our most esteemed Victors!” Puffy swings her arms to the side and gestures at a long line of people up on stage behind her. The crowd lets out yet another cheer as they set their collective gaze upon each surviving Victor from District 1. 
All of our living Victors are present, lined up from oldest to most recent. Lapis Fuchsia, Victor of the 257th Games, stands on one end of the stage, supported by her diamond encrusted cane. On the other end, standing beside his mentor Austin Aitken, is Lux Chanel, Victor of the 329th. 
I watch them all with quiet trepidation. My goal is not to be standing up there beside them next year. That would be nice, but it is not my aim. The only thing I care about, the only thing, is ending Solomon’s life. 
I will volunteer for the Games to draw Solomon out of hiding. He, wherever he is, will see me enter the Games and volunteer himself. He will seek to put an end to what he started. He will try and kill me to finally wipe out the entire Eudia Family. But he will fail.
I will kill him.
Puffy is still speaking but I can’t hear her over the roar of the crowd. Eventually she has to pause just for their fervor to die down. When it finally does she continues. “Let’s get to the fun part, shall we? Girls first!”
I tense up as the bowl is wheeled out in front of her. My stomach roils with unease. A part of me is worried about what I’ll do if my plan fails, if Solomon doesn’t volunteer. What then? I’d have to fight and survive the Games before I even get another opportunity to seek my revenge. But no. Solomon would never pass up the chance to end me himself. He wouldn’t be content to just watch me die at another’s hand. 
He’ll volunteer.
Puffy reaches a hand in for a slip but pauses as she draws one out. “Are there any volunteers out there?” She asks. “Any brave young girls who wish to seek to bring glory to District 1?”
”I volunteer!”
My voice is the only one that rises from the crowd. I know exactly why that is, but I don’t dwell on it as I push my way through the other girls on my way to the stage. A few wish me luck as I pass, but most remain silent. They know who I am and are probably wondering why I’m risking my life for glory and fame when I’ve already inherited everything the Eudia Family had. They don’t understand.
I never expected them to.
Puffy is silent as I join her atop the stage. She, like everyone else in the District, knows exactly who I am. I expect her to say something about the Tragedy, to throw that horrid memory back in my face, but she just nods and turns to the crowd. “Alcmene Eudia, everyone! The Monster with the Club has volunteered for the 333rd Annual Hunger Games!”
A wave of cheers and whoops of excitement wash over the crowd. The Victors on stage watch me quietly. Topaz leans over and whispers something to Austin, who nods slowly. I narrow my eyes but don’t say anything. I don’t care what they think.
When the cheering finally dies down Puffy goes back to the mic. Says it is time for to see our male tribute. A drumroll begins. A slow, steady beat that begins to pick up in tempo the longer it goes. The crowd is silent. Hushed with expectation. We all know who the male tribute in the 333rd will be. We’ve known it since he was still a child.
The drums continue. Other instruments join in. Rise to a crescendo. Then a cascade of fireworks go off behind the stage, dazzling and awing the crowd with a display of colorful lights. Then, when the fireworks fade, the music comes to a sudden halt, and a strong, steady voice calls out, “I volunteer.”
The eighteen year-old line parts like a sea as a large, broad shouldered boy approaches the stage. Almost six and a half feet tall and chiseled with muscle, Valor Forge takes his destined place as male tribute in the 333rd Games.
The crowd erupts with cheers.
Puffy gushes with excitement as she introduces him to the crowd. There is little point in doing so. Valor is almost as well known as I am, though for vastly different reasons. A lifelong student of the Academy, Valor has been trained in practically every field there is. He’s excelled at everything he’s ever attempted, quickly rising to become one of the most hyped prospects the Academy ever taught. He’s also a graduate of Topaz and Austin’s special curriculum; a program that has already produced a Victor in Lux. Valor has been set to volunteer for the 333rd, the year he turned eighteen, since he was twelve. That is why I was alone in volunteering. No one else wanted to compete alongside Valor.
“It is an honor to represent District 1 in the Games,” Valor is responding to Puffy’s questions, standing straight backed as he faces the crowd. “The Games are the most glorious form of entertainment and art. Truly a spectacle of mankind. When I emerge as Victor I will proudly represent District 1 as a true paragon of righteousness. Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever.”
The crowd goes wild for him. I remain silent as the Reapings are wrapped up. At one point I’m told to shake hands with Valor. I do so without question. “It is an honor to compete alongside the Monster with the Club,” He says. Of course he knows my moniker. He’s basically been inside the Academy for his entire life. “It is a shame that your family’s bloodline will come to an end. The Eudia Family has been loyal to Panem for generations.”
I nod curtly. My family’s bloodline will come to an end? Obviously he believes that I am going to die in the Games and he’ll emerge as Victor. And why wouldn’t he? His entire life has been nothing but people telling him he’s destined to win the Games and become one of the greatest Victors ever. 
“I always knew your brother was a degenerate,” Valor is still speaking. Puffy and the Mayor are wrapping the Reapings up on stage. “We were in the same year at the Academy, you know. He was always absent. Everyone just started calling him “The Truant”. Obviously a bad seed.”
I can’t tell if he’s trying to provoke me or if he’s just tone deaf. Fortunately, I am saved from having to respond when Puffy calls us over to present us to the crowd once last time. District 1 predictably goes crazy for us. A chant of “Valor!” starts up and takes several minutes to die down. I am unfazed by their love for him. I didn’t volunteer for glory or fame; Solomon’s death is all I wish for. So what does it matter if they love Valor more than I? 
Soon the Reaping comes to an end. Peacekeepers escort Valor and I off the stage and into the Justice Building. I am taken to a room where I’m told I will say my goodbyes to visitors, but I receive none. Who’d come visit me? My family is dead and I spent the last two years training endlessly, not making friends. So I just wait until an hour passes and the Peacekeepers return to take me to the train. There, situated in the fancy dining room aboard the high-speed train on our short trip to the Capitol, is where I meet Valor once again.
He stands at the end of the table, still dressed in his Reaping finery. Arms clasped behind his back he greets me with a cordial dip of his head. “We will be allies in the Games, I presume?”
I sit down at the table and grab an apple from the basket before me. I absently roll it across the table as I try to to keep myself stoic. The other District’s Reapings will air later tonight, and that is when I’ll find out whether my gambit succeeded. If I drew Solomon out. 
“Yes,” I finally answer Valor’s question. “I will be joining the Careers.” Just like he will. 
One of the train doors open and two men shuffle into the room. Both tall and blond, their faces have been familiar sights to me for my entire life. Austin and his erstwhile apprentice Lux. “You did a good job, Valor!” Austin flashes a grin at my District partner and I am reminded of why every female in the District swoons over this man. “You played up your strengths excellently. You’re bound to be one of the Capitol’s favorites now!”
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that these two are our mentors for the 333rd Games. Austin has practically mentored every Games since his own Victory in the 327th, and Lux was a result of his success. District 1 is clearly hoping lightning will strike twice with Valor.
The tall boy dips his head respectfully. “I merely spoke from the heart, sir. Only people who respect the Games deserve to win them.”
Lux laughs and sits down beside me. He is a miniature version of Austin; tall, blond, and handsome. Sometimes I think his training program is designed solely to create carbon copies of himself. “You got this, bro! After all, I won and you bested me in every category there is!”
Valor smiles slightly. “Overconfidence has killed more tributes than swords.”
Austin nods approvingly. That’s a quote of his own making. I should know; he repeats it every time he does a lecture at the Academy. And the girls go crazy for him every visit. Austin is the biggest bachelor in the District. Most people are surprised that he hasn’t married yet, considering he’d be able to pick literally anyone he wanted. Some think that he hasn’t gotten over his girlfriend Eliza, who died in the 324th Games, while others believe he is not allowed to marry until the Capitol says so; there’s even a theory that they want him to marry the next female Victor of District 1 to create a power couple. I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s true. It’s happened before. Unfortunately the only Victor District 1 has produced since Austin himself has been Lux. 
The fact that I may be the next female Victor isn’t lost on me. And what better result could the Capitol hope for than having Austin marry into the Eudia Family? As the sole survivor and heir of a family that has been loyal to the Capitol for ages, tying me to a figure as beloved and influential as Austin would be a situation too good to pass over. If I should win it would not be surprising in the least for the Capitol to decree that I must marry him.
I am unsure how to feel about that.
“You two are both strong competitors,” Austin says, studying us both with a critical eye. “I wouldn’t be surprised if District 1 has yet another Victor this year.”
Valor smiles at the prospect, I find myself unable to feel joy at the thought. I can’t be happy while Solomon is alive. Not until my murderous brother is dead at my feet will I be able to envisage my future. And that will happen soon.
Soon…Solomon will die.
===District Three: Zekel Zin===
I am going to die.
I sit on my bed, staring blankly at the wall as that thought endlessly repeats inside my head. I am going to die. Today the Reaping for the 333rd Annual Hunger Games will take place. My parents will expect me to volunteer. I will take my place on that stage, be paraded around for everyone to see, then shipped off to the Capitol. A few days later I will rise into the arena…
And I will die.
I stand up and begin to pace. Shake my hands to wring the tension out. Exhale loudly. Death approaches. Looks over me like a shadow. I can see it, sense it, taste it. The 333rd Games will be the death of me, much like the 331st Games were the death of my brother.
He was stronger than me and smarter than I am. He always excelled at the training regimen our parents put us on. I am skilled with both swords and spears, proficient enough to be a Career. But my brother was better. He was a master swordsman who I never once managed to beat in a training bout. When he volunteered I knew he was going to win. He was my hero. Everything that I wanted to be and then some. I knew he’d become Victor. 
Then the Bloodbath occurred.
“Zekel, hurry up and get down here!” My Father’s voice rises from the kitchen. I flinch in fear at the sound of it. I’d hoped that he’d forget what day it was, or maybe oversleep. That way I wouldn’t have to go to the Reaping. Wouldn’t have to volunteer and march towards my own death. 
I will not be so lucky.
I slowly make my way down the staircase and into the kitchen. Father is sitting at the table, reading a newspaper. Mother has just finished making breakfast and is setting the plates. I carefully sit in my own chair, conscious of the way my body trembles. 
Mother frowns as she sets my plate before me. “You don’t need to be so nervous, Zekel. You’re going to do great in the Games.”
Just like my brother? I want to ask, but don’t. They don’t understand. Not even after his death. The two of them have trained us since we were children to love the Games. Taught us that it’d be an honor to compete. Instilled in us the idea of winning great valor by becoming Victor. For sixteen years I wholeheartedly believed that.
Then my brother died in the bloodbath.
I saw my brothers bloody corpse flop onto the hard, rocky ground of the arena, blood steaming out of the stumps that were once his legs. My brother had joined the Careers, entered the bloodbath, and had his legs chopped off by the male from District 7. 
The Games had been on for a few minutes, but he was already dead. 
As the cameras zoomed in on my brother, I watched his long hair blow in the breeze, and realised the cold, hard truth. I was going to die.
It didn’t matter how hard I trained, what I knew, or even how skillful I was. There was no stopping this inevitability. If I enter into the Games, I am going to die. Painfully. Horribly. Awfully. 
Permanently.
“You should eat, Zekel,” Mother says as she begins her own meal. “You’ll need the energy for the Chariot Rides tonight.”
I stare at my plate and know that I could never keep the food down. Not today. “I’ll eat on the train,” I say softly, standing up and pushing my chair in. “I…I need some air.”
I rush out the door and make my way down the porch, sitting on the bottom step. A soft summer wind rustles my clothes as I close my eyes and breath in deeply. This will be the last time I sit here in this neighborhood. Once I attend the Reaping there will be no coming back. I will get on that train to my death and never be able to look back. 
Hard to believe that I once looked forward to this moment. That I deluded myself into thinking that survival was possible. What was I thinking? So stupid. If only…
I open my eyes and gaze down the street. My family lives in the richer section of District 3, in a neighborhood tucked away from all the factories and warehouses. I watch as the other families begin to wake up and leave their homes, headed for the square and the Reaping. What if…I just ran away? Didn’t attend the Reaping? The Peacekeepers would chase me, maybe execute me for avoiding the Reaping, but how would that be any different than dying in the Games? If I am going to die either way, why not in a method of my own choosing?
Yet even as I think this I know that I will not run. I am too much of a coward for that. But there has to be a way to avoid dying. There has to be!
I spend the next hour deep in thought, only broken when my parents emerge from the house and tell me that it is time. My throat goes dry. Time for me to die, then.
Everything goes by in a blur. I cannot think clearly. Any plan or idea for escape slips away as we arrive at the square and my parents wave me off as I get hoarded into the eighteen year olds lines. Several of the boys make note of me but don’t speak. I don’t have any friends here. Never had the capability of understanding social niceties. Everyone just feels so fake to me. Eventually I decided it was easier to just ignore everyone else. Yet now I find myself wishing I had made at least one friend. I’d have liked it if there was someone to miss me when I die. 
“Helloooo, District 3!” Up on stage the escort, Quinzel Quigley, has taken up the microphone. I stare at the man, with his electric blue hair and dark skin, wondering why he has chosen this profession. Is picking who gets to die a fun job? “Are you all ready for yet another fantastic, fabulous, Reaping?”
There’s scattered applause. Some people, evidently, aren’t worried that they’ll be the name chosen. The males don’t have to worry. After all, if I volunteer there will be no chance of them being Reaped.
But if I don’t…
I’m so lost in thought that I almost miss Quinzel introducing our past Victors. They’re all up on stage; the most recent being Watt Chargy, co-Victor of the 327th Games. Since her Victory, all of District 3’s tributes have just been corpses, my brother included. She smiles and waves to the crowd, drawing cheers and applause. Watt is beloved by most of the citizenry. 
“But-we-really-want-to-get-to-the-fun-part!” Quinzel lets out a rapid stream of words as the giant, fishbowl shaped vase of names is rolled out. I stare at it. If I volunteer, I won’t look any better than my brother. I will just be a corpse. I won’t be missed. My parents will just forget about me, like they did with him. “Let’s start with the girls! First, any volunteers?”
I don’t know why he asks. Is it just because of how my brother volunteered? In any case, the crowd remains silent. There will be no female volunteer this year. 
Quinzel shrugs and digs a hand into the bowl, emerging with a slip. He unrolls it and reads the name. “Talia Mignonette!”
The name hangs over the crowd for several moments before someone stirs in the fifteen year old line. A small, slight girl makes her way up onto the stage, hands held at her side. Quinzel claps for her and introduces her to the crowd. “Talia Mignonette, everybody!” 
I stare at the girl. Wavy brown hair hangs past her shoulders and bright blue eyes stare back out at the crowd. I know. As I watch her gaze into the crowd, I know that she is not returning. She will die in the Games. Talia won’t return home. And, if I volunteer, neither will I.
Just like that my decision is made. I will not volunteer. I will not force myself into these Games and offer myself up to death. I will stay here in District 3 and live. My parents will be angry, will probably kick me out, but that is not a concern. Because I am not going to die.
Quinzel is speaking with Talia, saying something about the Games, but I’m not really listening. A sense of relief has washed over me. I’ve made a decision for myself, to be my own man. I can’t believe it’s taken this long to realize the simple solution. I won’t volunteer. 
“Time to find out who Talia’s partner will be!” Quinzel returns to the bowl and grins out at the crowd. “But first, any volunteers?”
I keep my mouth shut. I will not volunteer. I refuse. Let someone else throw their life away and allow me to keep mine. The seconds tick away, and then Quinzel is reaching into the bowl. I let out a sigh of relief. Allow my eyes to seek out my parents. I find them standing in the front of the line, near the stage. They’re staring back at me, a mixture of shock and disgust in their eyes. They don’t understand my refusal. But of course they don’t. Their lives were never in risk. 
Quinzel has pulled a slip free. His eyes study the name, then he calls it out. “Zekel Zin!”
My world is shattered. The relief and happiness that I had just attained are ripped from my hands. My parents eyes shine with delight. They hug each other. Mother is crying tears of joy. Their son gets to compete in the Games after all.
I am going to die.
My body moves on its own accord, ascending the stage. The crowd is silent as I take my place beside Quinzel and Talia. No doubt they recognize my name and have pegged me and my brother as siblings. Two corpses. That’s what we’ll be soon. Two bloody corpses. 
“Good to see you!” Quinzel offers me a handshake but I stare blankly past it. So close. I was so close to escaping this fate. Thought that maybe…
I am going to die.
----
Talia and I are ushered into the train. Neither of us speak as we are seated in a dining room and left to our own devices. Fear has gripped my heart, threatens to overtake me. But I can’t let it. Though my death is now guaranteed, I must fight tooth and nail against it. I will die, but I’ll go down swinging.
Careers. I must join the Careers. They’ll doubtless accept me. I have trained like one of them for my entire life, adopted to their mindsets, and learned everything there is to learn about the Games. Zevran and I spent countless hours sitting on the couch studying the Games. Analyzing what the tributes did right and what they did wrong. Surely that will help? Give me an edge and allow me the chance, however slim, of surviving?
But it didn’t help Zevran.
I look up from the table and catch Talia staring at me. She quickly glances away, cheeks burning red. I’m confused. Does she know me? I certainly don’t recognize the girl, and she’s several years younger than I am, so we weren’t in the same classes. But then—oh, right.
My brother.
“You’re right,” I say softly, surprising myself by even speaking. “Zevran Zin was my brother. He died in the Games. Just like I will. Just like you will.”
“I-I’m sorry!” Talia ducks her head meekly. So many people have told me “I’m sorry” or “condolences for your loss” but never once did I hear any apology from my parents. They set Zevran and I up on the path to death, trained us for these Games, yet they didn’t see the need to apologize when he died. 
I meet Talia’s gaze. Stare into her blue eyes. “My brother was sorrier.” 
She avoids my gaze. Absently plays with a lock of her hair. For a long time I think we’re going to fall back into silence, but then she speaks. “I…had a friend who went into the Games. Last year. He…he also died.”
I know who she’s talking about. Landon Dion, a fourteen year old who was Reaped last year. He was injured in the bloodbath, where I thought he’d die like my brother, but managed to escape with his life. His wound got infected, though, and he was struggling the entire time. Eventually he was beheaded by Alfyn Sapp from District 7, who would go on to become Victor. My biggest takeaway from his death was both him and my brother were killed by the male from District 7.
The same fate will probably befall me.
I’m dwelling on this thought when our mentors finally arrive. Watt Chargy and some old guy who looks to be a million years old. I’m not sure how helpful he’ll be, because the moment he sits himself down in a chair he falls asleep. Watt looks embarrassed as she faces us. “I’m sorry.”
I’m getting real tired of people apologizing to me. “Get to the point.”
Watt flinches. She won her Games when she was just thirteen, but that was six years ago, making her nineteen now and older than me. The sweet young girl who won the 327th has now become a woman. “I understand that this is horrible for you,” She continues, “This is probably the worst moment of your lives. But I’m here to make sure that at least one of you comes home alive. And…well, I want to help you both in whatever way I can.”
It’s too late to help me or Talia. We’re both just corpses now. Watt can try as hard as she wants, but we’re both beyond saving. Just walking, talking corpses. 
Talia, however, seems keen to learn from Watt and the two of them soon fall into conversation. Maybe the girl sees herself in the young Victor, or maybe she just hasn’t realized the truth yet. Not that it matters. Her eventual fate will be the same either way. 
Death.
===District Four: Mako Melanesia===
I sit on the dock, staring out at the waves as the ocean spray washes over me, the pounding of the surf creating a harmonic rhythm to which I match my thoughts. 
Today is the first day of the rest of my life.
Reaping Day presents me with the biggest opportunity of my life. When I win the Games and become Victor I will gain riches beyond my wildest dreams. And with those riches I will buy—or build, either one works—myself the biggest, baddest boat possible. Then I will set sail on that big, beautiful ocean and I’ll see where the waves take me.
A wave crashes over the side of the dock, dousing me with ocean water as it slips between the cracks of the boards, disappearing back into the ocean. I laugh to myself and wish for the umpteenth time that I could be out there on the horizon right now, sailing those awesome waves. But today is Reaping Day and only fishing boats and government ships are allowed out. All pleasure crafts have to wait until the Reaping is over to get cleared for takeoff. 
It’s kind of a bummer, but it’s not too big of a deal. After I win the Games and get my Mega-Boat I’ll be able to set sail whenever I want. I’ll explore the ocean, discover its secrets, and maybe even lay claim to a new landmass. Man, what could be greater than that? Imagine if I discovered a new continent! I would be a legend!
Smiling to myself, I rise to my feet and make my way back down the dock, passing by a pair of fishing ships that have just returned. A young man aboard one of the ships salutes me. “Ho, Mako!” 
I stop beside him, returning the salute. “Ho, Brian! Get a good haul?”
“See for yourself.” He kicks the gangplank down and gestures at a large net filled with flapping fish. 
“Nice.” We fist-bump and then he asks me about the Reaping. I take my time before responding. I’ve been friends with Brian for years; he’s always down by the docks, fishing or otherwise just enjoying the ocean. He knows what my plan for today is. “I’m going to volunteer, of course. Make my dream a reality.”
Brian takes his gloves off, sticks them in his belt, and leans against railing. “You ready to risk everything for that?”
I’m used to people trying to change my mind. My parents have spent years attempting to dissuade me from volunteering. Neither of them thinks it’s worth it. Does Brian think the same?
“It’s not really a risk when I know I’m going to win,” I say with a chuckle.
Brian gives a small smile but there’s still doubt in his eyes. “I believe that you have a shot. You’re the best swimmer here in District 4, you’re strong, and you have enough charm to make the Capitol fall in love with you. All the ingredients needed for a Victor.”
“But?” This is definitely a conversation that has a but coming.
“But all those things will also work against you,” There it is. “All of the other tributes will pick you out as a threat right away. In the last five years how many Victors were the odds-on favorite?”
I actually have to stop and think on this. “Uh…Lux Chanel?”
“Exactly. Just one.” Brian leans back and stares at his haul. Most of the fish have stopped flapping. “Volunteering is a risk. The odds of you dying are high. Do you really want to risk losing everything when you have so much life left?”
I let his words wash over me, even though I know they have no shot at changing my mind. Once I’ve picked a path, that’s it. Come hell or high water I’ll accomplish my task. But I also understand where he is coming from. His brother Ryan competed in the Games not once, but twice. He died both times.
Brian knows the risks of the Games better than anyone else. He understands that just one small screwup could cost you your life. I know this as well. But I won’t let it stop me.
I turn and gesture at the ocean. At the waves on the horizon, gently swelling as the tide rolls in. Despite the sheer freedom it presents, there’s a limit. The Capitol only allows fishing ships to go so far. At some point they’re forced to turn back. “Have you ever wondered what is out there? Past the Capitol blockade?” 
Brian stares at the horizon. I can see it in his eyes. The call for adventure. “Every day of my life,” He admits.
“So have I. Every single time I look out it that big, bold, beautiful horizon, I stop and wonder what’s just out of sight. What oceanic wonders await me. I want nothing more in this life than to set sail and discover everything there is to find. But there’s something in my way.”
“The blockade?”
I accede his point with a nod. “Yes, but that’s not all. I also need a boat. A big one. And riches so that I can finance my journey. So what way can I receive both riches and enough prestige to bypass the blockade?”
Brian taps the railing. “You need to become a Victor.”
“Exactamungo, my man!” I wave at the ocean. “Everything I’ve ever dreamed about is out there, waiting for me.”
“You’re willing to die for a dream?”
I turn and face him. Smile broadly. “If you’re not willing to die for your dreams then why bother having any?”
Brian is silent for a moment. The only sound is the lapping of the waves against his boat. Then he bursts out laughing. “Oh, Mako. You make me believe that there’s actually a chance you’ll pull this crazy scheme off.”
I hold up a finger. “Not a chance. A guarantee.”
“You’re sounding pretty cocky there, bro.”
“I’m not cocky. Just confident in my own abilities.” I have to believe in myself, because no one else is going to do it. When everyone else is telling you to back down, to not take any chances, that’s when you should cast your net. 
You might just catch everything you ever wanted.
Brian checks his watch and lets out a curse. “I have to unload all these fish before the Reaping!” I nod and let him be, jogging off down the dock. I only get halfway before he calls to me. “Mako?”
I glance over my shoulder, still moving. “Yeah?”
He’s watching me, a serious look etched on his face. “If there’s any Spectri in the Games…kill them for me, would you?”
I give him a thumbs-up. “Got you covered, my man!”
I depart the docks. Weave between the dozens of warehouses that dot the waterline, then slip between two chain link fences and rejoin Main Street. Here I find a literal parade of people as they march down the street, singing and dancing. Several large floats fill the street, most in the likeness of sea life.
I smile as I take in the sight. I love life so much. That’s why I’m willing to take this chance to make mine even better. 
I follow the parade along the street. It’s ultimate destination is the same as my own: the Reaping Square. That’s where I’ll take my first step to becoming Victor. 
“Is that Mako?” A group of girls pause as they notice me on the sidewalk. Then one of them squeals in excitement. “My God, it is! I love you, Mako!”
The girls shout out their adorations and I give them a wink and a smile as I bypass them. People have always loved me. That’s one reason I believe I’ll have no trouble convincing the Capitol to put their money and support on me. 
Soon the parade ends and Peacekeepers take over the arduous task of trying to order everyone into lines. I take my place with the seventeen year olds, and several of the guys wish me luck. I don’t have to worry about anyone else volunteering in my place; everyone at the Academy has agreed that this will be my year. The only other guy willing to volunteer was an eighteen year old named Anchor, but he dropped out when he proposed to his girlfriend. He’d rather have a simple life than one of fun and adventure. 
There’s nothing wrong with that, of course, but it’s not for me. I need to be sailing those seas. 
As the crowd is settled in our escort, Adira Wytautas, takes the microphone. She’s an interesting sight, a young woman with ocean-blue hair that comes down in tendrils designed to look like an octopus’ arms. She’s also, from this distance at least, wearing a dress made entirely out of seashells.
I like her style.
“Hello, District 4!” She speaks into the mic and is almost immediately drowned out by the cheers. She pauses, smiling as the crowd unleashes its pent up energy. Eventually it dies down enough for her to speak. “Today we will find a special pair to take their place as tributes in the 333rd Annual Hunger Games!”
More cheers and applause. This time Adira doesn’t let the crowd take over and rolls right along as the first bowl is presented before her. “To begin we’ll select our male tribute!” She strikes a pose and sticks a hand atop the bowl. “But I know that I don’t even need to pick a name out. Which one of you is volunteering?”
A confident smile breaks out across my face as I raise a hand. “I volunteer for the 333rd Games!” 
There’s the usual round of cheers as I stride up onto the stage, offering a quick wave to Brian as I notice him in the crowd. I don’t spot my parents, but that’s fine. No doubt they’ll have some last words for me before I depart. 
“What’s your name, you brave boy?” Adira presses the mic in my face as I stand beside her. Now that I’m up close, I can confirm that her dress is entirely made of seashells. Awesome.
“I’m Mako Melanesia, bay-bay!” I turn to the crowd and pump my fists in the air. They, naturally, respond with raucous cheers. I allow myself another smile. Everyone loves someone whose confident. 
Adira has the next bowl rolled out and I take a step back as she begins the process of selecting my District partner. She doesn’t have time for that, though, as a girl steps out from the crowd. “I volunteer!”
I watch her curiously as she ascends the stage. A pale girl with long black hair and deep brown eyes that seem to treat everything and everyone with suspicion, she makes short, simple movements as she steps beside Adira.
“And your name is?”
“I’m Marina Mattel.”
Oh, right. Now I know why she seemed so familiar. She used to be in the Academy with me before dropping out last year. I think it had something to do with a scandal? I don’t know for sure, but I think I heard some of the other guys talking about it before. But prior to her leaving we shared classes, including some of the ones reserved for the most skilled students. Despite that accolade, Marina never really seemed liked she was trying all that hard.
So it’s kinda surprising that she volunteered now.
Adira introduces her to the crowd and she gets a similar reaction to the one I got. Not as loud, of course, but that’s only to be expected. Not everyone can be as impressive as I am. Marina doesn’t seem to notice. She’s preoccupied with staring out into the crowd. I try to follow her gaze and find myself watching a group of instructors from the Academy. Odd. Why does she care so much about—
One of the instructors, a young man named Tristen, whispers to his friend and points up at the stage. At Marina. That’s when it clicks. The reason Marina left the Academy had something to do with an incident between the two of them at a party last year. I was actually invited to that party—I’m invited to practically every party in District 4–but I didn’t attend. I was out on the ocean instead and so can’t say for sure what happened. All I know is that sometime after Marina ended up leaving the Academy, Tristen told us guys it was because she made false accusations against him. 
I don’t know what the truth is and to be honest I don’t really care. My focus is on winning these Games and making my dream a reality. 
Adira instructs Marina and I to step forward as she presents us to the crowd. I smile and play to the audience, but Marina just scowls straight ahead. I know enough about the Games to figure it that she’s probably going to want to fix that attitude before reaching the Capitol; happy, confident tributes are easier to market to sponsors than angry, emo ones.
Not that it’ll matter in the long run. When all is said and done there will be twenty-seven dead tributes and one Victor. Which, of course, will be me.
Mako Melanesia, bay-bay!
===District Five: Faren Gomery===
It’s still early in the morning as I slip out of the house and make my way down the cold, empty streets of District 5. Factory smoke rises in the air, obscuring the sun as it dawns yet another day. My stomach feels like it’s twisting itself in knots. Today could be…
The route I take has been long since burnt into my brain and my body moves as if on autopilot. But inside my head I am doubting my every thought. Is what I am going to do the right thing? It has to be. But what if it’s not? Then both Joule and I will be…
I can’t lose Joule.
Her house comes up on the right. I ascend the porch and knock on the door, arms trembling as I do so. A combination of fear and nerves, I suppose. Soon it opens to reveal Joule’s father. He greets me with a nod and lets me in. After uttering a quick thanks I head up the stairs and make my way to Joule’s room.
She’s lying on her bed, staring out the window at the factories in the distance. As usual, the mere sight of her takes my breath away. Beautiful. Kind. Smart. Joule is all these things and more. She is undoubtedly the best thing that has ever happened to me. I still think back to when I first met her. It was two years ago, we were both working the same engineering internship. She was only fifteen.
And she already knew she was gonna die.
Joule turns her head and spots me. She gives a small, soft smile. “Hello, Faren.”
My breath nearly catches in my throat. “H-hi Joule. I’m here for…I want to talk before…” 
“Before the Reaping?” 
I nod. We both know it’s more than that, but neither of us are willing to say so. Not yet. I cross the room and sit on the edge of her bed. Seeing her here looking so weak and helpless is more than I can bear. That is why I am going to…
“How are you?” I ask quietly.
She reaches over and places her hand atop mine. “I don’t…some days I’m stronger than others. But today…”
She’s not at her best today. That realization strikes like a needle to my heart. Joule is so strong. Stronger than I could ever be. For years now she’s had a serious illness that has slowly been chipping away at her. Recently she was told she only has anywhere between a week to a month left. There’s a treatment, but it costs money. More money than we could ever possibly afford. Unless…
The Hunger Games and the riches it offers. If if I could win, secure the Victor’s crown, I’d find myself with more money then I’d know what to do with. 
I could save Joule.
She was against the idea when I first brought it up. Said she didn’t want me risking my own life for her. But she also admitted that she didn’t want to die. I also want that. Want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything. Joule told me she’d respect my choice. Whatever it ended up being. 
My choice…
“I think today is when I die.” I look up in horror. Joule is staring at me, tears in her eyes, body trembling. So lost. So forlorn. 
“No!” I shake my head adamantly. “No, you won’t die today. You’re stronger than that, Joule.”
“Am I?” She averts her gaze and looks back out the window. Dark factory smoke plumes in the air, disguising the sun and making everything seem darker than it truly is. “Am I really? Sometimes I can’t believe that.”
I stand up and kneel beside her, clasp one of her hands between mine. “Yes, you are. You’re the strongest person I know.” No one else I know could have faced what she’s faced and remained so kind. So loving. Joule has never lost to despair. 
I won’t let her do so now.
“But your plan…” She looks back to me. The tears are gone now, yet the sadness remains, reflected back from my own eyes. “The odds of you winning are…”
“I’m not going to just sit back and lose you!” 
“Faren.” I pause at the sound of her voice. So level and calm. She squeezes my hand, demanding my full attention. “If you lose the Games, you die. You’ll lose your own life and any hope for a better tomorrow.”
What's tomorrow without you? I can’t ask that. I could never. If Joule knew how much losing her would hurt me…I would never put her in that position.
“I’m not going to lose,” I say. The bravado in my words is fake. Deep down I know that she is right. What are the odds of me winning? I have no weapon skill, no ability to survive in the wild, and barely any real body strength. The only things I have are my mind and sheer determination. But will those save me when the Careers come? When the giant who seems to exist in every Games has me in his sights? 
Joule meets my gaze. “Is this our last goodbye?”
Those words strike me right in the chest. For a moment it becomes difficult to breathe. Doubt threatens to spill over and ruin everything. Then I shake my head. “No. I’m going win and get you that treatment. You’ll see.”
Joule is silent. Then a small smile crosses her face, brightening my day. “Of course. I believe you, Faren.”
If only I could believe it myself. I don’t have what it takes. Maybe there’s another way to afford that treatment. A path forward that doesn’t require my death. But how…
The clock on Joule’s mantelpiece chimes. She glances at it then looks back to me. “You…you have to head for the Reaping soon.”
Because of Joule’s illness she and her family are excused from having to attend the Reaping. They won’t be there to see…my choice. Somehow that hurts me even more. I stand to rise but Joule pulls me back down, grabs something from behind her pillow and presents it to me. I recognize it immediately.
“That’s your music box,” I state the obvious as Joule turns the key on the small wooden box. 
She smiles as soft music begins to play. “Yes, it is. I want you to have it. As your token.”
I shake my head. “No. I couldn’t possibly. Your great-grandfather made that!” It’s Joule’s most prized possession. I’ve both witnessed and heard about the many hours she’s spent just listening to it. To take such a thing with me into the Games…I just couldn’t do stomach that.
“Please. Take it,” She places the box in my hands and sets her own hand atop it. “For luck.”
“I couldn’t…it means so much to you. If I were to lose it…”
“If you lose then it’ll just be returned with…with you.” Joule stutters the words out. With my body, she means. If I were to die than my token would be sent back to District 5 alongside my corpse. The thought of Joule having to see that almost makes me cry right here and now. 
“But what if…I break or lose it in the arena?” I’m grasping at straws now and she knows it. 
Joule slowly takes my hands and envelopes them over the box, then pushes it against my chest. “I don’t care if you return without the box. You’re more important to me than any item could ever be.”
The danger of me breaking into tears is very real now. I do the only thing I can think of to prevent it. I lean forward and kiss Joule.
My fear and doubt slip away, if only for a moment. When I’m with Joule I can believe that anything is possible. That there’d be no end to what I’ll do to save her. Because losing her would be more than I could feel. 
When we break apart I am unable to speak. She wishes me luck. I give her a numb nod and depart, cradling the music box in my arms. Despite it being summer the morning is chilly as I make my way down the streets. Or maybe it’s just my body shutting down on me. My dilemma is threatening to make that a very real possibility.
I can’t lose Joule but I don’t want to die. The Games give me a shot at saving her, but also present me with the chance of death. It’s an impossible puzzle that has been laid before me, one with no clear answers. Either way I risk losing everything I hold dear. 
The streets begin to fill up as I near the Festivities Square. That’s the fancy name it has been given, even though in actuality it’s just an open slot of land in front of the District’s second largest factory. It’s where we set up the tents and carnival booths any time we have a celebration in the District.
It’s also where the Reaping stage is.
Peacekeepers are gathered around the factories fence, doing their best to sort the people. My chest flutters with trepidation at the sight of the stage just behind them. If I do this, that’s where I’ll be standing as I’m presented to the entire District. 
“Faren!”
I practically jump in surprise at the sound of my name. Who’d be calling me? My parents and I agreed to meet up after the Reapings—because I didn’t dare tell them what Joule and I were planning—so who could—
I freeze as I spot him in the crowd that is waiting to be sorted. His face has lit up at the sight of me and he seems to be trying to disentangle himself from those around him, eager to head this way. 
Rotor.
No. I can’t face him. Not today of all days. Not after what he did. He never even apologized to Joule; just me. But I wasn’t the one he hurt. Not truly. 
I hurry forward and nearly barrel into a Peacekeeper. He grunts in annoyance and shoves me into line, impatient to get a move on. I slip into the crowd, aware of how they didn’t even take my blood.
Rotor’s face disappears from sight. But not before I catch a glimpse of the despair in his eyes.
Guilt gnaws at me as I join the others around me in approaching the stage. Once Rotor was my friend, but—no. No, he was never my friend. I was his friend, the truest friend I could ever be, but he never really reciprocated that friendship.
Not in the ways that mattered.
The Mayor has already finished his speech by the time I’m close enough to hear, and has passed things off to our escort, Sicilia Sylvester. This year the young woman has her platinum blonde hair tied back in two braids, and she’s already in the middle of a spiel about finding two good tributes. I was later than I thought. 
Which means my time is fast approaching.
What will I do? If I volunteer then I risk everything, but not volunteering isn’t an answer. How could I help Joule otherwise? But to lose my own life and hers at the same time…Joule couldn’t face that. I wouldn’t want her to. 
I can’t volunteer.
“It is time to reap our male tribute for the 333rd Annual Hunger Games!” Sicilia reaches a hand into the bowl and selects a slip. I remain frozen with fear. Joule will die without that treatment. But if I fail in the Games…“Mychal Hypos!”
A name is called. The crowd stirs. There is no legal way to procure the money for Joule’s treatment beyond the Games. If I sit here and do nothing Joule will die. I don’t have a choice.
I never did.
“I volunteer!” I jump up and wave my arm in the air, hoping they don’t miss me. “I volunteer for tribute!”
Sicilia claps excitedly and points straight at me. The crowd turns to gaze at me in astonishment as I slowly begin to approach the stage. Nerves flutter in my stomach as I take the steps one at a time. Mychal Hypos, some boy I’ve never seen before, stares at me incredulously as I take his place as tribute. I try to give him a nod but I somehow fail something as simple as that. 
“What’s your name?” Sicilia asks me.
“F-Faren Gomery,” I stammer the words out, feeling like I’ve just made a fool of myself before the entire District. No, wait, the Reapings are televised. It would be the entire country.
“You must be quite the brave boy, to have volunteered me that!”
I don’t quite know how to respond. I open my mouth and close it several times, but the words die before they’re even formed. What do I say to that? I’m not the brave one. Joule is. 
Sicilia must see that I’m struggling to respond, so she just nods and moves on. She stands before the female bowl, ready to dip her hand in. “As for who the District 5 female will be—”
“I volunteer.”
A calm and collected voice rises over the din of the crowd. A girl pushes her way past, ascending the stage with a poise that is almost regal. Sicilia claps excitedly as the girl pauses next to me. She’s a strange sight; jet-black hair streaked with blue and arraigned into several bobs and braids, forming a hairstyle that is certainly unique. And her outfit is not at all like that of the average District 5 citizen. 
“What’s your name?” Sicilia asks.
The girl sets one hand atop her hip and waves a hand dismissively. “You may call me Opal Crane.”
The girl’s face is dotted with freckles, which I normally find to soften the features of a person. But not here. Opal’s eyes are cold and distant. Who is she? The fact that she looks so athletic and well-fed in comparison to most of the District begs the question.
“And why did you volunteer, Opal?” Sicilia can’t contain her excitement. Two volunteers from District 5? It’s almost unheard of.
“I don’t owe you an explanation,” Opal turns away from Sicilia and appears to stare into the cameras. “But suffice to say that I have a goal in mind.”
Sicilia pauses, as if she expects further elaboration, but Opal doesn’t speak. I fidget on stage as the Reaping process continues without anymore input from us tributes. Will this work? Or is everything I’m doing going to be utterly useless? Fear and guilt swell up inside me and I am terrified of what the answer will be. 
----
I sit on an armchair aboard the train headed for the Capitol, hands clasped together as I ignore all the food on the dining table and try not to cry. My final goodbyes with my parents were…devastating. They didn’t understand why I hadn’t told them my plan. Thought what I am doing was reckless and ill-advised. But I know it’s not. If I stayed in District 5 and did nothing…
Joule’s death would have been guaranteed.
Opal is here with me. She sits on a chair near the window, casually looking out it and paying me no mind. She’s the only person I’ve seen aboard since the Peacekeepers ushered us on. I look up and glance at the clock on the wall. We’ll be in the Capitol near dusk, then…
I silently count out the days in my head. Several will pass before I even set foot in the arena. What’ll I do if Joule passes away in that time? I’m on a ticking time clock. Every second of every minute of every day is time I can ill afford to lose. The Games will need to end decisively fast.
For Joule’s sake.
I turn back to Opal. Maybe I can befriend her and make it so she’s less likely to target me in the Games? That would help, wouldn’t it? “So, um, hello. I’m Faren—”
“Don’t talk to me!” Opal gives me a disdainful look. “You have nothing to offer me, and I hardly wish to associate myself with someone of your ilk, so please do us both a favor and remain silent.”
I’m both dismayed and shocked at this brusque dismissal. How could—
The dining room door swings open with such ferocity that I literally jump out of my chair. A man strides into the room and grabs a chair, pulling it up as he plops himself into it. He reaches out and pulls a wine bottle off the table, uncorking it as he pours himself a glass. Leaning back, he drowns the glass in one gulp as he finally turns to face us. “So, you two rats are the tributes this year?”
I recognize the man. With his black hair hanging loose around his shoulders and sharp blue eyes it’d be hard not to. But his most noticeable feature is the scars. Marring his arms and face, the scars practically define him. Everyone in District 5 knows him as Kulver the Terrible or Madman Tarros. 
He’s a former Victor and my mentor. 
Kulver narrows his eyes as neither I nor Opal respond. He pours himself another glass and downs it just as quickly as the first. “You both volunteered, so that means you have something you’re trying to get. Isn’t that right?”
I glance at Opal but she’s taken a file out of her pocket and is busy maintaining her nails, practically ignoring him. I was too young to remember watching Kulver’s Games, but everyone knows that he was brutal and, in some people’s estimations, insane. He etched a scar into his own skin after each kill and went on to say that he didn’t regret a single thing he did in the Games. He honestly frightens me. 
But he is also my mentor and I’ll take whatever help I can to save Joule.
“I…I volunteered because m-my girlfriend has a…” Kulver’s eyes swivel to face me as I speak and I nearly lose my train of thought. “She has an illness…and can’t afford treatment, so I thought—”
“You thought you’d win the Games and become filthy rich?” Kulver laughs. A short, humorless sound that is like nails on a chalkboard to my ears. “Gotta say, you’ve got balls, boy. But you need more than that to win. You need to be willing to do whatever it takes.”
“I’ll do whatever is necessary to save Joule!”
“Can you?” Kulver leans back and smiles. It’s almost predatory in nature. “Can you really bring yourself to do whatever is necessary?”
“Yes!” There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for Joule. Haven’t I already proven that?
Kulver points a finger at Opal. “Could you kill her?”
That gets Opal’s attention. She looks up from her fastidious nail maintenance and narrows her eyes. I’m remembering how dismissive she was of me. How cold and callous she has behaved. Could I kill her to save Joule? 
“Yes.”
Kulver stands up and, within seconds, has crossed the room and is in my face. Despite his famed reputation he is not very tall, standing around the same height as me. His blue eyes, like two chunks of cold ice, stare into my own. “Could you kill me?”
I’m taken back by the question. “What?” 
“When you’re in the arena and find yourself face-to-face with a man like me—yes, man, not boy—could you kill him? There won’t be time for doubt. Hesitate for even a second and you’re dead. So answer; can you kill me?”
Does he mean it literally? Kulver Tarros is an unhinged maniac; everyone says so. Is he actually asking if I would kill him? He can’t possibly—
Kulver slaps me. I reel backwards, catching myself on the table to prevent a fall. My face burns with pain. Pain so bad that tears well in my eyes. I try to blink them away as Kulver grips me by the back of my shirt and drags me in front of him. “Answer the question, boy. Can you kill me?”
“I-I don’t understand—” 
My words dissolve into a cry of fear as Kulver’s face contorts with sudden rage and he shakes me like a rag doll. “Answer the question!”
“Kulver!”
I stumble backwards as he lets go of me. I hit the ground and quickly scramble back to my feet, fearful that Kulver will continue his assault. But he’s returned to his chair and is pouring himself another glass of wine, laughing at a woman who stands in the doorway, glaring daggers at him. 
She’s a slight brunette woman wearing a purple dress and matching headband. She too is someone I recognize instantly: Missy Randos, Victor of the 325th Hunger Games. “Kulver! You’re supposed to be mentoring, not terrorizing them!”
I adjust my glasses as she begins to verbally tear into Kulver. Missy is a living legend in District 5, as beloved as Kulver is feared. Sweet and generous, she has been vocal about how guilt-ridden she is for her actions in the Games. Missy is basically the template that every weak, soft spoken tribute seeks to follow. 
When her tirade is over, Missy turns her attention to me and Opal. “I’m sorry,” She speaks softly. “Kulver is a sad, empty man. You shouldn’t have to put up with him; especially not in this terrible situation.”
“I was helping them,” Kulver grunts from his spot at the table. “Your mollycoddling won’t turn them into Victors.”
“Yes, because I’m sure they’re just dying to emulate the behavior of Madman Tarros!” Missy snaps.
He falls silent. For a frightening moment I fear that he’s about to lunge forward and strike out at Missy. Maybe kill her and me both. Who’d stop him? But no. He just refills his glass and swirls it around. “What was it you said? That I’m an empty man? Well, that’s true. Least it was before the Games.”
Missy eyes him scathingly. “Because you were a maniac who loved to kill!”
“Aye, that’s what they all say.” He downs his glass and slams it atop the table. “Before the Games I was a street urchin. An orphan. Whoever my parents were I don’t remember. I was on my own, scavenging in the trash like a rat searching for its next meal. Yet even if I found anything good it’d be taken from me by those bigger and stronger. Every other day I’d be beaten to an inch of my life and have my possessions stolen. Every day was a living hell. When the Reaping came around and my name was drawn, I didn’t care. Far as I was concerned I was already dead.”
He pauses to refill his glass and drink again. Slower this time. Missy bites her lip, looking troubled. “I…I didn’t know that. That’s terrible. But it still doesn’t justify—”
“I was in a dining room aboard a train much like this one when I met my mentor,” Kulver slams his glass back down. “He was a great big whale of a man who was sitting at a table laden with more food than I’d ever seen in my life. I asked him what I should do in the Games. He took one look at me and laughed. Told me that it didn’t matter, that I had no chance of winning, so I may as well just die right now.”
Missy gasps, her mouth forming a perfect “O”. “That’s despicable! How—”
“Shut up! I’m not telling this story for you.” Kulver shoots her a glare. He jabs a finger in my direction. “It’s for them.” 
A strange sensation is brewing in my stomach. One that feels like a combination of fear, nervousness, and…something else. Anticipation.
“I resolved to live. Went into training eager to learn whatever I could. At the private sessions I scored a three. After I won everyone said that I was hiding my skills and pretending to be weak. A lie. I had tried my hardest and yet the Gamemakers saw fit to give me nothing better than a three. Shows you what they know.” He pauses to scratch his ear and squint at the bottom of the glass. “Anyway, then the bloodbath came. I ran out and grabbed myself a spile and small knapsack. Didn’t get more than a few feet before I was attacked. Knocked to the ground and given a vicious beating. Suddenly I was back in District 5, on the streets. They were beating me and taking my stuff. That’s when the rage overtook me and I decided I was done being the victim. I took the spile, rose up, and used it to rip my attackers throat open. After I fled the bloodbath I found a knife in my knapsack. I used it to carve a scar into my arm, a reminder of what I had to do to stay alive. Of what I’d continue to do.”
Kulver takes a finger and taps his right forearm, where a pale white scar runs down the length of it. “Few days later three Careers stumbled upon me. They thought I was easy prey until I killed their leader before they could even react. The other two put up a fight before their deaths. They became three more reminders. Yet one of them got me good with his sword and I thought for sure that my wound would get infected, that I’d die. That’s when she came.”
“She?” I never watched any of the reruns of Kulver’s Games. Never wanted to. But now I find myself enthralled in his story.
“Quintana,” Missy’s voice is hushed. “She was the District 8 female. She found Kulver as he was weak and used her medicinal skills to bring him back to health.”
“She had run out of food and water,” Kulver gives Missy a glare, annoyed she was interjecting in his story. “And had no way of finding more. She was a civilized girl, didn’t know how to procure her own sustenance. But I did. So she used me to find supplies, and in the coming days we worked together to drive off a pack of mutts. And another tribute. Later on I learned he was the odds-on favorite, but he was nothing to me at the time. Quintana landed the killing blow.”
I find myself troubled. An ally? That doesn’t seem to fit with the image of Kulver the Terrible or Madman Tarros. How could he have gained such an ill reputation, scars aside?
“Are you going to tell them what you did to Quintana?” Missy asks.
Kulver smiles grimly. “The night after killing that tribute I was on guard duty. I was staring at the stars, thinking. The numbers were dwindling and I knew that soon we would have to turn on each other. Quintana was faster than me, stronger than me, and she damn well was smarter than me. I realized that I didn’t stand a chance against her in a fair fight.”
“So you killed her.” Missy says flatly.
“Aye. I took the axe she’d given me and used it to cleave her head in two while she slept. Then I gave myself another scar. A reminder of what you had to do to survive.” He places a finger on a scar just beneath his right eye. He trails it down his face, to his jawline. “And the following day proved I was right to off her. Two tributes killed one another in a brawl, and that just left me and one other. A thirteen year old. Had Quintana been alive she’d have killed us both.”
He killed his own ally. Murdered her while she slept. That’s horrifying. What kind of person could do that to someone who trusted them? But what if that was the only way to survive? If not doing so would result in your own death? Would you be justified in that situation? 
What if killing her saved Joule?
“That thirteen year old and I met face to face,” Kulver is still talking. He holds his glass in one hand, staring into the bottom. “We stood eye to eye and realized that the circumstances of our lives had already made us both into men. I knew that neither one of us would hesitate to kill the other. Words were meaningless. So we fought. It was bloody and brutal, with no quarter given. But in the end I won, he died. And as they crowned me Victor, I took my knife and carved one last reminder into my skin. A reminder that you can’t gain anything without sacrifice.”
There’s a period of silence after his words. I feel as if I should say something, but can’t think of what. Eventually it is Missy who breaks the quiet. “The replays don’t show a fight. They just…show you brutalizing the boy.”
Kulver snorts. “‘Course they didn’t. Madman Tarros struggling to defeat a thirteen year old boy? That wouldn’t fit their image of me. The only time anyone saw the fight was during the live airing.” He flexes his left hand. “Kulver the Terrible. That’s what you people call me. And why? Because I refused to show remorse or sympathy during my Crowning. And I didn’t act like it was some wonderful honor either. I was just content to be alive. You wanna know why?”
No one responds. Missy has a napkin pressed to her face, eyes blurry with tears. Kulver refills his glass. “The night after my Crowning was the first time in my life I went to sleep with a full belly and no fear of death. I didn’t have to worry about being beaten, or having my possessions stolen. I was finally content. So what if they called me a madman? That they hurled insults at me, despised my very existence? Woman like her,” he jerks his head towards Missy. “Can call me a “sad, empty man” all they want. I don’t care. I’m finally living life. Not just existing. Living.”
He downs his glass one more time then chucks it across the room. It hits the far wall, shattering on impact. Missy hurries out of the room. I think she’s sobbing, but i can’t be sure. Opal, for her part, sits in her chair looking decidedly bored. Indifferent to everything that she has heard. 
Kulver stands. He crosses the room and stops right in front of me. His cold blue eyes stare right into mine. “So tell me, boy. When you’re in the arena and find yourself face to face with a man like me, one who doesn’t give a rat’s ass about you or your pitiful story, will you be able to kill him? There’ll be no time for doubt. Hesitate for even a second and you and that pretty girlfriend of yours will both be nothing more than two corpses. So, let me ask you one more time…Could you kill me?”
I stare at him. Kulver the Terrible. A man who’d sacrifice whatever it took to make his dream a reality. A man with no qualms about what he did or who he’d do it to. Would I be willing to do the same for Joule? 
There is only one answer I could ever give.
===District Six: Teal Arden===
I lie on my cot, staring up at the concrete wall of my cell and wondering just when my life spiraled out of control. How far back did it happen? Was it when I first became involved with Starling? Should I have quit right when I found out? I don’t know. Honestly I don’t know how to feel about anything anymore. Everything has just slipped out of my grasp. 
I roll onto my side in an effort to keep comfortable. My new view isn’t much different from the old. Just a concrete wall and an identical cot. My cellmate and former coworker, Gab Hartwell, occupies the cot. She sits upright, hands clasped together as she stares at the floor. She was the one who snitched on Uncle Starling, I learned. That’s the only reason she avoided being executed like so many of our fellow runners were. As for why I was spared…
I growl in annoyance, drawing a look from Gab. I scowl at her and shift myself back around so that I don’t have to see her stupid face. It’s not that I dislike her. It’s just…
It’s complicated.
Its been three weeks since my life completely fell apart. Three weeks spent in this detention cell with barely any contact with the outside world. I hate this. Hate being cooped up. I want to be out there doing something. Anything. Just languishing in this cell is killing me…
What is my family doing? Obviously they’d have heard about Starling’s fall. The whole District has probably heard. According to Tatius it’s pretty much the only thing anyone will talk about. 
Tatius!
I let out another growl and roll over again. It’s his fault I’m even in this situation! If he hadn’t come with his friends to arrest us then this wouldn’t have happened! Of course, I also don’t know what would have happened if he didn’t do that. My family had discovered what Starling’s operation truly was and they were threatening to pull me out of working for him if I didn’t leave on my own accord. And I can’t imagine how I could have distanced myself from Starling if not for the arrest. Not that Starling was arrested. Oh, all the kids and teenagers who worked for him were, but he himself tried to make a run for it. 
He was shot and killed in his attempt.
Starling, my uncle, and the drug baron of District 6 was dead. Killed by Peacekeepers in a sting operation. All of his subordinates were arrested. Or maybe not all. I suppose there’s a chance that some of the higher ups in his organization got away. I never met them, so I don’t know. But I do know that all of his runners, all of the teenagers that I worked alongside, were caught and arrested.
Then they were hung. 
All of them except for me and Gab.
Gab was spared because she was the one to snitch on Starling. She lead the Peacekeepers right to the leader of the operation, so it’d only make sense for her punishment to be lighter. But as for me? I was his niece, and thus you’d think they’d be especially hard on me, but I was also spared. There’s only one reason I can assume I avoided the noose, and that was because of…Tatius.
My boyfriend and the Peacekeeper who led the mission to arrest us runners. I don’t know what he did to spare me, or if he somehow thinks that makes up for everything he did. I never asked. He routinely drops by the cell to give me information on my family and where my situation could be going, but I brush him off every time. He’s the reason I’m stuck in this cell…
…or at least that’s what I tell myself. The truth is that I’m the only reason he was ever in a position to arrest us. I didn’t quit when I learned the true extent of Starling’s business, I kept making deliveries even though I knew what was inside those packages and the risks carrying them entailed. And then I willingly got myself involved with Tatius, a Peacekeeper. Everything that has happened occurred due to my own actions. All the repercussions can be traced back to my decisions…
And that’s what frustrates me the most.
I’m the reason I’m separated from my parents and brothers right now. Not Tatius. Not Starling. Me. At any time I could have made a different choice and prevented this, but I didn’t. The ironic thing is that all my choices were meant to protect my brothers, Allan, Axle, Miles and Beam. I tried my best to be a good sister and protector, but in the end what was I truly? Did I fail? I don’t know. Can’t decide that yet. Still need to see them again. Maybe I can—
“Good morning, convicts!” 
I nearly jump out of my skin at the sudden appearance of two Peacekeepers. They stand behind the cell bars, watching us. One of them is smiling and spinning a set of keys around his fingers. The other just stares blankly ahead. Despite knowing several Peacekeepers due to my connection with Tatius, I don’t recognize either one.
“We’re not convicts,” Gab says with a glare. “This is a detention center, not a prison.”
“Well, excuse me princess!” The guard with the keys throw a hand up in mock despair. “It’s not my fault you’re enough of a criminal for me to confuse the two.”
“Wedge, do we really need to antagonize them?” The other Peacekeeper looks bored.
The first one, Wedge, shrugs. “Need to? No. But it’s a lot funnier this way, right?”
I roll off the bed and onto my feet, wondering what this unannounced visit is about. Typically the only times Peacekeepers come to our cell is during mealtimes or when Tatius is trying to pass along information to me. But breakfast had already happened and it’s too soon for lunch. Why are they here?
Gab decides to ask. “What is the point of this?”
Wedge pauses mid-speech. “Huh? Point of what? Life? I couldn’t tell you. Now, I once heard that—”
“Wedge.” The other Peacekeeper taps him on the shoulder. “Can we hurry this up? I don’t want to be here all day.”
“Sheesh, Julius. You’re no fun, are you?” Wedge takes his keys and sets them in the lock, then pauses. “Don’t try anything funny, girls. We’re going to handcuff you and bring you out.”
“Why?” I’m slightly concerned by the direction this is taking. They haven’t decided to hang us like the others, have they?
“What does it matter to you?” Wedge is struggling to get the door unlocked. “You’re Tatius’ girl. Nothing bad will come to you. Hell, he’s the reason you weren’t executed with your friends.”
Beside him, Julius frowns. “That’s the reason?”
I feel a faint stir of annoyance at that. For the fact that apparently Tatius is the sole reason I’m still alive and because Wedge is enough of an idiot to say so aloud. “Oh, uh, you didn’t know? Shit.” Wedge mumbles something incoherent as he finally succeeds at unlocking the door. “Well, yeah, that girl belongs to Tatius. Apparently she was a spy or something and was working for us, embedding herself in the organization to get information. At least, that’s what Tatius is telling the top brass.”
My annoyance has transformed into something between anger and relief. Anger that Wedge said I “belonged” to Tatius, and relief at the fact my execution seems pretty unlikely at this point.
“Are we being released?” Gab asks. I notice the looks she sends my way. Apparently she didn’t know about my relationship with Tatius. Not that anyone did, really. 
“Today? Nah. But if Tatius’ ploy works you’ll both be on your way out next week.”
“Where are you taking us?” I ask as Wedge files into the cell and begins to handcuff me. If we’re not headed for our execution then where…?
“You don’t know what day it is?” Julius sounds surprised. He still stands outside the cell, one hand on his baton. I roll at my eyes. Does he really think we’ll try to run?
“Kinda hard to know the date when you’re locked in a cell,” I say as Wedge pushes me out. 
“Oh. Right. Well, today’s Reaping Day.”
“For the preliminaries?” District 6’s population is so large that not everyone can attend a single Reaping, so we have preliminary Reapings leading up to the day itself. If your name is drawn during the preliminary it’s added to the bowl for the main one. 
“What? No. Those already happened.”
Gab gasps as she’s shoved into the hall beside us. “Our names were drawn in the preliminaries?” 
“Yep!” Wedge locks the empty cell behind us, for some reason. “Which means if your name is drawn today you’ll be headed into the Games! Exciting stuff, huh?”
Gab is worried, but I’m not too concerned. I’ve had my name drawn in the preliminaries before, and while it was frightening having to attend the main Reaping, I didn’t actually get picked. But then, what if my brothers are picked? Miles and Beam are too young, but there’s nothing stopping Allan or Axle from being selected. 
This thought troubles me as we’re lead through the detention center and out the front doors. A white Peacekeeper van awaits us, already running. “We’re going in our uniforms?” Gab asks. 
I look down at my own gray one-piece suit. I’d almost forgotten I was wearing it. “Why does it matter?” Wedge climbs up beside the driver of the van. “You’re being brought back here afterwards.”
“But what if I’m Reaped?” Julius opens the back of the van and ushers us inside. I climb up the steep step, which is quite difficult when handcuffed, and settle down on the bench inside. 
Julius helps Gab up and has her sit beside me as he shuts the van doors and takes his spot across from us. “If you get Reaped you’ll have bigger things to worry about than what you’re wearing.”
The van takes off. I’m glad that Wedge decided to sit up front, because I know that he would have been obnoxious and talked the whole ride. Julius, however, is content to sit in silence. Once he pulls a box of cigarettes out of his pocket and taps it against his thigh, as if debating whether to light one, but he slides it back inside with a sigh and returns to his silence. That’s fine by me. It gives me time to sit with my thoughts and think things over. If what Wedge said is true, then I’ll be released a week from now. My only punishment for being apart of Starling’s drug operation will be a month long detainment. Inconvenient, yes, but at least it’s not permanent like death. I can return to my family. Be with my brothers and apologize to my parents for not telling them the whole truth. I should have done so. I can see that now.
The ride takes longer than I’d expected, but eventually I feel the van pull to a halt. Julius rises and throws the doors open, letting a beam of sunlight shine through and half-blind me as I’m led out of the van. The murmur of a crowd becomes audible as I rub at my eyes and turn around. We’re at the Reaping Stage, positioned at one of the Peacekeeper checkpoints. A line of people getting their blood taken is just behind us.
“Attention!” A Peacekeeper wearing a blue sash, the mark of a captain, approaches as Wedge and Julius take ahold of Gab and I. They both salute at the sight of the man; Wedge doing so noticeably sloppier. The Captain nods. “At ease, men.”
“We’ve received the prisoners, sir!”
“I can see that, Ring,” The Captain frowns at me and Gab. I wonder if he even knows who we are. Eventually he turns away. “Good job. I have a new assignment for you. Both of you are to head to the station and join Delta Squad. You’ll wait for the Reaping to finish, then escort the tributes to the Capitol. Understood?”
”Yes, sir!”
The moment he’s gone they turn to one another. “We’re going to the Capitol?” Julius seems troubled.
Wedge laughs. “Don’t look so glum! This is the best assignment ever! After we arrive we’ll have a layover where we can do whatever we want! And let me tell you, the ladies of the Capitol love men in uniform!”
The two depart after Gab and I are pushed into our appropriate line, taking their handcuffs with them. I run my wrists ruefully, casually glancing around the crowd. Is my family here? Technically they don’t have to be; unlike other Districts not everyone has to attend the Reaping. Only those who’ve had their names drawn in the preliminaries and curious spectators usually come. 
The way the crowd is structured doesn’t help my task. The stage is lined up directly ahead of us, the Justice Building in the backdrop, with all the Reaping age children assembled before it. The spectator crowds are gathered to either side, effectively being split in two. It’s anyone’s guess as to which side my family would be on. 
I decide it’d be simplest to look for Allan and Axle first. If their names had been drawn in the preliminaries then they’d be in the fifteen year olds line, conveniently placed right beside my own. Yet as I scan the faces I don’t see any sign of them. Gab and I draw stares of our own. Our uniforms are a clear giveaway: everyone probably remembers that the kids hung three weeks ago—in this very square—had been wearing similar outfits. Doesn’t take much for them to put two and two together.
The escort takes the stage. I don’t pay them any attention. I’m still scanning for my brothers. The fact that I don’t see Allan or Axle gives me some relief; if they’re not here than they must not have been picked in the preliminaries. Of course, that then makes me wonder if my brothers are even here at all. There’d be no reason to attend if they hadn’t. My name was drawn, but do they know that? Would they come out just to see me in the crowd? If the situation were reversed I’d do so. 
I return to scanning the spectators. They’re probably in there somewhere. I just want to see their faces again. Everything I’ve done has been for them, so just getting to—
Gab lets out a gasp.
“What?” I don’t take my eyes off the crowd. There! Is that—
“It’s you!” Gab elbows me in the chest, breaking my concentration. 
I turn to her, annoyed at this interruption. “What’re you talking about? What’s me?”
In response she points up at the stage. At the escort and the bowl I’d been ignoring. Right now she’s waving around a piece of paper as she peers into the crowd. For a moment I’m confused. What is she doing? Then it hits me. It’s you…
I’ve been Reaped.
It’s hard to breathe. My first thought is of my brothers. Who’ll protect them if I’m gone? My parents, yes, but I was always there, a third protector, someone who’d give her life for them. But now I’m going into the Games…a fate worse than any imprisonment could ever be. For me to return home I’ll have to outlive twenty-seven other tributes in a free-for-all death match. The odds of that aren’t good.
Gab hits me in the shoulder and gestures at the stage. Slowly I begin to move. The crowd notices and starts murmuring to themselves. The more cynical among them might be wondering if this was all a conspiracy: if my name was drawn on purpose to further my punishment. I don’t believe that. If the Capitol wanted me dead they’d have hung me, I’m not special enough to warrant this treatment. No, my name being drawn was just rotten luck. 
When I reach the stage I find myself face to face with the escort. I don’t know her name. I’ve never seen her before, so she must be new. Yet she’s still dressed in the same pastel, candy colors that most Capitol citizens seem to enjoy, and her ghoulish grin is no different than our past escorts. “Why hello, Teal!” She grabs my hand and shakes it too vigorously. “It took you quite a while to reach the stage! You must have been very excited!”
I don’t know what to say. Don’t trust myself to speak. So I nod numbly and hope the cameras get off my face. I can see what they’re showing up on the large holographic screens projected onto the sides of nearby buildings; right now they’re lasered in on me. 
The escort says some more stuff before heading off. Thankfully the cameras follow her to the next bowl. I take the opportunity to scan the crowd once more. Are my brothers in there, watching? If so, then they must be terrified. Their big sister is going into the Games, possibly to die.
“You must be one of the girls from Starling’s operation.” A woman speaks from behind me. Tall and skinny, with blonde hair tinted blue at the edges. She’s older, maybe late forties or early fifties, and her expensive looking clothes mark her as someone rich. Who’d be up on stage? A Victor?
Yes. I recognize the young man beside her as Robert Iran, Victor of the 328th Games and District 6’s most recent. So the woman must be…I try to name another Victor but come up blank. I never paid much attention to this stuff. “Who’re you?”
The woman’s face turns into a scowl. “What has become of the youth of today? Are they so illiterate that they don’t even recognize their Victors?”
I turn back to the crowd. I don’t have time for this. I think that could be my brothers, out there on the edge of the crowd. It certainly looks like Allan’s face—
A bony hand clutches my shoulder and spins me around. The woman’s hawkish face greets me. “Looking for your family, yes? You’re the niece of Starling, so that’d make it your brothers out there?”
“What does it matter to you?” I don’t like this woman. The way she pries and seems to know stuff she shouldn’t. What was her connection to Starling? Considering what his business was, it couldn’t be anything good.
“Maximo Gallardo!”
The escort has chosen the male tribute and I lose the woman’s attention as she turns to observe him making his way through the crowd. I take this opportunity to sidle along the stage away from her, eyes already searching for my brothers again. I’m fairly certain I can make out their forms in the back of the crowd, obscured by people leaning forward to get a better look at Maximo. 
The guy himself comes into my view as he finally ascends the stage. He’s not anything special; just a normal looking guy of average height and middling build. He sort of pauses for a moment before continuing on towards the escort, whose name I still don’t know, and making a displeased face. “You’re Maximo?” She asks.
“That depends. If I say no, does that mean I don’t have to enter the Games?”
The escort laughs uproariously and even some of the crowd let out chuckles. I notice his face though; it doesn’t seem like he’s amused. After being introduced to the crowd he wanders over to me, muttering to himself. “Months of preparation ruined…of course, just my luck.” He shrugs and forces a smile onto his face. “Oh well, at least I can investigate the training center for ghosts.”
I tense up at the word. Ghosts? I don’t want to say that I’m afraid of ghosts, per se, it’s just that…I’d really rather not see or hear about one. The last thing I need right now is to spend the night in a haunted training center. That would not suit me. At all.
We’re presented to the crowd once more, together this time. Maximo is mumbling about a demon cursing him or something, but I tune him out and focus on the crowd. I finally see them. My brothers. They’re all together, bunched up as they gaze out at me with horror etched on their faces. Their big sister is going into the Games.
And will have to fight if she wants to survive.
===District Eight: Notcher Stott===
I weave my way through the crowd, bumping into people as they jostle me on their way towards the Reaping Square. I head the opposite direction. South, towards the abandoned factory district, now known as the slums. I keep my head low and gaze forward as I hit a well-dressed man and careen sideways off the sidewalk. He turns to give me a distasteful look and tells me to watch where I’m going before continuing on his way. I duck into a nearby alleyway and squeeze myself through a gap in the wooden fence at the far end.
Once I’m safely behind it I open my fist and stare at the pouch in my hand. I toss it up and down and smile at the satisfying clinking that signifies the presence of credit coins. 
Moron. That man was carrying a small fortune in his pocket and decided to venture into a crowd that large? He was practically asking to be robbed. 
I open the pouch and pour the coins out into the palm of my right hand. A faint sense of disgust stirs in me as I see my disfigurement; two of my fingers are gone and the rest covered in a multitude of scars that likewise mar the entirety of my right arm. A result of my prior carelessness. 
I will never allow myself to be caught unaware ever again.
That feeling of self-indignation is what inspires me to look up and scan the alley for any threats before counting the credit coins. When I am content that it is safe, I proceed to do so and find myself shocked. More than thirty credit coins rest in the palm of my hand. They are a valuable currency in Panem, highly sought after. Used often in the Capitol, they’re quite rare in District 8, normally only in the possession of the wealthiest citizens. In scrap value alone, a single coin could get me enough food for a month. But with thirty…
My mind blanks at the possibilities. With these I could more than afford a home for myself and Lanon. Something beyond even the pension room we currently reside in. A true house, one in the suburbs and nowhere near the treacherous factories and their smoke. I could—
I stuff the coins back into the pouch. Something feels off. Why would that man have so much wealth on him? He was merely making his way to the Reaping, wasn’t he? I’ve pickpocketed rich men before, even procured some credit coins on occasion, but never anywhere near this much. So why now? The uncertainty of the situation makes me uneasy, and I hate being uneasy.
I tuck the pouch into my belt and take off down the alley. I want to put as much distance between myself and the scene of the robbery as possible. With such a large sum missing the man is sure to notice. And when he does he’ll go searching. I’m sure he will remember our encounter. Probably will peg me as the culprit; the tactic I used was a common one, easy and without much effort. 
I dart between allies, sidestepping the occasional homeless person as I make my way down familiar streets and common pathways. The pouch weighs heavy in my belt. Early in my career as a thief I was caught by Peacekeepers several times. As a repeat offender I was sentenced to a caning, performed in the District square for all to see. It was painful, humiliating even, but I found strength in it. As the cane left scars on my back, joining the ones which traveled along my right arm like skeins in wool, I realized that the scars were a reminder to never let yourself get caught. 
My scars taught me a valuable lesson. They let me understand what all those grim and serious men who line the streets and work as Peacekeepers have yet to learn. The law exists to punish. Authority seeks to assert its dominance over others. No one cares about justice or righteousness or anything of the sort; it’s all just pretenses to flaunt their power. But the law holds no power if I fail to prescribe to it, or evade its reach. Authority can only harm those who it catches.
That is why I have made myself uncatchable. 
There would be no caning this time, I realize as I slip between two walls that stand close together and emerge on the other side. For having stolen something as valuable as thirty credit coins my sentence would be death. I would be strung up in the square and left to rot. I can’t allow that. Who’d take care of Lanon if not me?
For the entirety of my life he’s been my only confidant. I lost my parents when I was young enough that I could hardly remember them, but Lanon was there for me. Majority of the wealth I attain from my forays into thievery are spent on his nourishment and health. Lanon is a sickly man, a result of long years spent working and living by those damnable textile factories. But with these credit coins I could change that. Might be able to fix him up for good. Wouldn’t that be something? I can almost imagine the smile on that crusty man’s face.
’Course I have to avoid being caught first.
The fact that it’s Reaping Day poses a problem. First off, I’m forced to be in the square within the hour. Secondly, I don’t want to be holding those coins when I get there. I’m known for being the swiftest hand in town and if the man has noticed the theft and reported it to the Peacekeepers I’m sure they’ll frisk me. So how to avoid that? Stash the coins somewhere else and come back for them after the Reaping. 
But where? Not our pension room. I won’t put Lanon at risk like that. I have several hideouts hidden throughout the District’s, small cubbies and the like where I go to lie low to avoid the heat during a theft, but most of them are too far away for me to reach and be back at the square in time for the Reaping. Except one. It’s a small shed in the yard of an abandoned factory, hidden amongst some scraggly trees and and an outhouse. No one ever really goes there and it’s close enough to the square that I could get there and back in time. I rarely use that hideout though. 
Because it’s in Rupert Silks territory.
The Silk Gang is a group of teenagers and young adults that occupy the part of the District where the abandoned factory is. Unlike most bands of delinquents, they go beyond simple vandalism and petty theft and venture into outright terrorism. Originally led by Rufus Silks, a boy who eventually competed in the 327th Hunger Games, the group were the cause of several arsons and even bombings. Though I was still just a child when Rufus entered the Games, I’ve heard the stories about him and wouldn’t dare enter his territory if he were still alive.
But he’s not. Rufus met his end in the arena and his reign of terror is in the past. Yet his gang lives on. Nowadays they’re led by a guy my age named Rupert, apparently the younger brother of Rufus himself. It’s a dubious claim and while many doubt the veracity of it, few are willing to outright deny it. While Rupert may lack the fame and success of his predecessor, he shares the same love of violence and brutality. 
It’s always a risk when you enter into the gangs territory because, Rupert himself aside, they’re short-tempered and ill-mannered, always ready to inflict violence at a moment’s notice. But I’ve found myself within it often enough that I set up a hideout. Mostly because few people are willing to follow me inside. Usually it’s an emergency situation…which this just might be.
I set off at a brisk jog. Time is ticking. If I’m not at the Reaping in time bad things will happen. So I’ll be there in time. The streets are empty as I pass through. This is an already depleted area of the District and most people are headed to the Reaping, so it’s not surprising that no one is here. Rupert and his gang may even be among them. No matter how highly they think of themselves, they’re still not exempt from the Capitol’s rules.
As there is nothing to slow me down I reach the factory ground within minutes. I pause on the edge of an alley, beside a dinghy tenement, and stare out at the grimy, filth-covered building that was once a factory. Though it is broken and decrepit, the smokestack rises high in the sky, black and dark as the gloom of the deepest night. But there isn’t any sign of movement. No people. I zero in on the small shed at the far end of the grounds. Its roof is lopsided and practically leaning against the factory’s outer walls. The way it looks, you’d think a strong gust of wind would knock it right over. But I know from experience that it’s tougher than it appears.
I’m fast and agile. It’s a skill that I’ve cultivated over the years of being a pickpocket. More of a byproduct than skill, I guess. If you weren’t quick, you were caught. And if you were caught, you were dead. It was simple as that. 
Needless to say I’m the quickest in District.
I rush out to the shed and dart around to the backside. Dropping to my knees, I dig in the dirt until I find a small box buried beneath. I flip the lid open, deposit the pouch inside, and close it before re-burying the entire thing. Then I’m on my feet and hurrying back to the alleyway.
I pause on the edge, slightly winded from the exertion. Wasn’t my best time, but it could have been worse. Still, I don’t allow myself too much time to rest; only a little over half a minute. Then I’m off and rushing back towards the Reaping Square.
I only get a few streets away before they strike.
Something slams into my side as I’m sprinting down an alley. I have no time to react and am driven into the ground. Hard. Breath escapes my lips in gasps as a fist buries itself in my stomach and I’m being hauled to my feet. Two figures grab my arms, both grungy teenagers slightly older than me.
Stepping around the corner, three figures appear. Two large and bulky men flank the boy in the middle, a youth with flaming crimson hair and a wicked grin plastered on his face. I recognize him immediately. 
Rupert Silks.
“Well, well, well, what have we here?” He crouches down and picks up a discarded cigarette butt. He runs his fingers along it and glances at me. “Notcher Stott, the swiftest hand in District 8! What brings you to my territory, Notcher?”
Crap. This has gone as bad as it can get. Rupert himself? I wasn’t expecting this. I remain silent as he tosses the cigarette aside and pulls something out of his gray jacket. It glints in the morning light. Brass knuckles?
“Being quiet will only make this harder on you, Notcher,” He slides the knuckles over his hand and makes a small Tsk! sound. “I expected someone of your caliber to know that.”
Two of his thugs have their hands on me. Two more lurk behind him. But what about behind me? It’s possible there’s some back there, though I can’t see from my position. Makes planning harder. Annoying. I fix Rupert with a flat stare. “Dyeing your hair red doesn’t make you Rufus’ brother.”
Anger flashes in his blue eyes. “Shut up! I am his brother.”
“Is that right? Because you look like a little boy playing dress up to me.”
He growls and steps forward, planting a punch straight in my gut. As I expected. I gasp, sucking in breath as the pain rips through me. The thugs grip on me slackens, just for an instant, and I lean forward to reach into my boot before they snatch my arms and haul me back up.
“What would a street rat like you know about Rufus?” Rupert snarls, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. 
“Could ask you the same question.” I close my fist around the needles I pulled from my laces. I have a knife in my jacket but it’d be too difficult to pull out. Have to play this smarter. 
Rupert snarls in rage and sprouts off something that’s probably as asinine as everything else he’s said so far. But I’m not listening. I’m focusing on the thugs who have me in their grasp, how they grip me and where they have their hands. I’ll only have one chance at this. 
“Everyone knows I’m Rufus’ brother!” Rupert is still ranting. I must have really rankled him. But if he really wanted people to believe they were brothers he should really have chosen a better name than “Rupert”. It just sounds like a cheap knockoff of the real thing. Which he undoubtedly is. “Meloni knows! She’s the one who found me! Brought me into the gang! She is—”
I strike. Jab one of my needles into the hand of the thug holding my right arm. He howls in pain and lets go of me. Immediately I swing my arm around and it forms a three fingered fist as it collided with the nose of the second thug. As he drops the the ground I grip the rest of my needles and fling them at Rupert and his remaining thugs. He ducks behind the larger of the two, squeaking in surprised fear.
I’m already sprinting down the alley, back the way I came. There’s no thugs that way, luckily for me, and I make weaving turns as I adopt a crisscrossing route through the District. At first I can hear the shouts and footsteps of the thugs pursuing me, but those quickly fade away as I put distance between myself and Rupert’s territory. Soon I find myself back on a larger street, swallowed by a crowd that forms around me. I keep my head down and go with the flow. There’s only one place all these people could be headed.
The Reaping.
----
I stand sullenly in the crowd as the escort, some trash lady from the Capitol, begins the proceedings for the Reaping. I’m stuck here with the fifteen year olds, meaning that there’s nothing worth stealing. What would some scrawny kid bring with them to the Reaping? Nothing worthwhile. So I’m forced to sit in silence with my thoughts as the escort continues to prattle on.
I’ll need a plan if I want to fetch those credit coins from Rupert’s territory. Him and his men will be on high alert for the next week or so, meaning that the safest play would be to lie low and let the heat die down. Problem with that is the longer I wait the higher the chance someone stumbles into my hideout becomes. Though I doubt some idiot in Rupert’s gang would be clever enough to find it, I can’t rule the possibility out. 
“We’ll start with the gentleman!” The escort—I think her name is Vesperia—has the bowl brought before her and watches as it spins. The slips of paper look like little snowflakes as they are churned about inside. “Now then, let us discover who will be District 8’s male tribute for the 333rd Annual Hunger Games!”
The other boys beside me begin to tense up. One breaths so heavily that I think he’s about to pass out. I remain still, thinking. I look down to find myself absently rubbing the spot where my two missing fingers would be. I quickly pull my hand away with a scowl.
Vesperia reaches a hand into the bowl and removes a slip. She deftly opens it and, in a loud and clear voice, reads out the name. “Notcher Stott!”
Well, damn. Looks like fate has finally caught up to me.
I briefly consider running, just to see how those lazy Peacekeepers would react, but the risk isn’t worth the reward. Even if I got away there’d be no guarantee Lanon would be safe from any repercussions. And where would I even go? District 8 is my entire world. I have nowhere else to go. 
So that’s how I find myself ascending the stage with nothing more than a scowl and fear in my chest.
And I am afraid. Death frightens me. I don’t want to die. I’ve fought too hard for my life to die. But the Games aren’t a conducive environment for someone like me. Winning them will probably be the hardest thing I’ll ever do. But despite the fear I feel inside, I don’t let it show. I keep my face stoic as I stand beside Vesperia, absorbing all the stares from the crowd. Is Rupert in there? If so, he’s probably laughing. The thought of that makes me furious. 
“What a cheery lad!” Vesperia goes to ruffle my hair only to find her hand slapped away. She frowns at that. “Well, Notcher, please take your place on my right as we draw your district partner!”
I ignore her order and remain where I stand. Vesperia doesn’t notice; she’s too busy talking to the crowd as the females bowl spins. I clench and unclench my fists, filled with anger that has no outlet. Lashing out here would do me good. In fact, it could harm me. While I despise the Capitol and the pathetic pukes who do its bidding, I know that those who are dumb enough to make those feelings known never survive the Games. I refuse to give them any reason to work against me. I need to survive. For Lanon’s sake as well as my own.
“Aiko Kinu!”
The female’s name has been drawn. It hangs over the crowd for a moment or two before someone in the back of the twelve years old line begins to move, drawing a loud sigh from the crowd. Anger wells in me at their reaction. So they care that some little kid has to die but not me? Damn District. To hell with them all!
The little girl turns out to be some asian girl with long black hair tied up in two ponytails. Though, in my experience, girls of her descent typically live in the richer portion of the District, that must not be the case here. She’s too small and scrawny to be anything more than another starving urchin.
When the girl climbs the stage and stops beside me I notice how small she is. Has to be almost a full foot shorter than I am. Guess she won’t be a threat. “What a lovely girl you are!” Vesperia rubs Aiko’s head and flashes her a broad smile. “I’m sure you’ll do well in the Games!”
Aiku returns the smile. “I like games.”
Something about her unnerves me. I don’t know if it’s that creepy smile or just the way she’s reacted as a whole. Normally twelve year olds break down into tears when they’re Reaped, but this girl…she’s just taking it all in stride.
I don’t like it.
Vesperia presents the two of us to the audience. When she instructs us to smile and wave to the crowd, Aiku complies but I just stick my hands into my pockets and scowl at the combined mass of District 8 as they gaze at us. No one in that crowd has ever done anything to help me. They’re a worthless lot good for nothing but being easy marks. Why should I care about being presented to them?
Soon we’re told to step back as the Reaping is wrapped up. While I try to retire to my thoughts and think of a way to let Lanon know about the hidden credit coins, I find that Aiku has other ideas. 
She taps me on the shoulder, still wearing that creepy smile. “Are you going to play the game with me, mister?”
This brat is annoying. Hasn’t that already been made clear? I shrug my shoulders and turn away from her. I have no desire to communicate with her or any of the other tributes. They’re just obstacles to me. Living, breathing obstacles that need to be put into the ground so that I can return and give Lanon the life he and I earned.
It really is that simple.
===District Nine: Discordia Achlys===
The first thing I do when I wake up in the morning is take a shower. 
I stand under the faucet and close my eyes, imagining that everything is peaceful as the warm water washes through my hair and down my neck, beading along my body before disappearing down the drain between my toes. It is easy to imagine a peaceful world when I’m in here. The patter of the water and the feeling of warmth help me disguise and hide the cruelty and fear that lurk just out of sight. 
But the fear cannot be hidden for long. Not on today of all days.
I lean my head back and let out a scream, knowing that it’ll be drowned out by the shower and go unheard. The water splashes into my eyes and I blink it away, turning to lean my head against the wall. Worry gnaws at me. Tears me apart from the inside. What is it that my family always says? That I "make mountains out of molehills"? Well, they’re usually right. I can admit that sometimes my anxiety and stress can make me overreact to little things and treat them with more fear and worry than they deserve. 
But today is not one of those times. Today is the Reaping and that means I have a chance of being Reaped.
And if I’m Reaped I’ll die.
Suddenly the shower doesn’t feel so inviting or warm. It feels like a cage. I hop out, barely remembering to turn it off, and bend over the sink, palms flat on the linoleum surface as I stare into the mirror at myself.
I feel nauseous. Look nauseous too. Pale and trembling with fear, to my own eyes I appear to be nothing more than a weak, scared girl that can’t get over her own anxiety. I’m eighteen, a woman grown, and yet I’m still held back by my own irrational worries. But they’re not irrational. Not in my own mind. 
I take a towel and dry begin to dry my hair. The familiar action brings some sense of normalcy to my thoughts and when I’m done I find myself calm enough to exit the bathroom and renter into my attached bedroom. I pick up a brush from my drawer and sit down in the edge of my bed as I begin the process of brushing my hair. 
The smooth, repetitive strokes soothe me and brings a further sense of calm. Nothing is wrong. Today is just another normal day in District 9. I try to regulate my breathing as I brush. Everything will be fine. I’ll get past the Reaping without incident and our family will have a big dinner as usual. I won’t be Reaped. I won’t be Reaped. I won’t—
The calm dissipates and I let out a gasp as the brush slips from my hand. It bounces off the floor before coming to a stop. I bend down and pick it up. I did my hundred strokes. Hair should be fine, but…
I rub my hand along the smooth, knobbed end of my brush. I try to use that to bring me a pleasurable calm, as it has before, but still the fear and worry won’t go away. So I toss it aside and walk over to my closest, where I dig through it to find my best dress hidden in the back.
The color of green and cream, wrapped around my neck, it leaves my shoulders bare as it flows down into a simple keyhole neckline. As I dress myself in it I take a bow and wrap it around my waist, positioning it slightly to one side. Below the waist it widens and has several asymmetric layers from top to bottom. The dress reaches to just above my knees, but is slightly longer at the sides and back of the dress. I debate styling my hair but end up deciding against it; it’d be too much of a hassle. 
When I’m finished I do a twirl in front of the mirror and manage a slight smile at the sight of myself. This dress reminds me of happy days. The last time I wore it was on my grandparents anniversary. We all went to Grandpas farm and held the party in one of his empty acres, just across from a golden field of wheat. Dozens of tables had been set up and there was food galore as our entire family celebrated the momentous occasion with dancing, carnival games, and just simple laughter. That day was one of the happiest of my life.
Unfortunately today will not be so joyful.
I take myself away from the mirror and finally force myself out the door. Entering into the hallway, I take a right and find myself in the kitchen. Instantly the scent of food assaults my nostrils.
“Mornin’, Cora!” Harmon sits at the table, one foot set atop its edge as he leans back and bites into a piece of toast. 
Tall, with dirty blonde hair and an easy charm that lets him get along with just about anyone, my brother Harmon is about as different from me as it gets. Yet our bond is strong. I hold him in high esteem and, despite him being two years younger, there is no one in this world who I respect more. 
“Discordia! You look beautiful!” My Mother turns around from the stove, hands full with two bowls of porridge, and breaks into a smile at the sight of me. 
I give her a slight smile of my own. “Thank you, Mother.”
She sets one of the bowls down in front of Harmon, who ravenously begins to eat, and crosses the room to give me a tight hug. I return it, feeling loads better now that my family is around. “Today is my last Reaping, so I thought I should look my best.”
Mother continues to fawn over my dress as I settle myself into one of the chairs. Anxiety still gnaws at me, despite her cheer. “Where’s Father?” 
She pauses mid-sentence. “Oh, he’s out taking care of the field. I probably should check on him. Eat up, you two!” She slips out of the room and leaves us alone. I take a breath and try not to let my concern bubble over.
Harmon looks up from his bowl and frowns. “Something wrong, Cora?”
He always could read my mood. I debate lying, to avoid worrying him, but I know it’d be pointless. My family knows me too well for that. “It’s just…what if I’m Reaped?”
Harmon sets his spoon down and pushes his bowl aside. Leaning forward, he rests his elbows on the table as his hands clasped together. A strange gesture, but my brother has always been a very specific and intentional man. “The odds of that happening are low. You’ve never taken tessarae, so your name is only in there six times.”
Six times too many. “What if one of those six slips is picked? I’ll die. Especially now that we’re cursed.”
Harmon frowns. “Cursed? Who? Our family?”
I shake my head. “No. District 9. Hazel’s curse has ensured we’ll never have another Victor.”
Harmon’s lips quirk slightly as he leans back in his chair and looks at the ceiling. For a moment neither of us says anything. I’m worrying that I said something dumb when he glances back at me. “Who told you about this curse?”
“All the girls at school talk about it.” I’m surprised that Harmon hasn’t heard it himself. Pretty much everyone brings it up when talking about the Reaping or Games. “They say that Hazel cursed us by killing Jake like she did.”
For some reason that causes Harmon to sigh. “How does that make sense? Plenty of tributes kill their District partner—and they didn’t curse their District.”
“But they didn’t become Victor. No tribute kills their District partner and becomes Victor.”
My brother grabs another piece of toast. “Watt Chargy did,” He says, stuffing it in his mouth. “And she became Victor without cursing her District.”
“Well, that’s different. Courage asked for her to kill him.”
“Uh-huh. And the curse knows the intent behind a murder and decides based off that on whether or not to activate?” There’s such a cheeky grin on his face that I’m tempted to reach across the table and smack him.
“Of course not! Harmon, you’re trying to apply logic to something like a curse, which just doesn’t—” I cut off as I realize what he’s trying to do. I just undermined my whole argument for him!
He allows himself a smile. “Exactly my point, Cora. The idea of a curse being on our District doesn’t make any logical sense. Thus, the curse is nonexistent.”
Somehow that makes me feel better. Harmon always knows what to say to calm me. It’s been this way since we were little. I’d rile myself up with some worry or fear, then Harmon would comfort me with his patient explanations. The two of us would share a laugh and be amazed that the situation even occurred.
Until I found something else to fret about.
And though Harmon has temporarily calmed my worries, he hasn’t made them disappear. Even if there is no curse on District 9 that doesn’t mean I’d survive being Reaped. I have literally no skills that would be useful in the Games. If my name is drawn then I’m dead.
Guaranteed.
“You going to eat that porridge?” Harmon is eyeing the bowl laid out before me. 
“No.” I don’t feel well enough to eat. Doubt I’d be able to hold anything down right now. “You can have it.”
“Awesome!” He reaches out and slides it towards him. “More breakfast for me!”
----
Harmon and I follow behind our parents as we head towards the Reaping. This year the stage has been set up in one of the many fields that lie on the outskirts of the District. I can see it now, rising up against the backdrop that is the golden field of wheatgrass. Already a sizable crowd has gathered and the Peacekeepers seem to have their hands full trying to sort everyone.
“We’ll meet back here afterwards,” Mother says as she gives Harmon and I a hug. “Then we can start planning what we’ll have for dinner.”
Harmon grins. “It’ll be something great, I’m sure! Has to be. After all, we’ll be celebrating Cora’s last Reaping!”
My stomach feels like it’s doing a somersault. Everyone looks at me and I force a smile. I just can’t overcome this worry. How does everyone else do it? How are they not swamped with the distress that dogs my every step? 
Our parents leave us as they head off for the spectator crowd, so me and Harmon are in our own as we approach the Peacekeepers. Like usual, I squeal when they take my blood.
“Big baby,” Harmon smirks at me. He’s completely silent as they take his own blood.
I stick my tongue out at him. “Takes one to know one!”
We both laugh and I can feel the stress slipping away. Unfortunately it’s not lasting. We’re both different ages, so we’re split into two different lines. The moment Harmon is gone I can feel the despair crash back atop me. I’m surrounded by people I don’t know and that only intensifies my discomfort. I have a hard time interacting with people, let alone socializing.
“It is my honor to welcome you all to yet another Reaping!” Up on stage Mayor Price has taken up a microphone. It was his own nephew, Jake, who Hazel killed to draw the ire of District 9. And, speaking of Hazel, she too is here on stage.
She stands behind the Mayor, in the shadow of the veranda with several of our other Victors. We don’t have many. Even before Hazel and her curse District 9 hadn’t won often.
The crowd soon takes note of her and the usual raucous of boos and jeers drown out Mayor Price. He dutifully pauses and waits it out, but her reaction is not as prolonged or loud as it typically is. Maybe it’s because no spotlight was put on her. When the crowd finally goes quiet enough, Mayor Price continues. “I would like to welcome you all to the Reaping for the 333rd Annual Hunger Games. Today we shall discover which boy and girl will venture forth to the Capitol and become District 9’s tributes.”
I shuffle in place. I feel uneasy. Nervous. It takes all of my willpower not to throw up right here and now. What if my name is drawn? 
Mayor Price steps aside as our escort, Grania Granada, takes center stage. She’s dressed the same as always, meaning that she is wearing an outfit designed to look like a stack of wheat. It’s bizarre and makes no sense, but when has anything from the Capitol made sense? “Hello, District 9!” She waves to the crowd, which is apathetic now that their disgust with Hazel has run its course, and gives a vapid smile. “Are you all excited for the Reaping?”
This comment draws some boos and she frowns, apparently surprised at the response. I don’t know what kind of reaction she expected, considering that no District 9 tribute has placed higher than twentieth since Hazel’s Victory. The Games aren’t a happy topic here.
“Well, I suppose that we should just move onto the actual Reaping then?” Grania pauses, as if hoping for some kind of response from the crowd, but none comes and she just waves for the bowl to be pushed out in front of her. “Very well. Then let us discover who will be the male tribute for District 9 in the 333rd Hunger Games!”
She reaches a hand into the bowl and selects a slip. I watch her unfold it. Watch her golden eyes as they take in the words printed on the paper. I watch her lips move as the utter two fateful words. “Harmon Achyls!”
There’s a high-pitch whining noise coming from somewhere within the crowd. My heart feels like it’s going to leap out of my chest. Harmon. My brother was just Reaped. My precious, beloved brother just had his name drawn out of that bowl. Harmon. 
I see him as he moves through the crowd, the other boys stepping aside and creating a path to the stage for him. He casts a look my way and gives me a thumbs up. It looks forced. I’m his eyes I can see his true emotions. Disappointment and fear.
I choke on the air and the whining noise suddenly cuts off. That’s when I realize it was coming from me. Tears are streaming down my face and everything is blurry as I watch Grania ask Harmon a question. I don’t hear his reply, but it earns him some applause from the crowd. My knees feel weak. What if I faint?
Grania has already moved on to the next bowl. I watch her hand dip into it and find myself unable to breathe. Her eyes scan the paper and she glances at Harmon. Then she reads the name. “Discordia Achlys!”
I scream.
A long, piercing wail that penetrates the noise of the crowd and slips away into the blue sky. Harmon was wrong. He said I wouldn’t be Reaped. But I was. We both were.
And now we’re going to die.
My legs tremble so badly that I’m surprised that I reach the stage. Harmon is the first to greet me, wrapping me in a hug. His voice is a strained whisper in my ear. “It’ll be okay, Cora. We’ll find a way out of this. Don’t despair. Please.”
I’m too numb to respond. Black dots creep in on the edge of my vision. When Grania grabs my hand and goes to introduce me to the crowd, the blackness takes over completely. 
The last thing I feel before fainting is the sensation of falling.
===District Ten: Briar Destry===
I sit crosslegged on the grass, gazing out at the sun as it lazily rises over the fields of District 10. It’s beautiful. There’s beauty to be had in every moment of life, if only one were to look for it. 
Most people don’t. They can only find the bad, dwell on the negative and overlook all the good in the world. It’s a pessimistic worldview, one that I personally would find tiresome and dull. If you only search out the bad then why bother living at all?
I run a hand through the whispery grass, gently tugging a handful out and letting the wind sweep it out from my palm. My Father is already awake, out working the field even on a day the Capitol has declared a holiday, while my Mother and little sister Tasha are still asleep in the house behind me. I smile slightly at the thought. It’s for the best that they get their rest, because we’ll have to make the trip into the inner portion of the District today.
I let a few more minutes pass before standing and setting off down the old dirt path that rests a few steps from our front porch. Weeds grow thick on the edge, sometimes extending across the dirt itself. In a few years there may not be a path at all, just a tangle of unwanted weeds. 
We don’t bother clearing the path because it doesn’t lead anywhere useful. Just to…the fence.
I come upon it after a few moments of following the trail. A cold, mesh fence made of interlocking steel wires. Buzzing faintly with the sound of electricity, it’s not much to look at it. But it’s not the fence itself that drew Aloysius and I here. It’s what lies beyond.
Aloysius called it freedom.
Trees and bushes grow beyond the fence, wild and untamed as they stretch into the great unknown which lies beyond. Aloysius was obsessed with this sight. Said that true freedom could only be found out there, outside the grasp of the Capitol. We spent many a summer day standing here with Poppy, gazing out at the trees and imagining the fantastical places just out of view. 
I allow myself another smile as I settle down on the grass, tucking my knees against my chest. Those are wonderful memories. They always will be. But those times are in the past. Things will never again be so simple and peaceful. That’s not a bad thing, in of itself. Childhood is never meant to last forever. 
My childhood ended the day Poppy was Reaped.
Bittersweet feelings flutter to the surface as I think of her. What kind of person would she have become if she was never Reaped? Would she have kept the carefree kindness that radiated from her? Would Aloysius and I ever started our relationship? Had she lived would…would Aloysius have left?
The wind gusts, sending a spray of leaves fluttering over the fence. I reach out and grab one as it floats past. I stare at the green leaf. A little piece of freedom, Aloysius would call it. He could never see beyond that. Not since Poppy’s death. Freedom was all he desired and the only way to achieve it was to get beyond the fence. 
Last year he got his wish.
A storm had swept over the District and practically shut it down for several days. That was when Aloysius appeared at my window, beckoning me to join him outside. It was raining furiously, drenching us beyond belief as we headed for the fence. That’s when I noticed the gash in it. And I knew. I knew what had drawn Aloysius here, what he was planning.
I went with him outside. I stood in the middle of the woods and experienced what it felt like to be beyond the Capitol’s reach. For the first time in my life I had gotten what I’d always wanted. Aloysius begged me to come with him, to flee the District and start a new life somewhere else. 
But I couldn’t do it.
I could never leave my parents and Tasha behind. They were my world and my happiness. They were my freedom. I know that it pained Aloysius for me to not share his dream—he told me as much—but I just couldn’t go with him. So he left me behind and went off on his own.
I’ve never been outside the fence since that day. The experience was intoxicating. I don’t trust that I’d be able to return if I was pressed again. I’m afraid that the allure will drag me in and never let me go. But today felt like the right time to come back here and…I don’t know. Reminisce, I suppose. Poppy and Aloysius were both huge parts of my life. It’s only right that I take a moment to reflect on that fact. Especially on today of all days. Reaping day was what led to Poppy’s death and Aloysius…
I’ve never seen Aloysius since he fled into the woods. This fence is the southernmost border of District 10, which is already the southernmost portion of Panem. I don’t know where he went, but it’s far beyond the Capitol’s reach. I like to imagine that he found what he was searching for. I hope he’s happy. Though knowing Aloysius…I often wondered if he could ever truly be happy. There was always something for him to dwell on. 
I sit in contemplative silence for a few more minutes before standing. I dust myself off and follow the trail back to my home. There I spot my family; my parents standing on the porch as Tasha runs around in the front yard. A smile breaks across my face at the sight of them. My happiness. The difference between Aloysius and myself was that his source of happiness was an ideology while mine was…something more concrete. Something that can bring you back to the light when you’ve sunk to your lowest point. 
“Briar!” Tasha’s eyes light up when she spots me. She dashes across the yard, grinning as her little legs take her forward. I drop to my knees and catch her in a hug. Laughter takes over us both. “Look! Look! We’re going into the District today! I’ll see big buildings!”
“That’s great!” 
Tasha, my little sister. She is the reason I could never have left with Aloysius. She’s the reason why I’ve never regretted it.
----
The day is hot and dusty. The sun shines brightly in the sky, beating down on the backs of our necks as we all stand in line. The whipping wind has dust swirling above the stage. Occasionally the wind will change direction and bring it back into our faces. It stings my eyes.
District 10 is one of the poorer Districts in the country and it shows. Half of the children assembled here are emaciated, their spirits broken as they stand in the sweltering sun waiting to discover their fate. We often perform poorly in the Games; in the past fifty years only District’s 11 and 12 have had fewer Victors then us.
There’s a divide in the crowd. Those of us who hail from the southern part of the District stand apart from those in the north. The northern portion of District 10 is drastically different from the south, and it even shows in our appearance. Most people from the south have a deeper skin tone, ranging from caramel to copper, and dark colored eyes. Our clothes are shabby or dirty, oftentimes both. The northern residents have paler skin and lighter eyes; their clothing is neater and cleaner. When we’re forced to stand side-by-side like this there is a stark difference. 
Up on stage District officials and our escort, Aelius Agrippa, come into focus as the Reaping officially begins. A large television screen, set up in the corner of the stage, flickers on with staticky images as the Mayor begins his usual speech. 
I let my eyes drift over the crowd where my parents and Tasha wait. I was shielded from the Games and the Reaping until I reached the age of twelve. My sister will not be afforded the same privilege. In recent years the District officials have cracked down on those of us who’ve been skipping the Reaping, forcing the families who live on the outskirts and in the farthest reaches of the District to attend. They say it’s because of us that we’ve had such poor performances in the Games; if the children don’t know about the Games they can’t properly prepare.
It’s an excuse and we all know it, but what can you do? 
“ARE YOU READY TO ROCK?” Aelius screams into the microphone so loudly that half the crowd flinches back, covering their ears. A District official steps forward and whispers into his ear and he frowns. “Huh? Too loud? What’d you mean, bro? Whatever.”
I’ve never liked Aelius. He’s a large, dimwitted man who goes past the point of being muscular and verges into the realm of gross. He’s so big that his muscles have muscles. Yet we’ve been stuck with him as our escort for years now.
“Let’s find out who our female tribbie will be, yeah?”Aelius stomps over to one of the large glass bowls and sticks his massive hand inside. He churns it around for a bit before emerging with a handful of slips. Aelius drops all of them but one and I watch as the wind instantly whips them away. “And our female tribute for the 333rd Hunger Games is…BRIAR DESTRY!”
I can hear Aloysius in my head, telling me that I should have gone with him. I would have escaped this fate if I had. He’s probably right. I wouldn’t have been Reaped had I fled into the stormy night. But I push those thoughts aside. I don’t have any regrets. All of those days spent with Tasha more than made up for this moment. I could never have abandoned my family, even knowing what I do now. If I could go back to that night with Aloysius…
I wouldn’t have changed a thing.
The crowd is silent as I climb atop the stage and join Aelius and the others. Somewhere among them are my parents and Tasha. Does she understand what is happening? Will my parents explain it to her? For years they’d hidden the Games from me. It wasn’t until Poppy was Reaped and I snuck out to watch the bloodbath did I learn the true extent of what horrors they entailed. Will the same be true for Tasha?
That thought pierces right into my heart.
“Congratulations, little lady!” Aelius pats me on the back so hard that I lose my footing and stumble forward. The Mayor reaches out and grabs me before I go falling right off the stage. I quietly thank him and he gives me a small nod as I return to my place beside Aelius.
Though dread has begun to creep in, I realize that this could still turn out in my favor. Victors are granted untold riches and prestige. If I survive these Games I could use that wealth to give Tasha a life she otherwise would never of had. But…to win the Games means killing. There has never been a Victor who earned their Crown without killing someone. Even the most kindhearted of Victors such as Missy Randos and Watt Chargy slew another tribute on their path to Victory.
The Games could change me. Warp me into some kind of twisted shadow of my former self. I’ve seen it happen to others often enough to know that this is a real possibility, not merely some fantasy. I don’t want to kill. I don’t want to harm another human being.
But in the Games will I be given the choice?
Aelius had moved on while I was in my thoughts. The large man has maneuvered his bulky frame over to the boys bowl and has stuck his hand inside, fishing around for a slip. He has just about pulled one out when a tremulous voice calls out from the crowd.
“I volunteer!”
That causes a stir in the crowd. A volunteer? District 10 hasn’t had one of those in a few years, so this is a rare occurrence. I watch with curious eyes as the volunteer makes his way on stage. 
He’s tall and thin, with dark brown skin that marks him as someone from the southern portion of the District. Not too surprising. I can’t imagine anyone from the northern part volunteering.
“Whoa! A volunteer!” Aelius claps his massive hands together as the boy stops beside us. “You actually want to fight and die in the Games? Nice, bro.”
I study the boy and his mannerisms with a critical eye. Despite being rather underfed—which isn’t too uncommon for people in District 10–he’s rather handsome. His black hair is short and un-styled, an utilitarian look for sure. He also seems nervous and jittery; as if he’s not fully confident of his actions.
“Oh, right, what’s your name?” Aelius pats the boy on the back.
The guy does a better job staying on his feet then I did. “M-My name is Damian Gonzalez.”
“Right on, my man!” Aelius gives him another slap on the back and returns to the microphone. “Yo, District 10! Give it up to your new tributes, Briar Destry and Damian Gonzalez!”
There’s some polite applause but little else. No one cares much about two nobodies from the southern outskirts of the District. As the proceedings continue, I turn a critical eye on Damian. He seems kind and unassuming, two points in his favor. And, truth be told, if I myself am unable to win then I’d want my District partner to. That way my family would still benefit from the extra food and wealth the Victor’s District receives.
With this on my mind I approach the tall boy. “Hi, I’m Briar.”
He glances at me. “Oh…hello. Guess we’re both going into the Games, huh?”
I nod. “Yeah, seems like it.” 
This is awkward, but what did I expect? The two of us are about to be put into a situation where we’re most likely going to die. Conversation isn’t exactly our foremost concern right now. But that’s why I have to try. 
“You want to be allies? In the Games?” 
Damian looks around, as if he’s worried someone is watching, but no one is paying us any attention. He scratches his head. “I guess? I mean, I definitely want allies. So…yeah, sure. We can be allies.”
I allow myself a small smile. Though I may not look like it, I already have a plan in mind for how to survive the Games. And that requires me having allies, likeminded individuals who aren’t cruel monsters or singleminded terminators. I want kind, honest people at my side. The kind of person who I can trust wholeheartedly. And, even though I’ve only known him for minutes, I believe Damian is one of those people.
Now I just need to find a few more.
===District Thirteen: Solomon Eudia===
I stand out in the summer rain, breathing deeply as the swollen raindrops gently tap against the hood of my jacket. The vast plains of District 13 stretch out before me, empty land which once held buildings that were erased long ago by the Capitol bombs. I can’t help but compare those buildings to my family. Once vibrant and full of life, but now dead and empty.
I wonder how those Capitol pilots felt as they dropped the bombs. Did they care that they’d just annihilated thousands of people? Was it hard on them? Or was it just another task they had to perform?
What is the difference between me and them?
The difference is that I murdered my family while they only killed people they didn’t know.
My mother, father, brothers, and sisters are all dead at my hand. Each and every one with the exception of Alcmene was murdered by me in what the Capitol has gone on to name the Tragedy of the Eudia. I’ve been branded a monster, a disgusting kin-killer who almost single-handedly ended the bloodline of District 1’s most prestigious family. 
Those accusations are true.
The rain continues to fall, slow and steady. The fields before me are sodden with water. The rain has been drizzling since this morning, when I saw her face on the television. The Reapings are structured in a way so that none are on at that the same time; supposedly so that someone could watch each one if they so chose. District 1 had their Reaping first. 
That’s where I saw Alcmene volunteer.
My dear little sister, who once had been my best friend in the world, had volunteered for the Games. She’d been the only member of my family to survive my massacre. I had intentionally spared her so that Aamon couldn’t get his hands on the family fortune…and because I simply couldn’t stomach the thought of harming her.
Citria and Hyacinth’s faces flash in my mind. My two sisters were so young when I performed the Tragedy. Not a night goes by where I don’t relive myself cutting them down as they entered the Estate with Claude. They didn’t deserve that fate. I shouldn’t have killed them. I know that. I know that!
I turn away from the fields, unable to stomach these thoughts anymore. I stride back into the dirt path behind me and walk along it as it meanders back towards the main portion of the District, where the Reaping Square awaits.
Alcmene is going into the Games. She still believes me to be a heartless monster that slaughtered her loving family. While she’s not completely wrong, she doesn’t have all the facts.
Mainly that I regret everything. 
I know that doesn’t make up for what I did, doesn’t even begin to come close, but I’m not trying to atone. Atonement isn’t possible. I don’t want her sympathy or forgiveness—I don’t deserve it. The only thing I want is for her to know the truth. The reason behind my actions. The abuse and suffering I endured at the hands of my own family and, most of all, Aamon.
Dark thoughts flutter to the forefront of my mind as I think of him. He played me like a fiddle. Abused me. Manipulated me into doing his own handiwork. He made me—
No. 
Nothing made me do anything. No matter what terrible things happened in my life, no matter what dreadful feelings rose up from my soul, I chose to do the things I did. I’m responsible for my own actions, and no one else.
And yet…
Memories of the abuse fill my thoughts. Of the beatings I endured from my own Father and brothers, of the psychological manipulation that Aamon put me through. Sometimes I wake up and I think I’m still back there. I can’t handle—
I recognize the signs of an oncoming panic attack and shut my mind off. Take deep breaths. In times like these I need to think of something peaceful, something that puts me at ease. The rain is still pattering down. Gently, softly. I imagine the ocean. Tides peaceably rolling in and out. Swells on the horizon. Seagulls flocking overhead. I feel myself begin to relax. The tension dissipating from my body. 
I imagine the faces of everyone here in District 13 who has believed in me. Everyone who told me to stay when I wanted to leave. People who, when thought I was incapable of being around them, told me that I was better than I thought I was. I imagine Leilani’s face. So sweet and gentle. She was the one who awoke me when I washed up on shore in the years after I fled District 1. She was capable of emphasizing with my abuse, as she too had suffered at the hands of Aamon. She was someone who—
A sword cleaves through Leilani’s neck.
The illusion is shattered. My peace is gone. I slump to my knees and grasp my head, hands slick with the falling rain. Leilani was Reaped for the 331st Hunger Games and found her death there. And just like that, one of the few lights in my world had gone out. What was the point of carrying on if I was just going to lose everything? It wasn’t my fault; Leilani’s family reassured me of that. But things hardly change just because it wasn’t my fault…
A bell rings. I snap out of my thoughts and focus on its pealing, recognizing the sound for what it is. A signal that the Reaping is about to begin. I rise unsteadily to my feet. I shouldn’t have let myself become distracted with the past; it’s meaningless to me now. The only thing I should be concerned about is joining Alcmene in the Games. That is when I can dwell on the past. If I do so any earlier, I am only risking my own life. 
I take off at a brisk trot. The last thing I need is to be late for the Reaping and carted off to jail. Entering the Games is essential if I want to reconnect with Alcmene. It’s probably my only chance of ever meeting with her; because when would I get the opportunity to return to District 1? And there’s also the chance that she dies inside the arena. I don’t like the thought, especially since her death would leave the fate of the Eudia Family fortune in question, but it is a very real possibility. Twenty-eight tributes enter but only one comes out alive…
Just why did Alcmene volunteer?
It’s a question I have no answer to as I join a crowd of people waiting in a line. Ahead of me lies the stage and the assembled children. Alcmene never truly struck me as the type of person who wanted to compete in the Games. In all my years of being her big brother and friend, never once did I anticipate that she would someday volunteer. But now she has. 
And so I must do the same.
It won’t be easy. Just being in the Games with her isn’t enough to guarantee we’ll have the opportunity to talk. If I am to try and make a reconciliation I’ll need to do it at the right time, and ensure that it is a spectacle the Capitol wants to see. Volunteering alone won’t do the trick. I am a wanted fugitive and if I don’t wish to be executed the moment I reveal my identity I need to make damn sure that I’m more valuable alive than dead. 
I need to make the Capitol believe I truly am the Disgusting Kin-Killer.
The line moves swiftly. The Peacekeepers seem eager to dispatch the crowd, so they take little effort in drawing our blood and organizing us. Soon enough I’m shuffling alongside the other eighteen year-olds as we approach the stage. I push my way to the front. I want there to be no impediments when I volunteer.
I’ll need to play up my villainy. I ponder on this as I watch the District officials move about on stage. I will need a cover to deceive everyone into thinking I’m truly evil, so that when the truth behind the Tragedy and the reveal of my remorse comes out, the shock will be maximized. After all, the Capitol loves a spectacle. If I pull this off properly than I may just become a Hunger Games legend. If I fail…
I’ll die without getting the chance to tell Alci the truth. 
“District 13, I would like to once again welcome you to the annual Reapings!” The microphone is taken over by Escort. A nondescript older man dressed entirely in plain black clothing, he has been District 13’s escort for the last thirty-two years, the entirety of their time competing in the Games. “This year we will select two tributes to compete in the 333rd Annual Hunger Games. A most momentous occasion indeed.”
There’s some polite applause, though I know that most of the citizenry do not care for the Games. It is a stark difference from the other Districts I had once called home; 1 and 4 were obsessed with them.
“Let us waste no time in selecting our first tribute!” Escort snaps his fingers and a bowl is rolled out before him. He reaches a hand inside and delicately removes a small white slip. “And District 13’s female tribute for the 333rd Annual Hunger Games is…Lucia Shale!”
There’s a stirring in the crowd. A girl steps out, making her way up the stage with a face that is almost completely expressionless. Escort claps politely for her as she stops beside him. “Lucia Shale, I take it?”
She nods. Tall and muscular, her face and arms are dotted with scars. Her hair is a deep auburn color, long and wavy as it cascades down her lower back. I quietly note it as a liability in a fight. A handful of that hair would be give me an immediate advantage in any hand-to-hand combat. 
Escort delays on stage, almost as if he’s expecting Lucia to say something, but the girl shows no sign of speaking. He purses his lips and snaps his fingers for the next bowl to be rolled out. 
Anticipation grows in my chest. This is it. There will be no coming back from this. The moment I volunteer I’m railroaded into my fate and, in all likelihood, will wind up dead. Considering how despised I am in the Capitol for my actions during the Tragedy, I cannot foresee any possibility that I survive beyond the Games. If I volunteer I am signing my own death warrant.
I am fine with that.
“I volunteer!” I call out before Escort even reaches into the bowl. He pulls short, eyes studying the crowd. I raise my hand as I begin to move. The few people in front of me quickly scatter. “I volunteer for tribute.”
My legs quiver only slightly as I head up the steps. Escort and Lucia observe me quietly. Her face remains completely blank. “My, my, a volunteer!” Escort gives a half-bow as I take my place beside him. “What a fortuitous occasion. May I have your name, good sir?”
I hesitate. Some of the people in the crowd know me and understand what I’ve been through. People like Leilani and her family. But the rest of the District doesn’t. They may even be shocked by my true identity. But I can’t hide the truth any longer.
“I’m Solomon Eudia.”
There’s a flash of recognition in Escort’s eyes. His features tighten and the smile that he gives suddenly seems forced. “Oh? Are you now?”
I don’t answer. It’s impossible to miss the way the Peacekeepers on stage snap into focus, hands curling around their guns. Even all these years later my name carries weight. 
Escort steps closer. He makes a show of patting me on the back, but I can see the true emotion in his eyes. Hate and disgust. “So you’ve finally shown your face, have you? The Disgusting Kin-Killer emerges from his hole to…what? Become Victor? Do you think that’ll erase your past?”
Something is off. The Peacekeepers appear to be waiting on this man’s command. But he’s just a simple escort, isn’t he? Why would they listen to him? And his tone…
“Cat got your tongue?” Escort raises a gloved hand and taps me on the cheek. “Surely you don’t think that the Capitol has forgotten your crimes?”
His microphone has been cut. The Mayor is speaking, distracting the crowd. The only people still paying us any attention is Lucia and the Peacekeepers. I try not to panic. The Reapings are live. My volunteering has already gone through to the rest of Panem. They can’t kill me now.
Can they?
“You murdered your entire family…” Escort shakes his head. “Such a despicable thing. How could you do it?”
“With a sword.”
The words leave my lips unbidden. Thoughts of my persona had been circulating in my head, demanding attention, and I had spoken with even realizing. Make myself too interesting to kill. Wasn’t that my plan? Make a spectacle so that the Capitol kept me alive long enough to reach Alcmene?
Escort recoils from me, looking truly disgusted. That’s how low I am. How pitiful. Even someone from the Capitol thinks I am absolutely heinous. “Seize him.”
Two Peacekeepers grab me from behind. I don’t resist. What would be the point? I could hardly escape. “I volunteered for the Games,” I say as my arms are twisted behind me. I feel someone slide a pair of handcuffs around my wrist. “You can’t arrest me.”
“Oh, I know,” Escort steps back, nearly bumping into Lucia who watches us with curious eyes. “You’ll still be brought into the arena. You will compete in the Games. I dare say that no one has deserved such a thing more than you have.”
“Then why all this?”
Escort sniffs haughtily. “I refuse to allow a criminal such a yourself to arrive in the Capitol with any degree of fanfare. No, when you arrive it’ll be bound like a prisoner. Such as you deserve.”
The Peacekeepers begin to pull me away. I remain motionless, unresisting. He’s right. I am despicable. A monster. Someone who is completely beyond atonement. I deserve nothing more than the treatment I am given. So I allow myself to be dragged away with nary a protest.
Because as long as I get to reconnect with Alcmene, nothing else matters.
===The Capitol: Remus Ring===
I stand before a mirror and carefully adjust my outfit. Tonight is the Reaping and the beginning of the weeklong festivities that coincide with the launch of the 333rd Hunger Games. The Ring Family will be in the public eye for much of these festivities, and my parents expect me to be perfect. No, that is not quite right. I have to be perfect.
Satisfied that my appearance will meet my parents standards, I turn away from the mirror and cross the room, feet tapping against the ornate marble floor that takes up the entirety of the Ring Mansion’s ground floor. Far from being a pointless luxury, the marble was long ago chosen for the sole purpose of intimidating, impressing, and otherwise socially wowing the other Great Families of the Capitol. The Ring Family, and my father Basilius in particular, are very big proponents of always being the absolute best.
I have suffered from that desire in more ways than one.
Before departing the room I pause beside the coat racks and take up my cape, casually throwing it across my shoulders. A dual tone of red and blue, it has the Ring Family crest emblazoned upon its back. A detail that won’t be lost upon Father. He has often stressed the importance of me representing the Ring Family, sometimes to the point of suppressing my own identity. To him, it is paramount that I become the best possible representation of a Ring. Everything else is secondary.
With this fresh on my mind, I take up my walking stick. That’s not the correct term for my staff, but it’s what I’ve chosen to call it so that my parents believe it is merely an accessory to my outfit than the weapon that it is.
I don’t particularly need a weapon on me. My own exceptional fighting skills aside, as a member of one of the Great Families I am often surrounded by more guards than is necessary. But I am loathe to part with my staff for the simple fact that it’s mine. During the time between my studies and fighting club, I’ve often dabbled in hobbies. At one point, I picked up the habit of carving, crafting for myself, among a multitude of other creations, a staff made of pure oak wood. I’ve trained strenuously with it, to the point where it is merely an extension of my own body.
Finally satisfied with my appearance, I take off down the corridor.
I only get a few steps before running across a group of Avoxes. They scurry out of my way, bowing deeply as they press themselves against the walls. A feeling akin to an illness manifests inside me at the mere sight of them. Every time I see an Avox I cannot help but think of Julius.
The Avoxes have noticed that I’ve stopped moving. I can see the unease in their eyes. They’re probably wondering if they have done something wrong, earned the ire of the heir to the Ring family. They’re nervous, and for good reason. Father has an explosive temper when it comes to Avoxes. Of course, that is also because of Julius.
I haven’t seen my brother in seven years. Not since the night of…the incident.
“You may continue with your work,” I let the thoughts of Julius fade from my mind and wave the Avoxes off. “You have done nothing to bother me.” 
They rush out of my sight at record speed. I watch them depart, feeling oddly melancholy. I had not thought that today of all days would be one that made me think of Julius so throughly. Not that a single day has passed where I haven’t missed him, of course. My big brother was my hero. He was everything I aspired to be in life. Mother and Father always expected great things out of us, impossible things. It seemed as if they wanted us both to be a master at every academic field which existed. I often struggled to meet those standards—I still do—but Julius always seemed to surpass them with relative ease.
And despite it all, the pressure and sleepless nights studying, Julius still found time to play with me. My brother was never one to turn me or any other person down. He would help whoever, whenever, however he could. Julius was the greatest person I’d ever seen and I will never be even half the man he is.
I continue along the corridor, emerging into the Great Foyer, which is distinct from the South and West Foyers by being twice as large as the other two combined. A mass of people have gathered here, servants and guards, Avoxes and sycophants, all awaiting the arrival of my parents. Father is a proud man of noble lineage. His arrival must be greeted with great acclaim.
I take my place in the center of the group, inside the Ring Family crest that has been woven into the marble work. Everyone steps aside for me, some murmuring quietly to themselves. In recent times it has been rare for me to venture out with my parents; Father thought it necessary for me to stay behind and focus on my studies. But today is different. Today is the Reaping for the 333rd Hunger Games, and each and every one of the Great Families will be present to watch Tiberius Stryker preside over his final Games as President.
A lone trumpet sounds and my parents make an appearance at the top of the stairs. Instantly everyone in the foyer bows, with the exception of myself. I once made that mistake and bowed when everyone else did, only to receive a cuff to the head from Father. I was a Ring, he told me, and a Ring bows to no one.
So I remain standing straight backed as my parents descend the stairs. Both of them are dressed in their finest, and Mother is adorned with a multitude of rings, bracelets, and necklaces. She wears so much that she probably costs more than half the District’s. Father, meanwhile, wears no jewelry save for the rings on his fingers. Austere and rigid, his appearance perfectly encapsulates the kind of man he is. 
“Mother, Father.” I dip my head in greeting as they finally reach the ground floor. Their eyes search me, scan my appearance, and I brace myself for the scathing remark they typically have prepared for me. 
Surprisingly, none comes.
“Come along, Remus,” Father brushes past me and towards the front door of the manor, Mother close behind him. I dutifully fall in line. 
The three of us make our way down the gilded steps of the manor, passing by the myriad statues that line the staircase. At the bottom, awaiting us in the middle of our almost mile long driveway, sits our limousine. We pause as servants rush to open the doors. 
“Remus,” Father turns to me and I find myself under his gaze. A cold, hard man, Father has never been one to shy away from blunt or harsh words. “I’ve recently received a report from your tutors, and it appears that you have been slipping in your studies.”
I don’t respond immediately. One must be careful not to speak until Father is finished. His eyes narrow at me. “You may not realize so, but your tutor also works for the other Great Families, and he has informed me that you are well behind Cyprian Valii in multiple subjects.”
If there is one thing that Father detests, it is being outshone by the other Families. He takes even the smallest of setbacks as a personal offense, and he is not one to overlook any sort of failure. Truth be told, I am slipping in my studies. More and more of my time and energy has been spent at the fighting club or, when I am at home, strategizing over the next fight. For the first time in my life I’ve found something I’m passionate about, and it is most definitely not my studies.
“I will not allow my son to be upstaged by any whelp of Sulyvahn Valii, you understand?”
“I understand, Father. I will be better.” Never apologize to Father. Apologizing is a sign of weakness, and weakness is something a Ring must never show.
Mother enters the limousine, but Father remains outside with me. One hand adjusts his tie. “When we return from the Reaping festivities you are to resume your studies immediately.”
“I understand, Father.” The festivities often stretch on long into the morning, sometimes even to dawn. I can only hope that this is a one time occurrence, that he doesn’t permanently extend my studying into the night, for that is when I go the fight club and compete in the bouts. And I need to compete. Since discovering the club my love for fighting has begun to define me. Though I was often beaten senseless in my first few matches, I’ve long since taught myself the minute details of combat, and now I never lose.
Last night was no different. I spent the entirety of it at the club, winning match after match. My body aches with sores, but the good kind. The kind that lets you know that you’re alive. I didn’t care that I only had a few hours sleep, or that I was forced to spend the rest of my day studying until prep time for the Reaping. I didn’t care because I was able to fight. 
And fighting is when I feel most alive.
“You are a Ring, Remus!” Father is still lecturing. The servants patiently wait, holding the limousine doors open. “You are the sole heir to the Ring name, and when you fail, we all fail. So you’d best be certain you never fail.”
He enters the limousine. I remain standing outside, cold. Sole heir. That’s not technically true. Julius still lives. He was merely shipped off to be a Peacekeeper in District 6 after…after he was caught with the Avox.
I find myself reflecting on the past as I follow my parents inside the limo. The engine starts up the moment the door shuts behind me, and then we’re off. We’re headed to the Capitol Concourse, and the Reaping. Unlike the District’s, we hold our Reaping at night. Fireworks and festivities accompany the moment. It’s all just one grand party. Like the one where I lost Julius.
I was only ten at the time. I had fallen behind on my essay and was up studying in my room. It was Julius’ eighteenth birthday, a grand party, one held at the Ring Manor and attended by a veritable who’s who of the Capitol. Several of President Stryker’s own children were even present. 
And, as I I had fallen asleep while studying, I missed the incident itself. But I heard the scream. It was enough to wake me up from where I’d dozed off, head over the essay which was nearly complete, and without even a moments hesitation I left my bedroom in order to investigate. Dazed and confused, I descended the stairs and was greeted by the sight of Father being pinned down by four different guests, thrashing and cursing all the while. Blood coated his knuckles.
I remember being frozen with fear, rooted to the spot until I caught sight of Mother talking on the telephone by the corner of the room, one of her friends resting a hand on her shoulder for support. Her tone was tinged with desperation and her voice powered through the sound of the crowd that had assembled by the kitchen door, which I made my way towards out of pure impulse. The sight that awaited me was one that remains burned into my memory to this very day.
The Avox which had served me breakfast that same morning sat on the porcelain tiled kitchen floor, huddled against the counter. Blood trickled down the side of her face, pooling out of a wound in her temple and coating her hair and uniform. No more than five feet away laid my brother, his face battered and bruised. He did not move.
I tried to reach my brother, attempting to push my way through the crowd when I was yanked back by the collar of my shirt. Kicking and screaming all the while, I was dragged up the stairs and hauled into my bedroom quite unceremoniously, the door lock clicking behind me. 
I only learned the truth of what had happened the following afternoon when Balbina, an old maid who’d served my family for as long as I could remember, finally told me the tale of what transpired. Apparently Julius had a romance with that Avox and was caught by one of the guests. When Father learned he beat the two senseless, only sparing their lives by the intervention of other guests. Yet the Avox wound up dead regardless, executed by Peacekeepers. As for Julius…
He was made into a Peacekeeper and shipped off to District 6. His titles and inheritance were stripped from him, leaving me as the sole heir to the Ring Family. 
I have never seen Julius since.
The limousine slows to a crawl, then comes to a complete stop. Outside I can hear the cheering of a crowd, the celebration of the masses. A servant opens the door and my parents step out. I follow.
We’re at the Capitol Concourse, the very same path where the chariot rides take place. But right now it’s jam packed with people as they crowd into line, jostling one another to get closer to the gilded stage that is set up directly before the Presidential Manor. Fireworks explode in the air behind it, framing the marvelous building with a backdrop of beautiful light.
“Do remember that we’re invited to the party at the Manor,” Father barely looks at me as he and Mother begin to move towards a nearby staircase, a platoon of guards already forming around them. “It would not do for the Ring family heir to miss the party. So do not disappoint me again, Remus.”
President Stryker holds the same party every year. Held at the Presidential Manor, all of the Great Families and other nobility of the Capitol gather together to celebrate yet another day of Reapings. Attendance is practically mandatory for those who wish to remain in the President’s good graces.
As for the Reaping, Mother and Father will be seated up in a balcony overlooking the concourse, along with the other Great Families and Capitol officials. I, however, cannot join them. As I am still of Reaping age I am obliged to join the common masses in the streets, wherein I must await to discover my fate. 
I make my way there now, bypassing the Peacekeepers who form a security ring around the venue. Despite being lumped in with the regular citizenry of the Capitol, there is actually a divide amongst us even here. In each line the children of the Great Families have carved out a little spot for their own, a pocket of empty space surrounding each such group. None of the common rabble dare intrude, lest they draw the ire of the Families.
Sometimes I find myself wishing to seat myself among the commoners, just to speak with them and discover how they see the world. But I daren’t take any such action. For if Father found out…
Best to simply stay in my bubble.
So I join the group of the Great Family children in the seventeen year-olds line. There’s slightly less than a dozen of us, and I know each one by name. I’ve been forced to attend parties alongside them often enough for that. As they’re still doing the formalities up on stage, the group is talking quietly to each other. Yet they pause when I arrive.
“Ah, Remus!” A blond youth with twinkling blue eyes and a toothy smile greets me. “Finally allowed out of your parents house, are you?”
“I’ve merely been busy with my studies,” I give him a polite nod. Cyprian Valii. The very same boy whose grades Father had been scolding me for not matching. “I’m sure you understand.”
“Cyprian hardly studies, yet he still receives top marks!” A girl with her midnight black hair tied back in two long braids titters with laughter. Seraphina Wells, the third daughter of Dysmas Wells. She is destined to be a mindless socialite, too far down the family tree to inherit much of anything.
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say I hardly study!” Cyprian allows himself a disarming smile. “I do indeed put some effort into my studies.”
“That’s more than Froyter can say,” A bespectacled boy says with a smirk. Callum Trevelyan. Him and his twin brother Jasper are both here in line, the eldest sons of Rickard Trevelyan, the heir apparent to House Trevelyan. 
“Well, what’s the point of studying?” Froyter Mendelssohn, a ruddy faced boy with a penchant for causing mischief, shrugs his wide shoulders. “When I come into my inheritance I’ll be richer than ninety-nine percent of Panem, so I very much doubt anyone will care about my grades.”
He doesn’t have a very good grasp on politics in the Capitol. Here, appearance is everything. If you in any way seem inferior to another, then you can and will be judged accordingly. President Stryker himself is very keen on intelligence, and rarely does one rise high in his inner circle without any.
“Ah, yes, inheritance,” Cyprian laughs uproariously. I haven’t the faintest idea what is so funny, yet several of the others join him. “Most of us will inherit quite the fortune…unless Remus goes the way of his brother, of course.”
A few of the others continue to laugh, but most of the group falls silent. I watch Cyprian quietly. My face does not twitch. I do not issue any threats. I merely regard him with a cold, hard gaze. I can stand the teasing about my being cooped up, am able to wave off insults to my family, but I will never sit idly by as someone tarnishes the name of my beloved brother.
Cyprian must sense my anger, for he quickly adopts a jovial smile. “It’s merely a joke, Remus. I am sure you will come fully into your inheritance. You…” He trails off, seeing the look in my eyes for the first time. 
“Do not speak about my brother. Ever.”
He is spared having to respond by the sound of trumpets. Instantly everyone’s heads swivel to the stage, where several people have begun to enter from behind. I recognize them instantly. Everyone in the Capitol does.
It’s President Stryker and his prospective heirs.
The President strides to the forefront of the stage, politely waving to the crowd as they erupt with cheers. An elderly man with a full head of gray hair and a close cropped beard, President Tiberius Stryker radiates power. Dressed in a simple black suit with his trademark red velvet tie, he smiles as takes up a microphone. 
“Ladies and gentlemen of the most esteemed Capitol, I welcome you to the Reaping for the 333rd Annual Hunger Games!” Thunderous applause greets his words. Whatever else can be said about the Capitol, we truly love the Games and our President. “But before we begin, I would like to take this moment to address the elephant in the room. Yes, I am talking about my pending retirement as your President.”
“So it’s true,” Seraphina whispers. “He really is retiring!”
While rumors of such have been circulating for months now, this is the first time the President has outright confirmed it. My tutors have practically spoken of this every day; rarely has a President willingly stepped down before. Typically they preside over Panem until their death. 
President Stryker gestures with a gloved hand to the people standing behind him. There’s seven in total, and I recognize five of them as his children; I’ve personally met several of them. Yet the other two are mysteries to me. “One of these seven individuals will become President in my stead. They will inherit the most important position of government in this glorious nation and do their utmost to ensure you all continue to live pleasurable lives. You may be asking yourself, which one will it be? Well, that question will be decided in the coming weeks. But, for now, I will introduce each of them to you.”
“Can’t believe this is actually happening,” Cyprian mutters. A few of the others murmur their agreement. “What kind of person willing relinquishes power?”
A foreign concept to most of my peers, true. But oddly enough I find myself enthralled with the idea. Why rule forever when you can groom yourself a worthy successor? Best to decide on a heir before you depart—that way there will be no squabbles for power upon your death.
President Stryker walks across the stage, approaching the first man in line. He lays a hand on his shoulder. “As some of you may know, this is my younger brother, Escortius.” A plain, almost nondescript man dressed in a simple black suit, Escortius hardly stands out. Older than the others around him, he can’t be much more than ten years younger than President Stryker. “My brother has always shied away from the spotlight and has spent the last thirty odd years being the escort for District 13.”
There’s some scattered applause. Apparently few people recognize him. Not that I blame them—I myself had no idea who he was.
President Stryker moves further down the line, stopping before a portly middle-aged man with a fast receding hairline. “I would like you to welcome my eldest son, Nedry.” 
Nedry smiles and wipes a handkerchief across his sweaty forehead. Few people applaud. Father has spoken about Nedry before, calling him a weak, dimwitted man with no appetite for success. I would fathom a guess that President Stryker agrees with that assessment. Why else hold this contest instead of simply assigning his eldest child as heir?
“Next, my children Roscoe and Rozlyn.” 
His second oldest children and a pair of twins, the two appear to be somewhere in their mid-thirties, with dark black hair and eyes like chunks of ice. The two are inseparable, and I’ve heard it said that Rozlyn has never had a thought that Roscoe didn’t already have.
“My third son, Dimentio.”
A small, lithe man with the grace of a cat, he smiles broadly as he’s introduced to the crowd. Unlike the rest of his family his hair isn’t black; instead it’s a golden blond. Dimentio is one of the President’s children whom I’ve personally met. As a child we often attended the same parties, and he was a close friend of my brother. Not a surprise, as the two are of a similar age.
“And my youngest child, the lovely Aurilee.”
Another one I know. Aurilee is a year or two older than I am, with the same golden hair as her brother and deep blue eyes. Dimples bloom in her cheeks, and she has a gentle, sweet voice. Truth be told, I had a crush on her when I was younger. And seeing her now on stage, I can honestly say that she is still beautiful. 
“And last, but most certainly not least, we have the esteemed Erevan Newcastle!”
A young man with slicked back hair and an expertly styled beard, he showcases impressive charisma, winking and smiling at the crowd as he waves to them.
“He’s that business mogul, right?” Jasper frowns as he gazes up at the stage. 
“Yeah,” Seraphina taps a finger against her bracelet. “He, like, owns pretty much all of the transport companies. My father said he practically controls the country’s supply lines.”
As the only one of the seven potential heirs not to be related to President Stryker, Erevan Newcastle most certainly stands out. I wonder why it is that Stryker chose him as a possible successor?
As the President has finished showing off his heirs, he returns to the center of the stage and snaps his fingers for the Reaping bowl to be rolled out. “But let us not be distracted from the task at hand. Today we have assembled to see which two fine children of the Capitol shall compete in the 333rd Hunger Games. We shall begin with the females!”
None of the girls beside me show much fear or trepidation as the President approaches the bowl. Rarely has a child of the Great Families been Reaped. Our names are in there few times compared to the masses, and the Capitol typically has a volunteer in any case. 
“I volunteer!” A voice rises from the crowd just as the President reaches a hand into the bowl. He smiles and gestures at the girl who called out. 
“Come on up, then. The Capitol is dying to meet our esteemed tribute!”
I watch with tepid interest as the girl takes the stage. An eighteen year-old with wavy green hair the color of emeralds, her entire outfit is the same matching green color. In fact, the only part of her ensemble that isn’t green are the pair of black sunglasses she wears. I frown. There’s a sense of familiarity around this woman. Have I met her before?
“And what is your name, dear?” President Stryker greets her with a handshake.
“I am Mercia Occisor, and I hope to bring glory to the Capitol.”
Ah, yes. Truth be told I have seen her before. While I can’t say I’ve ever interacted with her, over the years we’ve both attended many of the same galas and parties in the Capitol. We ran in different social circles, though, and honestly the only reason I ever made note of her was because she always wore those sunglasses, even at parties which took place indoors and at night. Peculiar. 
Mercia and the President exchange a few more pleasantries before the next bowl is rolled out. He pauses briefly, probably waiting to see if there’ll be a volunteer, then reaches a hand inside and selects a slip. The name that is read elicits a gasp from Seraphina. 
“Remus Ring!”
My first thought is of how disappointed Father will be. Years of effort grooming me into the perfect successor has been wiped away in a mere moment. 
My second thought is about how fortunate I am to have spent so much time at the fighting club. Now I’ll at least stand a chance in the arena.
“Maybe there’ll be a volunteer?” Froyter glances around hopefully, though I know that no savior is coming to my rescue. The Games are my fate and there will be no escape.
I begin my ascent, the others murmuring their condolences as I pass them by. The crowd offers its own cheers, obviously excited to see the next tribute. I keep myself calm, adopting a poised and regal appearance as I stand before the Capitol and all of Panem. Whatever will be thought of me, I will not let it be said that I was weak or afraid.
“Ah, young Remus, what a pleasure it is to see you again!” President Stryker offers me a handshake that I gratefully return. Though his words confuse me, for I can’t remember ever actually having met the man before. Seen him, of course. Been inside the same room, yes. But spoken to? Most definitely not.
“I must confess that I do not remember our first meeting,” I say politely.
He gives me a grandfatherly smile. “Of course not. I forgot you were but a babe when we met. Though I dare say I know your Father quite well. Basilius has raised one fine son.”
One fine son. One. A simple choice of words or something more? It would be easy to write it off as a coincidence, but my time in the Capitol’s high society has taught me that everything down to the smallest of details is carefully cultivated. The President has just used Julius’ fate to slight my Father. And in front of all Panem, no less.
Father must be furious.
President Stryker waves me off and returns to the microphone, reminding the crowd that despite the ending of the Reapings, the festivities will hardly be over. There will be much more ahead, including a gala at the Presidential Manor. Which, I realize with a jolt, I will no longer be attending.
“I must say that this is a most unfortunate turn of fate, Remus,” I turn to see one of Stryker’s children approaching me. Dimentio. He’s paler than I, and shorter too. Can’t be much more than five foot seven. But there’s a sense of power around him, an innate regality that one is born with. Something you cannot imitate, cannot learn. 
“It is what it is,” I keep my response simple. Complaining about my fate would be useless at this juncture.
“I wish I could’ve learnt more about you, Remus. You’re an interesting man, and surely one who would have led your family to greatness.”
“I still may do so.” I’m not dead yet, no matter how dire the situation seems. 
Dimentio smiles. “Of course, of course. I was close friends with your brother, you know. He was treated quite unfairly. Dalliances with Avoxes and the like are more common than you’d think. Of course, his problem was that it was so…public. Still, I tried to help.”
“You did?” I blink in surprise. I wasn’t aware that anyone in the Capitol had attempted to assist my brother.
“Indeed. I tried convincing my Father to let Julius keep his inheritance, he didn’t deserve to be exiled, but Father wasn’t keen on my thoughts. Told me that your father had the right to run his family how he wished, and that he’d never tell another man how to punish his son.”
Someone tried to help Julius. Dimentio attempted to persuade the President himself to keep Julius in the Capitol. I’m flabbergasted. I hadn’t thought…
Dimentio looks over my shoulder and laughs lightly. “Oh, it appears my sister has taken quite the interest in you.”
I turn around and follow his gaze to the far end of the stage, where Aurilee stands, one hand playing with her golden hair as she watches Dimentio and I converse. When she notices our stares she turns her gaze away, face reddening.
“I haven’t spoken to her in years,” I admit, swiveling back to Dimentio. “But we were somewhat close as children.”
“Ah, yes. I remember so,” Dimentio laughs again. He does that often. “Julius and I were half-convinced that the two of you would end up together. But, as we’ve just learned, nothing in life turns out as you expect.”
He pats me on the shoulder, departing with yet another light laugh. I watch him go, feeling melancholy. President Stryker is wrapping up the Reaping, and at the staircase to the stage I can see a small group of Peacekeepers huddled together. Someone appears to be attempting to ascend. Peering over, I notice that it is my Father.
Red-faced and yelling, he seems to be trying to get the President’s attention. I am not surprised. If I die in the Games he will have lost the heir he spent so much time grooming into the perfect specimen. The fact that I have been Reaped is sorely a dire blow to him.
Of course, it is a much direr blow to myself.
===District Seven: Killen Timmerhout===
I watch the sunrise as it filters through the pine trees, slowly illuminating District 7. This could be the last time I witness such a thing, because today may very well be my last in District 7.
I’m not afraid, exactly. Just a little nervous and…nostalgic, I suppose. Today the name pulled out of the Reaping bowl will be mine and I’ll be sent to play what the people in the Capitol call a game. 
It’s my own fault. I was the one who stayed with Narcissa longer than I should. Had I only left her early on in the relationship, or simply not dated her at all, then things would have been different. I wouldn’t have needed to make the deal with Mayor Mallory, Mom wouldn’t have been at risk of being punished, and everything would have still been fine. 
Yes, it was all my fault, but I’m not wallowing in pity or despair. I chose to find a path forward, and I’ll be the one who fixes my own mistake.
I stay here on the porch until the sun has fully risen and completely enveloped the entire District in its cheery glow. Then I enter the house and head to the kitchen. I can hear my family upstairs, getting prepped for the Reaping. They know what is going to transpire today, of course, and while my Mom and sisters despaired for me, they never once sought to talk me out of my choice.
I fill a glass with water from the sink and stare wistfully out the window.
Father isn’t home. He’s already left for work. District 7’s lumber industry never stops, not even on Reaping Day. I’ll see him after the Reaping, but we’ve spoken enough about my choice. I’m proud of you. The words he whispered into my ear upon hearing of my deal with Terrence, Narcissa’s father and the Mayor of District 7. Those four words were all I ever wanted him to say. 
That’s why I’ll never regret my choice, no matter what may become of me in the Games.
I down the water in one gulp and deposit the glass back in the sink. My relationship with Narcissa was toxic beyond belief. Looking back, I can’t believe that it took me so long to notice. But I was blinded by love. I truly thought that Narcissa and I were meant to be together, that everything she did was for a good reason. And then when I did notice, bringing the subject up to her, she simply claimed that she was doing nothing wrong and that it was all in my head. That I was being insecure and imagining things that weren’t real. I was understandably confused. Was it all just a matter of perspective? Did I truly just imagine everything?
The answer, of course, was no.
Yet for years I put up with her emotional manipulation and gaslighting. Years of letting her lead me around by the nose. But when I told her that I was considering breaking up with her, she threatened to kill herself if I did so. The guilt swallowed me and I bent to her will, like I always did.
I turn away from the sink and sit myself at the table, waiting for my family to arrive. Things with Narcissa were complicated by the fact that her father was appointed Mayor whilst we were dating and he, wishing to make nice with his daughter’s boyfriend, assigned my Father to the highest postion in District 7’s lumber industry. I was or practically in her family’s debt. How could I break up with her? Yet I did. I simply couldn’t handle the emotional blackmailing any longer. I broke up with Narcissa and ended our relationship.
A few days later she attempted to kill herself.
She tried overdosing, but was saved by the timely intervention of her father. I don’t know if that was planned. I have no idea whether or not it she actually intended to die or had set up a plan that would guarantee her survival. Yet I know that if there was ever a person who would willingly die simply to get back at me, it was Narcissa.
My Mother and sisters appear in the kitchen. Dressed in their reaping day finery, they smile sadly at me. They haven’t forgotten what today entails. “Good morning,” I greet them with a cheerful smile. The last thing I want is for them to see me off morose and dejected. “Weather looks fine today, yeah?”
Mother breaks into tears. She rushes across the room and wraps me in a backbreaking hug. I sit limply in her grasp, understanding that this is a necessary part of her grieving process. Despite all my intentions there is a possibility I don’t return home.
Sometimes I think about how life would be had Narcissa‘s suicide attempt succeeded.
When she came to in the hospital, Narcissa told her father about our relationship and it lead to her desperation. I can only fathom she lied, made me out to be the sort of monster that she is, but I don’t have the details of what was said. All I know is that a few weeks after surviving her attempt, Terrence Mallory had my Mother arrested for quadruple homicide.
Throughout my Father’s life he and his siblings had earned promotions through the sudden deaths of their superiors, a rash of bad luck befalling those who’d held the positions before them. Yet Mayor Mallory alleged that it wasn’t accidents or illness that killed them; he claimed it was my mother Saryl‘s doing. He presented some slight evidence and had her imprisoned. 
The evidence wasn’t exactly proof, it was more circumstantial than anything, but it was enough to give him the authority to arrest Mother. 
I don’t know if Mother is guilty and, to be completely honest, I couldn’t give a damn. But what really bothered me is that everything was all my fault. Had I only not gotten involved with Narcissa…
After hearing about the charges against Mother I went to Terrence myself. Told him that I was the problem, not Mother, so that I should be the one to receive punishment. What I didn’t tell him was that I knew, had I let Mother be arrested, Narcissa’s “revenge” wouldn’t stop there. She wouldn’t rest until my life was completely and throughly ruined. She’d keep finding new ways to get back at me until her twisted little mind finally got the satisfaction it sought. So I had to find a way to cut it off at the source.
The only way I could think of was offering myself up for the punishment.
Terrence Mallory thought it was a fair trade. He decided that if I would be entered into the Hunger Games my Mother would be released. The mere fact that he agreed to this compromise basically confirmed that this was all just one plot to get back at me. Because had he truly believed Mother was a murderer, why would he free her? No true Mayor would do such a thing. 
But the agreement was made. Mother would walk free and I would be sent into the Games. Not as a volunteer, no. Mayor Mallory thought I would appear too heroic that way. Instead he told me that he’d “pull some strings” and ensure that my name was the one drawn from the bowl. I am well aware that the true reason he didn’t want me to volunteer was because there’d be a risk of me backing out at the last moment.
He needn’t have worried. I have every intention of honoring the deal. Because this was my problem…and I’ll be the one to fix it.
----
The Reaping is held in a clearing on the edge of one of District 7’s many forests. The trees which surround the stage are coniferous, tall and green as they blot out the sky and send reaching shadows across the crowd. I stand in the midst of nervous teenagers, their eyes glued to the stage in fear that they’ll be Reaped.
A fruitless worry, considering that my name will certainly be the one drawn.
The crowd snaps to attention as the District officials shuffle onto the stage, followed by our longtime escort, Ebla Helms. Her skin is the same texture and color of a bark, a fact she boasts about every year. The extent Capitolites will go to make themselves different truly baffles me.
“Welcome to the Reaping for the 333rd Annual Hunger Games!” Mayor Terrence Mallory takes up the microphone, smiling broadly as he stares into the crowd. I grimace at the sight of him. Narcissa holds her Father in the palm of her hand. “Today we shall find which two children will be sent into the Games!”
One of which will be me. Isn’t that just dandy? As the moment draws inexorably closer I can’t help but feel my unease grow. I know that this was all my idea, that it saves my Mom from imprisonment, but that does little to quell my rising uncertainty. People die in the Games. The vast majority of people who enter into the arena never come back out. Yet I also know It’s not impossible to survive.
As I’m thinking this, Mayor Mallory turns to present a line of past Victors standing behind him. Some of the standouts include Edmund Everton, the hairy man who won more than thirty years ago, Mist Scorchil, the founder of the infamous Anti-Careers, and Alfyn Sapp, last years Victor of the 332nd Hunger Games. He’s about the same age I am, with disheveled brown hair, and a small ponytail on the back of his head. He smiles to the crowd as he’s introduced. 
Alfyn had several advantages going into the Games. He worked as a lumberjack in my Father’s company for years, and his parents owned the largest apothecary in the District. Thus, he was skilled with a weapon and possessed detailed knowledge of healing plants before even stepping foot in the arena. 
I don’t intend to sell myself short, but I am willing to admit that I don’t quite have those advantages.
Terrence wraps up the introductions and has Ebla move for the first bowl. I feel myself tense in anticipation until I notice that she’s headed for the girls bowl. Seems like I’ll see who my District partner is first.
A slip is selected. “And District 7’s female tribute for the 333rd Annual Hunger Games is…Yewan Felling!”
Yewan turns out to be a ghostly apparition of a girl with pale platinum blonde hair that perfectly matches her pale skin. She moves through the crowd without stopping, her face betraying no outward sign of emotion. Her hairstyle is unique, something I take note of as she begins to ascend the stairs. It’s half buzzed, but with a voluminous side fringe. That combined with her height—she stands several inches taller than Mayor Mallory—will ensure that she’ll stick out to the Capitol and their sponsors.
“Are you Yewan Felling?” Terrence asks her, eyeing the basket she swings around in one hand.
“Nope!”
He’s taken back by that response. “No…? What do you mean? If you’re not Yewan than why did—”
“Of course I’m Yewan! Who else would I be?” The tall girl smirks and turns away from the Mayor, twirling her basket as he gawps at her, obviously flustered. 
I can’t resist my own smile. It feels good to finally see someone in Narcissa’s family made into the fool. That feeling of amusement doesn’t last long. Seemingly eager to put that moment of embarrassment behind him, Terrence instructs Ebla to move onto the next bowl. The smile fades as I realize my name will soon be drawn.
“And District 7’s male tribute for the 333rd Annual Hunger Games is…Killen Timmerhout!”
There it is. Well, I was expecting it so there’s no surprise on my face as I head to the stage, adopting a gait of poised calm. I’m already thinking of sponsors. They don’t like weak or scared tributes, so I need to ensure they believe I am neither. Need to look like I’m in control at all times.
“You’re actually Killen Timmerhout, I know that,” Terrence can’t resist making a quip as I join him and Yewan on stage.
I spread my hands. “Why, of course you know me, I’m one of your Districts finest citizens!”
He frowns, apparently unsure what to make of my comment. He doesn’t understand that I’m playing to the sponsors. When they see this exchange their imaginations will run wild, envisioning me to be some sort of outstanding citizen and my popularity with them will go up accordingly.
Ebla introduces me to the crowd and then instructs me to shake hands with Yewan. I do so without question, but the moment our hands meet I feel a sharp electrical shock and pull my hand back with a yelp as Yewan cackles with laughter.
“Joy buzzer!” She reveals the round device in her hand and I smile ruefully. 
“Good one,” I say as I shake out my hand. Yet in my head I can’t help but dwell on how foolish she made me look in front of all Panem. 
“You ain’t seen nothing yet!”
Somewhat displeased with this turn of events, I let my gaze wander to the crowd. That’s when I see it. More accurately, when I see her. Narcissa, fully recovered and—save for the dark circles beneath her eyes—looking just as beautiful as the day I met her. She stands in the crowd like a lonely tower, eyes lasered in on me as I stand beside the podium. When she notices my gaze her smile widens and she mouthes two words.
An icy current runs through my body, freezing me to the spot. I remain standing there as the Reaping is wrapped up behind me. I do not move as Mayor Mallory thanks everyone for their time. I find myself no longer thinking about the sponsors or how I’ll appear—her words have left me unable to think about anything else. 
It’s only when two Peacekeepers grip me by the shoulder and begin to tow me towards the Justice Building do I finally find myself moving. As I’m led to what may be the final conversation with my family , Narcissa’s words ring out in my head.
I win. 
===District Two: Atticus Rockwell===
I stand on the balcony, leaning against the railing as I watch the sun rise over the mountains of District 2. Another day has dawned and soon the citizenry will be waking up. People will be going on with their lives, moving ahead and enjoying their present as they look forward to the future.
I can only see my past.
Nausea. Pain. Fear. 
I pull away from the railing, arms suddenly trembling. I just want it to stop. I wish for nothing but the solace of peace and tranquillity. And yet that is the one thing I cannot find.
Blood. Pearls. Screams.
I close my eyes but that does not help. It makes things worse. I see it all again. In vivid, vile detail. Repressing a scream I form my hands into fists and slam them into the wall beside me. The lantern over the doorway rattles but nothing else changes.
I open my eyes.
The sunlight streams over the mountains and basks the pine forest that surround my family’s manor in a faint yellow glow. It looks so deceptively peaceful. But there is no peace. No escape. Not from the dark confines of my own mind.
I return to the railing and stare down. I’m on the second floor, so the ground isn’t really that far away. I could survive the jump. It’d be quicker than walking through the house and there’s no real risk…unless I landed awkwardly. But would that really be so bad? Death would be an escape from the nightmares that plague me every single day…
The Reaping is today. I’ve spent the last year training endlessly for this moment. The Games offer another escape, one that would grant me a life worth living or a quick, simple death. Either one would work for me, though I can’t say I have any faith I’d die. I’ve cheated death before and doing so again would not surprise me in the least. 
I climb over the rail and adjust my position, carefully lowering myself so that I’m hanging by my hands. Body hanging over the drop, I let go.
I land on the manicured grass below, collapsing my legs to absorb the impact and transitioning into a roll. I rise and dust some debris off my shoulder, feeling completely detached from the situation. The Reaping is held downtown at the square. My parents will probably leave in an hour or so, but I have no intention of waiting on them. Occasionally they still mention the…the incident with Kaiser.
Fear. Blood. Nausea.
No…no! I will not think of that! Not today! I force my body to take deep breaths and head off at a brisk trot. The Reaping. There’ll be crowds at the square. Distractions. I can trick myself into thinking of something else. Anything else.
My family has a footpath that stretches from our manor all the way into town, bypassing both the wealthier portion of District 2 and the Victor’s Village along the way. I take it now. The path twists and turns as it branches throughout the forest, eventually settling into a straight line as it emerges just north of a nearby neighborhood. This is where I first encounter another person.
He’s walking with hands in his jacket pocket, staring absently at the sky and, when I bypass him, he elicits a short gasp.
“Atticus!”
I turn around, surprised to hear my name, and realize that I actually know the guy. He’s from one of the wealthy families that are typically hobnobbing with my parents, and I’ve seen him often enough that I could almost call him a friend. His name is Mason Stoneman, possibly the most District 2 name ever.
“Oh…hey, Mason,” I offer him a casual greeting. Still can’t get thoughts of Kaiser and Mathilda out of my head. 
“You heading to the Reaping?” He approaches me with a cheery smile on his broad face. Honestly I’ve always thought his forehead was much too large. 
“Of course. Everyone is going.” Can’t remember if I’ve told him I’m volunteering. Not that it’s a secret; everyone at the Academy already knows. 
Mason frowns. He looks to the sky and then back to me before shaking his head. “Listen, Atticus, don’t attend the Reaping.”
“Attendance is mandatory, Mason. If I don’t show I’ll end up dead.” Death has its appeal, but the thought of just giving up appalls me. 
“They won’t kill you, Atticus. Trust me. The Peacekeepers are going to have better things to worry about than tracking down the no-shows.”
Despite it being a sunny summer morning, I feel a chill run down my back. What is he talking about? The Reaping is the single most important day of the year, and nothing takes precedent over it. Nothing but emergencies. Is there going to be a natural disaster today?
“I have to attend. I’m volunteering.”
Mason sighs and removes his hands from his jacket. Bizarrely he wears a single red glove on his right hand. “Listen, I shouldn’t even be telling you this, but do not attend the Reaping. Not if you want to stay safe. Big things are going down. Panem is about to be in a state of flux and…just stay away, okay?”
I don’t know if this is his idea of a joke or what. I’ve never really been close with Mason, even if I have known him for years, so I have no clue what his brand of humor is. Still, what he’s saying doesn’t seem fake. He appears genuinely concerned for me. I frown. “Why? What’s happening?”
A wolfish smile crosses his face. “Big things. I can’t tell you any details, so just stay away from the Reaping.”
“I can’t do that.” I’ve spent the entirety of the past year training for the Games. They are the only thing that may save me from the endless nightmares. 
The smile slips from his face. For a moment Mason just sits there looking troubled. Then he sighs and stuffs his hand back into his pocket. “Very well. Just…try not to get caught in the crossfire, okay?”
He turns and takes off jogging before I can even think up a response. I watch him as he heads down the path, slowly disappearing from sight. What was that all about? I allow myself to ruminate on the subject as I continue my path onto the Reaping. It’s not until I reach the square twenty minutes later do I realize that, for a brief moment, I hadn’t spent any time dwelling on horrid memories. 
The roar of the crowd drowns out any other noise as I take my place in line and then, after having my blood drawn and filed, slip into the crowd. Up on stage the escort Errol Flinch is hyping up the crowd alongside some District officials.
“Are you all excited for yet another wonderful Reaping?” Errol panders as the first bowl is wheeled before him. It’s the males, which means I’ll go first. Fine with me. “Today we will discover two more outstanding tributes who will join the pantheon of greats from District 2!”
He goes on to introduce our past Victors, all of whom are standing on stage behind him. None of them are very recent; we haven’t had a Victor since before the 325th. When he finishes up the introductions, Errol makes a move for the bowl. 
“I volunteer.” My voice wafts over the clearing and I ascend the stage. The crowd is respectfully silent until Errol asks for my name. “I’m Atticus Rockwell.”
The crowd explodes with cheers. The briefest hint of a smile tugs at my lips but even now, with the entire District cheering my name, I still cannot get the thought of Kaiser and his surprise out of my head. 
Maybe I never will.
“May I have your attention, please!” A new voice interrupts Errol mid-sentence. District 2’s collective heads turn to face the edge of the stage as a thin man in a shabby suit makes his way up the stairs. 
“What is the meaning of this?” Our Mayor steps forward, glaring. He can’t be pleased by this interruption.
The newcomer smiles. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m getting to that part.”
 
He has a microphone in his hand and two Peacekeepers stand behind him. At first I think they’re here to arrest him, but the way they closely watch the District 2 officials on stage has me adjust that assessment. Whoever this man is, he has Peacekeepers working for him.
Errol goes to respond but pauses as his microphone suddenly cuts off. Bizarre. How’d that happen? I turn my attention to the newcomer. He’s pale, with flaxen hair that lies flat on his head and small, beady eyes. Needless to say, I’ve never seen him before. 
“As I’m sure you’re all aware, tonight will be a momentous occasion!” He walks across the stage with a slow, deliberate stride. One hand is stuck in his pocket. The other holds a microphone. “Our very own President Tiberius Stryker is going to announce his pending retirement, and will introduce his prospective heirs.”
There’s some gasps and murmurs in the crowd. Rumors of such a thing have been circulating for awhile now, but nothing has actually been confirmed. I myself had doubted the validity of such claims. 
“But haven’t any of you ever wondered why President Stryker gets to choose his own heir? And why us, the people, don’t choose our next leader?”
That draws some angry reactions. Such talk is borderline treasonous, and is liable to get someone executed or worse. I turn my eyes to the Peacekeepers off stage as they seem to be gathering at the foot of the stage. But they make no move on the speaker. Because the two Peacekeepers at his side have been joined by several more; there’s practically an entire platoon on stage now. 
And they have their guns pointed at the other Peacekeepers.
Try not to get caught in the crossfire.
Mason’s words come back to me. He was warning me about this exact situation. He, somehow, knew what was going to happen and tried to warn me. Of course I didn’t listen. But now I wish I did. This whole place is a powder keg waiting to go off. Staying here is stupid. Worse, it’s dangerous. I should leave while I have the chance. But how? I am on stage, right in the thick of things. I can hardly expect to just waltz away.
“Do you want to know why President Stryker will choose his own successor?” The Speaker is still talking. He has the eyes of the entire District on him. “It’s because he’s a tyrant. And tyrants beget tyranny. He’ll never allow us, the people of Panem, a say in any important decision. It does not matter who he chooses; as long as they’re chosen by him they’ll be just as much of a tyrannical dictator as he is!”
“No! No, no, no! You can’t say those things!” To my great surprise, it is Errol Flinch who interrupts him. He walks right up to the Speaker and jabs a finger in his chest. “I will not just sit back and watch you disparage our great leader! Tiberius Stryker is a wonderful man! The best President we’ve ever had!”
There’s an expectant hush over the crowd. Neither group of Peacekeepers move, each side still has their guns drawn on the other. But more Peacekeepers are filing on stage, ascending the opposite staircase as they bustle past me to back up their allies. I take this moment of distraction to begin sidestepping away. Slowly. Carefully.
The Speaker waves his microphone at Errol. “Do you wish to know another thing about tyrants? They’re very good at inspiring dogmatic loyalty in sycophants such as the man before me.”
“If you think that you can convince the people of District 2—”
“No,” The Speaker interrupts Errol with a wag of the microphone. “We do not intend to convince District 2 of anything. The reason we chose here, Panem’s most pro-Capitol District, was so that Tiberius Stryker would see that we can strike at him from anywhere. Nowhere is safe from us.”
The Speaker finally removes his second hand from his pocket. Adorned with a bright red glove, his right hand holds a handgun. 
Errol steps back, horror on his face. “No! You wouldn’t—”
The Speaker shoots. 
A lone gunshot rings out as the bullet takes Errol in the forehead. His body crumples to the stage with a thump. District 2 holds their collective breath as the Speaker turns back to the crowd, his red right hand held high in the sky as he drops the gun. “I hope you’re listening, Stryker. Because we are the Red Hand of Ra…and we will not be silenced.”
His hand forms a fist and the Peacekeepers on stage open fire.
The air comes alive with the sound of shrieking bullets as the two groups of Peacekeepers fire upon each other. The crowd screams and begins to shove against each other, pushing and clawing to escape. I have no time to even react before several of the Peacekeepers beside the Speaker turn to face those of us left on the stage with them; myself, the Mayor, District 2 officials, and Victors. 
I throw myself to the floor.
I hear screams. The sound of bullets ripping through bodies. The splashing of blood. I begin to crawl, desperately searching for an escape, when I feel a body thump atop me. I freeze. Memories flood my mind. Thoughts of Mathilda and Corvinus and Kaiser. Bodies lying all around me. I’m buried in them. Drowning. Blood and vomit and piss and blood and more.
My eyes snap shut and I feel myself begin to scream. The sound is lost to the air, swallowed by the gunfire and the shrieks of those dying around me. Another body thumps to the ground. I open my eyes and see a face staring back at me. Blood drops from his mouth and his vacant green eyes are sightless orbs. I know him. He was a Victor. I’d seen him on television my entire life.
Now he is dead.
I push myself up. Heave a body off of me. I don’t know where I get the strength. The stage is a mound of corpses, all the officials and Victors lying there dead and bleeding. Beyond the bodies I spot the Speaker and a squad of his Peacekeepers. My body trembles with fear and regret. This happened to me before. During Kaiser’s…
The other Peacekeepers, the ones fighting against those on stage, have begun to pull back. They flee into the District, ducking behind buildings and using them as cover. Somehow the Speaker and his group have the upper hand. They’re winning. Impossible.
I can’t think. Mind is still flashing with images from that awful, horrifying night. Bodies surround me. I recognize the Mayor and several of the Victors. None of them seem to be alive. Am I once again the only survivor? Mason warned me. Why didn’t I listen? The memories are back. Terrible, piercing memories. They drill themselves into my skull. Matilda. Kaiser. Corvinus. My fault? No. Who’s? Why—
A deep thrumming noise interrupts my rambling thoughts. I look to the sky and see the helicopter as it crests over the buildings of District 2. Several Peacekeepers lean out, guns focused on stage. One of them mans a large mini-gun, the turret already spinning as it warms up. 
They’re going to drown the stage in bullets.
The Speaker has noticed the helicopter. He looks up at it and throws his arms to the side, a wide, frantic smile on his face. “Come then, Stryker. Kill me if you wish! But know that, though we may die, our movement does not. You cannot kill an idea. The Red Hand of Ra is eternal!”
The helicopter begins to descend. The minigun has come within range. A delirious part of my mind wishes for me to remain where I stand, to let the wave of bullets wash over me and erase my life from this world. But a primal instinct in my body fights against this urge. As the helicopter hovers into position, I move without thinking. I turn and sprint for the edge of the stage, hurtling over the prone bodies of the dead as I lunge for the end. I can hear the Speaker scream as the first bullets land. Then I’m in midair, falling, floating, flying. Falling. 
The ground rushes up to meet me.
----
I sit silently as the train hurtles towards the Capitol. It is a short trip from District 2, less than half an hour, so we’ll be there in no time at all. My body aches. I am marred with bruises and cuts, remnants of my frantic flight from the Reaping. I don’t know much of what happened. But what I do know is nothing good.
The Red Hand of Ra was defeated in short order. Though they held out on the stage and delivered devastating blows to the leadership of District 2, they had no chance against the full might of its Peacekeeper forces. Reinforcements swept in from the nearby mountain bases and the Speaker’s platoon was annihilated. He himself was slain by the helicopter and its minigun, apparently disfigured so badly from the barrage that it was impossible to ID his corpse.
Almost like he planned it that way.
I had fled down the streets, seeking escape from the carnage, and managed to get a few blocks before being picked up by a Peacekeeping force. They wore gray sashes around their waist, a mark of District 2’s elite vanguard, so I knew they weren’t with the Speaker. They listened to my story and took me to a facility, where I waited for a few hours as the scene outside was settled. 
When it was finally deemed safe to travel, I was transported to the train station. I was District 2’s male tribute for the 333rd Hunger Games, after all, so it was paramount that I make it to the Capitol for the Chariot Rides. Here, on the train, is where I learned what had transpired. A group of Peacekeepers ride alongside me, ostensibly for our protection. Occasionally they’ll receive updates over their radioes and I’ve overheard what was said.
There is a girl here with me. Lilith Lovelass. All I know about her is that she’s apparently District 2’s female tribute. Was she a volunteer, or merely someone they plucked from the crowd? I don’t know and I have no inclination to ask. 
Something big has transpired today. The platoon that was working with the Speaker weren’t fakes; they were real, full-fledged Peacekeepers. Somehow, someway, the Speaker had convinced them to turn against the Capitol and President Stryker. Assuming, of course, that the Speaker was even their leader. My escorts seem to know very little and information is coming in trickles. Not that it matters much to me. I am destined for the Games.
There are no mentors here with Lilith and I; all of District 2’s Victors had been slain at the Reaping. So I’ll be going into the arena without any help, it seems. If I wasn’t so dead inside I might laugh. Nothing ever goes my way.
I lean my head against the window and stare out at the countryside as it whips past. This was the second time I’ve cheated death. I continue to live amidst nightmares, reliving the horrid things every night. No matter how hard I try to escape, it appears that I’ll never be free from them. 
When I enter the Games…I fear that death will be cheated for the third and final time.
===District Twelve: Kia Gage===
The day is hot and dry as I make my way through the shantytown, carefully placing my steps to avoid skewering my foot on a rusted piece of metal. A summer storm blew in a few days ago and the debris has yet to be completely removed. Or even partially, for that matter. I don’t believe anyone has plans for cleaning at all.
“This place is a mess,” A young man picking his way through the mangled remnants of what might once have been a porch huffs from beside me. 
“Whole District is a mess,” I say.
“You got that right, Kia,” Cyra emerges from a badly assembled shanty on my right. I give her a nod in greeting which she returns. “District 12 is a hellhole. Has been for years.”
I only grunt in response. As bad as the District is, things used to be worse. When I was a child people were literally dropping dead in the streets every day. Nowadays that basically only happens on the weekends.
Improvement? Maybe. Doesn’t mean much to me, though.
Cyra and I walk in silence as we sort ourselves out of the shantytown. This particular shantytown has lasted a few weeks now, but the amount of debris piling up has me doubting it’ll last much longer. Won’t affect me too much. Another one will just pop up a few days later and life will go on as normal. 
The sun beats at our heads as we emerge from the underbelly of the District and clamber into the streets of District 12 proper. A throng of people travels down the road, followed by a handful of merchants hawking their wares. For them the Reaping is just another opportunity to make some money. 
“We could take a decent haul from them,” The guy from earlier pauses beside me. His name is Dust. He’s a new addition to our group that most of the District refers to as “thieving street urchins”. Dust often has big ideas but never follows through on those plans.
“Making any moves on Reaping Day would be suicide,” I say, eyeing the line as it passes us. This particular group is clearly from the wealthier portion of the District. They’re dressed too nice to be from anywhere else. 
“You’re too cautious. We’d get away with it for sure,” Dust goes silent as a pair of Peacekeepers stroll past us. They’re wearing the dark, visored helmets that have become the norm for District 12 Peacekeepers. Dust spits when they’re out of earshot. “Those lobster heads have better things to worry about today.”
“Kia knows what she’s talking about,” Cyra admonishes him. Me and her go way back, as far as to the same orphanage. In our early days amongst the group we often had to have each other’s backs; too few of the others were willing to listen to our ideas. But things are different now. I’ve risen high enough to gain the respect and trust of the others; many of them think of me as an older sister.
I also think of them as family. A big dysfunctional family, true, but a family nonetheless. 
The children left in the orphanage are also my family.
“Earth to Kia!”
I blink away my thoughts as Cyra tries to get my attention. “What’s up?”
“Dust wants you to make the decision. We operating today or nah?”
Reaping Day always has double the amount of Peacekeepers as usual. The Capitol, with all their cruel indifference, wants their celebration to proceed without a hitch. They’ll all be centered around the stage, true, but if we’re caught things won’t end pretty. 
The punishment for crimes is doubled on holidays.
“We’re not doing anything today,” I finally say.
Dust groans. “You never want to do anything! What kind of thieves are we?”
Annoyance flashes on my face. “We’re not thieves. We’re just people making ends meet in whatever way we can.”
“You’re the only one who thinks that,” Dust mutters.
Cyra gives him a cold stare. “Just listen to Kia, alright? She’s come close to death countless times, but she always finds a way to prevail!”
“And I plan to keep it that way,” I add. 
We lapse back into silence as we continue our path down the streets. Dust doesn’t understand. Many of the new recruits don’t. We aren’t here to make ourselves rich; we’re just trying to survive. And I think that we’ve done that so far. I have the privilege of being able to enjoy life and enough wealth to give back to the orphanage that I crawled out from. 
A large white van appears on the rightmost end of the sidewalk, surrounded by a small crowd that flows into the street and hinders our movement. I recognize the symbol embossed on its side; a small campfire sending up sparks. 
“It’s one of Soot and Charce’s vans,” I mutter as we watch several people dressed in simple polo shirts and slacks handing out baskets to the surrounding people. 
Soot and Charce are District 12’s only living Victors, both of them winning their Games a year apart. Since their Victory they’ve been trying to give back to the District and lift the poor out from the depths they’d sunk. They’ve clearly made progress in fixing the District, but they far from eliminated poverty. Not that such a thing is even possible. No matter how hard anyone tries there will always be people who slip through the cracks.
“They’re handing out Reaping Day meals,” Dust comments. He’s right. There’s food in the baskets, cornbread, buckwheat cakes, and pepperoni rolls, amongst others. The staples of a meal that most families eat on Reaping Day. The line of people stays orderly, and the pair of dark dressed guards who stand near the van look more bored than intimidating. They’re not Peacekeepers; Charce hired his own independent guards when he first started his charity movement.
“Surprising that no one has tried to rob the van,” Dust says as we move along. I don’t say anything. In the past, when Charce first set out, people had tried to rob the vans. But his security held and, now that he has built up a reputation of selfless charity, no one would dare hamper his efforts.
“Why don’t they ever give things to the orphanage?” Cyra pitches her voice low enough so that only I hear her. “Why do we have to supply them?”
I’ve looked into this before. “All orphanages in the District are run by District 12 officials,” I explain. “They’re meant to be supplied and outfitted by the government. Charce and Soot probably think that means each orphanage is already getting help.”
It makes me angry that they haven’t looked deeper into it. Despite all their bluster and bravado, the two of them are still letting people get exploited right under their noses. It’s even worse when you know that District 12’s Mayor is Charce’s father. The man doesn’t even realize his own father doesn’t care about the people in his District. 
I’m still steaming in my thoughts as we arrive at the Reaping Square. The small rectangular stage is set up right smack dab in the center of the plaza, underneath the gallows where we hang our criminals. It’s an ominous sight that excellently foreshadows the fate of anyone whose name is drawn; getting Reaped is akin to being executed. 
Dust mutters a farewell as he gets sorted into a different line than Cyra and I. I watch him go with slight trepidation. Malcontents like him always pose a risk of disrupting the harmony of our little group. 
I’m thinking on this as Mayor Firre shuffles onto the stage, followed by both of our Victors. Charce is a somewhat handsome blond man, waving happily to the crowd as they greet him with cheers. Soot is his opposite, short, tan, and grouchy. While he gives the crowd a nod of recognition, he neither smiles nor waves. Soot isn’t really one for interacting with people.
“I would like to extend a warm greeting to the citizens of District 12!” Mayor Firre begins, his voice filled with more cheer than is typical of him. “Today will mark yet another—”
“Don’t forget about me!”
The entire District groans in disappointment as a short old woman comes rushing onto the stage. She stumbles as she reaches the Mayor, only saving herself from falling off the stage by clutching the microphone stand. Mayor Firre eyes her like she’s a rapid dog. “Oh, Diane. It is such a…pleasure to see you again.”
Diane has been our escort since the 327th Games, when she was revived especially for that task. She's a strange one even for people from the Capitol. She's always saying odd things in a particularly high and screechy voice, not to mention her...inability to properly pronounce names. 
"It's me! Diane!" She grins at the crowd and loudly applauds for herself. No one else joins in, but if that fazes her she doesn't show it in the slightest, instead turning to gesture at Charce and Soot. "First off, let me introduce your Victors! Choice Flamer and Soot Doucheclown!"
You'd think she'd be able to properly pronounce their names after years of being escort, but no. Soot angrily starts forward but Charce holds him back, shaking his head.
"That's not their names," Mayor Firre says.
Diane gives him a sidelong glance. "Oh, shut up!"
The crowd groans with displeasure. Today is already bad enough knowing that two kids are going to die. We don't need this old bag making a mockery of us atop that. 
Diane and the Mayor have a short conversation that ends with her nodding and approaching the microphone again. "Major Flamer says that I should cut the introductions and get right to the reekings!"
That actually draws from cheers. Diane's grin widens at the noise. It's probably the first time in her life she's ever been cheered. So I'm surprised when she actually heads straight to the male bowl without prattling off some other nonsense. I thought for sure she'd try to capitalize on her momentum. "And the male tribute who will be raped is...Matt is from there? Huh?"
There's a buzz of annoyance from the crowd. This isn't the first time she's completely botched a name. "This makes no sense! Matt is from where?" Diane begins spinning around, evidently in search of Matt, when Mayor Firre snatches the slip from her hand and reads it aloud.
"Matiss Ferrum!"
The boy, if you can call him that, responds immediately. He walks out of line, shaking his head as approaches the stage. The most eye catching thing about him is his height; he stands over six and a half feet tall, basically towering over all of the other boys. And he shows no sign of malnourishment or neglect; his body is fit and healthy. Whoever he is, he hasn't been lacking in food or wealth.
I find myself unable to pity him.
"Wow! You're a tall glass of water!" As Diane is just barely five feet, she practically has to crane her neck up to see Matiss' face. "You must have ate your vegetables!"
He doesn't seem to know how to respond to that, so he merely nods. Then Soot steps forward and strikes up a conversation with him, but the microphones don't catch what is said. Not that I really care.
Mayor Firre taps Diane on the shoulder. "The next bowl, if you please."
"Righto!" Her grin widens even further and she rushes to the next bowl, reaching a hand in to grab a fistful of slips. She looks at them for a moment before scattering them into the air. "Those weren't ripe enough," She tells us with a sagely nod.
Have I mentioned how much I hate this woman?
The next slip she draws is, as she tells us, "just right" so she unfolds it and begins to read. "Oh! This is an easy name! Kia Gage!"
I remain still. Thinking, hoping, that she just mispronounced the name. That what just happened didn't happen. That it wasn't my name which was drawn. But as the silence stretches on it becomes apparent that it is no mistake. I was Reaped.
I can't say I ever expected this to happen, I reflect as I finally force myself to move. I imagined what the future held for me many times, but never once did I think that the Games would be involved. 
The crowd is silent as I take my place beside Diane and Matiss. The two of us make for a comical sight; him tall and well fed, me scrawny and covered in coal dust. It's the juxtaposition to ends all juxtapositions. 
"You're so skinny!" Diane practically screeches at me. "You're never going to survive looking like that!"
I roll my eyes and ignore her. I turn my gaze to Charce, but the pity I see in his eyes disgusts me so much that I turn my head again. 
"I like your attitude." Soot is at my side. I'm taller than him, I notice with amusement. "Everyone is going to overlook you in the Games. Use that to your advantage." 
The Reapings end quickly after that. Mayor Firre is eager to be rid of Diane, so he wraps things up exceedingly fast. There's a whirlwind of activity that whisks me from the stage and into the Justice Building. I'm not there long before the doors are flung open and Cyra and Tansy—my friend from the orphanage who now works in the mines—come rushing in. They quickly embrace me and begin whispering well wishes and reassurances. 
Their appearance gives me strength. My friends and the life they represent are what I've fought my entire life for. I haven't survived this long just to die in some game. I won't give up, nor will I abandon hope. I am capable of surviving these Games and anything else the Capitol can throw at me.
I've survived this long, so why would I stop now? 
===District Eleven: Chrome Kimathi===
"Please. I just want some grain or bread. I'll take anything. Just please give me some!"
I sit in an engraved wooden chair, leaning on one of the padded armrests as I listen to the man kneeling before me. He's a scrawny, balding man covered in sunburns and scars, telltale signs of a Peacekeeper whip. He's disgusting, really.
But I have to keep pretenses up, so I won't throw him out just yet.
"And why have you come to me?" I try to keep my voice neutral, make it sound like I don't really care when I actually do. 
Selling food and luxury goods to the pitiful populace of District 11 is something I've done for years...but always at a distance and through intermediaries. I myself have always been distant from the sales a...safeguard, in the event of a Peacekeeper raid. They can't execute me if they don't have any proof of a crime. And they have never found any. No one but my inner circle knows who I am.
Which is why it's so interesting that this man has found me.
"I've heard you have plenty of resources," The man glances up at me nervously. He's practically shaking. "And that you are willing to share your bounty...for a price."
"Oh, really? And who did you hear that from?" I lean back in my chair and keep up my casual indifference. How has word spread about me? More importantly, how has this man pinpointed me so exactly?
The man locks his lips. "Just...through the grapevine. I overheard some men talking. Look, I j-just want some food. My family is starving. Production has been slow ever since that blight took the trees and..." He continues to prattle, but I'm not listening any longer. He overheard some men talking, did he? Well, that would have to be someone who works for me. No one else would know my identity.
I glance at the guards beside me, but neither one seems the least bit fazed but this man and his dithering tale. You'd think that if either of them had been stupid enough to talk about me in public they'd be a little nervous right now. No... I don't believe it was these two. 
"...and I'd truly appreciate it if you could just s-sell me some food. Even just a little would be—"
"Bro, shut up!" I raise a hand and instantly the two guards at my side stiffen. One of them rests a hand on the handle of the baton hanging from his belt. "I heard enough outta you."
"So you'll help me?" The man looks up hopefully, his eyes gleaming with a hungry excitement. A parasite. That's all he is. A parasite clinging to the life I offer. 
"I'm gonna be real with you, man," I lean forward and clasp my hands together. I have his full attention now. "I'd love to help you out but...the things you're asking for? They don't come cheap, ya know?"
The man lies his head flat against the floor. "I know! But I can pay you back! When the trees start producing again I swear I'll pay you double what I owe!"
"I feel for you and your fam, man, I really do," I frown and splay my hands helplessly. "But I can't take an IOU in payment. I'd go broke in no time doing that, ya understand?"
His only response is a stifled sob. I'm about to issue an order when I catch a glimpse of something on his wrist that starts the gears in my head. "Bro, don't cry like that. Just because I can't take an IOU don't mean I can't help ya out."
The way his head shoots up to stare at me is almost amusing. "Y-you can help? Truly?" His eyes are swimming with those tears. 
"Of course. I'd just need some collateral...such as that watch on your wrist."
The man hesitates and looks down at his watch. An old golden thing that I know for a fact would fetch a decent price on the market. It's a wonder he hasn't sold it yet. "M-my watch?"
"That's what I said, innit?"
"But...I got it from my father. It's a family heirloom!"
I nod in understanding. "Look, I can tell that watch means a lot to you, but I need some sort of collateral here. When you get your money I'll give it back to you, yeah? You won't lose it forever. Just temporarily."
I have him. I can tell from the way he looks at his wrist then back to me. The hesitance in his body language is offset by the greed in his eyes. He wants that food more than he needs some trinket. Finally he nods. "Yes, I understand. I-I'll trade the watch for some food. Wh-when the trees start producing again I'll have double your price and recover the watch. It's a fair deal."
A smile creeps across my face. "That it is. Mallory!" I snap my fingers and one of my guards steps forward. I gesture at the man before me. "Take him to the storeroom and let him select whatever he needs. Chiswick, collect his watch."
The two of them do my bidding without delay. Chiswick hands me the man's watch as he's led away, tears of joy streaming down his face as he thanks me for being so understanding. I smile and wave until he's out of the room. Then I turn to Chiswick. 
"Take him to the interrogation room and force him to tell you how he learned my identity."
Chiswick nods slowly. "And afterwards?"
I climb out of the chair, stretching my arms as I stand. "Kill him and dump his body in the river."
Chiswick heads off to do his task without another word. I watch him go, satisfied that he, at least, isn't the one who gave my identity away. As for the man he will be interrogatng...he was truly unfortunate. He would have lived had he only contacted my agents through the proper channels. But he knew who I am and I can't afford the risk of my identity spreading throughout the District. The Peacekeepers might get curious, and that just won't do. I slip the watch onto my wrist as I depart, whistling a merry tune. 
I have a Reaping to attend.
----
The droning buzz of our mayor's voice reverberates through my head as I stand in the crowd, annoyed that I have to be around so many people. The stage is a few dozen feet ahead of me and the crowd, which is practically roasting in the summer sun. The Mayor keeps stopping to wipe his sweat away as he gives his speech.
Fool. Why not just skip the formalities and go straight to selecting a name? That would save us all a lot of time and discomfort. I shift my weight and let out a yawn. A few of the boys beside me give me nervous glances. They're basically pissing themselves in fear at the mere thought of being Reaped.
I don't have to worry about that. I've taken tessarae my entire life and yet I don't have a shred of worry that my name will be drawn. Because even if it is drawn, I know there'll be a volunteer. Dozens of guys in my organization—ranging from young boys to men who are mere days of aging out of the Reaping—have sworn to volunteer in my place if I am ever chosen. My name being read would result in people tripping over themselves to volunteer for me. 
I chuckle softly, drawing even more looks from the boys around me. Wouldn't that be a sight to see? 
"Are you ready, District 11?" Hellie Helium, our weird escort with the third eye in her forehead, has the microphone now. She paces back and forth across the stage, all three eyes swiveling to take in the entire crowd. "I feel like this is finally the year for you to snap your losing streak!"
Not likely. This hellhole hasn't had a Victor in decades—I doubt we're about to draw one now. The crowd must feel the same, because they don't show any enthusiasm for her words. Hellie frowns and taps the bowl filled with everyone's name. "Well, I suppose we should just get to it then. Boy's first!"
I wonder who'll get picked. Maybe I can have my men contact their family and offer them some extra rations–at a price, of course. 
"Chrome Kimathi!"
Huh. Guess the day finally came. I smile as I wait for a volunteer to call out, wondering which one of my men will do it first. I'll probably give their family extra rations too...free of charge, for once. 
But as the seconds tick away I feel my smile begin to falter. Something is wrong. There should have been multiple volunteers by now. 
I glance around, searching for my guys in the crowd. I spot several of them but they all avoid my gaze, staring at their feet as Hellie repeats my name to the crowd. The smiles fades. An icy pit of anger has begun to grow within me. 
What the hell is happening?
"Chrome Kimathi?" Hellie shields her eyes from the sun as she gazes out into the crowd. "Are you there? Chrome Kimathi?"
None of my men have moved, let alone called out to volunteer. My anger threatens to spill out. Those bastards swore to volunteer. They gave their words! They all promised on their mothers life to volunteer for me! 
No one is volunteering. My fury radiates from me like a wave as that cold realization settles in. None of those cowardly bastards have the manhood to step up and volunteer. Not a single one of them! I'll kill them all for that! But first...
I force my face to remain impassive as I finally move. Hellie gives a little clap as she sees me heading for the stage. Stupid woman. When I stop beside her she asks what took me so long.
"I just wanted to make it dramatic, you know?" I smile and wink for the cameras. "It's funner that way, you know?"
Hellie nods. "Oh, yes! I was literally on the edge of my seat waiting for your appearance !"
Since she was standing she most definitely was not "literally" on the edge of her seat. But I've seen enough of the world to know there is no point correcting stupid, so I just make more small talk and promise to make some waves in the Games. 
The cameras may see a smiling, charismatic Chrome, but they don't pick up the raging undercurrent of anger that lies beneath my facade. Fools. Did they think I'd die in the Games? That they would be free from any repercussions? I'm going to win, and when I do I'm coming back here and murdering every single one of those two-faced rats! I know the name of everyone who promised me they'd volunteer. I spent an hour memorizing the list. There will be no escape when I return. 
No escape for any of them.
==Interlude==
I walk down the hallway, feeling oddly nostalgic as my feet tread upon the luxurious carpet, tracing a path they’ve taken many times. How long has it been since I became Victor? Eight years? And how many times have I mentored since then? 
It takes some thought, but I eventually find the answer. Seven. I have mentored seven times since my Victory.
Seven times too many.
I have no business being a mentor. Children shouldn’t have their lives placed in my hands just because I happened to survive the same brutal Games they’re being forced to play. I can’t even recall what strategy I used in my own Games; I more or less just made things up on the fly. I didn’t do anything special to warrant living. I didn’t deserve it anymore than any of the other girls did. 
Yet I lived and they died.
I’ve reached the end of the hallway. Two doublewide doors loom before me. I can hear voices beyond it. No doubt the other mentors have already gathered inside. It’s become a custom for us all to watch the Chariot Rides together. Taking a deep breath, I push the doors open and stride into the room.
It is a vast place, wide and open under a steeply pitched roof held up by crystalline beams. The walls and floors are made from giant smoothed blocks of stones; windows ornate arches filled with intricate stained glass. At the far end a multitude of doors and windows open onto a terrace overlooking the river. Yellow lights hung from the ceiling and on walls, attached to metal braziers. 
A crowd of people have assembled near the far wall, which has been transformed into a gigantic holographic screen. Avoxes and other servants dart to and fro, at the bidding of the assembled mentors. In the center of the hall lie over a dozen tables laden with the most expensive and sumptuous food the Capitol possesses. More than a few of the mentors linger at their sides.
“Exorbitant, isn’t it?”
I stifle a squeak of surprise as a man appears at my side. Tall and blond, with gray eyes like dusty orbs, I recognize him almost instantly. Charce Firre, Victor of the 326th Hunger Games.
I offer him a curtsy. “Greetings, Charce. You surprised me there!”
He laughs. “Yeah, I could tell. Sorry about that, by the way. Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” 
“Oh, no problem. It was my fault, really. I shouldn’t have zoned out right in the doorway!”
We stand at the top of the steps that sweep down into the majestic hall, offering a few more friendly comments to each other before beginning our descent. A black-suited servant whirls pass, collecting Charce’s jacket. “So what’ve you been up to?” He asks as we bypass the tables of food.
“Nothing much. I spend a lot of time around horses—honing my Talent.”
 
He nods, plucking a pastry off a passing Avoxes tray. “Makes sense, I suppose. Soot and I have been doing a lot of community projects, trying to fix the District and all. It’s not easy, but we’re definitely making progress.”
I purse my lips. Times like these make me feel…inadequate. Other Victors, people like Charce and Mist, spend so much of their time and money giving back and attempting to help people. And what do I spend my time on? Horses and dresses. 
“Your job will be easier if you get another Victor,” I say in a desperate attempt to get my mind off my own failings. 
He nods, swallowing the pastry. “True. Dunno if we’ll get one this year, though. Matiss is big, yeah, but that’ll make him a target. As for the girl…I honestly don’t know what to think of her.”
I haven’t had much interaction with either of my own charges. I was meant to have a conversation with them on the train, but then Kulver…
I see him now. Standing at one of the food tables as he fills up his plate. I didn’t know about his past. Had never put any thought into it. Does everyone have secrets like that? A hidden layer of humanity they keep tucked away inside themselves? I don’t like that thought. It’ll make the sight of seeing every tribute die in the Games even harder.
Charce and lapse into silence as we approach a the group centered around the viewing screen. It currently shows a panoramic view of the Capitol Concourse as two commentators hype the upcoming Chariot Rides. 
“Charce, my bro!” A short, shabbily dressed man rushes up and gives Charce a high-five with way more force than necessary. I smile at the sight. Soot Dustcloud, co-Victor of the 327th and the only living District 12 Victor besides Charce. 
As the two of them strike up a conversation, I let my gaze wander and I study the other mentors gathered before the screen. 
Edmund Everton, Victor of the 300th Games. He’s a large, hairy man who silently stares up at the screen, ignoring everyone else. Not a surprise. He was never one for socializing. 
Then there’s Watt Chargy, a cute, bespectacled girl who won the 327th Games at the age of thirteen. She is currently playing with her hair as she shifts from foot to foot, occasionally glancing at Charce. I’ve long suspected that she has a crush on him, and it’s never been more apparent.
A trio of Victors stand close together, murmuring to themselves as they watch the proceedings. Rhys, Panama, and Elodi, from District 9, 10, and 13 respectively. 
Rounding out the assembled group is two of my own co-Victors, Mist Scorchil and Hazel Dyer. The two of them couldn’t be more different and even their clothing reflects this; Mist wears a simple long-sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans, while Hazel wears an elaborately detailed dressed that quite literally has diamonds woven into the fabric. Yet despite their mutual hatred of each other, I have a close friendship with them both.
Sometimes that can be quite awkward.
“Hello!” I greet them with both with a smile. Best to try and keep everything civil. “It’s a reunion of the 325th Victors!” 
Mist looks at me, Hazel, and then back to me. He makes a show of counting his fingers. “Not a full reunion. Acheron isn’t here.”
Hazel gives a disdainful sniff. “Acheron is dead.”
“You don’t know that!” Mist points an accusatory finger at her. “We have no proof he’s dead! None at all!”
This is an old argument, one that the three of us have gone over many times. Acheron Bane, a man who co-Victored the 325th Games with us, went missing shortly after the conclusion of the 327th. The Capitol questioned us all on his whereabouts, but none of us had any answers. The guy had simply vanished.
No one knows for sure what happened or where he went, but everyone has their own theory. Mist thinks that he escaped from Panem and is living somewhere off grid, but Hazel believes he’s dead; either recaptured and killed by the Capitol or he simply died in the wilderness. And what do I think? Well…I don’t really have any thoughts. Acheron was always a quiet, mysterious man. I can count the amount of conversations I’ve had with him on one hand. So who knows where he went?
Hazel rolls her eyes but doesn’t otherwise respond. That’s a good sign. It means she’s open to being civil with Mist tonight. 
She usually isn’t so lenient with him.
“What do you think of your tributes this year?” I throw the question out there before Mist can say something that’ll jeopardize the temporary peace. He’s always been too much of a firebrand for his own good.
Hazel takes a sip of her wine. “I don’t think much of them, to be frank. The girl fainted on stage and the boy…well, he certainly has all the physical tools but his sister will drag him down.”
“Nah, don’t listen to Hazel! We got this in the bag!” A thin, pallid man wearing a straw hat pushes his way into the conversation. Rhys, the most recent Victor from District 9, after Hazel. He spent the majority of his own Games just hiding in a tree until the final day, where he finally emerged to kill the last two remaining tributes. Afterwards, as they were announcing his Victory, he famously declared “I need a nap.”
He’s been known as Rhys the Lazy ever since.
Ever since learning the truth about Kulver I’ve been reluctant to simply accept the Capitol’s assessment of the Victors at face value. After all, if they lied about him why wouldn’t they lie about everyone else? But I’ve known Rhys for years and, as much as I hate to admit it, the epithet “lazy” fits him like a glove. 
Hazel makes a small noise at the sight of Rhys. Her dislike of the man almost parallels her disdain for Mist. Almost. “And what would you know about mentoring, Rhys? You spent the entirety of the train ride sleeping!”
“I wasn’t sleeping! I was just resting my thinking muscle!” 
“I honestly can’t believe you survived the Games.”
“Well, I did! And this year I’m going to mentor another tribute to Victory!”
Hazel almost chokes on her wine. “Another? Excuse me, but you haven’t mentored any tribute to Victory!”
“I mentored you, didn’t I?”
“No! You only mentored the boys, Jake and Folly!”
Rhys pauses. He takes one hand and carefully rubs his chin. “Huh. I think you’re right. How about that? Well, whatever. I was doing a bang up job with Jake until you killed him!”
Hazel goes still. A cold fury ignites behind her blue eyes. Her grip on the wine glass tightens so much that I fear it is about to break. But Rhys doesn’t notice. He just keeps talking and talking, going on about how likely Jake’s Victory would have been, how he’d have helped Mist and Shade kill Acheron. This is going to end poorly. I need to step in.
Now.
“Hazel!” I step forward and hip-check Rhys. The thin man careens backwards into Panama and Elodi, who thankfully have enough social awareness to tow him away. “How’s your relationship with Griegg been going?” I remember the name from our last conversation. It was quite recent, only two months ago. Hazel was visiting District 5 for some concert or something. 
Hazel blinks. She turns and faces me, a look of confusion replacing the icy anger. “What? Who is Griegg?”
“You know, that hovercraft engineer.”
“Oh, him.” She waves a hand dismissively. “I dumped him a few days ago. I’m seeing Wren Churches now. And Erevan Newcastle.”
“You’re seeing two different guys?” That sounds like a recipe for disaster to me. 
But Hazel only laughs. “Live a little, Missy! It’s hot girl summer! I can see however many guys I want!”
I allow myself a grudging smile and laugh along with her, though I don’t quite feel up to it. I’ve done my job. I’ve defused the situation. That’s something I’ve always been good at. Social recognition. I can understand the dynamics of a room, spot signs of future conflict, and then zero in on those and prevent it from ever beginning. 
Hazel and I are in the process of a conversation about horses when a new voice cuts in. “Did you say you were seeing Erevan Newcastle?” 
It’s Edmund, of all people. He stands beside us, one hand tugging on his beard. Hazel and I exchange a glance. “Yes, I did. What of it?”
“He’s one of President Stryker’s heirs.”
“So he is. Does this conversation have a point?” She calls an Avox over and taps a foot impatiently.
“Seems like all of his heirs are trying to get in good with the Victors.” 
I raise an eyebrow. What does that mean? “Could you be a little more clear and concise?” Hazel holds her glass out for the Avox to refill. “I’m not really in the mood to try and figure out your riddles.”
Edmund shrugs. “A few hours ago Roscoe Stryker approached me and asked if I would publicly support his bid for presidency.”
“And what did you say?” I’m genuinely curious to know. This is a rare opportunity to see the inside of Edmund’s mind.
He shrugs again. “Told him I’d think about it. I thought it was a strange question, though, so I asked a few of the other Victors about it. Apparently all of Stryker’s heirs have been asking them for their support.”
I’m not too surprised by this revelation. The Victors are hugely popular with the Capitol citizens and hold sway over their decisions. It’s the reason why so many of us have became official spokesman of various products; a Victor’s sign of approval is enough to put a company’s income through the roof. I’m sure it’d be the same with the heirs.
“Erevan would make a fine President,” Hazel says as she sips her wine. I don’t respond, and neither does Edmund. He simply turns and walks away. I’m about to question my friend on her relationship with Erevan when yet another newcomer interrupts.
“Sorry I’m late.” A pale young woman with ocean blue hair that flows down to her waist. She takes a few steps towards us and offers a weak smile. “I…had an appointment with the President.”
Cassandra Oracion. 
The entire group’s attention has been turned to her. Soot offers her a handshake. “We don’t care if you’re late! All that matters is we’re together!”
“It’s the first time we’ve all been together since the 327th,” Watt agrees. The small woman steps up and gives Cassandra a hug. “I’m just glad you’re healthy.”
The sight of the two of them makes me smile. Not many people could have done what Watt has; not only forgiven the girl who killed their friend, but befriended her in turn. It takes a big person to do that. Perhaps bigger than I am. 
“Where’s Austin?” Cassandra’s eyes are scanning the assembled group and have noticed the absence of the fourth Victor from the 327th. 
“Him and his Career buddies are over there.” Mist jerks a finger towards the terrace, where Austin and his appearance Lux stand in conversation with the District 4 mentors. The smile slips from my face as I finally notice something that’s been bugging me for awhile.
“Where are the District 2 mentors?”
Almost at once all of our heads swivel around, searching the grand hall for any sign of them. But there’s nothing to be found. There are only twenty-six Victors present. District 2 is not among them.
The others begin to converse among themselves about how odd it is that an entire District is missing their Victors. I haven't ever seen such a thing before. Hazel is the first to voice the obvious. "Who will mentor the tributes?"
“I will!”
We all turn around to face the speaker, a newcomer to the group. As far as looks go, he is average in almost every way. He's neither short nor tall, neither thin nor fat, not particularly handsome or ugly or plain. His hair is medium brown, his eyes don't draw attention and he wears an understated suit that doesn't look especially cheap or expensive. I want to say I've never seen him before in my life, but the truth is I wouldn't even remember if I had.
Mist sums it up best. "Who the hell are you?"
The man shrugs. "I'm just a guy. A guy named Stuart."
"Stuart!"
I'm practically shoved out of the way as Charce leaps forward to give the man a hug. I exchange a look with Watt. Am I missing something here? 
“You know this guy?” Hazel asks.
Charce turns to face us, one hand still wrapped around Stuart's shoulder. “Of course! He was my mentor in the Games! I'd never have won without his help!"
All at once things begin to click together. Charce had been the first Victor from District 12 in seventy-five years, so there had been no living Victors to mentor him. Instead they had...this random guy mentor him?
Everyone else must realize the same thing, for most conversations drift back to their previous topics. Our outburst must have drawn the attention of Austin, though, because him and Lux have crossed over from the terrace to join the group. “Oh, Cassandra!” Austin gives a start when he spots her. "When did you get here?"
"Just a little bit ago," She replies. Her eyes stay glued to the floor. "I...had a meeting with the President."
During her time in the Games Cassandra revealed she was a clairvoyant. Someone who, at times, could see glimpses of the future. She used this ability to survive the 327th and emerge as Victor, only to claim that she was a liar who faked her visions during her Victory speech. The citizens of the Capitol promptly turned on her and any semblance of popularity she had was gone. 
Except she hadn't actually faked her abilities.
That was just a directive from President Stryker, a ruse designed to make everyone think she was a fake so he could use her for his own benefit without anyone else knowing. Cassandra herself confided this in to most of us mentors; she says that we're the only people with whom she can still be herself.
I should have felt honored hearing that. But I can only feel despair. How miserable must her life be if interacting with the likes of me is a highlight?
Austin's green eyes flicker to the boy at his side. "Hey, Lux. Didn't Ryam claim that he could drink more than you? How about you go prove him wrong?"
“I'm on it!” His apprentice slips away, heading over to the banquet table which holds the spirits. Half a dozen other mentors already linger there, including Ryam.
Cassandra watches him go with a relieved face. Lux is one of the newer Victors, and he hasn't been told the truth about her. I don't think Cassandra has plans to loop anyone else in. 
On the screen behind us the Chariot Rides have begun, drawing the attention of most mentors. Only ten of us remain standing in this semi-circle. 
"This is almost a complete reunion of the 327th!" Watt says happily. She's right. Edmund, Mist, Hazel, Charce, and myself were all mentors for those Games, while Soot, Austin, Cassandra, and herself ended up being the Victors. I like to think that a special bond holds us together, even if we're not all exactly friends. 
"Topaz and Marcio are absent," Hazel says, sipping her wine.
“And Acheron,” Mist adds.
She narrows her eyes at him but doesn't otherwise respond. I decide to step in before Mist can do anything else to set her off. "So, Cassandra, what did the President want this time?"
“You don't have to tell us if you don't want,” Soot pats her on the shoulder. 
She smiles weakly. "No, it's fine. I...he wanted me to try and see which of his heirs would be the best successor."
The group murmurs quietly to each other. A few mention their own meeting with the heirs. Apparently Edmund was right; they've all been making overtures to the Victors. "Did you see anything?" Hazel asks. I can't help but notice the interest in her eyes. Is she thinking of Erevan and her connection to him?
Cassandra shakes her head, face forlorn. "No. Nothing substantial. President Stryker didn't appreciate that. He..."
An awkward silence fills the air, broken only by the sound of the television behind us and the other mentors commentary. I can't imagine how awful it must be to have to deal with the President's questions and not have anything to tell him.
“It's alright, Cass,” Austin swirls his glass, staring sightlessly at its contents. “He's retiring soon. When he does I'm sure the questions will end.”
“He asked me to try and see the future of Panem,” Cassandra continues to stare at her shoes. She shivers, even though the room is warm to the point of being hot. "And...all I saw was his face."
"President Stryker's?"
"No. Acheron's."
Acheron? Why in the world would she have seen him of all people? He hasn't been spotted since the end of the 327th, and Hazel said he was–
"I told you he wasn't dead!" Mist points a finger right in Hazel's face. "I told you! How many times have I told you! Haha! I was right!"
Charce punches him in the shoulder. "Shut up! This isn't about you!"
Mist's retort trails off as he notices Cassandra. She's still staring into the distance. Her hands have curled into fists. "When I see him he's so full of hate...Hate and anger. I don't think there's anything left for him but that." She's in her own world, oblivious to the stares of those around her. Unshed tears glisten in her eyes. "Is that truly Panem's future? He'll destroy it all if left unchecked..."
"Boy, that's dark!" Stuart's voice breaks the somber mood. He has a big stupid grin on his face. I'd forgotten he was even here. "Hope I'm not around to see that!"
I put a hand on my hip and fix him with a glare. He shrugs at me and slips away from the group, leading me to the realization that several of the others have already done the same. Only Edmund, Austin and I still stand beside Cassandra. I give her an apologetic look. "Sorry. I understand how hard this must be..."
Cassandra smiles and tells me not to worry. It looks forced, but I can only nod. What else can I do to help? It doesn't matter how rich or famous I am; her problems are simply beyond the scope of my abilities. 
I excuse myself and drift over to the corner of the room. On the screen a chariot is making its way down the concourse with Faren and Opal aboard. I grimace at the reminder that I still don't know the first thing about either of them. I should probably try and change that. I repress a sigh.
Looks like my troubles are far from over.
==Training==
===Day One===
===Lucia Shale (District 13)=== 
The morning light shines over the mountains of the Capitol and makes its way through the blinds to illuminate me as I sit on the edge of my bed. I am already dressed in the training uniform I found laid out on my dresser when I woke. 
Another day, another fight. 
I'd thought that it was all behind me, that I could finally enjoy a stable, peaceful life. But the Reaping shattered that illusion. Any peace in my life will have to be earned by carving a path to Victory in the arena. 
Today will be the first day of training. I'll be led down to the training center alongside my District partner and be presented with the first opportunity to get my hands on a weapon. I'll need to hone my skills to win. That part is obvious.
I rise from my bed, bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. Even our rooms here are ostentatious. The Capitol flaunts its wealth so much that I almost understand Augustus' intense hatred towards it. 
But that still doesn't excuse his actions.
I slip on my socks and shoes, then make my way out into the hall and down to the kitchen. Here I find Solomon and our mentors, gathered around the long table that fills the entire room. Solomon is seated at the far end, face concealed by the hood of his black jacket as he stares down at the floor. I've gone out of my way to avoid interacting with him; I may have to kill him in the Games, and it'll be easier if he's just an anonymous face. 
I didn't even want to learn his name, but that was impossible considering the circumstances. Solomon Eudia. My mentors never shut up about him and his infamous actions. At the Chariot Rodes he drew the loudest boos I've ever heard. 
He might just be the most disliked tribute ever, and he hasn't even entered the arena yet.
"Good morning, Lucia!" One of my mentors, a blonde woman peeling an orange, greets me as I sit down at the table. I don't remember her name. In fact, I've actively avoided learning it. She may not be in the arena with me, but I still don't want to form any sort of emotional connection with her. 
That results in nothing but pain.
I give her a stiff nod and turn to the meal an Avox places before me, two soft scrambled eggs dotted with cheddar cheese, three juicy sausage patties flecked with red pepper, and fried potatoes. I eat in silence. Neither of my mentors attempt to start a conversation and Solomon continues to stare at the floor. Though I try not to think about him, I find it impossible. He looks nothing like how I imagined a psychopath who murdered his family would. Though, can I really judge him for that? I turned my own brother in to the Capitol to be executed. I have no regrets about that—I merely did what had to be done—but I don't think that gives me much room to criticize Solomon.
These thoughts are drifting dangerously close to sympathy, and sympathy is a liability in the arena. I can't allow myself any weakness. Weakness is the path to death. So I cut off all my thoughts and focus on my meal. When the clock chimes my mentors lead Solomon and I to the elevators. The blonde woman smiles and tells me to focus on shoring up my weaknesses, saying that there's no point in wasting time practicing something I'm already good at.
Maybe she's a smart woman after all.
The elevator ride down is exceedingly awkward. Neither I nor Solomon speak. We each seem to be trying to avoid looking at the other. I find myself wondering what is going on inside his head before realizing that's a dangerous line of thought and shut it down. Instead I preoccupy myself with studying the elevator buttons.
When the elevator dings and the doors slide open, I practically rush out. The moment I do I notice a throng of several tributes dressed in the same uniform as myself. They're milling around a pillar, seemingly killing time. But when I arrive they all turn and gaze at me. No, not me. Past me. At Solomon. 
"It's the disgusting kin-killer," A dark-haired boy whispers to the girl next to him. 
Solomon sticks his hands in his pockets and walks in silently. His eyes are still glued to the floor. 
Another elevator dings and then two more tributes are shuffling into the hall, pulling the attention away from him. I can't place their District, but the guy is definitely going to be a threat. He stands more than six and a half feet tall, drawing everyone's eyes as he lumbers across the gym to awkwardly stand beside the Head Trainer. His District partner, in contrast, is completely unremarkable.
As the remaining tributes continue to file in, I take this opportunity to examine my surroundings. The gymnasium is a large, oval-shaped room with a domed ceiling. The racks of weapons and their corresponding stations are all in the back, directly across from me. The survival stations are spread to the left side and the Gauntlets, Ropes Course and other stamina stations are on the right, while the cafeteria is positioned just to the left of the elevators.
The Gamemakers are seated at a table that rests on a mezzanine of sorts, a second floor that wraps its way around the entire room. But the Gamemakers aren't alone up there. A second table is placed atop the mezzanine and seven people sit there, watching us tributes with predatory eyes. I recognize them from the Chariot Rides, the emcee had gone out of his way to pull our attention to them. They're President Stryker's heirs, and one of them will be our next President.
But why are they here at training?
Soon enough all twenty-eight of us have arrived and the trainers make us form a line, sorted from shortest to tallest. The giant guy–he's from District 12, I think–is the tallest, closely followed by the male from District 1. The shortest tribute is a small twelve year-old who, bizarrely enough, seems to be grinning with anticipation. What's her deal?
“Greetings, tributes of the 333rd Hunger Games!" The Head Trainer, a stocky bearded man named Kassius, walks up and down the line. Occasionally he'll stop to stare one of us in the eye. "Today will be the first of several periods where you will be allocated time to spend training. Use that time wisely. Your survival hinges on more than just knowing how to use a weapon. You must be able to survive in the wild, be able to procure food and drink for yourself, and know how to find shelter. If you cannot do any of that, a weapon will be useless to you.”
I've seen enough Games to know that already. Several past Games have been decided by the simple fact that the Victor knew more about nature than the other tributes. 
“We have many Training Stations here, all designed to help you survive. Do not be quick to ignore any of them. They all can teach you a valuable lesson that may just save your life. Understood? Then let us begin!" Kassius blows his whistle and the tributes all move out. I'm bumped more than once as they eagerly rush to their desired station. Most seem headed for the weapons, but more than a few head straight for the survival stations. The Careers, oddly enough, don't approach any station. They form a small semi-circle, conversing quietly amongst themselves. 
I don't put any thought into wondering why. I have my own priorities. I gaze out at the stations, wondering which station I should begin with, when I remember the words of my mentor. Shore up my weaknesses. I literally have no climbing abilities so...
I head straight for the climbing station. If I work hard enough these next two days, then I'll have no weaknesses by the end of the training session. 
Just strengths.
===Marina Mattel (District 4)===
As the other tributes all rush off to the training stations I stand in a semi-circle with the rest of the Careers as we officially introduce ourselves. This is the first time we've seen each other up close and, considering we'll be allies in the Games, it's paramount that we learn more about one another.
Even if it is only to find out each other's weaknesses.
After our initial introductions are made, Valor—the male from District 1—steps forward so that he is in the center of our circle. Tall and muscular, he stands straight with hands clasped behind his back as he speaks. "I would like to formally propose that I take the leadership position amongst our alliance."
I'm not surprised at the least by that. Everything about the guy just screams "alpha male" and I doubt he could ever envision a situation where he wasn't in charge. 
“Let's not make a decision too quickly,” The guy from District 2, Atticus, is the next to speak. Dark haired and handsome, I find myself unconsciously shying away from him. He reminds me too much of Tristen. “I feel as if any one of us could make a fine leader, if given the opportunity.” 
I glance at Mako, half expecting him to throw his hat into the ring, but he remains silent with that stupid grin on his face. I've known him for years; everyone in District 4 has. While he's popular amongst most of my peers, I've always thought of him as cocky and obnoxious. 
“I was the top student in the District 1 Academy,” Valor intones, “I shattered every record and aced every test. I have been destined for the Games since the moment of my birth. Surely I deserve the honor of leading the Careers.”
“We were all top students at the Academy,” I can't help but point out. All of us have trained our whole lives for this, we're called Careers for a reason. 
Valor gives me a sidelong glance and then nods. "Point taken. We are all top students."
I notice that none of the others are interested in the conversation at all. Lilith from 2 has her eyes narrowed as she watches the other tributes, while Alcmene from 1 is staring at the ground with her arms folded. Mako is just standing there grinning.
As Valor and Atticus continue their discussion, I notice how good Atticus is at this. He's efffortlessly charming and funny, with an innate sense of roguishness that makes you want him to succeed. Just like Tristen. I can't shake him from my head. Him and his despicable act. All of my interactions with men have been colored by his memory. Yet is that not the reason I am even here? To get enough prestige and power to finally hold him accountable for his actions? 
"There is only one way to settle this!" Valor's proclamation brings all of our attention back to the task at hand. "And that is in the vein of true Academic fashion...with a duel!"
Atticus arches an eyebrow. "A duel? Interesting."
“You lummoxes know they won't let you use real blades to fight each other, right?" Lilith's wry comment draws a chuckle from me and Alcmene, and a flat stare from Valor. 
"Of course they won't. However, they do have wooden swords for training purposes. I intend for Atticus and I to use those for our duel." He points to the back of the gymnasium, where a matted square has been set aside. Right now the boy from District 6 is sparring an instructor with one of those aforementioned wooden swords. 
Atticus frowns. "We both use swords, you say?" His eyes travel from the sword station to Valor, and I can read his thoughts as well as if he'd voiced them. Valor is almost half a foot taller and has longer arms; even if he were an untrained novice his reach alone would lend him a tremendous advantage. And Valor is no untrained novice. 
Valor nods. "It is the fairest way to settle this dispute."
"How about I use a spear?" The darker boy smiles. Smart. A spear has a longer reach than a sword, and using one would more than offset the length advantage Valor had. Atticus is handsome and clever. A dangerous combination. 
Valor's eyes flicker, but only for a moment. "Very well. We can use spears instead."
"You'll use a spear too?" Atticus can't keep the surprise out of his voice.
"Of course. It is only fair if we both use the same weapon, no?"
He should have expected that. If I could understand his purpose in trying to use a different weapon, then so could Valor. If they both use spears than the advantage falls squarely back on Valor. 
Atticus throws his hands up in defeat. "Fine. I withdraw my petition for leadership. Valor, the position is yours!" 
I expect some kind of boasting from Valor, a grin or shout, maybe just a sly smile. But he only nods briskly and sets off towards the weapon stations, waving for the rest of us to follow him. The other tributes scatter when they see us, dropping whatever their doing and abandoning the stations. The pair from 9 are the last to go, the girl practically dragging the boy behind her. "Career tryouts have begun!" Valor shouts, "It's time to prove your worth!"
He appears so quickly that he must have been waiting for this moment. It's the giant boy, the one who drew everyone's attention when he first entered the gym. His name is Matiss, he tells us, and he intends to join the Careers.
I pay little attention as Valor has him demonstrate his skills, because there's no chance in hell that we pass on the opportunity to have him in our alliance. His size alone would mask any deficiencie he may have. "Wouldn't want to fight him in the Games," Lilith mutters beside me. I grunt in agreement. Matiss is scary big and freakishly strong. My best chance of beating him would rely on me using my speed, but even then he's surprising agile for one so big. 
Several more tributes arrive in the time it takes Matiss to show off his skills. Three of them are waiting on the peripheral, the guy from 3 and the girls from 5 and 7. The boy, Zekel, is up next. He takes the time to
explain that he was trained in our ways and that his brother had joined the Careers a few years back.
"Zevran Zin," Alcmene says the name with a nod. "He was bisected in the bloodbath of the 331st by Frontier Royce from District 7."
Zekel flinches as if she'd struck him. "Y-yes. He was my brother and he...he died like you said."
His skills are a medley of weaponry knowledge that ranges from exceptional to passable. He seems to be on par with most of the guys back at the Academy, and he doesn't really stand out for better or worse. The 5 girl, Opal, goes after him. When she steps up she fixes us all with a cold, hard stare. "My name is Opal Crane and you will allow me into the Careers."
"Thinks pretty highly of herself, doesn't she?" Lilith mutters as the girl approaches the weapon station. But if Opal's personality is off-putting, her skills leave nothing to be desired. I'm actually a little stunned by her level of aptitude; how did a girl from District 5 of all places become so skilled?
"Let's start a party up in this bitch!" The fourth and final prospect cackles madly as she takes up an axe. She's tall for a girl and that, combined with her platinum blonde hair buzzed on one side, has her stand out like a sore thumb. Her name is Yewan. 
Valor draws us all aside before she's even finished with her display. "We'll be accepting them all," He tells us quietly.
"All of them?" That's not what I was expecting. With these four added to our ranks the Careers would stand at ten tributes, much larger than the alliance typically is. 
"Yes." Valor slaps a hand against his palm. "See, it is beneficial for all of them to be aligned with us, whether they're actually skillful or not."
"How so?"
"If we don't accept them then they'll just join a different alliance and bolster their ranks. Numbers are the key to Victory. Even a skilled combatant will go down if vastly outnumbered by inferior foes."
"What if they're untrustworthy?" Mako asks. From the tone of his voice I can tell he's just throwing the question out there and doesn't actually have any doubts. 
"Then it'll be all the better for them to be close to us. Because if they show any signs of betrayal we can just kill them straight off, and if they abandon us they'll have a hard time convincing any of the others to trust them." 
Alcmene is nodding slowly. You can practically see the gears in her head churning. "Smart. A time tested strategy for sure. You've also studied Games history, I see."
Valor smiles. "I've studied everything."
I can't find any flaws in his logic and neither can any of the others. Seeing that we're all in agreement, Valor turns to tell the recruits the news. Yewan has finished her display and is standing over a dismembered dummy, grinning. The other three are staring at her with expressions ranging from boredom to disbelief. "Good news," Valor begins, oblivious to any of it, "You're all accepted. From this moment on you're Careers, and that means you need to act like one. No slacking, no whining, and no ingratitude. You will all hold yourselves to our standards or face the consequences. Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever!"
I don't know if Valor was expecting them to cheer or something, but the recruits only nod. Well, except Yewan. She lets out a whoop of joy and throws her axe in the air. Everyone else immediately scatters and the nearest instructor begins to scold her as the axe comes back down and smashes into the floor. The entire group turns to stare at the tall girl. 
Yewan grins. "These Games are going to be exciting!"
===Teal Arden (District 6)===
I stare intently at the plant. I study the whorls, memorize the stalks, and observe the bulbs. I watch it so intensely that the plant is no longer a plant. It has become something else. Something more. 
"Okay, now turn around!" My ally Remus gives the instruction and I turn away from the plant, facing the rest of the gymnasium. The sounds of voices and grunting from the other tributes as they train pollute my head and invade my thoughts. Remus' voice carries over it all. "Can you describe the plant for me?"
"Of course! It was...green." My memory fails me. Despite all my staring I can't for the life of me recall a single detail about that plant. "And...uh...leafy."
“It was green and leafy?” Remus' voice is flat. I don't think he's too amused. 
"Yeah. Green and leafy." I try to remember something else about the plant but all the activity around me prevents that. I think I almost remember its pattern but then I catch a glimpse of Lucia running the gauntlets and completely lose my train of thought. "It was definitely green and leafy."
Remus sighs and I turn around. There's two plants on the small table before me, and both of them are indeed green and leafy. Yeah, they also have a bunch of other defining features but at least I got something right. 
Remus is also there. He's standing behind the table with his arms crossed, his dark eyes watching me carefully. I chose him as an ally almost the moment I saw him; he has a combination of cleverness and strength that most people lack. His training uniform can't hide the muscles that lay beneath, and his styled hair shows the care he puts into his own appearance. A small part me—just a small part—can't help but feel he looks and acts like the older brother I never had. 
He taps a foot impatiently. "Can you remember which is Deathsbane and which is Deathsdoor?" 
"Please don't tell me that's their actual names!" Why would anyone give two plants that look almost identical such similar names?
"That is correct. This one," He gestures at the plant on the left, "is Deathsbane. The juices inside its stem apparently have healing benefits. Deathsdoor, on the other hand, has juices that are deathly poisonous."
"Why would they name a healing plant something like Deathsbane?" 
The look Remus gives me shows that he thinks the answer should be obvious. "Deathsbane is a clever name, since the plant is the bane of death."
I throw up my hands in mock despair. "This is useless! Why are we even wasting time on this stuff? We need to be training with the weapons! I won't stand a chance in a fight if I don't!"
When the training period first started I was amongst the weapons. I drifted from station to station trying to find a weapon that fit me. There was one weapon, a chained mace, that I was really getting into when I met Remus. He stopped to watch me practice for a bit before commenting that my chosen weapon was "impractical for actual combat" and prompting a conversation between us that quickly led to our alliance. But right then the Careers finally moved from their position beside the elevators and started up their "recruitment". Remus didn't want to stick around for that because the Capitol tributes typically join up with the Careers and he didn't want them to notice that he hadn't. So he dragged me here to the plant identification station and that's where we've stayed. 
But the Careers recruitment has ended and now the weapon stations are free again. 
"Learning this information is vitally important," Remus says patiently. "Neither one of us has innate knowledge about plants and it's paramount that we learn as much as possible before we raise into the arena—otherwise we may make a mistake that leads to our deaths."
"You're not worried about weapons because you're already trained," I say flippantly. Remus was probably trained in an Academy or something and doesn't think he needs the extra time with weapons, but I have no such experience.
"Someone in our alliance needs to know about plants or we may wind up dead." Remus is so adamant about this that I just sigh and shake my head. Obviously I won't change his mind.
"Fine. But how about we just find another ally? One who knows about plants?"
Remus shrugs. "If you think you can then go ahead. I'm not remiss to the idea of having one more ally."
I nod and turn my attention to the other stations. The Careers consist of all the tributes from District's 1, 2, and 4, as well as four recruits. Obviously none of them are possible allies. My gaze slides along to the Rope Course, where Notcher is getting ready for his turn. He could be a good ally, except...something about his eyes unnerve me. I can't help but feel like the second I turned my back to him he'd plant a knife in it.
Next I study the survival stations and the tributes assembled there. The siblings from 9 are building a shelter, but I dismiss them out of hand. They'd be more concerned about each other than us. Killen is building a campfire and laughing as the flames catch on his kindling. Maybe he'd be a good ally. The third tribute I notice is Solomon. He's crouched at the trapping station, his face concealed by the hood of a black jacket which he wears over his training uniform. 
While I never heard of him or the supposed Tragedy of the Eudia back in District 6, I have overheard my mentors and the other tributes talking about him. Solomon is an infamous fugitive wanted for the murder of his family, a famous family whose lineage stretches back to the Dark Days. A true psychopath who cares for nothing but himself. And yet... I can sense a aura of despair around him.
“—and I dare say that I wouldn't quite make that mistake. You understand, Teal?” Remus' voice cuts into my thoughts and I look up and point at Solomon.
"Him. We should ask him for an alliance."
Remus follows my finger to Solomon and frowns. "Him? Ah, him. Is he not the one who they say...murdered his family?"
"Do you know much about him?" I continue watching Solomon. He has looked up from his trap and is staring across the gymnasium at the Careers and, most likely, his sister Alcmene. His grey eyes are filled with sorrow.
Sorrow? That doesn't fit with his reputation.
"Not much, I'm afraid. The Tragedy occurred during I time when I was...Ah, that is to say, I was quite reclusive during that time frame. I don't very much..." Remus trails off, tugging at his collar. He seems embarrassed for some reason, but I don't dwell on him. My whole focus is on Solomon.
I like to think that my time working for Starling gave me a pretty good judge of character. I've made enough mistakes to know who not to trust. And right now my senses are telling me that Solomon isn't the psychotic murderer everyone says he is. 
"I think we should ask him," I say.
Remus gives a small shake of his head. "Very well. We can ask, but do not be surprised if he declines our invitation."
The two of us make our way to the trap station, bypassing Chrome as he studies at the edible bug station. Solomon sees our approach and glances around, as if looking for an escape, but he remains where he is as we stop right in front of him. He stares up at us with impassive grey eyes.
He's not the murderer everyone thinks he is. I can see that even more clearly now that I'm up close. I can't explain why I feel that way, can hardly even understand it myself, but I know it's true. I open my mouth. "We want you to be our—" 
"Pass." Solomon turns away and adjusts his hood so that it conceals more of his face. "I have no need for allies."
Remus is staring at me with a look that says "I told you so" and that really aggravates me. Time to play my trump card. I fix Solomon with a solid stare. "You didn't kill your family."
His head whips around so fast that I actually step back in alarm. There's a passion in his eyes now. A cold, threatening passion. "What makes you think," His voice is slow, his words clipped. He keeps looking back and forth between me and Remus. "that I didn't murder my family?"
"I can just tell. There's a...feeling around you. And the way you're acting betrays you. Not to mention how mournful you look every time you see Alcmene."
"She won't even look at me," He mutters more to himself than me. Shaking his head, he brusquely stands. "You're wrong, anyway. I did kill my family. All of them except Alci. I took a sword and murdered them."
"But you regret it," The words leave my lips without thought. Solomon stares at me like I'm crazy, but I force myself to keep going. "You regret everything you did. You're...I don't know. Trying to make amends."
"Teal..." Remus tugs on my sleeve but I shake him off. 
"I want you for an ally, Solomon. I don't care what you did. As long as you're willing to tell us the truth—whenever you feel it's necessary—I don't care what you've done, or what you're planning."
 
I'm trembling. With fear or nerves, I don't know. But my voice remained solid. Implacable. Solomon may be fooling himself, but he can't fool me. He's not a bad person.
He's not.
Solomon doesn't respond right away. He knocks over his half-made trap with one foot and steps on it, breaking it into pieces as he twists his heels. "I'll join your alliance, but only because it's useful for me to have allies. Not because...not because of what you said."
I allow myself a small smile. Tatius always said I had a strong force of will. Maybe he was right. But now that we have Solomon on our side...our alliance just got that much stronger.
===Briar Destry (District 10)===
I toss a knife at the target, grimacing as the blade spins sideways and misses the circular board entirely. Another miss. I knew that my skill with weapons—or lack of skill—was going to be a problem for me, but I never imagined just how poorly I'd perform. That was my fifth knife thrown and the fifth knife to completely miss the target.
"Good effort!" Damian flashes me an encouraging smile as he steps up to take his own turn. Our other allies, Faren and Aiko, stand just behind him. 
I feel my own smile as I watch them. Damian and I knew going into training that we had to try and bolster our alliance, and so far we've done pretty well.
We approached Aiko the moment Kassius blew his whistle. I'd seen her during the Reapings and at the Chariot Rides, and I knew that I wanted her for an ally. She is only twelve years old, still young, innocent, and full of life. There was no way I'd let her enter the arena alone. 
Her face broke out into a broad smile the second we made our proposal, telling us how happy she'd be knowing that she'd have friends to play this game with. My own smile had slipped momentarily at that. I thought that Aiko must not fully understand the ramifications of the Games. Why else would she be so excited? Of course, that has only strengthened my desire to protect her. 
But she'll have to die if you wish to return to Tasha. A small voice murmurs in the back of my head. All these people, my allies whom I'm trying to bond with, will have to die if I want to return home. Only one tribute survives the Games.
Only one.
As I try to push these dark thoughts away, I notice Damian has finished with the knives. He did better than I did. Each of his five knives hit the target, though all of them struck on the edge and none with much force. He grins as he turns to us. "That was pretty good, right?"
"That was excellent!" I give him a smile and nod as Aiko takes her turn. I watch her with silent trepidation. We've been training for awhile now, and I've noticed that my smallest ally has...a strange affinity for weaponry. I don't know why or how she's so skilled, and I feel it'd be too obtrusive to ask. 
Aiko throws the first knife and it hits the exact center of the bullseye. She gives a little jump of excitement, her twin ponytails bobbing. "Wow! Didja see that? It was almost as easy as throwing needles!"
Beside me Faren adjusts his glasses. "Th-that was quite impressive, Aiko." 
We recruited Faren not long after Aiko. We found him by the gauntlets, watching some of the other tributes running. He's a slender and rigid boy, built like a rod with shaggy espresso hair that obscures most of his face. His grey eyes widened when I first offered him an alliance, as if he couldn't believe we'd want someone like him. 
I can't imagine anyone better for my alliance. From first sight I could tell he was a gentle soul, and since joining I've come to learn a little more about him and know that he's exactly the kind of person I want at my side in the arena. 
But he'll have to die eventually.
"Thanks!" Aiko grins at Faren and throws her next two knives. Both of these also hit the bullseye. Yet again I have to wonder how a twelve year old has such skill. I'm sure that, in time, Aiko will tell me herself, but...
Her last two knives strike the bullseye and Damian gives a low whistle. "I wouldn't want to be on your bad side!"
"You don't have to worry! You're my friend, and I don't harm my friends!"
Somehow that's simultaneously reassuring and worrisome. Aiko definitely hasn't had an easy childhood, yet that knowledge only increases my desire to protect her. I want to protect all of them. I don't wish for any of us to die. Maybe there's a way to avoid death. There has to be one.
Right?
Faren passes up his own opportunity to go and we drift away from the station as two of the Career recruits, Zekel and Matiss, take our place. I don't know why they joined the Careers. Neither of them seem like awful people.
"Are we done gathering allies?" Damian asks me as Aiko and Faren rush off to the Trap-Making station. Faren seems particularly eager for that one. 
"No," I say quietly. Damian is my most trusted ally, since I've known him since the Reaping, but both Aiko and Faren have grown on me in our short time together. "Not yet."
My eyes take in the other stations and the tributes at them. I want to gather together all the so-called weaklings, all of the underdogs. I want us to band together and show that we're more than just what they think of us. Our alliance isn't done growing; not yet.
The Careers are obviously out. I wouldn't want any of them even if they were willing. The girl at the Ropes Course, Mercia, is also out. She's from the Capitol, for one, and the feeling I get when I look at her isn't a pleasant one. Aiko's District partner Notcher is currently sparring with an instructor in hand-to-hand combat and, while I would normally entail the idea of aligning with someone like him, something about his eyes...unnerves me.
"What about her?" Damian has been studying the tributes just as much as I have. He points at the tree climbing station, where the girl named Kia is attempting to scale the tallest tree. She's scrawny, with long limbs and thick, matted black hair. Not much to look at, but something about the determination in her eyes intrigues me.
"She could be a good ally," I admit. She doesn't appear to be outwardly negative, at any rate. "Let's go talk to her."
By the time we reach her station the girl has slid back down the tree and is scowling in frustration. She whips her head around to glare at us. "What do you want?"
Damian holds his hands up. "We just wanted to talk. That's all."
"We were wondering if you'd fit in our alliance," I say truthfully. Her glare is replaced with a frown as she glances from me to Damian. 
"Is it just you two?"
"No. We have two others." I point out Faren and Aiko at the trap station. Faren seems to be in the middle of some elaborate contraption as Aiko watches him with eyes wide as saucers. 
Kia scans the both of them then goes right back to studying us. She's silent for so long that I begin to wonder if she'll ever speak. When she does, her voice is slow and quiet. "You don't...you're all from lower Districts. Not much skill, here."
"I want my allies to be good people. I don't care how skilled they are." There's safety in numbers, and a sense of belonging. I have no desire to throw in with a murderous psychopath.
Kia nods. "Makes sense, I suppose." Her eyes flicker to Damian. "You're pretty tall. Have to be good at something, yeah?"
He looks at his feet. "N-no, not really. I'm just...a disappointment."
There's an unspoken undercurrent to his words, almost as if he's quoting someone. But I don't have time to puzzle that out right now. "I think you'd fit in with our alliance, Kia."
Something that might be surprise flashes in her eyes. "Really. And what makes you think that?"
"You seem like a kind person. And I don't think you want to enter the arena alone." I know I don't. I'm honestly frightneed of the idea. As much as I tell myself that I'm gathering allies for strategy, that I'm trying to protect them, a part of me knows that's not the whole truth. A part of me is simply terrified to be alone. 
Kia laughs. "I wouldn't presume that much about me, if I were you. But still, you're not completely wrong." 
"So will you join us?" Damian looks up hopefully. He must be as eager for more allies as I am. 
The lunch bells rings out. 
The air screams with the sound of sneakers on linoleum floors as half the tributes practically run to the cafeteria. Kia watches them go, an amused expression on her face. "You know what? I'll have lunch with you guys and think it over. Who knows? Maybe you'll convince me." She tosses her thick braids over her shoulder and heads off the the cafeteria.
I watch her go with a smile, knowing that I just found myself another ally.
===Talia Migonette (District 3)=== 
I sit alone in the corner of the cafeteria, staring silently at my tray as I use a fork to push my vegetables around. All around me the other tributes eat their own meals. Some sit in silence like me, while others talk loudly and laugh uproariously. Most of the noise comes from the Careers, who sit at a long table in the center of the cafeteria. I try to avoid looking at them. I wish to give them no cause to target me once the Games begin. 
The other tributes haven't formed many alliances of their own. There's a trio sitting near me, consisting of Remus, Teal, and Solomon. I don't quite understand what brought them together. Many of the other tributes have gone out of their way to avoid Solomon, calling him some sort of kin-killer. But why would Teal and Remus align with him? If he was capable of murdering his own family, what makes them think he'd have the slightest hesitation about murdering allies?
I let my gaze pass over them and onto the next table, where a group of loners sit. Chrome seems to be in the middle of some story, making grand sweeping motions with his hands. The others at the table, Shiloh, Mercia, and Killen, appear to be paying him little attention.
Several more tables lay tucked away in the opposite corner of mine. The boy from 8, Notcher, sits at one of these. His left hand drums the table as his blue eyes gaze out at the other tributes. I can't quite place my finger on it, but something about him unnerves me. Maybe it's his defiant scowl?
Suddenly worried he'll see me watching him, I pull my gaze away and turn to stare off into the distance. But instead my eyes settle on the Gamemakers, seated above us in their semi-circle balcony. None of them seem to be paying much attention to us; they're more focused on the food laid out before them. Yet the table beside their own is a different scene.
President Stryker's potential successors watch us tributes with a keen gaze, ignoring the food on their plates. One of them, a dark-haired man with cold blue eyes, taps the woman beside him on the shoulder and points at one of the tables. It's the one with Solomon and his allies. 
At first I think that they're just interested in the infamous kin-killer, but when I focus on the heirs, really focus, it quickly becomes apparent that all of them have their eyes set on a different table. The oldest among them, the man who Watt told me was the President's brother, has eyes only for the Careers. The young blond man has one foot propped over the armrest of his chair, swirling a glass in his hand as he gazes out at the table of loners. The fat balding man is pacing back and forth, occasionally stopping to wipe the sweat from his head with a handkerchief. And Ereven Newcastle, the only one I recognize thanks to all his company's ads in District 3, seems to be staring directly at...me?
"Hello! We were—"
I yelp and nearly jump out of my seat. A group of tributes, one of the alliances I hadn't paid attention to, has surrounded my table. Their leader, a thin girl with olive skin and a long dark braid, gives me a small smile.
An irrational part of my mind thinks that they've noticed me studying the others and have decided to put a stop to it. I'm a threat and they want me gone. I snatch a fork off the table, intending to defend myself with it. I'll... I don't know. Stab at their eyes, maybe.
"You don't have to be so nervous!" One of the others, a tall, handsome boy named Damian laughs. He looks like his leader, with darker skin and almond shaped brown eyes. If I didn't know better I could have mistaken the two for siblings. 
My mouth works but no words come out. What do they want? My initial panic has faded; I'm no longer concerned they're going to kill me. But what else could a group this big want with someone like me? I eye the three members standing behind Briar and Damian. All of them are scrawny and ill fed. A spot of color blooms in my cheeks as I realize that I'm healthier and more well-fed than most of the non-Career tributes.
"I-I'm sorry!"
Damian blinks. "Sorry for what?"
I feel so stupid and worthless in this moment. I stare at my shoes and find myself wishing they'd just walk away before I make an even bigger fool of myself. 
"Hey, it's okay. It's okay." I feel someone sit down across from me and look up to see Briar watching me. "You didn't do anything wrong. It was our fault. We shouldn't have surprised you like that."
"I'm sorry." I shouldn't be surprised so easily. I should have expected someone to approach me in such a crowded area. But I've never been comfortable with people. Not unless Vivienne or someone is around. 
"It's fine," Briar's smile is warm and genuine. I can almost see myself liking this girl. If we were outside the Games, I mean. "We just wanted to know if you had any interest in joining our alliance."
My mouth goes dry. They want an alliance? With me? But why? I'm weak and worthless. Stupid and unapproachable. This can't be true. It must be some sort of trick or something. 
But Briar doesn't seem like the type of person to lie.
"Why do you want me?" I ask quietly. I'm staring at my shoes again. Waiting for the carpet to be pulled out from underneath me. 
"I want good, kind people as allies, Talia. People like Kia, Faren, and Aiko." I look up as she names the three standing behind Damian. All of their faces seem inviting enough, though there is a hard edge in Kia's eyes. "We don't care how skilled you are, or how much of a threat you'll be. As long as you just be yourself you'll fit right in."
I want to accept the offer. I want it so badly. But how do I know it's true? How could I trust it? None of them seem like liars or cutthroats but...
"C-can I think about this?" The words stammer out of my mouth before I even fully think it through. "Could I...get back to you tomorrow?"
I expect them to deny the request, to tell me that I'm no longer wanted, but Briar only smiles. "That's fine, Talia," She stands and walks back to her allies. "Take all the time you need. If you want to join us, we'll accept you. And if you don't then I'll accept that decision as well." 
I watch them as they depart. There's some sort of emotion building in my chest, but I can't quite put a name to it. I wish there was someone I could talk to about this. Someone I could trust. I wanted Zekel to be that person, but he joined the Careers. I don't blame him for that. I've seen his eyes and despite his hard words and stoic exterior, I know that, on the inside, he's frightened out of his mind.
Just like I am.
===Maximo Gallardo (District 6)===
As lunch ends and the tributes return to their training, I stretch my arms and grin to myself. The food at the cafeteria was excellent. Not as good Carson or his mom's cooking, true, but that's a hard bar to reach. Not much is...
Thoughts of Carson bring thoughts of Gavin and the ill-fated expedition we took into the 327th arena. The demonic entity we encountered there and the fate that befell Gavin. I don't care what the official records say, or what physically drove the knife into his chest, I firmly believe that demonic spirits influence led to Gavin's death. 
And that same influence led to me being Reaped.
The Paranormal Action Squad may not be able to survive past the death of both its founders. That's one of the reasons why I can't die in these Games. And how could I get vengeance for Gavin if I was dead? I mean, I don't know how I'm supposed to do that alive, yet, but I'm working on it. 
I fold my arms and lean against a pillar, watching the other tributes resume training. I spent the entire morning training with the swords and brushing up on my skills. I'm enough of a realist to know that I'll never beat a Career in a head-on fight, but I can make sure I'm good enough to beat all the other tributes.
To win, though, will require some help. Team members, so to speak. The Paranormal Action Squad has taught me that teamwork is paramount to success and that, if I were to make a mistake, I could count on a teammate to pick up my slack. With the stakes being as high as they are, I can't allow myself to make a mistake without someone there to assist me. So I need an alliance. 
But who? 
My eyes settle on the pair from District 9. The siblings. They're practicing with spears, though neither one seems to be that good with the weapon. An excellent opportunity for me, then! 
I saunter over and casually lean against a rack holding several of the spears. The brother, Harmon, is going through some forms and doesn't notice me right away. His sister, Discordia, jumps at the mere sight of me. She's taller than I am, with long, wavy hair that cascades down her shoulders. She's beautiful, but from what I can tell that's pretty much the beginning and end of her list of skills. 
"What's up?" I reach out for a handshake. "My name is Maximo and I was thinking that it'd be in our best interest if we—"
"Harmon!" Discordia frantically pats her brother on the shoulder and he spins around, eyes flaring as he searches for an enemy. When he only sees me casually waving at him he sighs and shakes his head.
"Cora, you can't panic every time someone approaches you."
Her face turns bright red. "I... I know that! But he..."
"I was wondering if we could form an alliance," I say conversationally. "It'd be beneficial for us all."
"How so?" Harmon sounds interested as he sets the spear back on the rack. Good. If he's taking my bait, then I can reel him right in. Just like ghost hunting!
"You two make a pretty formidable duo, true, but you're missing a certain...je ne sais quoi." 
The expressions they give me show they have no idea what I said. Harmon blinks. "A certain what?"
"Sorry, sorry. It's an old language. It means a quality that cannot be described or named easily."
Their expressions don't change. Well, this isn't going as well as I'd hoped. Better change tactics. No more fancy words. "Look, I can't help but notice that the two of you, while strong, are missing a central component of your alliance. Namely, someone to take the brunt of the conflict."
Harmon frowns and taps his chin. His sister merely shrinks behind him, watching me with wide eyes. She's one of the oldest tributes here and yet she is by far the most frightened. Odd. 
"Your sister clearly isn't cut out for combat," I continue, reaching the heart of my point. "And you're too devoted to her. In any actual fight you're going to focus too much on her safety and miss the obvious. You're going to make a mistake, and that will spell disaster for the both of you." 
Harmon actually seems to be listening to what I'm saying. He nods along, eyes focused on mine. "I understand that, of course. But I have to protect Cora. I can't ignore her."
"Of course not. But that's where I come in! I'll be that third wheel, the guy who steps up and takes action when it all hits the fan! My personality will be the gel that makes your dysfunctional ones work!"
I have a much longer spiel prepared, but Harmon cuts me off by raising a hand. I smile and shut my mouth. Looks like I just gained myself two allies and I didn't even need the full speech! 
Harmon throws a glance at his sister, who is still hidden behind his shoulder. "Look, I appreciate the offer, but I—we can't accept. The two of us will stay alone, if you don't mind."
My smile falters but I force it to stay on my face. I thought for sure...Whatever. No biggie. I have other options. I shrug, as if I couldn't care less they declined my offer. "Whatever floats your boat, man. Just remember what I said. You'll need someone else if you want to survive." I turn and walk away before they respond.
I bypass several other tributes as I zigzag through the weapon stations. The trio I want is located in the section with the heavier weaponry; the maces, staves, and axes. The two guys wait on the edge of a training mat as the girl practices with a chained mace. Teal.
My district partner.
I allow myself a confident smile. Thanks to Teal's presence, I already have an easy in with this alliance. I've known her since the Reaping and can't imagine a situation where she turns my offer down. I mean, sure, I haven't made the best impression so far but you can hardly blame me for that.
I spent most of last night investigating District 6's apartments for ghosts, but not very successfully. It wasn't my fault; I didn't have any of my equipment from home, making it an exercise in futility to begin with, but I did manage to upset Teal. I asked her if she'd mind helping me out and in response she just told me "ghosts don't exist" and locked herself in her room. 
Now, I've been ghost hunting long enough to recognize someone who is frightened of spirits when I see one. Teal is afraid of ghosts. And the fact she kept her rooms lights on all night practically confirms it. 
Hopefully I didn't frighten her too badly. 
Remus and Solomon turn to stare me as I approach. I wave at them and then watch Teal as she trains with the mace. When she's done she throws the weapon aside and walks over to us, accepting a towel from an instructor along the way. "Maximo, what do you want from me?" She wipes the sweat from her face and fixes me with a stern look.
I grin. "I have an offer for you guys! But don't worry, I won't mention ghosts."
Teal scowls. Beside her Remus mouths the word "ghosts" and rubs his chin. "What's your offer?" She ignores the subject of ghosts as I expected. "It better not be anything...stupid again."
I can tell what she's thinking and my grin widens. Does she really think I'd ask her alliance to help me search the gymnasium for ghosts? Well, it's not exactly a bad idea. "It's not stupid, trust me. I just want to know if it's possible to make this trio into a quartet, if you know what I mean."
Remus tugs at his collar. "I'm sorry, but you have this all wrong. Our relationship isn't like that. It's strictly platonic, you see."
There's a long silence as we all look at each. The grin covers my entire face, my amusement impossible to hide. Solomon keeps his own face blank, but Teal facepalms. "Remus, he was talking about our alliance!"
"Oh!" His face colors with embarrassment. "Oh. I...I knew that."
"You want to join us?" Teal is still smiling at Remus' embarrassment. "I have to say I didn't expect that. Thought you'd be the loner type."
"Your alliance is already a surprising trio, wouldn't you say?" Solomon is that famous kin-killer and Remus is a member of one of those Great Families of the Capitol while Teal is, as far as I know, just an ordinary District 6 girl. What drew them all together to begin with? Do they even know about Remus? I'm not sure if his identity is common knowledge or not; I only know because of my family's own prominence in District 6. "Surely me joining wouldn't be too unexpected?"
"I'm not sure..." Teal sounds hesitant and I can't help but feel her fear of the paranormal is the root of that hesitation. I'm debating how I should go about changing her mind when she shrugs. "I mean, I don't exactly have a problem with you joining but..."
"Unfortunately we'll have to pass on your offer," Remus cuts in with one of those damn polite smiles of his. "Our alliance is already quite big enough and I don't think we need another body among us. It could get too hectic, you see."
Disappointment has begun to stir in my chest. Another plan foiled. "This isn't because I embarrassed you is it?"
His smile tightens but his voice remains unfalteringly polite. "No, of course not. I wouldn't let something as petty as that dictate my line of thought."
"Oh. Good," I run a hand over my head, feeling very put out. "Thought I might have offended you. I can never tell with you Great Family types."
Remus winces. From the expressions of the two at his side I can tell that they hadn't realized who he was. Whoops? 
"Look, hey, maybe if we don't make an alliance we can still have a truce?" I really don't want to walk away from this conversation empty handed. There's only so much failure I can take. 
Remus turns away from me. I frown at his back before turning hopefully to the others. Solomon only stares back at me, but Teal offers another shrug. "I'm fine with a truce, Maximo," She doesn't sound upset, which is a good sign. I was worried I'd burnt my bridges. "But I don't know exactly what that would entail, other than us agreeing not to harm one another."
"That's enough for me. I mean, it's one less alliance gunning for my head, you know?" I laugh and make a joke about winning these Games singlehanded. I don't think either of them finds it very funny. Waving me off, the two of them walk away, Teal quietly murmuring about Remus' family as she goes. 
I watch them go with an uneasy feeling. I don't know how much I can trust in this truce. Teal won't harm me, of course, but whose to say that Remus will abide by it? Or Solomon? That guy murdered his family for crying out loud! You can't trust him an inch! He might just kill both Teal and Remus in their sleep! 
Huh. Yeah, maybe it's a good thing I didn't align with them. 
I spend the next hour just wandering the gymnasium, occasionally stopping to examine some of the other tributes. At one point I head back to the cafeteria to get a soda, then wander over to the hammock station and lie in a hammock Chrome made. Maybe an alliance just isn't in the cards. Can't say that I expected both of my top choices to deny me. Is this the influence of the demonic spirit? A chill runs down my back that has nothing to do with the ice cold soda in my hands.
If the spirit is still haunting me...
When I finish the soda I rise from the hammock and approach the last tribute on my list of possible allies. I spotted her at the knife station earlier, and that's exactly where I find her. She's chucking knives at the dummies with a grin so wide that it's actually kinda unsettling.
"Hey, little girl, what's up?"
Aiko turns to face me, twin ponytails swaying as she bounces on her feet. "Hello, mister! Do you want to play with me?"
I eye the knife in her hand warily. "Uh...that depends on the game, I guess."
She looks me up and down. A frown settles on her face. "You don't look so good at games. Maybe we can play an easy one."
Okay, so this little girl is a little abnormal. That's alright. I'm a paranormal investigator. I deal with abnormal on a daily basis. "I'm down to play. What type of game is it?"
She splays her hands, revealing the two knives she had hidden in her sleeve. "We juggle these and pass them back and forth to each other! The first one to drop loses!"
I suddenly have the vivid image of a dropped knife impaling me in the foot. "Don't you know any...less dangerous games?"
Aiko goes still. She stares at one of the knives, reflection glinting off the blade. "I used to," Her voice is quiet, almost forlorn. "But I had to stop playing them. They didn't like those games."
I'm not sure what I was thinking, approaching this deranged little girl. Clearly something in life has messed her up. But I can't turn back now. I've almost exhausted all of my options. "Look, Aiko, how about we become allies?"
"Allies?"
"Yeah, you know, friends or whatever." I feel pretty pathetic having to beg a little girl for an alliance. How did this all go so wrong? 
"I already have friends."
"Yeah, I'm sure you do." I don't think she realizes what I'm talking about here. Stupid little girl. "But I mean when we're in the arena. You know, we'll fight together. I'll use my amazing skills and devilish good looks to get us supplies, and you can...I don't know, juggle knives or something."
She stares up at me with dark, tilted eyes. "You're funny."
I chuckle. “Of course I am! I'm the funniest guy I know! See, when we're in the arena we can—”
"I didn't mean in the "ha-ha" way."
I snap my mouth shut. Is she messing with me? I think the little girl is messing with me. I don't like that. "Look, what I'm trying to say is—"
"I already have an alliance."
"What? Really? With who?" I hadn't noticed her with any of the other alliances, but I also wasn't paying that much attention earlier in the day.
She points out at the group of tributes that formed around the pair from District 10. Right now they're in line to run the gauntlets. "If you want to join us you can ask Briar. I'm sure she'll let you. Briar is very nice."
"Yeah, no thanks." My hands clench into fists. Yet another possible alliance lost! "See ya later, kid. Try not to get stabbed in the bloodbath or whatever."
I stalk towards the elevators, completely and utterly dejected. Briar's alliance consists of all the weaklings that no one else wanted. If I joined up with them I'd be the strongest among them and anyone seeking to cut the head off the snake would try to kill me. I don't need that kind of target on my back. 
There's no point in sticking around any longer. Though the training period has a little more than an hour left, most of the other tributes have already turned in for the night. Only Aiko and her alliance, the Careers, and Teal's trio remain. Oh, and the boy from District 8. But I'm not about to ask him for an alliance—his eyes unnerve me. 
I practically punch the elevator button. When the doors slide open I lean against the wall and cross my arms. Today has been an abject failure, and not even the thought of another night investigating the apartment for ghosts can bring me solace. Am I truly being haunted by the same entity that killed Gavin? Has it followed me all the way here? Will it come with me into the arena?
As the elevator rides up, I swear I can hear laughter.
===Remus Ring (The Capitol)===
I move my body slowly, surely, forcing all miscellaneous thoughts out of my head. The training period is drawing to a close. A long day spent honing my body and skills. I stand in the center of the gym, going through my forms. Back home I always ended a training session with the forms. It brings me peace. Clarity.
Solomon stands at my side. He, too, makes his way through the forms. I was surprised that he knew them. Not many people do. But there's a lot about Solomon that is surprising. I've watched him over the course of the day, and have learned that he is truly skilled combatant. I have been observing many of the other tributes and he is one of the few who I believe could beat me in a hand-to-hand fight. Him and the male Careers are the only ones who might.
The forms come to an end. I drop my arms to the side and take a deep breath, then exhale. My body aches with the pleasureable soreness that accompanies every good work out. Beside me Solomon finishes his own form. He does not pause, merely stepping off the mat and joining Teal.
She gives a slow clap. "I have no idea what that was, but I'm impressed."
With her darker hair and skin tone that almost perfectly matchs mine, I cannot help but feel she looks like the younger sister I never had. Her tendency towards rash impulsiveness makes that assessment even truer. "It was a form," I say, accepting the towel Solomon hands me. "It helps with balance and honing your movements. Not useful in actual combat, however."
Kassius blows his whistle, bringing the training period to an end. The instructors usher us away from the stations and the three of us quietly make our way towards the elevators, where the other tributes are gathering. Besides for us only the Careers and Notcher remain. Teal studies them with searching eyes.
Though she hasn't said anything about it, I cannot help but feel she has treated me differently since Maximo revealed the truth about my connection with the Great Families. It's not that I had intended to mislead them; I merely thought it was useless information. My family will be of little assistance in the arena. And, despite what he may think, I did not deny Maximo his alliance because of any offense he may have caused me. No. I only... I can only protect so many people. I will stretch myself thin trying to protect the two I already have. If I were to add more...
"It seems fate has finally caught up to you, kin-killer," The boy from District 1 and the leader of the Careers, Valor, calls out to Solomon as he and his District partner wait for their elevator. "For the arena will most assuredly become your tomb."
I glance at Solomon, worried he may react impulsively, but he doesn't so much as twitch. He stands still, face impassive as he watches the District 1 pair. I know that the girl, Alcmene, is his sister. The only member of his family who he did not murder. She stares at her shoes, body trembling with some unknowable emotion. It's almost as if she's straining herself to avoid seeing Solomon.
The elevator doors slide open. Alcmene and Valor step inside, but not without some parting words. "I'd watch your back, traitor. If you're not careful the kin-killer will stick a knife in it!"
It takes a moment before I realize he was talking to me. "A traitor, am I?" I murmur to myself. Well, I expected they'd react negatively to my refusal to align with them.
"They don't know the real you," Teal says to Solomon as he hits the button for his own elevator. He seems to be hidden even deeper in the folds of his hood, if that were possible. "So just ignore them."
"She can't even bear to see my face..." His voice is a whisper, almost inaudible. It doesn't seem as if he heard Teal. I can hardly begin to understand what he is feeling. Despite what Teal says, I am not so sure he isn't the monster everyone says he is. Or, at least, not certain he wasn't once that monster. The boy I see before me right now hardly seems likely to murder me in my sleep, yet I can't discredit the rumors. The Capitol has rarely been wrong to that extent. 
Solomon steps into the elevator and is whisked out of sight. I glance up at the mezzanine as I await my own elevator. While the Gamemakers are still seated at their table, the one next to theirs is empty. The heirs all departed about an hour and a half before the training period ended. I wonder why they're even here? Surely they'd have more important matters to oversee.
I wave goodbye to Teal as my elevator arrives. It is a short ride to the Capitol apartments, the very top floor of the Training Center. The apartments are quiet when I arrive, with no sign of Mercia or my mentors. They must have turned in for bed early. I make my way towards my room, stomach twinging uneasily at the sight of the Avoxes that scurry out of my sight. They seem more nervous than usual. I cannot fathom why.
When I reach my room I push the door open and peel the sweaty shirt off my back, tossing it aside. I should probably take a shower, but right now I only feel like—
There is someone in my room.
I freeze midstride as I spot her. She's seated on the edge of my bed, sitting cross-legged as she stares up at me with ruby red lips stretched back into a wide smile. Her long blonde hair hangs loose around her shoulders, pale arms hidden by the voluminous sleeves of her black kimono.
Aurilee Stryker.
My mouth moves but no words come out. This is unprecedented. This should not be. The President's daughter in a tributes room? In my room? 
"Hello, Remus. I've waited ever so long to speak with you!" Her long eyelashes flutter as she gets to her feet, movement as graceful as a swan. A few steps have her standing before me. One finger pokes my bare chest. "It has been too many years since our last conversation. Have you missed me? I've surely missed you."
It's hard to think. She's so close. The room smells strongly of lilacs, a sweet, heady scent that is almost cloying. I take a step back. "Why are you here? What do you want?" My eyes take in the rest of my room. There is no one else in sight and nothing seems to be out of place. Nothing but Aurilee. 
She crosses her arms, pouting. "Must I have an ulterior motive? Is visiting an old friend not reason enough?"
Her soft blue eyes seem endless. I could drown in them, if I'm not careful. With great effort, I pull my gaze away. "You always have an ulterior motive, Aurilee. Ever since we were children."
She giggles. "You know me too well, Remus. Truth be told, I do have a meaning for this visit beyond wishing to see you in person again."
The two of us had been friends as children. We often played pranks together, always at Aurilee's behest. Yet all too often it was her who managed to wiggle us out of punishment when we were caught. What was it that my brother called her? A flower hiding a flytrap?
"Does this have anything to do with the succession?"
Aurilee's eyes twinkle with a mischievous light. "You are a clever boy, aren't you? Yes, my little visit has to do with the succession. Namely, the little game my father has us heirs playing."
"Game?" She is short, so I have to look down at her. "What game?"
Her rosebud mouth twists into a smile. "The game of succession, of course. You see, Father has declared that he wants the 333rd Hunger Games to be a factor in who he decides will replace him as President." That throws me for a loop. How could the Games impact the succession in any way? But it adds up. Why else would the heirs be present at training? Aurilee continues. "He has bid us all to...choose a champion, of sorts. You see, Father wants us all to pick the tribute we most strongly believe will own the Games. Three tributes, actually."
I can put this puzzle together well enough. "And if one of the tributes you selected wins..."
Her smile widens. "Correct. Whichever one of us who correctly chooses the Victor will be named his heir and become the next President."
It is almost insane to think that he'd leave such an important decision up to the whims of the Games. Why let the fate of the entire country ride on something as unpredictable as the Games? "But what of the Gamemakers? Won't they interfere? Or allow one of the heirs to?"
"Oh, no. Vitas Tarquinius has strict orders from
Father to allow no one to interfere. In fact, we are not allowed to even sponsor the tributes." She finishes with an expectant smile. Her sky blue eyes are fixed firmly on my own. 
I know where this is going. I've known it the moment she mentioned a champion. "You want me to be your champion," I say flatly. Why else would she meet with me in my rooms?
That pretty smile widens. "You're clever, Remus. That's why I'm choosing you. Your cleverness matched with your strength will launch you to Victory. And, with your victory, comes mine."
However clever I truly am, I know that it is just a drop in the bucket compared to Aurilee's own intelligence. She'd always been the smartest person I knew, sheer intelligence mixed with a dangerous cunning. She knows exactly how to work someone. As this conversation has gone on I've noticed her tone of voice change. While it's still soft and breathy—her natural sound, I remember—it's no longer sickeningly sweet. Is that a sign she's not trying to manipulate me? Or something else?
"I don't see why you're telling me this," I say, still painfully conscious of her closeness. "I am already trying my hardest to win. I don't particularly need any further motivation." 
Aurilee steps forward and I instinctively step back. She giggles. "I'm not going to hurt you, Remus."
"I know that!" I speak too quickly. I'm flustered. Embarrassed. I wish I still had my shirt. "It's just...why are you telling me this? There must be more to this than just choosing a champion."
Aurilee reaches out and touches my chin. She trails a hand down to my chest, giggling at how I recoil. "Just choosing a champion may not be enough," She says so softly I almost have to strain to hear. "Despite what he said, Father may not just appoint the winner of this game President. He has done similar things before. He likes to keep us off our toes."
"It seems you've inherited that trait."
She giggles again. "Perhaps I have. Regardless, the reason I sought you out is because, if Father doesn't keep his word, it'll still be paramount that our most recent Victor support my bid for presidency. The rest of the heirs and myself have already approached all the Victors, trying to sway them to our side, and some of us have even tried talking to the Great Families. It is doubtful that any President would last long without their support."
My own connection to the Great Families will not have been overlooked, of course. I wish Aurilee's mere presence didn't fluster me so. I'll need all my capacity to try and unravel this plot, but it's so hard to focus with her standing right in front of me, her scent practically washing over me. I've never been so close to a girl my own age before. That lack of experience is definitely hindering me right now.
"Remus?" Aurilee is looking at me as if I've missed her last words. I probably did. "You would support me, wouldn't you?"
The look in her eyes makes me want to say yes immediately, but I still have enough sense to hold back. For now. "You mean if I become Victor?"
"Yes." She twirls a lock of her golden hair around one finger, leaning her head back as she looks up at me. I shift uncomfortably. The emotions I feel are...out of sorts.
"What would you do as President? How would you treat the District's?" I don't know why that question pops in my head. I've never thought about the Districts or its citizens before. But today Teal spent a good portion of lunch telling Solomon and I about her life and, though it was intended to make Solomon feel at ease amongst us, I couldn't help but listen in fascination. If Teal is to be believed than life in the Districts is much harder than I had thought. But perhaps I could change that...
Aurilee stares at me as if I've offered her a snake. "How would I treat the Districts? What in the world would make you ask that question?"
I rub the back of my neck, feeling more than foolish. How to explain? "I just... I wanted to know what the difference between you and the others heirs was. How each of you'd rule." From the way Aurilee's eyes flicker, I can tell that she doesn't fully believe me. I'm not surprised. She's always been a smart, observant woman. Yet she doesn't call me on my bluff and only nods.
"Very well. As it regards to the District's, I do think we have been a little too...demanding. District 12 is a good example of this. Had Charce and Soot not pulled it from the brink, it may have gone completely defunct. A District that has starved to death can hardly grant us resources, can it?"
She continues on about treaties and official demands, District quotas and energy shortages, and I find myself nodding in agreement though I haven't the faintest idea what she is going on about. All the time I spent studying has left me lacking in regards to the current political situation in the Districts. It has left me lacking in many ways, true, but especially in this one.
"I am the only Stryker who can right this ship," Aurilee says. Her face has taken on a new light. A sharp cast has been added to the soft features of her face. "Nedry is a complete fool who'd absolutely squab everything up the second he received power. As for my Uncle Escortius? That'd just be kicking the can down the road. He's not much younger than Father and has no children of his own. In a few years we'd be right back where we started!"
"What about your other siblings?" I ask.
She narrows her eyes at me. "Roscoe is a despot in the making. You know that hockey league the District 12 male plays in? They have teams all over Panem and bring both wealth and happiness to the citizenry. Bread and circuses to keep the masses happy. But Roscoe wants them abolished! He says that they're a useless waste of time and money, that we've coddled the District's for far too long, and we need to lead them with a firmer hand. Fool! He'll crush this country into paste!" She takes a deep breath and smooths her hair. "Rozlyn is just Roscoe's puppet, so she doesn't matter. As for this Erevan Newcastle... I don't know what to make of him yet, but I can't imagine Father handing the country over to a non-Stryker. That would be absurd."
I've noticed that she hasn't mentioned one of the heirs yet. "And Dimentio?"
She turns on me, then, eyes suddenly sharp as knives. "What did he tell you? What has he promised? Whatever it is, know that it's a lie!" Her voice is quick and harsh, body trembling with either fear or anger, I cannot tell which. Despite almost being a full foot shorter than me, she somehow seems to loom. "You cannot trust my brother. No matter what he has said."
I don't know what to say or how I should say it. I never expected this level of vitriol to emerge from Aurilee. I've always known she was silk hiding steel, but for her to show this level of antagonism towards her brother...
"Why can't I trust Dimentio?" I ask quietly. 
Aurilee takes a deep breath, seemingly trying to calm herself. It doesn't appear to work. Her hands curl into fists that beat against her thighs. "Dimentio doesn't see people. Not the way we do. To him, humans are nothing more than bags of meat and bone to be manipulated as he sees fit."
That doesn't mesh with my impression of the man, nor of my memories of him hanging out with Julius all those years ago. Dimentio has always come across as charming and well-mannered. When I say this, however, Aurilee shakes her head. "That's exactly what he wants you to think. He has spent his entire life making this disguise. He's fooled every person he's ever met... but he couldn't fool me." I can see fear in her eyes. The Aurilee I knew was a proud girl, one who'd refuse to ever show any sign of fear or weakness. But right now the facade is cracking. Beneath the steel she has layered herself in, I can see the fear. No, not just fear. Terror. Dimentio terrifies her. She takes a deep breath. "Dimentio is the monster they don't know how to write stories about. He is nothing like other people. He can pretend, oh can he pretend, but in the end that's all it is. Pretend. He knows the words but not the music. You cannot trust him."
I still don't fully understand or even believe what she has said, but there is no point in disagreeing. "I believe you. I won't trust Dimentio."
She nods stiffly. The momentary weakness already hidden once more. "No matter what the other heirs offer you, Remus, they cannot and will not offer you the same as what I can."
"And that is?"
Her lips quirk into a sly smile. "The opportunity to rule alongside me. When you help me become President, you'll not being do so as a mere Victor, but also as my husband. The two of us will rule Panem. Together."
My mind blanks at the thought. Marriage. To Aurilee? The very possibility...And if she truly became President? I have no words for such a notion.
"Think this offer over, Remus." Aurilee pats me on the cheek and slips past, opening the door as she heads out. But she pauses with one hand on the knob. "Oh, but before I go, I have one last gift for you."
She departs the room and seconds later a man in a Peacekeeper uniform steps inside.
I break.
All thoughts flee my head. It's hard to breathe. My legs quiver like jelly and I have to grip the wall to remain standing. My world has been shattered. It's...he's...
Julius smiles at me. "It's been a long time hasn't it, Remus?"
My brother. My beloved big brother whom I've believed lost to me forever. Years. It's been years since I saw him. Not since his eighteenth birthday, so long ago. The last time I saw him he was battered and bruised. To see him standing before me...
I hurtle across the room and wrap him in a hug. "I've missed you so much."
His laughter is tight, almost nervous. "I've missed you as well. Still living up to Father's expectations?"
"No." The word is whispered. I'm shaking so badly that I know my grip on Julius is the only thing keeping me up. I pull back, hands on his shoulders, and look him in the face. In my memory he was always so tall and strong that it comes as a shock to note he's shorter than I am now. "I can't ever live up to his expectations. I'm not good enough. I'm not like you."
"You're right," Julius' face is older now, more mature and strained. But his eyes are the same. His kind, gentle eyes haven't changed at all. "You're right about that, Remus. You're not like me. You're better."
My breath comes in a wheezing gasp. A lie. I'm not better than him. No matter what I tried I never could be. Julius is the best person I know. The best there is. How could I be better than that? 
Julius smiles. "You've gotten so big, Remus. My little brother has become a man in my absence."
Those words break the dam. Such an innocuous statement to be what finally did so. I lie my head upon my brother's shoulder and, for the first time since he was sent away, I begin to cry.
==Day 2==
===Solomon Eudia (District 13)===
My eyes snap open and I shoot out of bed. My shirt is slicked to my back. Sweat rolls off me in waves. The room is dark and the walls seem to be pressing in on me. Walls. The tribute apartments. My bedroom.
I sigh and drop back onto the bed, hands pressed to my face. It was just a dream. Or a series of dreams, rather. Aemon was there in the arena with me. Hunting. Stalking. He was whole again and wanted nothing but my death. He put a blade in my back while I traversed a sodden rainforest. 
Alcmene was also present. Always confronting me in the arena. I would throw my weapons down and try to explain, but she'd never listen and refuse to hear me out. So many times I was cut down where I stood, explanation dying on my lips. 
Now that I'm awake I can rationalize the Aemon dreams as silly nightmares. There is no possible way he could get into the arena, even if he was whole and willing. But the dreams of Alcmene? I know that those are far from irrational worries. She spent the entirety of yesterday refusing to even look at me. Her posture was rigid and unapproachable. And her eyes...
Alcmene hates me beyond belief.
I get off the bed and make my way to the wardrobe, slowly getting dressed as I try to think of a path to reconciliation. She'll never just stop and listen to me. In her mind I'm the monster who slaughtered her family. Why would she care to hear my words? But maybe that's it. Maybe it doesn't have to be my words. At least, not at first.
I pull a new shirt over my head, one identical to yesterday's, and take a breath, flexing my hand. Remus and Teal. Part of the reason I accepted their offer of an alliance was because of how it'd appear to Alcmene. If I was truly the disgusting kin-killer, why would nice people like Teal align with me? Maybe it'd put some doubt into her head, maybe not, but it is worth the chance. And if we're still together when I finally meet Alcmene in the arena...
If my sister won't listen to me, then maybe she'll listen to Teal.
I'm aware it's a small chance. That, once I fully explain my story, Teal and Remus might leave me. That Alcmene may refuse to even listen to anyone who isn't a fellow Career. But it's a risk I'll have to take. I am going to try and explain myself to Alci no matter what the risk is. If she kills me in the attempt...
It would be a just fate for a monster such as myself.
When I am fully dressed I depart my bedroom. The hallway is dark and empty as I make my way down to the kitchen. There is no sound at all. Lucia must have already left for training. I don't know much about her, for she has thankfully left me alone these past few days. She doesn't seem to hate me, however, unlike many of the other tributes. I wonder why that is.
When I step into the kitchen I find it full of armed men. 
They're not Peacekeepers. Simply dressed in dark suits, the men wouldn't look out of place in the wealthier portion of District 13. They're not gaudy or ornamental like most ordinary citizens of the Capitol, marking them as among the elite. And they've come for me.
The Capitol must have changed its mind and decided that I won't be allowed in the Games after all. They're going to kill me. Here and now. 
My body goes still as my muscles prepare for flight. I won't allow myself to die until I get to speak with Alcmene. I can't fight them, obviously, so flight is the only option. But where would I even go? We're thirteen stories up and the elevator is behind the cadre of armed guards. How could—
“Solomon Eudia.” 
A man steps out from the group. Tall, with hair as black as night and eyes like two chips of ice, I only recognize him because his face has been plastered everywhere in the past few days. His and his family's. 
Roscoe Stryker.
"What do you want?" I keep my voice flat, emotionless. There's only one thing he'd want with a group of armed men at his back. 
"Solomon Eudia," He says the name slowly, like it's an animal that could hurt him if he were to say it too quickly. "You are an interesting man in many ways. I wish to have a conversation with you."
"I don't have anything to say to you." None of the men have moved for their guns and he hasn't given any sort of order. Maybe they don't want me dead. Yet.
"I believe you do. In fact, I very much think a thank you is in order." 
"Why is that?"
He splays his hands. "I am the man who saved your life. I think it's only appropriate to show me some gratitude, yes?"
I eye his guards. None of them have moved. Most stand with their arms clasped behind their backs or crossed over their chest. One even yawns. They don't view me as a threat. 
Their mistake.
"Now, now, calm yourself, Solomon," Roscoe must have noticed the way my hands tightened at my side. "And drop that knife, if you please. I'd hate if one of my guards got an itchy finger and shot you before your gratitude was shown." 
I drop the knife I'd snatched off the counter when I first spotted the men. "You still haven't explained how you saved my life."
Roscoe pulls up a chair and settles himself down at the table. He makes a sharp motion and one of the men pulls out another, proffering it at me. "I shall explain in due course. Let us sit and have a discussion."
"I prefer to stand." 
This time the guards move. A few finger the guns at their sides, while the one who offered me the chair gives it a kick. Roscoe frowns. The motion draws attention to his severe peak of a nose. "Defiance is well and good, Solomon, but there is a time and place for it. Sit, if you please, or you'll find that I can be harsher than you'd care to know."
I sit. I knew I was pushing my luck to begin with, but I needed to play the part. These people still think I'm the disgusting kin-killer, and that may be the only thing keeping me alive. 
Roscoe waits for me to settle in then he nods approvingly. "Very good. Now, first off, were you aware that my father was good friends with your grandfather?" I did not. I don't know much about my grandfather, and I've never heard about any close friendship he may have had with the President. "Indeed, my Father was very close friends with your grandfather. As close as brothers, some would say. My father thought very highly of the Eudia family. He was, in a word, infuriated when he learned of your...transgression against your family."
I stay silent. I don't know how my persona would react to this. But on the inside I can feel guilt. I shouldn't have done it. Father's abuse, Marcus' taunting, none of it deserved what I did. The sins I committed. 
"My father was enraged when he learned that my uncle did not execute you the moment you revealed yourself on that stage," Roscoe is still speaking, oblivious to the trauma inside me, "He thought you deserved nothing but death, yet he couldn't execute you once the tribute slot was yours. He respects the sanctity of the Games too much for that." He says the word with enough venom for me to know where he stands on that subject. 
I keep my voice flat. "You still haven't explained how you saved my life."
Roscoe looks up sharply. "I am getting to that subject, Solomon." There's a threat in those icy blue eyes of his. No, that's too small of a word. Not a threat. A promise. "Interrupt me again and I'll have your tongue removed. You won't need it in the arena."
I shut my mouth so hard I feel my teeth click. If I can't speak there will be no reunion with Alci. Roscoe nods approvingly. "Ah, yes, that's better. Now where was I? Right. The Games. You see, my father knew that he could not kill you before the Games, but there was nothing stopping him from killing you once they began."
An icy dread grips my heart. The President wants me dead? I have enough threats in the arena without worrying about an unstoppable danger. 
"My father intended to set off the mines underneath your platform before the countdown even ended. You would have been dead before the bloodbath. I, of course, spared you that fate by choosing you as one of my champions."
He pauses dramatically, as if i should understand what that means. I have enough sense to bow my head appreciably. "Thank you."
His lips quirk into something that could almost be a smile. "I accept your thanks, young Solomon. And now, I believe we should discuss the terms of our arrangement, don't you think?"
He begins to explain everything, telling me about the competition President Stryker set up and the rules for it. Each of the heirs chooses three tributes as their "champions" and if one of their selected champions becomes Victor than they win the competition and thus the Presidency. None of the heirs may have the same champion; each one must select three separate, unique tributes. 
It's baffling to me that the Presidency would be decided in such a way, but I am not too surprised. These are the same people who think the Hunger Games are quality entertainment and the pinnacle of human invention, so why not have Games be the deciding factor? Still, something is off.
"There are only seven heirs," I say quietly when Roscoe is done speaking. "And you each have three champions."
He gives me a bored look. "Yes? And what of it?"
"Three times seven is twenty-one, but there are twenty-eight tributes. What happens if one of the seven who aren't chosen win?"
He drums his fingers along the table. "That hardly matters to you, does it?" From the tone of his voice I can tell that he doesn't know. I guess his Father didn't feel the need to tell him. For some reason that amuses me.
I glance at the clock on the wall. The second day of training is only ten minutes away from starting. "May I leave?"
"You may not." He pauses, then peers down his beak of a nose at me and frowns. "Family is such an odd thing, isn't it?"
I don't know how to respond, so I don't. He sighs and leans back in his chair. "Why should we care for people simply because they have the same blood as us? Why does it matter if our parents are the same? Shouldn't our family be the people we choose and not ones thrust upon us by nature?" He gestures at the armed guards around us. "These men are my family. Oh, not by blood, no, but they are truly my family nonetheless. Each and every one of them would die for me, and I for them."
The sword flashes as it kills mother. Father is enraged when he finds me standing over her body, but he too falls to my blade. "I care not one whit for any of my siblings, save Roslyn. They may have the same blood, but they are not and never will be my family." Claude is returning home with Citria and Hyacinth. I approach them with blade drawn. "I know you feel the same. Family is merely an albatross tied around our necks, dragging us down. It is better for us to shed their weight before it does." Marcus comes home too late. I've already killed the rest. He puts up a fight but isn't good enough. He dies all the same. "So that is why I have chosen you as my champion. A kindred soul who understands what so many others do not."
I am dazed. Lost in memories. I see blood on my hands and yet I know it's not there. Roscoe sits across from me, babbling about promises of glory and fame if I only support him as President once I win. I can't see him. I only feel Aemon breathing down my neck. Aemon? No. He's miles away and unable to reach me now. But why...
"Once I become President, I will let it be known that the Eudia family were traitors" Roscoe's words finally reach my ears. I stare at him in astonishment. "I will tell the country that you had uncovered their malicious plot to overthrow the Capitol and plunge the country into anarchy. You killed them all to save your beloved Panem, yet the conspiracy reached further than you thought. Someone high in the government, perhaps one of my siblings, framed you and made up a story of you being a deranged kin-killer, but I discovered the truth and together we brought it to light. No longer will you be decried as a monster. Instead, you will be hailed as a hero!"
He's insane. Roscoe Stryker is bloody insane. He's truly demented enough to think that ploy would work. It's in this moment that I truly understand how the Capitol views me. How sick and twisted they think I am. 
How Alcmene sees me.
Roscoe is watching me. Waiting for a response. If I win he'll become President. That thought would have unsettled me had I any intention of actually winning. "I accept your offer," I say, making sure my voice is cold and hard like his. "I will become your champion and, when I become Victor, I will pledge my support to your Presidency."
The look on his face shows I've responded exactly how he wished. He claps his hands. "Of course you accept. You could hardly refuse the lifeline I was offering you. Still, I dare say that my siblings will not be expecting this. With our combined prowess Panem will finally become the paradise it was meant to be." 
He stands and rounds up his guards, sweeping out of the kitchen with a smug stride. I remain sitting until I hear the ding of the elevator and the fading of their footsteps. Things have gotten even more complicated, but not enough so to change my plans. My reconciliation with Alcmene is still the goal. Had I truly been the disgusting kin-killer than Roscoe's offer would have been exactly what I needed. And yet, even though I have no intention of falling through on anything I said, his support is still the only thing keeping me alive. President Stryker would have had me murdered if not for him. 
"Complications," I rise, muttering to myself as I head for the elevator that will bring me to the second day of training. "I'm surrounded by complications."
===Faren Gomery (District 5)===
The voices of the other tributes merge into one undefinable hum as they train. I stand in the center of the gymnasium, hands held uselessly at my side, as I watch everyone else go about their training. I am on my own right now. At the beginning of the day my alliance agreed that it was best for us all to spend the day learning what we wished before meeting back up at lunch. 
Inside my head I hear the ticking of a clock.
Several days have passed since the Reaping. Days in which Joule's death has inched closer and closer. I can feel the deadline closing in on me like walls, pressing tighter and tighter until I am finally smushed flat. I want to scream. Punch the walls. Do anything and everything to make these Games end quick enough to save Joule.
But the Games are still days away from even starting.
I drift from station to station, observing the instructors and the other tributes learning, but not taking part myself. I spent most of yesterday at the survival stations and learned some useful information. I haven't yet trained with any weapons.I've thought about it but couldn't ever bring myself to start. What good would it do? No matter how hard I train, two days isn't enough time for me to become competent with one. 
Doubt gnaws at me as I stop beside the knife station, watching Lilith and Alcmene as they throw the weapons with fierce accuracy. I couldn't do that. I know I couldn't. 
I pause at the next station. Aiko is sparring with an instructor, a man at least twice her size, and seems to be winning. While clearly outmatched in the strength department, she's fast and slippery as an eel. The instructor seems to have a hard time catching her.
"I'm surprised you allied with that girl!" 
I resist the urge to jump in shock at the sound of the sudden voice. Turning, I find myself approached by Yewan. The tall blonde girl has a grin on her face as she stops beside me, her attention on Aiko. "I dunno how you can trust her! I mean, surely you know who she is?"
"I...no?" I'm thrown for a loop and don't know how to respond. Aiko? "Wh-what about her?"
Yewan's eyes widen. "You don't know?"
"Know what?" I cast a nervous look around, worried that there's some big secret I've missed. Does Briar know?
"That girl," Yewan jerks her head at Aiko, hair flapping all the while, "is from a family of assassins back in District 8. They're all trained in the art of killing from the moment they're born!
I hesitate. A family of assassins? That seems...far-fetched. But when I look back at Aiko and take note of her skill, my doubts seem to fade. There has to be some reason a twelve year-old is that talented. "Why is aligning with her a bad thing?" I ask quietly. "Sh-shouldn't having an assassin for an ally be good?"
Yewan's face is grim. "Oh, no. Not at all. The Kinu family is well known for their betrayals. Betraying and killing an ally is basically a right of passage for them."
Something about Aiko has never felt right to me. The thought of the Games has never upset or worried her. In fact, she's seemed excited for it. I even heard her talking about how she wanted to test herself against the strongest tributes! Unsettling behavior for an average young girl, to be sure.
I adjust my glasses. "How can I trust you? No offense, but you...you did join the Careers."
Yewan chuckles, oddly enough. She leans back so that her elbows are resting on a rack of spears. "Do I look like a typical Career to you?" I shake my head. With her platinum blonde hair half-buzzed and half-frizzy, she looks nothing like a typical anything. "Right. I just wanted to warn you, is all. It's up to you whether you wanna trust me or not."
"But...I...if what you say is true, what am I supposed to do about it?"
Yewan shrugs. "Nothing. Just watch your back, okay?"
Then, with a wink and a smile, she's gone. I watch her walk away, feeling entirely unsure of myself. Is that girl telling the truth? Is Aiko really some sort of assassin? And even if she is, does that mean I can't trust her? I'm a smart enough guy to know that Yewan definitely isn't one hundred percent trustworthy, but that doesn't mean what she said about Aiko isn't partly true. Something is off about that girl. 
I drift away from the station, suddenly uncomfortable being around Aiko. My shoulders itch as I walk. It feels like someone is watching me. I feel stupid. Who'd be watching me? Yet I can't shake the feeling.
I pause my wandering at the sword station. It's currently unused and the instructor looks bored as he leans against a post. For some reason I keep thinking of Kulver and the words he said to be on the train. If I want to win and save Joule then I'll need to kill. Be able to kill. My traps will help, sure, but at the very end I know I won't be able to win with a trap. The finale is almost always a one on one fight between the last two tributes.
So, let me ask you one more time…Could you kill me?
I stare at the swords. Those wicked blades. Sharp and cool to the touch. They can kill with ease. But could I kill with them? Kill so that Joule may live? Kill even my allies? Briar and Kia? Aiko and—
"District 5."
I let out a yelp and spin around. The leader of the Careers, Valor, is standing behind me. He has his hands held behind his back, head tilted up, eyes gleaming with a fanatical light. Eyes fixed on me.
I recover quickly. "Oh. Hello. Hi. Hey. What's up?" The words come out in a stammered mess as I remember my initial strategy for the training period. Be nice to everyone. Make it so they don't want to harm me when the Games begin. Somehow I don't think that'll work with Valor.
He straightens himself further, if that were possible, and speaks in a loud, clear voice. "I would like to challenge you to a friendly duel, District 5."
My mouth goes dry. I understand why he's doing this because I've seen him do it all morning. He's been roaming from station to station challenging each tribute he finds there to a duel. Already he's beaten Harmon with spears, outperformed Killen at the Gauntlet, and tied Maximo into a pretzel at the hand-to-hand combat. And now he wants to duel me.
With swords.
Valor waits silently for my response. His face is a mask of proud arrogance. And why shouldn't he be proud? He's defeated everyone so far. I am not likely to change that fact.
I cast my eyes around for my allies, desperately searching them out. I need an escape from this situation. A way to get out of the duel. My gaze settles on Briar and Kia but they're on the other side of the gymnasium, standing beside the survival stations as they talk with Talia. Aiko has disappeared. Not good. How will I—
Damian!
I find him standing near the maces. He sees me and frowns, probably wondering what's wrong, but that expression quickly disappears when he spots Valor standing beside me. He turns as if to run but then looks back at me. My eyes drill into his. Begging. Help me! I mouth the words at him. He hesitates. Lifts one foot as if to move.
Then he turns away.
I deflate like a balloon. Damian abandoned me. He wasn't willing to help. I glance back at Valor. He's beginning to look impatient. He won't go easy on me in the dual. Those swords may be wooden, but they will still hurt when connecting with flesh. I saw how hard Valor hit Harmon with those spears. I saw the look on Maximo's face when he had him in a headlock.
I'm going to feel pain.
Valor steps forward. My time is up. "Our duel will commence forthwith. You may choose whatever sword you wish. For myself, I will be choosing—"
"Yo, man, chill out for a second will ya?" A boy appears at his side. Dark skinned and with a head full of dreadlocks, I recognize him as Chrome from District 11. But what is he doing here now?
Valor pauses, gives the boy a frown. "Excuse me, but I don't believe this situation has anything to do with you."
"Nah, man! That's where you're wrong!" Chrome puts one arm around my shoulder and draws me close. "I've been watching you do your little challenges all day, and I have to say I'm not impressed."
Chrome is living dangerously. Valor's face has gone dark. His eyes are narrowed slits. I'm half-worried he's going to punch us both. "Not impressed? Are you unaware that I've won each and every challenge?"
Chrome flashes a smile full of white teeth. "Yeah, but each time you chose the challenge." 
There's a long pause as Valor digests his words. "Are you saying I should let District 5 choose the challenge?"
"It's only fair, no?"
For a moment I think that he'll decline, that I'm free from this awful moment, but Valor nods. "Very well. District 5 may choose whichever station he wishes."
My heart leaps into my throat. The challenge is still on, only now I get to pick how I'll be embarrassed. I wish Damian hadn't left. I don't know where he went, I can't see him anymore. Chrome leans in to whisper. "Pick what you're best at, man."
What I'm best at. Is that some kind of joke? I'm not good with any weapon! How...suddenly I see a path forward. One that won't lead to any physical pain. "Trap-making. I choose the trap-making station!"
Valor stiffens. His eyes dart to the trap station, tucked away in the far corner. From his expression alone I can tell he knows nothing of traps. "That is hardly fit for a challenge such as this. I—"
"You said he could choose whatever station he wished," Chrome's grin has widened to the point where it encompasses his whole face. "Or are you just afraid he's going to beat you?"
I can feel the anger radiating off Valor. But he's trapped. He has to either accept the challenge and risk facing defeat or back down. Neither option will leave him in a good position. He spins around and stomps off. "Watch your back in the arena, 11!"
"I'm always watching my back!" Chrome calls after him and winks at my shocked face. He laughs. "I ain't afraid of him or his goons. What they gonna do? Kill me? Everyone else is already trying that!"
"That was pretty brave," I say enviously. I could never have brought myself to do something like that. "Why did you help me anyway?"
"I just don't like bullies." Chrome pats me on the shoulder. "But the better question is why did I have to help you? You have allies, doncha?" 
Once again I see Damian's face as he turned away. At least he looked embarrassed. I wish I could blame him for that, but I can't muster up the emotion. I'd probably have done the same thing if I was in his position. "My friends were busy," I mutter.
Chrome raises an eyebrow. "Friends, you say? Nah! Friends don't sit and watch friends go through something like that. If they don't got your back in training, what makes you think they'll have it in the arena?"
His words mirror my thoughts. But I don't have any place to complain, do I? Kulver's words still linger in my mind. His words and the actions he took to win his own Games. He killed an ally. Would I do the same to save Joule?
Would they all kill me to win?
Chrome's movement snaps my out of my thoughts. He's about to walk away. "Wait!" I grasp at his sleeve. He turns to give me a quizzical glance. "Join our alliance! I know that the others would accept you!"
Chrome's eyes flicker to where Briar and Kia stand conversing with Talia. Aiko flits to their side. He waves dismissively. "Nah, man. I ain't about that life. 'Sides, how could I trust 'em?"
I bite my lip. There's nothing I could do or say to change his mind in that subject. Damian's behavior did not exactly inspire confidence. "I...but...okay." What else could I do? I wish for Chrome as an ally—he's both clever and brave—but I know there's no way to convince him. "How...how about a truce, then?"
"We already got a truce, man. I have no intention of harming you."
"N-not just me. My alliance. We could have a truce with you!"
Chrome once again glances over at my allies. Somewhere along the way Damian has joined them, and they appear headed this way. "Sure. Why not? I don't expect them to hold to it, but sure. Truce. Sure." He gives me one last pay on the shoulder and walks off, laughing to himself. 
I watch him go in silence. I won't let my allies harm him in the arena. I'll do whatever it takes to stop that. Chrome is a good person. But yet...
He still has to die for me to save Joule.
===Opal Crane (District 5)===
I sidestep, deflect the sword that comes hurtling for my neck, and circle around my opponent as he gets thrown off balance. Frantic with panic, he spins around and attempts another attack. I parry this blow with the dagger in my left hand and step forward to place the one held in my right against his throat.
"You're dead," I declare my victory in a soft whisper.
The instructor smiles and drops his wooden sword. "You're good. I've never seen that stance before. What is it?"
I step back and hand my daggers, both dulled for training, to the attendant standing beside the mat. "You may call it Crane Style." 
He offers more praise, meaningless flattery from one who is less skilled than myself. I listen with a stoic face before thanking him for the practice and stepping aside to where the other Careerss wait.
My competition.
"Did you really create that fighting style?" Atticus watches me with dark eyes. He sounds doubtful. Such a fool. A skilled fool, true, but a fool nonetheless. 
Beside him Marina shifts from foot to foot. "You fight impressively well for one from District 5. How exactly did you learn all your skills?"
I see no reason to enlighten her with the truth. Doubtless she'd think it a lie in any case. I fix her with a cold stare. "I taught myself."
The two of them accept my words and offer some slight praise before stepping into the ring for their own sparring session. I don't bother watching. I already know from studying their stances that Atticus is the better swordsman.
"I recognize your fighting style," A light voice draws my attention and I turn to see Alcmene watching me. The blonde girl taps one finger against her chin, grey eyes alight with curiosity as they bite into my face. "Many past Capitol tributes have used that same style. All protégées of the most esteemed trainers inside the Capitol."
I stiffen. She couldn't possibly suspect my true identity, could she? No. That's impossible. Hardly anyone in the world knows that Yuna Melville even existed. She merely recognized some of my skills, that is all. 
"You've studied past Games intently, I suppose?" I say.
Alcmene nods. "But of course. I know all there is to know about the Games."
I had suspected as much. She's previously made statements that alluded to such knowledge. She'll be a true threat indeed. All of the Careers will be, of course, as they are the only tributes here who could possibly hope to come close to my level of skill. The other tributes are all gnats; safely dismissed as the fodder they are.
Alcmene continues to study me and I feel myself beginning to grow agitated. Some members of the Melville family have competed in past Games, and if she is truly the expert she claims to be then it may not be beyond her ability to discern my identity. It's not problematic for my identity to be known, surely not, yet I'd prefer if they remained unaware of my true name. Better they think I am Opal Crane, a simple lout of District 5. Opal Crane can be dismissed as a non-threat, someone or overlook. Yuna Melville, on the other hand, would certainly draw their full attention.
Children of the Great Families always do.
"The successors are on the ground floor!" Lilith appears at our side, thankfully pulling Alcmene's focus away from me, and points out at the mezzanine which holds the tables for the Gamemakers and the heirs. True to her word, the latter table is now empty. 
I allow my eyes to drift across the gymnasium and take in the scene. Each of the seven would-be successors are wandering around the stations, each one surrounded by a knot of armed Peacekeepers. How peculiar.
"Isn't that rather dangerous?" Atticus and Marina have returned from their sparring match. Disheveled and sweaty, the dark-haired boy watches the heirs with keen eyes. "What if one of the tributes attacked?"
"They'd have to be stupid to attack them with those Peacekeepers around," Lilith says.
I tune out their senseless muttering and focus on one of the heirs—Escortius, the President's brother—as he and his guards approach Valor. The tall boy pauses and listens respectfully as the man begins to speak. 
Whatever is going on?
As I watch it becomes apparent that the heirs are making their way towards the tributes. Some of them seem to speak with multiple, while others don't approach any at all. This strange behavior has caught the attention of us tributes and all of us, with the sole exception of Notcher, have stopped our training to observe. 
Soon I notice that one of the heirs is headed my way. 
A cadre of Peacekeepers surround me as Dimentio Stryker waltzes up, a cheery smile plastered on his pale face. His watery blue eyes take in the other Careers and he makes a motion with a thin hand. Instantly the Peacekeepers begin to herd them away, then form a loose circle around the two of us, standing far enough apart that I know we won't be overheard.
"What is this about?" I demand.
Dimentio laughs. He's a short, thin man with feathery blond hair and thin lips which he has stretched into a smile. "Straight to the point, I see. I like that. It's the sign of a very practical mind."
I spent all my years in the Capitol living in strict isolation inside my Father's manor so, despite my heritage, I have never seen this man before. "I am not one to bandy words, true, so say your peace and begone."
He laughs again. "Very direct! Such words would have earned you quite the reaction from some of my siblings, that's for sure."
I remain silent. Had I not noticed the successors approaching other tributes I might have thought this encounter threatening, but now I find myself only annoyed. "State your purpose and leave. I am in the middle of training."
"Very well. I will explain this as shortly and succinctly as I can." And he goes on to explain the Game his father has set up, along with the needs for each heir to choose their champions. I find the thought of such a thing absurd. The presidency left in the hands of tributes? To the whims of the arena? Such lunacy! Yet the man seems certain of this course, almost eager for it. It's not until he proposes that I be one of his champions do I speak.
"If it means you'll leave me alone, then yes, I accept your offer."
Once again he laughs. It seems to be some sort of external tic of his. "Very good. You're exactly the sort of person I want at my side...Yuna Melville."
His words shatter my stoic resolve like a hammer. He knows my name! My true name! But how? Father hid my identity from everyone before he sent me off to Distrct 5. Yet...Dimentio is the son of our President. Is it really unexpected that he knows my identity? 
I quickly smother my surprise, bury it beneath a veneer of cold indifference. "You know me, do you? Good. I grew weary of my charade."
He offers me a small smile that doesn't seem to touch his eyes. "Oh, I know many things, dear Yuna. People always try to hide their secrets from me...to no avail, of course."
"Do you seek to stop me from gaining vengeance upon my father?" 
"Heavens no!" He clutches his heart and mimes collapsing. "Oh! You wound me with your suspicion! Truly, you do!"
I feel my muscles loosen. Had he intended to stop my plan for vengeance then he'd have been signing his own death. No one will stop me from claiming my rightful place and deposing my father. "Then what do you wish of me?"
"Nothing demanding, certainly. I only desire that you win the Games and support my bid for presidency."
That seems a bit much to believe. If that is all he wished of me, then why discuss it at all? He could just as easily approach me once the Games were over. Yet I glance over at the other heirs and watch as they weave their way through the other tributes. No doubt they are making the same promises to each of them. If he put this off to the end of the Games, Dimentio would have risked one of them approaching me first.
A thought strikes me. "Who are your other two champions?" 
Once again he laughs. "And why does that matter to you?"
"I merely wish to know whom your two failures will be."
His laughter grows louder and slaps me on the shoulder. I flinch away from his touch. "Very confident! I like that bravado of yours. It should give you much assistance in the Games!" He snaps his fingers and draws the guards to him. He gives me a half-bow, somehow mocking, I think, and then departs in a whirlwind of bodies. My eyes watch him leave. He didn't answer my question.
Once he departs I notice a pair of fellow Careers standing beside the sword station. Alcmene is chewing her lip, looking troubled, whilst Atticus seems deep in thought. I don't need to ask whether a successor approached them or not; the answer is evident in their expressions.
The heirs don't spend much time on the gymnasium floor. They drift around for somewhere around half an hour, talking to the tributes and studying our behavior closeup, before returning to their table on the mezzanine. By the time they do all of us Careers have regrouped. 
"That was very strange," Zekel says. A few of us murmur agreements, but the rest remain silent. This encounter has had a profound effect on them, it seems.
"It was so funny!" Yewan cackles gleefully. The rest of us eye her warily. I feel a deep well of disgust inside every time I look at that horrid girl. I can only imagine what she said to the successors. 
"Funny isn't the word I'd choose," Alcmene says absently. 
Yewan smirks and spins around to look at us all. "Well? Which one picked you? Let's share!"
No one speaks. A few exchange glances between each other. Dimentio did not tell me to keep it a secret, yet I am loathe to reveal the nature of our agreement. Evidently my fellow Careers feel the same.
"How about you go first?" Atticus finally says. 
"Nope! It's not sharing if I'm the only one to tell!" 
I grimace. Surely none of the heirs chose her, did they? Mako laughs. "I can tell you someone who wasn't chosen." He points at the gauntlets, where Notcher is currently a third of the way through. "None of them spoke to that guy. And he didn't seem too interested in them, either. He wouldn't even look at them!"
"Of course not!" I'm scandalized at the thought. "Why would anyone choose a maimed runt from District 8?" 
There's no response. Everyone has returned to their thoughts, with the possible exception of Yewan. That unseemly girl is grinning as if she doesn't have a care in the world. She most likely doesn't.
Even though I am aware that this encounter with Dimentio and the other heirs hasn't changed anything in the grand scheme—all of us were already trying our hardest to win without their words—I can't help but feel something is...different. I cannot place a finger on it, but I know something is off. 
And that troubles me.
===Killen Timmerhout (District 7)===
I stare at the snare I just finished. A rope hidden amongst a tree's lichen, it would trap and ensnare any tribute unwary enough to brush their hand against it. But I am unable to truly focus on the snare. I am deaf to the instructors praise. My mind is still stuck on that conversation with Nedry Stryker.
I fall atop the landing mat and smile as the two of the watching tributes offer me polite applause. The rope course lies behind me, vanquished and defeated. I was only the second tribute today to make it through without falling.
"Nice one!" Harmon says with a smile. I thank him and give his sister a polite nod. She ducks her head, face reddening. I idly note that she's quite pretty. Maybe even more beautiful than Narcissa.
The other tribute watching, Shiloh, turns away without a word. She's a quiet one, alright. Not sure if I've heard her speak yet. I turn to the Achlys siblings "What do you two—"
Discordia gives a squeak and rushes off. I watch her go, wondering what I'd done to offend her, when I notice the group of armed Peacekeepers approaching us. Harmon gives me a sidelong glance as the group, led by a stout middle-aged man wearing an ill-fitting suit, pauses right before me.
"Nedry Stryker," Harmon says. All around us I can see the other successors approaching tributes. What is this about? 
"You may go," Nedry nods at Harmon, then runs a handkerchief over his balding head. "I wish to speak with Killen alone." 
"Good luck, buddy!" Harmon slips away and suddenly I'm left alone with this famous man I barely know. Him and his guards.
"I hope you had a pleasant morning," I say. Best to start with the usual niceties. Who knows what this man wants from me? He's the eldest child of the President and, had this been a normal succession, he would have been our next President. 
Nedry clears his throat and tugs at his collar. Already a sheen of sweat has gathered atop his head. "Well, yes, this morning has been quite agreeable. Though Roscoe been very rude! One shouldn't—" He cuts off, as if remembering to whom he was speaking. He narrows his dark blue eyes at me. Does every Stryker have blue eyes? "I am here to make you an offer, Killen Timmerhout."
"An offer?" I speak my thoughts aloud. "What could the President's son offer me?"
"Everything." 
Nedry goes on to explain the game he and his family are playing, the champions and their choices, the benefits of winning. He tells me of the untold riches and unimaginable power that will be mine if I win in his name.
"I'd already be unimaginablely rich from being Victor," I say conversationally. Something about this whole situation troubles me. It reeks of intrigue and politics, two things I've learned through my dealings with Narcissa that I do not want to be involved in. "What difference would siding with you bring? Other than a target on me and my family, I mean."
Nedry seems to choke on his words. He stands there sputtering incoherently for a moment before regaining his composure. "No! I will protect your family! When I become President I'll give an order that they are not to be touched!"
He doesn't get it. Doing something like that would undoubtedly draw more attention to my family than they'd otherwise receive. But he still goes on, insists that they'll be drawn into other plots if he's not there to protect them. "Every Victor is eventually drawn into politics!" He says, wiping his head again. "But I can prevent that! I can... I can help you get vengeance on Narcissa!"
I breathe a sharp intake of breath. Narcissa? "How do you know that name," I ask quietly. 
There's a small, sly smile on that pudgy voice. "I did the research on all you tributes," His voice is smug, bordering on arrogant. "I know that you had a messy breakup with your ex-girlfriend. If you side with me, I can give you her death."
"What!" I stare at him in sudden silence. Kill Narcissa? Murder her! Nedry continues to stare at me with that smug face, so convinced he found his trump card. "You're going to...kill Narcissa?"
He nods sagely. "Oh, yes. It would be quite easy. All it would take—"
"No!" This is insane! Evil, almost. Murder Narcissa! What part of her actions warrants death? "I don't want you to kill Narcissa!" 
Nedry runs the handkerchief over his head. "Right, right. You don't want her dead. You wish to torture her, then? Very well. That can be arranged. Once you win I'll bring her before you and—"
"No!" 
I don't care that I shout. That the Peacekeepers at his side suddenly grasp their weapons. Madness! Nedry is mad! Torture Narcissa? What kind of person thinks like that? I don't care what she did to me! Even if she truly intended me to die in the arena, I wouldn't even think about murdering her! It's wrong. Sick and wrong. 
Nedry is staring at me with startled eyes. He very much looks like a frog in this moment. "I-I don't understand. She has wronged you, yes? If you don't seek her death or torture then what...?"
"Are you insane?" I fix him with my steadiest gaze. My stomach is twisting itself in knots. "I don't care what she did! The last thing I'd want is to murder someone! 
Nedry gawps at me. His mouth moves but no words come out. The Peacekeepers at his side give him nervous glances. I continue. "I don't care that Narcissa emotionally abused me! That she manipulated the Mayor into arresting my mother and rigging the Reaping! I'm not going to just let you kill her!"
I take a deep breath. That outburst has surprised even me with its intensity. I hold no love for Narcissa, I still feel pain at the mere thought of her, but I'll be damned before I just sit back and let her die! 
Nedry dabs a handkerchief at his sweaty head. "Mayor Mallory...rigged the Reaping?"
"You didn't know?" When he said that he'd done his research on me I thought that meant he knew everything. Not so, it seems. 
He pauses mid-dab. "That is...not good. Father—President Stryker, that is, holds the Games’ sanctity in high regards. For a Mayor to flaunt...I'll have to report this!"
"Report?" An uneasy feeling flutters inside me. "What will happen to Terrence?"
It's impossible to miss the predatory look that shines in his eyes. He's seen my unease, and I cannot help but feel I just handed him the rope with which he'll hang me. A smile flickers across his bulbous face. "Mayor Mallory will be executed, of course. We can't have a Mayor interfere with the Games, can we? In fact, his entire family will probably be investigated."
His entire family...Narcissa. I think about how adamantly I'd refused to consign her to death. What did Nedry make of that? What is he plotting? "You're going to execute Narcissa?"
"Execute her? Goodness, no!" Nedry laughs and dabs his forehead. "The girl will not be executed. No, in all likelihood she will be handed over to my sisters' Seekers of Truth."
"What does that mean?"
"Interrogation. Possibly some torture. Rozlyn's men are quite thorough, you know. They'll have clamps for her limbs, pinchers for her skin, and perhaps some heated needles to drive underneath her fingernails..."
My stomach heaves and there's suddenly a very real possibility of my breakfast making a reappearance. Narcissa is an awful person, but no one deserves that. Nedry sees my reaction and his smile widens. "But perhaps not. She is a young and beautiful girl, is she not? Maybe she'd be better served being sent to one of the pleasure houses? She might enjoy that. She'd be plied with enough drugs that I doubt she'd even remember her prior life. She may—"
"Stop! Please, stop! I'll do it! I'll support your presidency!"
At my anguished cry Nedry laughs. The sick little man does a capering dance and laughs! "You thought I was a fool, didn't you? Don't deny it! I saw it in your eyes! You and all my siblings think me to be a fool! One easily swayed and manipulated! But no! Nedry Stryker is no man's fool! I am the eldest child of Tiberius Stryker! By rights the presidency is mine! Mine!" 
My hands clench around the snare. I walked right into that trap! Nedry was a harmless simpleton until I told him about the Reaping! But now he knows. And if I don't win, if I die in the arena and fail to become Victor, Terrence Mallory and his family will die.
It's ironic, if you think about it. Terrence sent me into the arena as punishment, no doubt intending for me to die there, but now his own life is tied up with mine and he doesn't even know it. Narcissa's too. She'll die if I do. Such a thought might make others happy, but it only brings me despair. I am not the kind of person to revel in death. I—
Someone slams into my back
I fall against the tree and bounce off, hitting the floor at an angle and rolling into a crouch. The guy who hit me, Maximo from 6, is climbing to his feet, muttering to himself as he shakes his head. The tension leaves my body as I realize that it was an accident. "You okay?" I help the guy to his feet.
"What?" He squints at me. "Yeah, fine. I just fell off the Gauntlets, that's all."
I eye the Gauntlet. It's definitely close enough for him to have fallen off and staggered this way. "You must be more careful. You could have sprained an ankle with a stumble like that."
"It wasn't my fault! I was pushed!"
"Pushed?" As far as I can see there's no one else anywhere near the Gauntlet. "By whom, exactly?"
He dusts himself off, grunting irritability. "A demonic entity. A spirit, if you will."
I arch an eyebrow. "A ghost pushed you off the Gauntlet?"
He gives me a flat stare. "You don't believe me, do you?"
I splay my hands. "It's simply a hard claim to accept. There's not exactly any proof that things such as ghosts or spirits even exist, you know."
"I have proof."
I pause, caught off guard by such a dubious claim. Proof of such a thing would have been groundbreaking news, would it not? The idea of ghosts being real is tantalizing...yet reality ensures it is nothing but a mere idea. That isn't to say ideas can't be interesting, of course. 
Maximo continues on, seemingly caught up in his own words. "I'm a ghost hunter, you know. Founder of the Paranormal Action Squad, in fact. Ghosts, spirits, demons, disembodied entities, you name it and we hunt it."
"Do you hunt goblins?" 
He fixes me with a level look. "Of course not!" He snaps. "Goblins aren't paranormal! They're more of supernatural if anything!"
I nod. "Of course."
"Anyway," Maximo glances around the gymnasium. None of the other tributes are anywhere near us. "As I was saying, I'm a ghost hunter and have gathered plenty of evidence of their existence. I have so much that it'd probably shock you to your core."
"May I see some this evidence?"
He scowls. "I left it all in District 6. I wasn't exactly planning on bringing it into the arena with me, now was I?"
That's a fair point. It would have been quite strange for him to have brought such a thing with him to the Capitol. "If ghosts exist and are capable of pushing people," I begin, "Then how come they are so rarely seen? Surely they would have taken over the world by now. It's not as if we can harm them back."
Maximo sighs and rubs his head with one finger. "Ghosts aren't just attacking people out of the blue. They leave most people alone. It's only if you're sensitive to the paranormal or unwittingly attach yourself to one do they turn violent." He looks up and meets my eyes with a steady gaze. "And I wasn't pushed by a mere ghost. It was a demonic entity. One that killed by best friend."
I murmur my condolences. No matter the situation, losing a friend is a tragic occurrence. "So...this entity. It followed you from District 6?"
He nods. "The Paranormal Action Squad first encountered it when we received permission to investigate the 327th arena. We made contact with a spirit there when..." He regales me with an interesting tale of possession and despair. Apparently the spirit—a former tribute, he claims—deeply affected his friend and this affliction eventually led to his suicide. Then, when Maximo returned to the arena a year later, the spirit possessed him and gave him a brutal beating. 
I can't say that I truly believe his story, but I find myself fascinated by it regardless. Especially since he wholeheartedly believes that this entity not only was responsible for his being Reaped, but is also currently in the gymnasium alongside him. "Who do you think this former tribute is? And why would they wish to haunt you?"
He shrugs. "We never conclusively proved the identity. We did narrow it down, though. It's either a District 1 male, a District 10 tribute, or a District 8 male. Gavin died in the same way they all did—a telltale sign of their connection."
I don't remember as much of the 327th as I'd have liked. All I know for sure is that those were the Games Austin won. Which, I suppose, narrows down who that District 1 male could be. I am about to ask another question when I find myself interrupted.
The lunch bell rings.
"How about we continue this conversation over lunch?" I ask. "I would love to hear more about your experience with ghosts."
A wide grin breaks out across Maximo's face. "Oh, I'm down for that! See, this one time we were investigating an old refinery when Carson and Bentley..."
===Matiss Ferrum (District 12)===
The Careers have commandeered the largest table in the cafeteria, a long rectangular one which rests in the exact center of the dining area. We eat in solemn silence, a sharp contrast to the lively conversations we held yesterday. The heirs and their offers must be weighing heavy on my allies minds.
"Looks like another alliance has formed," Zekel says quietly. I follow his gaze to the far end of the cafeteria, where Maximo and Killen sit, engaged in some frantic discussion. 
Though I respect my entire team, I find myself closest friends with Zekel. Perhaps it's because both of us were recruits—a shared kinship is often enough to bring people closer together.
On my other side Marina frowns. "They could be trouble if they make it far enough into the Games."
I don't know about that. Neither of them seem to be the type of tribute who'd do well in Games. Since my Reaping I've been tuned into the analytics of the Games; watching the experts on their talk shows, observing the betting trends, etcetera. All in an effort to find out who I should pay special attention to. Killen and Maximo haven't shown up in that data.
But other tributes have. Notcher is one. Many analysts have him pegged as a darkhorse contender to watch in these Games. Likewise the data suggests that Briar and her alliance will play a huge part in the outcome of the Games. The second largest alliance almost always comes into conflict with the Careers in the early portion of the Games.
My gaze settles on that alliance. Their table is across the cafeteria, about as far from ours as possible, and they laugh jovially as they talk amongst themselves. At some point during the day Talia had joined their alliance, and they now sit at six strong. Other than for the Careers they're the only alliance that has more than three members. At this point I don't even need the data to tell me that our alliances are going to clash: it's just an obvious fact. 
As Zekel and Marina's brief conversation fades, my allies pick at their food in somber silence. I've already finished my meal, so I take this opportunity to continue my analysis of the other tributes. Today will be my last chance to observe them up close; it'd be a shame to waste it.
The trio is made up of three formidable tributes, Teal, Remus, and Solomon, but I have an inkling that their personalities won't mesh well together. The data suggests that sooner or later they will clash and turn on each other. As for the betters...they are high on Remus, yet it appears that Solomon's infamy is effecting their views. As of last night he had the lowest odds of every tribute.
The only remaining alliance I've yet to analyze is the Achlys siblings from District 9. All data points suggest that neither one will do well, simply because District 9 hasn't had a decent performance in the Games since the 325th. But is it foolish to dismiss them for such a reason? The performance of prior tributes does not necessarily mean that these two will also fare poorly. Yet there's also this talk of a curse...
I taste blood in my mouth and scowl. I've been chewing the inside of my cheek again.
"So...what score are you all angling for?" Mako breaks the silence that has long lingered. He receives a few glances but no responses. Eventually I find myself annoyed with the quiet.
"Anything over an eight is fine with me," I say.
My words open a floodgate.
"A nine would suffice," Lilith says.
"I need to score higher than Solomon!" Alcmene's eyes are feverish in their fanaticism.
Atticus is more reserved. "A ten, perhaps."
"I will be receiving a twelve," Valor says matter-of-factly. 
I watch these boys and girls, these trained killers, and realize that they will be my stiffest competition. Not my only competition, mind you, but the most personal. I will be by their side twenty-four-seven in the arena, I will learn their every quirk and recognize their weaknesses. I will be able to spot how best to defeat them.
And they will do the same to me.
Uneasy, I turn my gaze away from the table, slipping past Yewan who sits on the edge, and find it resting on Notcher. He sits at a circular table near ours, head bowed as he eats his food. He seems completely oblivious to the rest of us.
Until a spoonful of mashed potatoes smatters against his head.
He straightens out, mashed potatoes dripping onto his shoulders. His icy blue eyes survey the cafeteria, no doubt searching for his assailant. But no one is so much as looking at him. A scowl forms on his face as he realizes he'll never find the culprit.
Then his eyes settle on me.
Too late do I realize that I'm staring at him. That I'm the only tribute in the entire cafeteria who seems to have even noticed. A cold rage fills his eyes. He thinks I did it. That much is evident in his posture. Notcher stands and for a moment I think he is about to march over here and demand an apology, but then he does something worse.
He picks up a corn dog from his tray and heaves it straight at me. 
His aim is off. Instead of striking me his corn dog lands on Marina's tray. It plops into her soup, sending up a spray that splatters her face. She recoils with a yelp, drawing the attention of the other tributes. There's the sound of laughter as she wipes her face. I wince at the anger I see in her eyes.
"Marina..." Atticus reaches out but she smacks his hand away. Her fingers dig into a bowl of green peas. Before anyone can stop her she spins around and hurls a handful into the face of the openly laughing Lucia.
Then all hell breaks loose.
Food begins to fly. Tributes duck and dodge as our meals are turned into projectiles. Everyone is caught up in it and no one is spared. Harmon has climbed atop a table and is throwing chicken legs like knives. One strikes Damian in the back as he attempts to flee and the boy falls to the ground as if he'd been shot.
I overturn a nearby table and duck behind it just in time to avoid a flying orange. Zekel soon joins me. "This is awesome!" The guy has a grin on his face. It's the first time I've ever seen the boy truly happy. 
"You ain't seen nothing yet!" I stand and locate the nearest food item. A roast pig. I pick it up, the entire thing, and turn to find my victim. 
Remus, his face covered in applesauce, is wandering between tables when he spots me holding the roast pig over my shoulders. His eyes widen and he backs up, hands waving for mercy.
A grin crosses my face. "Watch out for the flying pig!"
The roast pig takes him square in the chest. The force of it is enough to knock him off his feet and he goes sliding across the linoleum floor, disappearing beneath a table.
I only have a few seconds to bask in my glory before a jug of cranberry juice is poured over my head. "You snooze, you lose!" Briar darts pass, laughing like a maniac.
Grinning as the cold liquid runs down my face, I snatch a grapefruit off the floor and chuck it the nearest tribute. Which, unfortunately for him, turns out to be Chrome. As he falls to the ground I begin the search for my next piece of ammunition.
"Stop this nonsense!" An enraged shout brings everything to a halt. We all turn to watch Valor as he climbs atop a table, his face stern and unamused. "We are tributes, not children! The Hunger Games are meant to be a place of honor and glory! Not a cesspool where morons throw food at one another!"
There's some quiet mutterings. A few of us Careers who'd joined in look chastised, Atticus in particular. Valor's gaze sweeps across the room, judging us all. "Put down the food and stop this silly squabble! Us tributes are glorious fighters! Not silly—"
He breaks off into a sputter as a glob of gravy strikes him in the face. Stepping back, his foot lands in a bowl of potato salad and in an instant he's lost his footing and falls off the table with a thunderous crash.
Just like that it starts all over again.
I can't say exactly what happens. It's pure chaos. I dip and dive through the tables, chucking any food item I can get my hands on. At one point somebody throws an entire pineapple at Harmon while he's chucking his chicken legs. The ribbed fruit hits him in the groin and he slips off his perch with a groan. 
I get pelted with so much food that I'm basically a smorgasbord of everything the Capitol has to offer. Zekel is having the time of his life, throwing bread rolls like baseballs at anyone who comes near. I see an entire stuffed goose on a nearby table and am about to make a sequel to my flying pig when the Peacekeepers finally intervene.
They pour into the cafeteria, shouting and cajoling as as they hold their guns up threateningly. The fight ends almost immediately, though the grins and laughter does not. After checking us all for injuries and finding nothing serious—though Remus has a bruised chest and Harmon's walk is staggered—they instruct us all to return to the gymnasium. When we do so I notice that not every tribute had partook in the fight. 
Discordia, Solomon, and Mercia stand in the gymnasium, clothes clean and untouched from the food fight. Evidently those three had the good sense to bail out before it got messy. As did two of our allies.
"That was extremely immature!" Alcmene's grey eyes pierce us Careers like daggers as we we rejoin her and Yewan. The tall blonde girl is grinning maniacally.
"Why didn't you compete?" Mako asks her.
"And ruin my hair?" She flicks her blonde fringe with one finger. "No thanks. Watching you guys was funny enough!"
Valor, his face a mask of cold fury, remains silent. I don't doubt that today was the biggest embarrassment of his life. The rest of us talk quietly amongst ourselves as the Peacekeepers clean the cafeteria and the instructors return to their posts. There's still several hours left of training, after all. I wonder what the heirs thought of that whole fiasco?
The Gamemakers sit at their table with expressions ranging from disgust to annoyance. They, at least, were not found of our actions. But the heirs have a slightly different reaction. Two of them, Erevan and Nedry, are openly grinning. Aurilee twirls a finger around a lock of her heir while Dimentio steeples his fingers and frowns. Roscoe and Rozlyn keep their faces blank. Only Escortius, whose furious expression is almost identical to his chosen disciple Valor’s, seems upset. 
Eventually a bell is rung and we’re told that we can recommence our training. As the tributes move en mass, I watch Yewan as she skips off to the knot tying station. No one else gives her a second glance. Does that mean I was the only one who noticed? I tap a fingernail against my teeth. She’ll be one to watch in the arena because…
Yewan threw those potatoes at Notcher and escaped the food fight unscathed. 
Clever girl.
===Aiko Kinu (District 8)===
The knife I throw flies across the gym and strikes the dummy in the right eye. The instructor smiles and offers me praise, but I only nod. That was easy. I’ve made hundreds of throws just like that over the course of these past two days. Hitting a stationary target is simple. Easy. Boring. 
I want a challenge.
I walk along the weapon stations, hands held behind my back as I seek out a new avenue to explore. I want to try every weapon! I know there’s some I’m not good with; a mace is too heavy and spears are too unwieldy for my liking. But I’m a quick learner and I’ve already come accustomed to some of the more exotic weapons on display.
I really like the rope dart. It’s fun and reminds me of my jump rope back at the orphanage. A smile forms on my face at the thought. A jump rope is both a fun toy and a useful weapon. Once, when some of the older kids were messing with me, I used it as a whip to blind one of them, then as a rope to choke the other. 
My smile slips into a frown as I remember being punished for that. They didn’t like that I’d blinded one of the older kids. I don’t think that was fair. He started the fight and, besides, it was only one eye and I didn’t even kill him. It wasn’t like that first time at all!
Thwock!
At the station next to me a large, silvery disk slams into a target. My eyes light up at the unique design of the weapon. It looks like a frisbee!
The girl who threw it turns to look at me. Her dark eyes flash. “What do you want, kid?”
I think her name was Lilith? She’s one of the Careers. Briar told me about them. She said they were the toughest and strongest of all us kids. I spent some time watching them, and I think Briar is right. A few appear even better than me! 
“Hi! I love that weapon! What’s it called?” I walk up to the rack and run one hand down the silvery disk. The outer edges are sharpened. 
Lilith narrows her eyes. “It’s a chakram. Don’t bother trying to wield it. These weapons take actual skill to use.”
I nod, not really paying attention. My focus is on the weapon. It’s clearly designed to be aerodynamic and cut through the air with ease. “Do you throw it vertically or horizontally?”
It’s the instructor who answers. “Either way works.”
I take one of the weapons off the rack, ignoring the chuckle from Lilith. The weapon is cool in my hands. I step up to the mark, eyes on the target. It definitely feels like a frisbee. I take aim and let loose. The weapon zips across the room and slams into the bullseye. 
Lilith’s laughter stops.
I turn to her and smile. “You’re pretty good, miss! I can’t wait to play with you in the Games!”
I head off in search of more fun weapons. 
I find a few more that range from simple—a slingshot!—to strange—a bola!—before stumbling into Faren. He was pacing back and forth mumbling to himself, so he doesn’t see me before we collide. 
He falls back. “Oh! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean…” His words trail off as he recognizes me. For some reason his face pales.
”Hello, Faren!” He’s a friend. One of my allies who Briar gathered. He’s been a bit distant, not at all as talkative as Briar or Damian, but still mostly friendly. Yesterday he even gave me a cookie! 
“I’m sorry!” He squeaks out an apology and darts away. I wave him off with a smile. What a strange guy! It almost looked like he was frightened! 
My other friends are all gathered at the Gauntlet. It seems like they’re all going to give it one last run before the second training session ends. I’d join them, but I already completed the Gauntlet. It was too easy. Still, I like my friends. They’re good people and…
And I want to protect their innocence.
I know how some of them look at me. I see the discomfort in their eyes when I talk about the Games. They think I’m just naive, or that I don’t fully understand what the Games are about. 
They’re wrong.
I know what the Games are. Understand that people die in them. But I’ve lived in a dark part of the world, maybe darker than they’ve ever seen. Briar doesn’t like violence. She detests the idea of harming other people, loathes the thought of killing somebody else. I’ve overheard her telling Kia that she wishes there was a way to win the Games without killing a single person. I like that idea…
But I know it’s not possible. 
My friends Briar, Kia, Damian, Faren, and even Talia, who joined us today. I want to protect them. Shelter them from the terror and horror that lies just out of sight. None of them, except maybe Kia, have really experienced the true savagery of the world yet. I hope they never have to. I will kill so my friends won’t need to. 
Damian was talking about something called a “soul” earlier today. According to him it’s something inside a person that’s all pure and beautiful. He said that, when you die, your soul will leave your body and go live in a wonderful paradise. 
I don’t think I have a soul. I can’t imagine anything as beautiful as what Damian described living inside me. But that’s okay. I’ll do all the killing in the arena so that, when my friends all die, their souls will still be able to reach paradise. 
Because that’s the kind of thing friends do for each other.
===Damian Gonzalez (District 10)===
There’s only a few more steps before the end of the Gauntlet. Three narrow platforms stretch up from the floor, each less than a foot wide. There’s a gap between the platforms, requiring me to either step or jump between them. My legs are long enough to step over, but the spinning wheel pendulum that passes over the gap might make that difficult.
“You got this, Damian!” Briar shouts encouragement from floor. Several of my other allies, Faren, Talia, and Kia, stand beside her. All of them have previously run the Gauntlet but only Kia made it all the way through.
I flash them a thumbs-up and return to the task at hand. The wheel is fast. There’s not much time between its turn. If I want to succeed I’ll need to time my steps accurately. I try to remember what Kia did but my recollection fails me. 
I guess there’s nothing left but to try.
I take off at a sprint. Jump to the first platform, wobble in place as the wheel spins past, then leap for the next. My foot catches on the edge and I sway, trying to keep my balance, before one of the wheels pendulums come up from behind and slams into my back. 
The impact with the matted floor knocks the breath out of me. I lie there for a moment, staring up at the darkened rafters of the gymnasium. That hurt. I sit up, rubbing the small of my back. I can still feel the bruise Harmon gave me with that stupid chicken leg. I was trying to escape, wanting no part of that silly food fight. But of course he hit me. Why wouldn’t he? 
I look at my sleeve, which is stained red, and sigh. Pretty much every tributes training uniform is covered in food stains and other gunk. 
“Tough luck!” Briar appears above me and offers a hand. I take it and she pulls me back to my feet. “But nice try. You almost had it!”
“Almost only counts in horseshoes,” Faren mumbles. I shoot him a glance, but he’s only staring despondently at his feet. I remember his own early failure on the Gauntlet and relax. He wasn’t taunting me.
I’ve been nervous around Faren ever since his…incident with Valor this morning. None of the others saw and Faren’s never brought it up, but I still can’t shake the fact that I abandoned him when he needed assistance. It’s not as if I could have helped him, but still…Faren must despise me. What kind of ally leaves a man behind?
“Looks like that was the last go of the night,” Kia’s comment brings me back to the present. All around us the instructors are closing down the stations. Kassius’ whistle should be coming soon. 
“Come on, let’s gather at the elevators!” Briar leads the way and we all fall in line. I find myself next to Talia and Aiko, who has rejoined us sometime since my run with the Gauntlets. I don’t know what to think about either girl; both of them were recruited by Briar—almost desperately recruited—yet I can’t help but think that neither one will be of much use in the arena. They’re both among the youngest and weakest tributes here. Honestly, I am not sure how much use any of us will be in actual combat. 
I’m the son of a butcher and know my way around every type of knife, but that may not be as helpful as I’d originally imagined. After watching the Careers train with their swords, spears, and axes it’s hard to envision a scenario where a knife will stop them. 
The closing whistle blows just as we reach the elevator. There’s a long line, though, so we fall into conversation as we wait our turn. Well, some of us do. My attention is attuned to the trio ahead of.
“Ooh…I think I’m going to be sick!” The girl from District 6, Teal, is hunched over with her hands pressed against her stomach. 
Remus from the Capitol, her ally, gives her a sidelong look. “That’s because you stuffed yourself with those sweets at lunch.”
“I couldn’t help it! Today might be the last chance I get to eat anything sweet!”
He sighs, shaking his head. “I was taught that you should only eat two thirds of your meal. Enough so that your host knows you enjoyed the food, but not too much to show your baser impulses control you.”
“Yeah? Well, not everyone is lucky enough to be able and leave food on their plate!” 
To my great shock it’s Kia who speaks. She shoves her way past me to stand face-to-face with Remus. The taller boy gives her a quizzical glance. “Pardon? Are you speaking to me?”
Her eyes are furious flames. “Most of us have had to scratch and claw for their meals. We had to bust our asses to put food in our stomachs. And even then, more often than not we went to bed hungry.”
Briar and Aiko are nodding their agreement. Even Faren seems to relate. I myself haven’t ever gone to bed hungry. At least not before the…camp. 
“My apologies. I wasn’t aware the District’s were in such dire straits,” Remus dips his head cordially. 
“Of course not! Why would you? You’re a pampered Capitol boy. You know nothing of the real world!” Kia spins to face Teal and sticks an angry finger in her face. “And you! What’s your damage?”
Teal’s eyes widen. “Me? What do you have against—”
“You’re from District 6! Why would you willingly align a with a Capitol oppressor and a mass murderer?” Kia turns to include Solomon, who up until now has been sitting silently in the background. He squirms beneath her gaze and tries to sink further into the folds of his hood. 
“How dare you?” Teal looks like a thundercloud, her queasy stomach apparently forgotten. “You’re judging two people you know nothing about! You don’t know their story! You don’t—”
“I don’t need to know! He’s from the Capitol and he’s a confirmed murderer! You disgust—”
“Kia!” 
Briar places herself between the girl’s, one hand resting on Kia’s shoulder. “That’s enough. We’re not here to antagonize the other tributes. They’re not the enemy.”
Kia goes silent, still glowering. The elevator dings and slides open. Solomon quickly rushes inside, followed more slowly by his allies. Remus pauses in the doorway. “I apologize for the inconvenience. I must—”
Teal elbows him in the ribs and he goes silent as the elevator doors slide shut.
Briar sighs and rubs her head. “That wasn’t very tactful, Kia. We hardly need more of a target on our back.”
Kia at least has enough grace to look regretful. She stares at her feet and mumbles an apology. “I snapped, you’re right. But he shouldn’t have been so casual about wasting food. Starvation is a real problem in District 12.”
“I know. But we can’t lose control of our tempers. If something like that happens in the arena…”
Kia could get us all killed if she’s not careful. It doesn’t help that Briar is pretty much the only one she really listens to. The girl sighs. “I know. And I’m sorry. But I hate the Capitol. There wouldn’t be all this oppression without them.”
I think about the conversion therapy camp. The soul-crushing abuse I endured at the hands of those who thought they knew best. There was no Capitol oversight there. It wasn’t a government facility. District 10 ran it all by themselves. 
“That’s not true.” Kia gives me a surprised look. Even Faren and Talia seem taken back. My hands curl into fists. “The Capitol isn’t the source of all oppression. Sometimes we oppress ourselves.”
The next elevator opens and I step inside. Briar joins me before the doors slide shut. I feel cold, disconnected from my surroundings. I volunteered so that I could take control of my life, but I can sense the walls closing in. I don’t have a chance of winning. I’m just some loser.
And all my allies can see it.
Briar lifts a hand. She seems to debate touching me before dropping it back to her side. “Damian…do you want to talk?”
“No.” 
I’d only make a bigger fool of myself. Sometimes I don’t understand why Briar chose me to be her first ally. I’m not strong or smart. I’m nothing, really.
“Okay,” Briar goes quiet for a moment. “But if you ever want to talk…you can come to me. I’ll always be there to listen.”
The elevator slides open as we reach the District 10 apartment. She moves to step out when I hold up a hand. “Briar I…Thank you.”
She smiles. “I’m always willing to help, Damian. So are our allies. Even in the darkest of times there is a light…please remember that.”
The both of us return to the kitchens in silence. Our mentors are waiting, Panama and Chiswick, but I find myself unresponsive to their questions. I only shrug when Chiswick asks me what my plan for tomorrow’s private training session is. That seems to annoy him, and he promptly leaves. Briar and Panama hold a quiet discussion for several minutes, but then they too turn in the for the night. 
I’m left alone.
I sit at the table and occupy my mind by tracing the grains in the wood. Anxiety is forcing this melancholic mood. I’m stressed almost to a breaking point. A single mistake in the arena will cost me my life. Sometimes I can’t help but think about that.
The elevator slides open.
I stare in amazement as a man walks out. He’s somewhere in his mid-to-late twenties, with slick black hair and a stylish beard. He wears a maroon waistcoat over a white button down shirt and a pair of khaki pants. His outfit is different from what he wore this afternoon, but I still recognize him.
Erevan Newcastle.
What is he doing here? I know that the heirs talked with the tributes during training, but none of them had approached me. A few spoke with some of my allies, but I don’t know what it was about. None of them brought it up and I didn’t think to ask before the food fight soon drove the thought out of my mind.
Erevan pulls up a chair and sits directly across from me. He has a wide smile on his face. “Hello, Damian! I thought it best to have this conversation in a more private setting.”
I’m so taken back that for a moment I can’t think. “How did you know I’d still be awake?” 
He raps his knuckles on the table. “Ah, but I didn’t! I took a calculated risk which, I might add, seems to have paid off!”
I try to remember what I know about Erevan. He’s some kind of business mogul, fabulously wealthy, and from the Capitol. His face was on a billboard back in District 10. He’s exactly the kind of person Kia would hate. Which, oddly enough, makes me curious to speak with him. 
“Why did you want to talk with me?” 
It doesn’t Erevan long to explain the competition the President has set up. I listen in silence, not really understanding what this has to do with me, until he offers me the chance to be his champion. “This would be your big moment, lad. The chance to finally live your life the way you desire! You could have a quiet, peaceful life with Preston.”
Preston. I feel a twinge in my gut at the sound of his name. I haven’t seen him since I was sent to the conversion therapy camp. “I don’t think it’ll be that simple,” I mutter.
Erevan raises an elegant eyebrow. “No? And whyever not?”
I gesture languidly. “I…we would never be allowed to be together. People like my Father would…” Thoughts of the abuse inflicted upon me at the camp spring to my mind. The disgust they felt for me. Would any of that really change even if I were Victor?
“The Capitol is very different from District 10,” Erevan’s voice is softer. His eyes hold a glimpse of sympathy. “The people of the Districts have…outdated mindsets. While they may try to prevent you from being yourself, I can assure you that the Capitol has no qualms about how you live. You can be what you want or love whom ever you wish.”
I hope that is true. The second I volunteered I couldn’t help but think what would happen if the Capitol felt the same way as my Father.
“The Disticts broke free from the Capitol once before, did you know that?” Erevan gives me patient smile. “And do you know what they did with their freedom? They squandered it. They bickered and fought, each District warring with another to try and be the force that ruled the others. Without the Capitol to guide them they simply…fell apart.”
I can believe that. All the Districts are so different from another that it’s only too easy to imagine them squabbling over power. “The Capitol rose back to prominence amidst their struggle,” Erevan continues. “It reasserted itself as the premier power and forced the District’s back into line. And you know what? Less people died. There was no war. Things aren’t perfect, true, but they’re far better than what they’d be without the Capitol as a stabilizing force.”
I don’t know why he tells me this. Can’t see how it matters. The only thing I want is his reassurance that my Victory will give me the life I desire. When I tell him this he smiles and nods. “Of course. I already told you that the Capitol won’t try to change you or force it’s views upon you. You may live as you please. So, what say you? Is my offer acceptable?”
“Yes. It’s fine.” It’ll only matter if I win the Games, which is already a long shot. The odds are far more likely that I wind up dead, but I’ll take whatever assurances I can get.
“Excellent!” Erevan rubs his hands together and stands. “I look forward to working with you, Damian! I believe our partnership will be a lucrative one!”
“One moment, sir!” I hold out a hand, a question suddenly popping to mind. “Why are you included in the competition? You’re not a Stryker.”
He offers me a patient smile. “Because Tiberius Stryker is not blind to the fact that, sometimes, the best person for the job comes from outside the establishment.”
He has a few more words of parting before turning to leave. As he does I notice something slip out of his pocket and I pick it up. “Mr. Newcastle, wait!”
He frowns as I hand him the red glove. “What is this?”
I shrug. “It fell out of your pocket. I thought it was yours.”
Erevan stares at it for a long moment. There’s recognition in his eyes, though it disappears quickly. “I think not. This glove is most assuredly not mine.” Yet he tucks it away into his pocket all the same. He gives me a stiff nod and walks to the elevator, pausing at the doorway. “I’d prefer if you remained silent about this, Damian. I wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea, you understand.”
I nod, even though I don’t know whether he is speaking about the glove or our meeting. Something about that glove has thrown him off, yet I haven’t the faintest idea why. The elevator opens and Erevan Newcastle departs. I stand in the kitchen for a few moments before returning to my room.
Once again I am alone with my anxiety.
==Training Scores & Odds==
Tribute Name 	Training Score	Odds
Valor Forge (1) 	12 	2-1
Alcmene Eudia (1) 	10 	6-1
Atticus Rockwell (2) 	9 	9-1
Lilith Lovelass (2) 	8 	16-1
Zekel Zin (3) 	8 	20-1
Talia Migonette (3) 	3 	65-1
Mako Melanesia (4) 	10 	5-1
Marina Mattel (4) 	9 	10-1
Faren Gomery (5) 	5 	42-1
Opal Crane (5) 	9 	12-1
Maximo Gallardo (6) 	5 	39-1
Teal Arden (6) 	7 	25-1
Killen Timmerhout (7)	7 	24-1
Yewan Felling (7) 	2 	75-1
Notcher Stott (8) 	4 	58-1
Aiko Kinu (8) 	9 	30-1
Harmon Achlys (9) 	8 	16-1
Discordia Achlys (9) 	2 	80-1
Damian Gonzalez (10) 	7 	27-1
Briar Destry (10) 	5 	42-1
Chrome Kimathi (11) 	7 	29-1
Shiloh Masego (11) 	6 	38-1
Matiss Ferrum (12) 	9 	7-1
Kia Gage (12) 	7 	30-1
Solomon Eudia (13) 	11 	88-1
Lucia Shale (13) 	8 	14-1
Remus Ring (C) 	10 	5-1
Mercia Occisor (C) 	6 	35-1
==Pre-Games==
===Notcher Stott (District 8)===
I stare into the mirror, flexing my left hand as I irritably think back to last night. The training scores had been revealed on the television and the four that had flashed underneath my name still rankles.
Four! Of all the scores I could have received it was a four!
The entire training session was a mess. The moment I stepped foot inside the gymnasium I slipped on a puddle of paint that had been left in the entryway. I banged my knee on the landing and that affected the rest of my performance. I was slower, more sluggish. My hand curls into a fist at the memory of the Gamemakers smirking at me.
Fools! We’ll see whose laughing when I win these Games!
It had to have been the girl from District 7 who made the puddle. I reflect on this as I make my way into the kitchen, where Vesperia, Aiko, and my mentors await. Her own session was right before mine. Who else would have had the chance to set such a trap? And a trap it was. I fail to see any other possibility for why the puddle existed. Yewan must have desired to make a fool out of me.
I’ll kill her if I ever get the chance.
“Good morning, Notcher! It’s your big day!” I ignore Vesperia’s peppy smile and scowl at Aiko, who stands cheerfully beside the elevator. She somehow managed to score a nine. How the hell did that happen?
The little girl looks me up and down. “Are you sure you don’t want to be my friend? This is your last chance.”
“I’m sure.” She’s asked me that question every day since we arrived at the Capitol. I don’t understand why.
“But if you’re not my friend, then I’ll have to kill you in the arena.” There’s no menace in her words. It’s not a threat. She’s just says the statement like it’s a fact. “I have to kill everyone else to protect my friends. I won’t let anyone hurt them. Not even you, Notchy.”
My scowl deepens. “If you try to kill me I’m going to slit your throat and dump your body in a gutter.” Landon is counting on me. If I die in the arena where will that leave him? I told him about the Capitol Credits during our last goodbye at the Justice Building, but there’s no guarantee he can safely traverse Rupert Silks territory and retrieve them. 
My threat only seems to widen Aiko’s smile. “Okay. I think I’ll enjoy playing with you.”
What the hell does she mean by that? I start forward, retort already on my lips, when Vesperia steps between us and shoves me aside. “No, no, no! You two are District partners! There will be no fighting between you! If one of you kills the other in the arena I’ll slap the taste out of your mouth!”
That’s just the beginning of the lecture she gives us. The full version is long and rambling, with pointless tangents about cleanliness and manners. I snort and lean back against the wall, arms crossed as I wait for her to finish. When it comes to an end about five minutes later Vesperia gasps at the clock and forces us into the elevator. “Hurry up! You’re going to be late!”
Aiko and I ride the elevator in a stony silence. I’m aware of the fact we’ll both be overlooked by the other tributes. She’s the youngest tribute in the entire arena and I’m the youngest guy. Plenty of fools will think us easy targets because of that. 
My birthday is sometime soon. The thought just drifts into my mind. I don’t know when, exactly, because I’m not sure of the current date, but I know that it’s fast approaching. My birthday will undoubtedly happen in the arena.
It’d be really annoying if I die on my birthday.
===Harmon Achlys (District 9)===
Cora clutches my hand as we ride the elevator down into the bowels of the Training Center. The scores from yesterday are still fresh in my mind. Cora received a two, tied with Yewan for the lowest score of any tribute.
I wasn’t surprised. Cora told me what had happened the moment her private session ended. Apparently she wound up panicking and made a series of mistakes. That’s fine. I never thought she’d earn a high score. As for my own score…
I got an eight. Turns out that was on the upper range of scores, higher than every tribute except the Careers and their recruits. And Aiko. I frown as I think of that little girl earning a nine. Are the Gamemakers just messing with us?
Our elevator continues to descend. Eventually I decide to break the nervous silence. 
“When the gong rings out, make your way straight to me,” I say. “We’re strongest when we’re together, and I can’t leave the cornucopia until I know you’re safe.”
Cora bites her lip. “I will try, but…we’re going to be placed on opposite sides of the cornucopia.”
That’s probably true. The Gamemakers have undoubtedly noticed how attached we are to one another, and the best way to exploit that for maximum drama would be to split us up. “Make your way clockwise around the cornucopia,” I say, mind churning. “I’ll head counter-clockwise and then we’ll meet up in the middle.” 
The elevator opens before Cora can respond. A long hallway stretches out before us and we’re greeted by two Peacekeepers. They order us to follow them and then we’re moving down the dark corridor. 
My thoughts trouble me. Is my plan flawed? What if Cora and I aren’t on opposite sides? Should I tell Cora to just run and leave the bloodbath right away? But then how would I know she’s safe? There’s too much uncertainty and no right answer. 
The corridor eventually opens up into a wide chamber that houses a hovercraft. Lines of Peacekeepers are ushering the other tributes, who all emerge from their own tunnel, onboard. I squeeze Cora’s elbow and give her a reassuring grin as they inject us with the tracker. It doesn’t hurt too badly.
Yewan gives a whoop of excitement as we’re all seated in two rows of fourteen. Cora is thankfully placed right beside me, while Maximo and Killen are straight across. I frown at the sight of both boys in deep conversation. When Maximo made his offer of an alliance I really wanted to accept, but I knew that Cora could never bring herself to trust someone other than myself. 
The hovercraft takes off. The windows are darkened so I can’t see where we go, but I can still sense the movement of the craft. I can’t help but stare down the line of us tributes. Twenty-seven teenagers and one pre-teen are about to enter the arena. 
Only one of us will come out alive.
Cora has never mentioned this fact. Hasn’t brought it up to me at all. Even in the best case scenario one of us has to die. I want to protect her with every fiber of me being and yet…I don’t want to die. 
As the hovercraft continues its flight, I can’t help but wonder what will happen if the Games come down to just me and Cora.
===Mercia Occisor (The Capitol)===
The hovercraft lands soundlessly. The wide doors are flung open and a handful of Peacekeepers order us to unbuckle and file out in an orderly manner. Most of the tributes comply but Maximo shoves his way past everyone. 
“First!” He shouts with a jubilant grin. For some reason a Peacekeeper high-fives him.
None of the other tributes give me so much as a passing glance when I step off the hovercraft. I’ve blended in so far, made myself seem to be nothing more than the typical Capitol socialite who foolishly believes she can win the Games. To all of them I am nothing. A nobody. 
But they don’t know the truth. 
I am an assassin. One who has claimed countless lives over a multitude of high-profile hitjobs. If these tributes knew that, knew I was Ivy the assassin, then they wouldn’t just look through me. No. They’d be staring at me with terrified eyes. 
My target is one of the last tributes to exit the hovercraft. Solomon Eudia. The disgusting kin-killer. I received this job offer a few days before the Reaping. A man named Aamon approached me, claimed that he had to settle a score with Solomon after everything he had done to him. I didn’t ask any questions. When a client hires me to kill someone I don’t care why. The only thing I care about is their money and…
And the killing itself.
Death is joy. There is no feeling better than the act of murder. The pure ecstasy I feel when I successfully plot an assassination and end my targets life cannot be compared to anything else. 
So, no. I didn’t ask Aamon why he wanted Solomon did. I didn’t care. I just took the information packet he gave me and accepted the job. I’ve killed many high-profile and dangerous men over my time as an assassin. Solomon is simply a weak man who killed his family. I thought this would be a simple job.
That was before Solomon volunteered.
The moment I saw him declare his intent to enter the Games I knew what my own course of action would be. I had to volunteer as well. I’ve never failed a job before, never had a mission I couldn’t complete. I wasn’t about to start now. The Capitol would never allow someone like him to become Victor, so I couldn’t just wait and see if he won. Solomon was going to die in the arena either way.
But now it’ll be by my hand.
Peacekeepers round up all the tributes and divide them into pairs by District. Remus and I are led to one of the many openings in the hub-like room and enter the passageway beyond. The corridor soon branches and the two of us head our separate ways. A short walk later and I’m at a door labeled “Launch Room”. Knowing I’ll find my stylist waiting for me, I step inside. “So, Fernando, what outfit do you have for—”
There’s someone inside the room but it’s not my stylist. Dressed in a dark pantsuit, she sits on a chair with legs crossed and arms folded. Long black hair that curls at the ends hangs down to her shoulders. Her stern face watches me impassively, blue eyes focused on mine. I’d recognize her even if she hadn’t been at training.
“It is an honor to meet you, Rozlyn,” I offer a curtsy to the eldest daughter of President Stryker.
There’s not even a twitch of emotion in her face. “I have an offer for you.”
I know what this is about. Though none of the heirs approached me during training, I was close enough to overhear them speaking with some of the others. I fake a bright smile. “I’d be honored to hear an offer from someone as important as—”
Rozlyn cuts me off with a sharp gesture. “I’m not here to listen to Mercia’s prattle. I wish to speak with Ivy.”
There’s a long silence. My body has stiffened automatically at hearing the name of my assassin identity pass her lips. There is no point denying it. She would have never brought it up if she didn’t know for sure. 
I fix her with a firm gaze, entire demeanor hardened. “How did you learn my identity?”
“I am the head of the Seekers of Truth. The knowledge came to me over the course of my job.”
The Seekers of Truth. The Capitol’s secret police. I’d never known my actions would have run across their investigations, though perhaps it shouldn’t be too surprising. I have killed some important individuals “Who else knows?”
Rozlyn smiles. “No one. You and I are the only two people in the world to know Ivy’s real identity. Unless, of course, you’ve told someone else?”
I ignore the probe and demand how it’s possible for no one but her to know. She waves a hand dismissively. “All the Seeker’s reports are sent to me. I am the only person who has read each and every file on Ivy. Who has studied it so diligently. It was quite the difficult puzzle to solve…but solve it I did.”
I hesitate for a moment, wondering if I should just kill her and enter the Launch Tube. But she hasn’t threatened me or made any attempt at blackmail yet. “What do you wish to speak about?”
“You know all about the game my siblings and I are playing, yes?” When she sees my nod she continues. “I am proposing a contract. I wish to have Ivy eliminate all of the tributes chosen by my competitors.”
“That’s quite the list,” I say wryly. “I’d have to kill three quarters of the tributes.”
“You don’t have to personally eliminate them all, obviously. I merely wish for you to ensure that none of them survive.”
I don’t bother pointing out that, as I intend to win the Games, I already planned on having all the other tributes dead. Rozlyn reaches over and hand me a sheet of paper. I cautiously accept it, eyes running over the words printed on it. It’s a list of names.
“The ones in bold are your biggest targets,” Rozlyn says as I read. “They’re the tributes my siblings seem most attached to.”
I notice a name that is marked differently from the rest. “What about this underlined one?”
“He is my brother Roscoe’s favorite. I’d prefer if you didn’t kill him—”
“You realize that the Games require every tribute but the Victor to be dead, yes?”
Rozlyn sighs. “I realize that simple fact, yes. What I was trying to say, however, is that I’d prefer if you didn’t kill him right away. I am fond of Roscoe and would rather him win this competition if I am unable.”
I stare at the underlined name, feeling cold. Solomon Eudia. My target. Aamon has paid me good money to see him dead. More importantly, Ivy has given her word that she’d kill him personally. Ivy never breaks a contract.
Never.
“What is my payment?” I finally ask.
Rozlyn adjusts her position, smile widening. “My offer is an open contact. When you win, I’ll allow you to name whatever you want as your prize. I care not what you desire, name it and I shall give it to you.”
I haven’t the faintest idea what I’d ask for. I’ve literally never put any thought into what would happen when I win the Games. So I merely nod and accept her terms, or at least appear to. I don’t care what she wants; Solomon will die and he will die whenever I deem it necessary. My first contract has priority. Aamon wants Solomon killed, so killed he shall be. 
“Good!” Rozlyn’s smile is as icy as her eyes. “Now that you’ve agreed, I can let you in on a little secret. Inside the arena there is a room. It will be labeled “301”. Remember that, for it is important. Room 301. Inside the room there will be a closet, and inside the closet there is a chest. That is my secret.”
“A chest?” I already have the room number memorized. I shan’t forget it anytime soon. 
“Inside the chest I have hidden a multitude of items to help you in your endeavors. Poisons, blades, outfits, and so much more.” The realization of what she is saying slowly dawns on me. She’s planted items inside the arena to help me. She’s cheating on my behalf. She is playing a dangerous game, indeed. Rozlyn continues. “Do not make a beeline for the chest immediately. That will only cast suspicion upon yourself. Wait a few days. Do not open the chest until the time is right.”
“What if another tribute opens it first?”
“That is impossible. The chest is guarded by a biometric lock that is keyed to your fingerprint. And should they attempt to break it open?” She shrugs. “They will not enjoy the surprise waiting for them.”
I nod. When the time is right. I am sure I’ll know when that is. My concerns have been assuaged. All but one. “What will happen if someone learns of this arrangement?”
The smile fades, though the amusement in her eyes does not. “We’ll both be executed.”
She leaves after that. I am alone in the cold, dark room. I rub my hands together, aware of how dangerous this whole endeavor is. The slightest mistake could cost me my life. But I am unconcerned. I am Ivy, the assassin. I will win these Games in whichever way I see fit.
Solomon will die.
All of the tributes will.
===Remus Ring (The Capitol)===
Mercia and I are led separate ways as the corridor splits in two. I follow the Peacekeepers in a troubled silence. The Games will begin soon, and then the bloodbath shall be upon me.
My alliance has made a plan, of course, yet I am still concerned. Plans can fail. Mistakes can happen. In the arena mistakes lead to death.
I need to keep that in mind at all times.
The Launch Room appears ahead of me. The Peacekeepers give me a nod and I slip inside, instantly greeted by my stylist, Vania.
When she hands me the arena wear I frown. Not at the gaudy rainbow color—though that itself is unfortunate— but because I recognize the outfit. The shirt is emblazoned with six trees and the words “Stryker Resort”. My shorts, meanwhile, are most certainly a swimsuit. The same emblem is stitched onto the left thigh. 
“This is the uniform the lifeguards at the Stryker Resort wear,” I say slowly. It’s an exact match, disregarding the colors.
Vania shrugs. “Can’t say I knew that. Never been to the resort before. It’s invite only, after all.”
I’ve been at the Resort. It was years ago, before Julius’ incident, my family was invited there by the President himself. Despite my current situation, I find myself smiling. That was a fun time. Father was still as demanding as ever, constantly pushing Julius and I to study harder, but we had plenty of fun at the Resort. Every Great Family was invited and, while I’m sure that Father and the other adults spent most of their time having a meeting in the conference center, we children got to play in the waterparks and arcades. I spent a lot of time with Aurilee, then.
Aurilee.
I am not certain of her intent, or what she’d do as President, but I will support her no matter what. She brought Julius back into my life and for that I will be eternally grateful. 
I bid my brother goodbye this morning. His layover had ended and he was being sent back to District 6. Yet Aurilee has promised to relocate him to the Capitol when she becomes President. So when I win Julius will no longer be exiled. He’ll be able to come home.
“You also get to choose whether you want a sweatshirt or rain jacket,” Vania’s voice takes me out of my thoughts. She holds two pieces of clothing in her hand. One thicker and warmer looking, the other sleek and shiny. “The sweatshirt is insulated and will keep you warm no matter the conditions, but the rain jacket will keep you dry. The choice is yours.”
I hesitate for a moment before selecting the rain jacket. Keeping dry will most likely be harder than staying warm. I only wish that all my clothing wasn’t this garish rainbow color…
A voice over the intercom instructs me to enter the Launch Tube. I bid Vania farewell and step inside. I close my eyes, regulating my breathing. This is it. The moment of truth. When I rise up into that arena it will be the first true test of my abilities. 
I feel the plate begin to lurch upwards. I keep my eyes closed, breathing steady, until I feel sunlight upon my face. My eyes flicker open.
I am in a parking lot. Vehicles surround me, neatly tucked into parking spots. The cornucopia is shining brilliantly in the morning sun. Weapons and items are strewn across the concrete, creating a path to the mouth of the cornucopia where more loot awaits. Beyond the parking lot is a series of buildings, built in a old-timey log cabin style with green slate roofing. 
I recognize this place. I’ve been here before. This is the Stryker Resort, or at least a replica of it. I’d suspected this might be the case when I saw our arena wear, but it’s good to have confirmation.
I send my gaze down the platforms, scanning the tributes. Solomon is placed about five spots to my left, while Teal seems to be on the complete opposite side of the parking lot. A voice rings out over the arena.
“Ladies and gentlemen, let the 333rd Annual Hunger Games begin!”
==Interlude==
Nedry Stryker made his way down the halls of the Presidential Manor, nervously running a handkerchief over his sweaty head. Today was the beginning of the 333rd Annual Hunger Games, but it was more than that. So much more. 
The fate of Panem itself hung in the balance.
His footsteps echoed throughout the marble corridor as he made his way to the council chamber where he and his family would meet up prior to the bloodbath. He gave the folder in his hand a nervous glance. His champions. His three contenders. Nedry’s hopes for becoming President lay upon their shoulders. Were they up to the task? Had he chosen properly? There was much doubt in his mind. His siblings always thought themselves so clever. Surely they didn’t expect any of his champions to become Victor. 
But they would. Nedry knew they would. 
Two doors appeared ahead of him. Reaching from the floor up to the ceiling they were made from a solid wood that seemed to soak up the light. Nedry ran a nervous hand over his head. His family was inside. No doubt they’d ridicule him when he made his appearance. They always did. Well, Roscoe always did, at least. Though Nedry was the older brother he had grown up accustomed to the younger man’s snide comments and harsh cuffs. Roscoe thought he deserved the title of President and often took his residual resentment out on him. 
“He’ll soon learn his true place,” Nedry muttered to himself as he pushed the doors open.
He blinked in the sudden light. Crystalline chandeliers hung from the ceiling, basking the long meeting chamber in a brilliant azure glow. A rectangular table dominated the room, surrounded by holographic screens that flickered on every wall. Seven people were seated at the table, seemingly in the midst of a discussion.
The room feel silent as Nedry waddled to his customary spot at the end of the table.
“So our big brother finally deigns to grace us with his presence!” Roscoe’s sneer came as no surprise. The dark-haired man was leaning back in his chair, one hand holding a goblet as he narrowed his icy eyes at Nedry. “I trust you didn’t stop for a meal along the way?”
Nedry ignored the taunt as he settled himself in his chair. Father—President Tiberius Stryker—was seated at the head of the table, on the complete opposite end of himself. Roscoe sat to his left, while Erevan Newcastle took the spot on his right. Nedry suppressed a smile at that. The young upstart claiming Father’s right hand was no doubt a blow to Roscoe.
“Greetings, brother!” Nedry’s younger brother Dimentio was placed beside him. The blond man was smiling warmly. “Don’t feel too bad about being late. Rozlyn has just arrived herself!”
“And a good morning to you, Dimentio!” Nedry liked his youngest brother; something he couldn’t say for the rest of his siblings. Dimentio was a kind, charming lad who knew his place. He’d never tried to claim what wasn’t his. At least, not before Father created this competition.
“Oh, yes! It is very nice to see our beloved big brother!” Aurilee giggled. She sat straight across from Nedry and he frowned at the sight of her. He didn’t like Aurilee. Blue-eyed and blonde, she was a child-woman with soft hands and little giggles. Today she wore a gown of sky-blue silk, all lace and ruffles. She had an almost otherworldly sense of innocence around her, but Nedry knew that her appearance was deceiving. Aurilee was always neck deep in one plot or another.
The other two at the table, his Uncle Escortius and Roscoe’s twin Rozlyn, he didn’t pay attention to. Nedry didn’t have time to focus on them. Instead his eyes went to Father.
Tiberius Stryker was a wide man with heavy built shoulders. His once jet-black hair had faded to gray with age, and he wore his beard in a dignified, close-cropped fashion. Despite his age, however, his blue eyes were as sharp as ever. Even now they flickered from face to face, studying his heirs as they all sat before him. 
Nedry ran a handkerchief over his head. He was aware that Father must not think too highly of him. Otherwise why would he host this ridiculous competition instead of just giving Nedry the Presidency? As the eldest child it was his by rights! 
He took a calming breath and tried to focus on the conversation as it picked back up. Trying to make his claim by rights wouldn’t work. Every time he tried he was merely met with Roscoe’s ridicule and Aurilee’s giggles. They thought he was a fool. Well, he wasn’t! Hadn’t he shown Killen as much?
“The Red Hand of Ra grows bolder,” Roscoe set his goblet back upon the table. “They’ve struck twice more since the Reaping, hitting key industrial targets both times.”
”Their timing was impeccable,” Rozlyn added. She always backed Roscoe in these discussions. “Somehow they knew when and where our shipments left the factories. It is very suspicious.”
“You think they have inside knowledge?” Erevan crossed his arms, one finger tapping his elbow absently. Nedry watched the man carefully. Erevan wasn’t a Stryker. Why had Father chosen him for this competition? He was a wealthy entrepreneur, true, but the Capitol had hundreds of men just like him. Not quite as wealthy or clever, perhaps, but still plenty of them!
“Yes. I believe they have a highly placed mole inside the government,” Roscoe replied. “How else would they have known when to strike?”
“Don’t forget that they had actual Peacekeepers working with them,” Rozlyn said. “The assault on District 2 would never have worked without that assistance. Certainly they have some form of inside help.”
“The Red Hand will soon fizzle out,” Father’s voice was deep, intimidating. Even after all these years it still seemed to reverberate through Nedry’s bones. “My advisors and I have spent many an hour discussing this matter. I grow weary of it. Come! The Games are nearly upon us! Let’s speak of happier subjects!”
Roscoe’s expression darkened. Clearly he did not agree with Father’s assessment of what type of risk the Red Hand posed. 
Nedry himself hadn’t put much thought into the subject. The Red Hand was a mere terrorist group composed of rebel scum. Yes, the fact they had Peacekeepers working alongside them was odd, but they were hardly what he’d consider a true threat. No, the people who truly concerned him were seated at this very table.
Each and every one of these people were ambitious and cunning. Clever and deadly. Nedry shuddered to think of what nefarious activities they might be up to behind closed doors. Or worse. What they might do to him if they were to win the competition and become President. No matter who won, he couldn’t fathom they would permit him to live. As eldest child of Tiberius Stryker his claim to the Presidency was too strong. Someone, someway, would attempt to use that fact against the winner.
So they’d probably execute him before that could happen.
Nedry glanced down at the paper laid out before him. Three names were written upon it. Matiss Ferrum. Killen Timmerhout. Lucia Shale. His three champions. One of them had best come through and win the Games. He hadn’t directly spoken with all of them, of course, but the heirs had already presented their list to Father. Everyone had chosen their champions. If any of the three were to win then the Presidency would be his.
He wiped his head down as his gaze lingered on his fellow heirs. Were their champions better than his? Uncle Escortius was a staunch traditionalist and had only chosen male tributes who were in the Career Pack. Aurilee unsurprisingly chose three pretty boys with her selections. Roscoe claimed that his trio were all ruthless individuals who would win at any cost. Rozlyn picked two Careers and the District 12 girl. Dimentio similarly had two Careers, but his third pick had been the little girl from District 8.
Nedry didn’t understand that choice. Young Dimentio was basically wasting a selection on a tribute who’d undoubtedly be a bloodbath death. 
Erevan’s three champions were an eclectic mix of tributes from the mid to lower Districts. Nedry was sure there was some kind of strategy to his choices, but he hadn’t the faintest idea what it was.
All in all, twenty-one tributes were chosen as champions. That, of course, had seven tributes left over. The Unclaimed, as Nedry liked to think of them. Their names were written on the same paper that held his champions. The selections technically weren’t final until the Games had officially begun. That was very soon.
Nedry glanced at the screens. Right now the commentators were speculating on what the arena would be. Very soon the tributes would rise up into said arena and reveal it to the audience. There was still time.
Enough time to make a change. 
The others were all in the middle of a conversation. No one paid Nedry any attention as he studied the names of the Unclaimed. Seven of them. The boys from District 6 and 8, along with the girls from District 3, 7, 10, 11, and the Capitol. Were one of them a diamond in the rough? A hidden weapon to be used against Roscoe? He loathed the thought of the younger man winning. Nedry would do whatever it took to prevent that from coming to pass.
He spent a few more seconds studying the names before raising a hand.
No one noticed. He wiggled in his chair and frowned. Father was listening to Erevan detail the launch of his new tech product. Nedry cleared his throat.
Still no one noticed. He sighed, wiping a handkerchief across his head. “Father? Father, I’d like to make a change to my champions!”
This time everyone turned to stare at him. “Make a change?” It was Roscoe who spoke. His face was incredulous as he stared down the table. “Now? At the very last minute? Are you that eager to lose, Nedry?”
Nedry fidgeted but didn’t respond. His eyes were fixed on his Father. “I’d like to swap Lucia out for Notcher.”
There was some murmuring at that. Aurilee hid her giggles behind a napkin and Erevan raised an eyebrow. “You’re selecting the maimed boy from District 8?”
Nedry nodded. Something about that lad inspired confidence in him…or at least he thought it did. He was very much aware of the fact that he may simply be making a move for the sake of making a move. 
President Stryker folded his hands. “Very well. I accept your change in Champions.”
“And not a moment too soon!” Dimentio laughed as, all around them, the screens flickered to show the tributes being raised into the arena. All twenty-eight tributes were in a circle around the cornucopia. The golden horn itself was nestled in the middle of a parking lot.
Nedry was forgotten about as everyone’s eyes turned to the screens. He himself was staring at it intently. An icy pit had formed in his stomach. For some reason he thought he might have just made a huge mistake.
On screen, a voice rang out. “Ladies and gentlemen, let the 333rd Annual Hunger Games begin!”
==Arena==
The arena for the 333rd Annual Hunger Games will take place in a replica of the Stryker Family Resort. The cornucopia is placed in the main parking lot, which is in the exact center of the resort and thus the arena. The parking lot is surrounded by buildings that contain hotel rooms and other amenities: these buildings are interconnected by skywalks that span across the parking lot. On the western end of the arena there are two water parks, one indoor and outdoor each, and an arcade, fitness center, and ropes course and climbing maze.
On the eastern end there are three waterparks, two indoor and one outdoor. All three are connected via doorways or skywalks. This area also contains the main lobby, an indoor go-kart track, and a laser tag arena. There is a series of villas and a pond northeast of the lobby.
To the north, past a canyon that can only be traversed by a long skywalk, is another outdoor waterpark. This is the largest of all the parks and contains many amenities. There is also an outdoor go-kart track and, beyond that, a convention center. The security station is also located here. 
The northwest portion of the arena contains a picnic area that is surrounded by woods. This section of the arena is filled with nature and can be a haven for crafty tributes.
==The Games==
==Day 1/ Bloodbath==
===Valor Forge (District 1)===
The cornucopia shines like a beacon in the morning sun. There’s absolute silence in the parking lot as a holographic ‘60’ appears above it and begins to tick downwards. No one moves. Nobody speaks.
I stand on my platform, body already braced for movement and angled towards the cornucopia. I will need to get my hands on a weapon immediately. I focus my gaze on a sword that rests upon a crate at the mouth of the cornucopia, the blade glinting in the sunlight.
I’ve given my fellow Careers the plan. Encircle the cornucopia and try to pick off as many of the other tributes as possible. It should be simple. There’s ten of us and only eighteen of them. Yet how trustworthy are the recruits? My platform is between two of them, with one placed on either side of me. Yewan to my right and Matiss to the left.
Matiss I can trust. He’s strong, smart, and capable of following orders. But Yewan? That girl is an unpredictable wildcard. She only received a training score of two, and I know it wasn’t because of her abilities or lack thereof. She’s been erratic and spontaneous the entire training period, willing to do anything for a laugh. 
I wouldn’t be surprised if she purposely received a low score. 
I file that information inside my head for later use. The countdown has reached ‘50’. I need to focus on the Games. I’ve trained my entire life for this moment. Dreamt of the glory and honor held within. I cannot fail now. I won’t allow myself to. 
I received a training score of twelve, becoming the first person this decade to earn such a score. I’ve aced every test the Academy presented, shattered every record. I am Valor Forge, the chosen champion of Escortius Stryker himself. I will win these Games.
There is no other possible outcome. 
===Faren Gomery (District 5)===
It’s difficult to breathe. Panic gnaws at my side. My legs tremble so much that I’m surprised I can still stand. The Games are about to begin. The death will start momentarily.
I know that it’s a good thing. That each dead tribute brings me one step closer to saving Joule. But I can’t erase the fear that invades my mind. Threatens to shut down my synapses and turn me catatonic. What if I die? There will be no saving Joule then. My death won’t just be my own. 
It’ll be hers as well.
I try to master my fear. Control it. Or at least contain it. I force myself to take a deep breath and turn to study the tributes placed next to me. Harmon is on my right. He’s fidgeting on his platform, craning his neck in an effort to see behind the cornucopia. No doubt he is trying to spot his sister.
I turn to my left. Talia stands on the platform there, blue eyes firmly fixed on me. That’s good. Other than Briar she’s probably the ally I trust the most. As I watch her, she makes a sharp motion at the girl to her right. Opal. 
I grimace. She may be my district partner, but she’s also a Career. I have no doubt that she’d try to kill me the moment she got the chance. 
I won’t give her that chance.
Conscious of Talia’s gaze, I gesture behind me, towards a red pickup truck. She gives me a silent nod. The two of us will fall back and let the others rush the cornucopia. Hopefully they’ll be too preoccupied fighting to pay any attention to the two of us. 
Hopefully. 
===Zekel Zin (District 3)===
The holographic number above the cornucopia coalesces into a ‘30’. The countdown is halfway to completion. Soon the Games will begin and…
Zevran died at the bloodbath. I haven’t forgotten that. I could never forget that. I’ve seen his death every night for the past year. It replays itself endlessly in my head. The axe. The blood. His hair as it swayed in the breeze…
I can’t run. Oh, I desperately want to. My mind is practically screaming for me to run. But I can’t. I’m a Career. I’m expected to fight and kill at the bloodbath. To stay and help my allies secure the golden horn for themselves. My hands clench into fists. I can’t run. So I’ll have to fight. 
And possibly die.
The countdown continues to tick away. Less than ten seconds left now. Sweat beads along my head. My arms feel stiff and leaden. One wrong move and my life could come to an end. 
5…
My gaze settles on a spear that lies propped against the cornucopia.
4…
I’m fast. I could reach it before anyone else.
3…
Unless I trip. If I trip than I’m dead.
2…
I can’t remember if I tied my shoes properly. Did I double lace them?
1…
Gong!
When the gong sounds I’m looking at my feet like an idiot. I stumble forward and barely catch my balance. Several tributes rush past me, headed for the cornucopia. I curse and break into a sprint.
I blow past Notcher as he stops to pick up a small bag marked with a medicinal cross and charge straight for the mouth of the cornucopia, not surprised to find Valor and Alcmene already there and arming themselves with weapons.
My hands clamp around the haft of the spear and when I turn I’m greeted by the sight of Valor heaving his own spear towards the outskirts. I watch as the weapon sails through the air, headed straight for Shiloh as she grabs a backpack. She spots the danger too late. The girl’s gasp of shock turns into a gurgle as Valor’s spear takes her in the throat.
“Secure the cornucopia!” Valor roars, drawing his sword and waving it in the air. “Don’t let them escape with anything valuable!”
I hesitate for only a moment before turning to do as he instructs. Opal has arrived and, armed with a battleaxe, she has positioned herself at the mouth of the cornucopia. I linger beside her, wondering if perhaps I should just help her stand guard, but she scowls and waves me away. Unsure of what to do, I round the side of the cornucopia.
And come face-to-face with the boy from District 7.
He holds a throwing axe in each hand. I freeze, all my training forgotten. Zevran was killed by the boy from District 7. Killed by an axe. 
I trip over my own feet. The spear slips from my grasp as I hit the concrete. I hold up a hand. “Please! Don’t—”
The boy turns and runs off. I don’t waste any time. I crawl backwards, towards a blue tarp that lies nearby. I wiggle underneath it and curl into a ball, tears pouring down my face. I can’t hear anything over the pounding of my heart. 
“I don’t wanna die! Don’t kill me! Please don’t kill me…”
===Teal Arden (District 6)===
I take off running. 
Most of the other tributes rush to the golden horn, but I skirt around on the outer edge, headed in the direction of Remus and Solomon. Before the gong ran I spotted the two of them on the opposite side of the cornucopia and know that it’s in my best interest to reach them as soon as possible.
I bypass Mercia as she flees the bloodbath, duffel bag slung over her shoulder and sword in hand, then loop around Maximo and Damian as they have a tug-of-war over a backpack. Remus and Solomon pop into view. Solomon is picking up bags on the outskirts while Remus has ventured a little further in, seemingly collecting weapons. 
A sudden blaze of pain rakes across my left leg.
I collapse to the ground with a cry of surprise. Instinctively I throw out my hands to break the fall and grimace as they skid across the harsh concrete. I ignore the throbbing pain and turn to see my assailant.
Atticus steps closer. The sword in his hand is already wet with my blood.
I try to stand but find that I cannot. My left leg buckles underneath the strain and I finally become aware of the long, bloody gash that stretches from thigh to calf. I don’t have much time to react before Atticus’ sword is flashing for my head. 
I roll out of the way and his blade chips against the concrete pavement. With fear threatening to overcome me, I push myself into a kneeling position and cry out for my allies. 
Atticus’s fist takes me in the face. My world is pain. Vision nothing more than a blinding light, I force myself to roll, aware that his sword won’t be far behind. The grating sound of steel against concrete lets me know that he missed. Once again I try to stand. My vision fluctuates, but I can actually see again. Atticus’ blurry form is facing me, sword at the ready. 
I have no weapon. No way to defend myself. I see the blade flashing for my neck and know that there’s no stopping it. Funny. I never thought I’d die at the bloodbath. I watch as the blade hurtles forward, wishing that my brothers wouldn’t have to see me die.
Then Remus is there. 
His staff knocks the sword away and sets Atticus off balance. The Career steps back, growling quietly as Remus adopts a defensive stance, his body shielding mine. 
A pair of hands help me up. “Put an arm around my shoulder,” Solomon‘s voice is in my ear as I am lifted to my feet. I wince and nearly collapse. I can’t put any weight on my left leg. 
Remus and Atticus are a blur as they fight. I watch in awe as Solomon practically drags me away. I always knew that Remus was a good fighter but this…his level of skill is beyond what I had imagined. 
HIs staff is flurry of movement. He rains blow after blow down upon Atticus, and the other boy is struggling to keep up. As I watch, Remus strikes several times, all his attacks aimed at weak points. A kneecap. An elbow. Atticus loses ground, sweating profusely as he fails to block the blows. 
Solomon’s movement suddenly halts. The two of us had been gradually making our way to the nearest building, but now everything grinds to a stop. My ally stares blankly at the girl who has just arrived behind the fighting boys.
Alcmene.
The blonde girl has her trademark spiked club in hand as she stares out at Solomon and I. It’s impossible to miss the hatred that fills her eyes. The furious twist to her features. The gaze she fixes Solomon with is one of absolute loathing.
Atticus steps inside Remus’ guard and sends a thrust towards his neck. Remus pivots, sidesteps the attack, and snaps his staff out at a downward angle. The solid wood connects directly with Atticus’ skull.
The boy drops like a stone.
“Get moving!” Remus backs towards us, eyes fixed on Alcmene. She hasn’t moved. Hasn’t reacted to her ally‘s defeat. She only has eyes for Solomon. 
“Solomon!” I tug at his sleeve and he jerks into motion. Nodding silently, he turns and drags me along the parking lot. I cling to his shoulders, keeping pressure off my left leg as we go. If we are attacked I don’t think I could get away.
The two of us continue our trek away from the cornucopia as Remus guards our back. The air is filled with the clash of steel and screams of pain. 
The bloodbath continues.
===Lucia Shale (District 13)===
My feet pound against the pavement as I run for the nearest weapon rack. It contains several swords, an assortment of the types presented at the training center. I zero in on the third one from the right. Straight and narrow, with a concave tip. It’ll do nicely. 
I reach the rack at the same time as another tribute. The boy from District 11, I think. I don’t waste any time. The second his hands grab for a sword I lunge forward and punch him in the face. He stumbles backwards, trips over a crate, and becomes entangled in a nearby net. 
I ignore his flailing and grab my desired sword. Out of the corner of my eye I witness Valor strike down Shiloh as several more Careers join him at the cornucopia’s mouth. Time to get out of here.
I snatch up a nearby backpack and go sprinting back the way I came. I’m about halfway to my platform when I hear the footsteps of pursuit. I stop and spin around, sword thrust outwards.
Yewan barely has time to bring up her halberd and parry the blade. 
I growl, annoyance mixed with rage. This stupid Career! I would have been in and out if it wasn’t for her! But now I’ll have to kill her. I can’t afford to turn my back on her again. I set my feet and back away, wary of her halberd’s spiked tip. With that weapon she has a longer reach than I do. 
The girl steps forward and thrusts. I twist to the side, allowing the weapon to slide past me, and step up to drive my blade into her neck. I have no qualms about killing her. She’s not a person. Not a human being.
Just an obstacle.
I see the flash of the dagger in her left hand right before she strikes. Adjusting my swing, I send the sword to her right arm before she can launch her trap. The dagger slaps it away.
We disengage. Circle around one another. A car is behind me. A small silver one. An inkling of a plan forms in my head but I’ll need some space to execute it. I feign a lunge and the girl swings her halberd up to block. I take this opportunity to clamber atop the front of the car, gaining the high ground.
If the girl is fazed by this development she doesn’t show it. Instead she swings her halberd at my feet like a broom. I jump, clear the weapon, and send a counterblow toward the top of her head. She jerks away, but not fast enough. Droplets of blood fly from the gash I open across her forehead.
I’m in the middle of my second swing when she throws the dagger. I step to the side and it misses me by more than a foot, but I can’t dodge her halberd as she swings it one-handed. The haft connects with my ribs and the force of the blow is enough to drive me off my feet. I hit the car, bounce off, and land roughly on the pavement. 
I inhale a wheezing breath. The bright blue sky looms above me. A second later the halberd’s crescent blade blocks out the sky as the tip is driven into my chest.
===Lilith Lovelass (District 2)===
Though the Games have been on for only a few moments, the cornucopia clearing has already begun to empty. Opal stands guard at the mouth of the cornucopia, battleaxe at the ready as she swivels in place, trying to watch every direction at once. But there’s precious little for her to see.
In the distance Alcmene chases Chrome, hissing in annoyance as she swings her club at his heels. Matiss stands nearby, seemingly doing nothing but holding onto a massive scythe. And, on the outskirts, Briar and two of her allies stand near the platforms, a measly few bags in their possession. I don’t know why they haven’t left yet, but it seems like they’re waiting for something.
“Have you seen the others?” I ask Opal as I grab two knives off a nearby rack and stick them in my belt. I already have a chakram in my possession; it was the very first thing I grabbed. 
She shrugs. “Valor chased two boys around the cornucopia. The others are probably all on the backside.”
I take in her words with a nod and frown as new movement catches my eye. The girl from District 12, Kia, darts across the parking lot and stops beside a weapon rack. Two large packs form a bulge on her back. Clearly she’s been busy.
Time to make her pay for that.
“Matiss! With me!” 
The tall boy nods and lurches into movement as we descend upon the girl. Kia is in the middle of picking up a third backpack when she notices us. Too late. I’ve already thrown my chakram. Her eyes widen as the weapon slams into the backpack she holds and drives her to the ground. I’m about to dart in and finish her with a knife when I hear Matiss give a shout of alarm.
The little girl from District 8 has arrived. She circles around Matiss, two knives twirling in her hands as she smiles disarmingly at the giant boy. Her dissonant serenity unnerves me. I still remember her eerie words during training. I can’t wait to play with you in the Games! A shiver that is unassociated with the weather runs down my back. I want nothing to do with that girl.
“Kill her, Matiss!” I snap at my ally and turn back to Kia, whose getting back to her feet, my chakram embedded in her backpack. “She’s just a little girl!”
Matiss grunts and swings his scythe. Aiko ducks underneath the blade and slashes out with her own knife. Matiss barely has time to back off before his leg is cut. I hiss in annoyance. How is he—
Kia lunges at me. 
I slap her knife away with my own and, quick as a snake, strike with the blade held in my left hand. Kia gasps as my knife cuts flesh, skittering across her ribs. She backs off, breathing heavily. 
I can’t lose this fight. I’m better than this girl. Stronger. Faster. All those years spent training weren’t a waste. My Fathers didn’t send me into the Games just to die. I’m not weak. I’m not—
Kia pulls a second knife out and comes at me swinging. Steel meets steel as our knives clash, sparks flying as the blades chip and grind against each other. I’ve spent hours training for this exact situation. Long sessions spent learning how to beat my opponent. To predict their every move. This should be my fight. My moment of triumph. 
Yet I am losing.
Kia is a woman possessed. Each of her movements is fueled by frenetic energy, her swings more coordinated and accurate than they have any right to be. Her dark braids swing wildly as she hacks and slashes, forcing me backwards. There is no humanity in her eyes. No pity. Just the feral savageness of an animal desperate to survive.
Her knives begin to land. A gash opens up across my forearm, followed by one below my eye. I steadily lose ground, pushed backwards by the girl’s frantic blows. A knife slices through my shoulder and I drop one of my blades with a gasp of pain.
I’m not good enough. This is not a new realization. I’ve known this fact my entire life. I was never good enough. No matter how hard I tried or how much effort I put in, I always knew I’d never be good enough. I never wanted to be the best. I just wanted to be competent. 
But that was too much to ask for.
As another one of Kia’s blades hit home, I know that I’ve lost. “Matiss!” I scream his name, a mad desperation tinging my voice. “Matiss, help! I need you!”
There is no response. 
With no help coming I do the only thing that I can think of. The only way to end this fight with my life. I need a death blow. A quick end to combat. I watch Kia’s knives and purposely step into the thrust. There’s a flash of pain as the blade embeds itself into my shoulder, but my own knife is hurtling towards her neck. Kia’s eyes widen as she realizes her mistake. She cannot stop my attack.
I have her!
A chakram slams into my side. 
The knife drops from my hand with a screech. I fall to one knee and watch helplessly as my blade clatters against the concrete. Kia wastes no time in reasserting her advantage. She steps up and drives a knife into the side of my neck.
My hand instinctively grabs the hilt but my training prevents me from pulling the blade free. The moment I do I’ll choke on my own blood. Kia backs off, panting hard as watches me try to stem the blood pouring from my neck.
“Aww! You broke her already?” Aiko walks up, hands clasped behind her back as she peers down at me. “No fair, Kia! I wanted to play with her!”
I swing my knife at her but she merely steps back to avoid the feeble attack. My vision has begun to blur. Black spots flicker into existence. I feel the pavement against my back as I slump to the ground.
“Thanks for the assist,” Kia’s voice is flat, without emotion. “But we need to go. Now.”
“Really? But I wanted to play more! I had a whole game ready—”
“Briar is calling us. Let’s go. Now!”
Flat on my back, I watch as three figures rush off. Three? But who was…
“Lilith!” 
Matiss pulls himself towards me. His eyes are unfocused and a large, angry bruise mars his face. “I’m so sorry! Damian attacked me from behind! There was nothing I could…”
His words become a garbled mess. The world itself seems to be underwater. Can’t breathe. Vaguely I become aware of several more figures appearing behind Matiss. Careers? Are they coming to help? Too late. Far too late. 
Everything turns black.
===Discordia Achlys (District 9)===
I don’t know what to do. 
I hover in place, caught between a desire to run away and an urge to follow Harmon’s plan. But I can’t remember the plan. Was I supposed to run clockwise or was he? He’s on the opposite end of the cornucopia, that I know, but little else has come apparent to me. 
A mass of humanity had charged the cornucopia at the sound of the gong. I stayed in place, caught in a vise-like fear, while the screams of pain and fury sounded throughout the parking lot. The clash of steel and the muted thump of metal striking flesh. I witnessed Remus strike Atticus down with a staff before fleeing alongside his allies. Atticus is still lying there on the hard concrete. He hasn’t moved in a long time.
I think he’s dead.
I force down a desire to retch as I finally make my legs work. I head clockwise around the cornucopia, sticking to the platforms as I go. Though it feels much longer the Games have only been on for moments. The parking lot is mostly empty as I circle the golden horn. A large group of tributes rush off to the west and another, smaller group is gathered around what appears to be a body. 
The air is heavy with the scent of blood.
“Cora!”
My brother’s voice cuts through the air like a knife. I spin and spot him as he comes running from the opposite direction I was headed. Embarrassment floods me as I realize that I had gone the wrong way.
As I change course and head for him I note that he has a curved blade in his hand. A sickle. So he’s kept enough sense to grab something. I was too panicked to do even that. Worry had flooded my mind and shut down all rational thought. But now that Harmon is here I can—
“Cora, behind you!”
I feel the rush of air over my head as I drop to the ground and hear his grunt of annoyance as I clamber back to my feet, heart pounding in my ears. Mako straightens out and narrows his eyes as he adjusts his trident’s position. 
My mouth goes dry. A Career. A Career is attacking me! 
Mako thrusts his trident forward.
And then Harmon is there to slap it away. 
My brother pirouettes and adopts a defensive stance he learned during training. His gazes flickers towards me but he keeps his body angled at Mako. “Cora, run!”
“No!” I can’t abandon Harmon. I won’t! What kind of sister would leave her baby brother when he needs her most? 
There’s an unsettling grinding noise as Harmon deflects another one of Mako’s strikes. My brother is forced backwards, nearly colliding with me. “Please, Cora! I can’t defend you and fight at the same—”
Another metallic clang as their weapons meet. I scamper away, tears stinging my eyes. If only I had a weapon! Mako is too strong for Harmon to take alone. The boy is constantly on the offensive, raining a flurry of strikes down upon my brother. Sweat beads along Harmon’s head. He can’t keep this up. Sooner or later he will—
There’s a meaty sound of impact and Harmon drops to his knees with a muted gasp.
Mako’s trident has pierced his chest. The Career casually, almost contemptuously, rips the weapon free and pushes against my brother’s shoulder. 
Harmon tips over and hits the ground. His blue eyes are glassy and vacant as they stare up into the sky.
He doesn’t move.
I scream.
No! This can’t be happening! This isn’t true! Harmon is too brave to die! He was the strong one! Always my helping hand! Whenever I was feeling down he’d cheer me up. He always knew what to say. He can’t be…this isn’t…
I choke on my own sobs. The world is a blurry mess. Tears streak down my face. Harmon lies there in the ground. So innocent. So defenseless. He didn’t deserve this. It was my fault. All my fault! 
I move to run to his side, to cradle him and tell him that it’ll be okay, but arms wrap around me from behind. Pull me back. “Discordia, no!” A familiar voice is in my ear. Maximo. “He wouldn’t want you throwing your life away! You have to run!”
I try to resist his grasp. I throw myself forward, kicking wildly and wrenching my head from side to side as I attempt to wrestle free, but he’s too strong. Gradually he begins to tow me away from the cornucopia. Away from Harmon.
Mako watches us go. He holds his trident in a casual defensive stance and makes no effort to give chase. I’m confused until Maximo drags me over to Killen, who stands at the ready with two throwing axes. The small part of me that is still rational realizes Mako can’t risk an attack in this situation. Any offensive motion would leave him vulnerable to a reprisal from Killen’s axe. 
“Here’s that damsel in distress you asked for,” Maximo sounds displeased as he stops beside the taller boy. Killen doesn’t so much as glance at him. His eyes are fixed on Mako. 
“You know we couldn’t leave her.”
Maximo’s only response is a grunt. I hang limply in his grasp. I’ve given up on making any effort to escape. Harmon is dead. Dead. Nothing I could do would change that. My brother is…
A small sob racks my body as Maximo hauls me over his shoulder. Him and Killen begin to run, fleeing from the cornucopia and all its evils. Vision bobbing up and down, I watch the golden horn disappear from sight with sorrow in my heart and the taste of tears on my lips.
The bloodbath is over…along with my brothers life.
==Day 1/ Aftermath==
===Marina Mattel (District 4)===
I scrub at my face as we regroup at the mouth of the cornucopia. The other tributes have all fled. The parking lot is empty except for the random items strewn across the ground. The large building that forms a ‘U’ around the parking lot seems to gaze at us with its hundreds of windows. 
I roll my shoulders, unable to shake the feeling that someone could be watching us from there and we’d never know.
“How many dead?” Valor is the first to speak. The seven of us form a semi-circle as we check our weapons and treat any injuries. No one appears to be seriously hurt.
“I killed the Nine boy,” Mako answers. The blood that drips from his trident is proof enough of his claim.
“And I got the girl from Thirteen,” Yewan says. I can’t resist looking at the bandage that forms a bandana around her head. If the blow had only been a few inches lower it’d have taken out her eyes. 
There’s a short pause as we all turn to look at the body of Shiloh, lying on outskirts. We all know that Valor took her out within moments of the gong sounding. That puts three dead tributes, not counting…
I scan the faces of the six Careers around me. Will one of us address the elephant in the room? Three of our own allies are missing. Zekel and both from District 2. It’s not a mystery what happened to Lilith; half of us responded to Matiss’ shouts for help only to arrive and find her dead with a knife in her neck. Apparently Briar and her alliance defeated Matiss and killed Lilith.
But what happened to Zekel and Atticus? I find myself troubled with their disappearance. The two of them are the only male Careers I feel comfortable around. Valor and Mako are too much like Tristen; loud, cocky alphas. And Matiss is…Well, he’s not exactly someone who puts me at ease.
“We need someone to check the bodies,” Valor continues to relay orders. “A tribute might be pretending to play dead, so be careful when you do it. While they’re doing that the rest of us should grab our weapons and whatever supplies you want so we can be ready to clear out when the Capitol comes to snag the bodies.”
No one rushes to volunteer for body duty, so I just say that I’ll do it. Alcmene offers to help and the two of us make our way towards the nearest corpse. Shiloh. The girl’s dark eyes stare into the sky and a spear juts from her throat at an odd angle. 
Alcmene wrinkles her face. “She’s definitely dead.”
I agree so we move on. I try to make some small talk—getting the other female Careers on my side is the lynchpin of my strategy—but Alcmene only responds to my efforts with nods and grunts. Clearly the girl is in no mood to talk, so I give up my efforts as we approach the second corpse.
Lucia is much the same as Shiloh, lying on the concrete in a pool of blood, so we bypass her and head for the prone body that lies not too far away. Alcmene slows as we approach and the look on her face tells me she already knows what we’re going to find. My chest tightens as we draw close enough for me to recognize his face.
Atticus.
I exhale loudly. I knew that something bad had to have happened to him, but I was holding out hope that he was just lying injured somewhere. Atticus was someone I liked. He was funny and personable, charming without being overbearing. I thought that with enough time he might even be someone I could call a friend.
But now he’s dead.
I kneel at his side, surprised at the fact his body shows no obvious wounds. “What happened?” I turn to Alcmene, remembering her reaction. She must have seen something.
The blonde girl’s eyes are like chips of ice. “Solomon’s ally killed him. Struck him in the skull with a staff.”
I nod and feel at Atticus’ head. I grimace as my fingers come into contact with sticky blood underneath his hair. He definitely took a blow to the head. And…I find the indentation in his skull and suddenly all doubt is gone. The blow hit hard enough to crack his skull.
I rise, glancing at Alcmene as she stares at our ally’s body. She’s gone rigid, fingers curled around the handle of the club she carries. Her hatred of Solomon is well known. “You saw this happen?” I ask quietly.
She nods. “I did. Solomon was…Atticus had wounded his ally and he was helping her.” 
I note the quaver in her voice. Something about that situation has rattled her, but I don’t really have the time nor the inclination to probe deeper. Not right now. I give Atticus’ body one last glance. “May you Rest In Peace.”
We only find one other body, that of the District 9 boy. The wounds in his chest line up with Mako’s description of how he killed him, and there’s possible way he could be faking, so Alcmene and I return to the cornucopia, planning to tell the others the final kill count.
But before we get there I notice something in the corner of my eye. Movement. A blue tarp that lies a few feet from the cornucopia wiggles as I turn to stare at it. Then, with a suddenness that has me stepping back in alarm, a head pokes out from underneath the tarp.
“Zekel!” 
The boy’s gaze snaps towards me and he’s pushing himself to his feet, casting the tarp aside. “Marina!” He rushes over, eyes swiveling in his skull. “Is the bloodbath over? Did we win? How many of us died? Where—”
I hold up a hand to stop his onslaught of words. “Slow down! What happened to you? And why were you hiding underneath a tarp?” Try as I might, I can’t think of a rational explanation for the situation before me. Just how long had he been under there?
Zekel blushes. “I wasn’t hiding! I just…I got knocked out.” He proceeds to tell me a tale about how the boy from District 7 sprung an ambush and struck him in the skull with the handle of his axe. The way Zekel describes it, he was lucky to escape with his life, using the last of his strength to roll underneath the tarp before he lost consciousness. “I just woke up now,” He finishes with a shrug. 
I nod, taking in his words silently. His head shows no sign of receiving a blow strong enough to knock him unconscious. In fact, he bears no wounds at all. It’s suspicious, but I have no idea why he’d lie to me. And why else would he be underneath the tarp? My first assumption would be that he was hiding, but the thought of someone as skilled as Zekel spending the entirety of the bloodbath hiding beneath a tarp is simply laughable.
Well, it would be laughable if I hadn’t done much the same thing. I spent majority of the bloodbath just moving about cautiously in an effort to avoid any and all fights. Because unlike the rest of my compatriots I have no desire to win fame and glory here in the arena. The only goal I seek is the Victor’s Crown. If earning that Crown requires me to avoid fighting…
Then that’s just what I’ll do.
So I don’t question Zekel any further and just tell him that we should regroup with the others. He is eager to agree with me and the two of us make our way back to the mouth of the cornucopia. When we arrive Alcmene has just finished tallying the dead.
Valor frowns at us. “So you’re alive and still here,” He addresses the words to Zekel. “Good. I thought you might have cut and run.”
Zekel’s laughter sounds forced. “Why would I do that? The Careers are the strongest alliance in the Games!”
While that’s undoubtedly true, I can’t help but take note of the knowledge that, with Atticus and Lilith gone, our numbers are almost even with Briar and her alliance. Kia’s probably the only one among them who could fight her way out of a paper bag, but it’s a unsettling thought regardless. 
The group waits as Zekel and I collect our belongings and then we step away from the cornucopia so the hovercrafts can come claim the bodies. Mako points at the building behind us. “I want to check that place out. See just what this arena is.”
We make our way towards a doorway set into the side of the long, three-story building. A sign above it reads ‘Entrance 5’. When Valor pushes the door open we find ourselves in a small entryway. A staircase to our left heads up to the second floor while a narrow path takes us into a hallway. The maroon carpet is decorated with pictures of bears and the bright yellow walls are covered with wood paneling. 
“Looks like a hotel,” Alcmene says. 
She’s right. Doorways run down the length of the hall, periodically appearing on each wall. The door closest to us is labeled ‘101’. 
“This is going to make hunting down the other tributes a pain,” Valor is displeased, and understandably so. If we have to go room to room during our search than it could take quite long indeed. 
“With the size of this place there has to be hundreds of rooms,” Mako rubs his chin thoughtfully. “We’ll have to come up with some form of strategy or we’ll never make any progress.”
I glance at our four recruits. None of them have really spoken since the bloodbath ended. Not even Yewan. That’s especially surprising since that girl typically runs her mouth like a motorboat. The four of them just sit in the back of our group and wait silently as Mako and Valor try to extrapolate the size of the arena. 
With the exception of Yewan, none of them made a kill at the bloodbath. Even if they have had some level of training, they probably weren’t completely prepared for the level of brutality and violence that awaited them. I myself would never have be able to kill so easily if it wasn’t for the images of Tristen running through my head. 
The mere thought of him has me on edge. He thinks he is untouchable. Beyond the reach of repercussions. I’ll show him. When I win these Games and become Victor he’ll learn that justice is blind and no one is exempt. Especially not when I have someone like Roscoe Stryker on my side.
Valor leads us off down one of the halls, dead-set on exploring the arena while we have the chance. I follow along quietly. Tristen better live it up while he can. Because I’m coming for him. 
===Briar Destry (District 10)===
Our flight from the cornucopia leads us through a long corridor that has doorways periodically branching off to the sides. After the bloodbath we fled west from the cornucopia and entered a door marked ‘Employees Only’, which seems to have taken us into the hidden hallways of the resort. 
I pause at a small intersection. The door to my left contains some sort of break room, while the one on my right has a bank of lockers stretched along the wall. Straight ahead the hallway continues to proceed forward. “Is everyone okay?” I ask, adjusting the strap of my backpack. It was the only thing I claimed from the bloodbath. I was more concerned with protecting my friends than grabbing loot.
In that regard I was successful. All five of my allies come to a halt alongside me, some clearly more tired than others. Faren bends over, hands on his knees, as he tries to regain his breath. Talia slumps against the wall. “Are we safe?” She asks weakly.
I nod. “For the moment, yes.” 
Neither she nor Faren have a weapon of their own. He wears a backpack, but all she has is a coil of rope wrapped around her wrist and a roll of blankets tucked underneath her arm. That’s fine. I never expected them to snag the best items anyway.
“The Careers will stick around the cornucopia for most of the day,” Kia says. The dark-haired girl scowls at the narrow confines of the hallway before turning to give Talia a reassuring nod. “And I doubt any of the other tributes are dumb enough to attack an alliance this big.”
I am thankful for Kia’s strength in this moment. Her and Aiko were the only ones who ventured into the deep confines of the cornucopia, and she managed to procure both a weapon and several backpacks. The supplies inside might just be what gets us through the next few days. 
That said…
Kia’s hands are coated in dried blood, blood that is obviously not her own. She probably killed someone at the bloodbath. I squirm uncomfortably at the thought, even though I know it was necessary. But I’ve always abhorred violence, and it’ll take more than necessity to break lifelong habits.
“Wow! Look at this!” 
We all turn to see Aiko inside the break room and peering up at a vending machine. The room must have piqued her interest. She taps on the glass. “There’s like, dozens of things in here!”
Faren frowns. “It’s just a vending machine. It’s not that impressive.”
Damian scratches his head. “I’ve seen those on television before, but haven’t encountered one in person.” That’s true for me as well. The only time I saw one was in the hallways of the Training Center. District 10 doesn’t exactly have an abundance of purchasable food.
We take this opportunity to follow Aiko into the room and take a little break of our own. Kia stands guard at the doorway as we all empty the backpacks onto one of the several tables and begin to sort our items.
I’m mostly pleased with our haul. We have several canteens full of water, two packets of crackers, a tube of some white paste Faren claims is burn cream, Talia’s rope, and a multitude of beef jerky. Unfortunately, one of Kia’s bags is almost completely empty. The only items we find inside are a pair of flashlights. Still, the stuff we do have will undoubtedly be useful. 
Our weapon situation is a little less inspiring. Kia has her two knives, while Damian has both a baton and a machete. Aiko meanwhile has three knives of her own, half a dozen darts, and a hatchet. 
Faren pales slightly as Aiko showcases her weaponry. “Y-you certainly grabbed a lot of weapons…”
She bobs her head up and down. “Oh, yes! I need lotsa equipment for this game! The Careers are pretty strong! They won’t go down easily. Like that girl Kia killed!”
A silence greets her words. Kia…killed a Career? Our heads swivel as one to stare at her as she leans against the doorframe. “What?” She raises an eyebrow at us. “She attacked me. What was I supposed to do? Let her kill me?”
“Damian and I helped!” Aiko is practically jumping up and down in excitement. “He used his baton to thwock the big guy in the head, then I threw my chakram into the girl’s side! That hurt her enough for Kia to finish her!”
I close my eyes and inhale deeply. I know that, realistically, I should be happy that my allies are capable of defending themselves. But I just can’t bring myself to feel anything but sorrow over what occurred. Killing someone isn’t an easy thing. It takes something away from you. Even Careers are human beings. Yet Aiko and Kia…I don’t feel like they quite understand that.
“We shouldn’t celebrate death,” I say quietly.
Aiko pauses, looking confused. But Kia just nods. The two of us have had conversations pertaining to this subject before; she knows how I feel about fighting and killing. She doesn’t agree, but she understands my position. That’s all I can ask for.
“We need them dead for us to win,” Faren speaks slowly, as if afraid I’ll reprimand him. “I…we can’t all survive. The other tributes, I mean. Th-they need to die.”
“That’s true.” I wish there was another way, but there isn’t. Only one person is leaving this arena. “But we don’t need to celebrate it. Every death leaves us a little poorer. Less…whole, I suppose.”
A few of the others murmur their agreement but most remain silent. I am not surprised. Even though we’re a collection of the most kind-hearted people in the Games, I didn’t expect them all to agree with me on this point. In their eyes each death brings them one step closer to victory. But to me each dead tribute is just another senseless waste of life. 
Yet if I want to win and return to Tasha, then all of my friends will have to die.
That thought leaves me hollow inside.
I decide to change the subject. We’re still too close to the cornucopia for my liking, so I tell the others to pack up their items and get ready to move again. None of them protest. As I watch them go about their tasks, Kia sidles up alongside me. “All that death must have been hard on you.”
“It’s not just the death.” I hate the fact that we have to kill one another, but it’s not the only thing bothering me. “I’m more concerned about the…you know, the grim future. The loss of our allies.”
Kia grunts and adjusts her jacket. The flash of movement momentarily gives me sight of the wound underneath. I gasp. “You’re injured!”
“It’s nothing serious,” Kia tries to wave me off. “Lilith’s knife raked against my ribs, that’s all. I’m fine.”
I don’t know if I believe that. The wound isn’t life threatening in any way, but it’s definitely paining her. Now that I really pay attention, I can see that her breaths come quicker and her movements are more careful. “You need rest,” I tell her with a frown.
“Yeah, well, we can’t stop here, can we? Need to get further from the cornucopia. I’ll be fine until then. It’s really not a big deal.”
Perhaps she’s right. I could just be overreacting. I have been on edge since the Reaping, especially after I witnessed the brutality on display at the bloodbath. None of the tributes are holding back. It’s almost as if they don’t care about harming other people at all.
That’s a frightening thought.
When we’re all packed I lead the way back into the hallway. There’s no sign of any other tributes, thankfully. Our trip down the hall is made in silence. We pass several more interesting siderooms, a laundry room that contains bins of towels, a room full of pipes and gears, and something that I think is a maintenance office of sorts. Faren is particularly excited to see that one. 
He pauses at the doorway, peering inside. “There’s a lot of useful items here. I could probably make some traps with enough time.” 
I glance behind us. The doorway we originally entered rests at the far end of the hall. The cornucopia parking lot is just on the other side of that door. It’s still possible that the Careers will wander in here.
“We can come back here later,” I say. “Right now we should just focus on putting distance between us and the cornucopia.”
The hallway comes to a narrow end. One half of the hall is full of carts containing trash bags. I carefully pick my way past these and push the double doors open and step into the next room. We’re in the guest hallways, it appears. An entrance to some kind of arcade is to our right while the door to our left exits outside.
“I don’t like all that noise,” Talia says quietly. I agree. The sounds coming from the arcade are borderline obnoxious; the games audio and sound effects apparently run twenty-four-seven. 
With that thought in mind, I take us outside, glad to see that it’s a completely different area than the cornucopia parking lot. Which makes sense, considering we went straight through a building to get here. The sun shines overhead as we cross a narrow strip of concrete filled with resort utility vehicles and enter the building directly across from us. 
We’re in a waterpark. The roaring of the water slides and spray from its features reach my ears as I step inside, wrinkling my nose at a strong, strange smell.
“It’s chlorine,” Faren says as my allies join me. “That smell is chlorine.”
“Is it dangerous?” Damian asks.
He laughs. “Of course not! It’s just used to keep the water clean. People come here to swim, after all.”
I find the concept mind-boggling. People come to swim in this water? I can understand jumping in a pond or lake to cool off on a hot day, but making an entire indoor resort and filling it with fresh water just so you can splash around in it? Baffling.
Faren appears to be the only one of us not enthralled by the strangeness of the situation as we proceed deeper into the park, bypassing dozens of empty tables as we approach a gigantic play structure that is spraying out water from absolutely everywhere.
“This could be a good place to set up a camp,” I say carefully. A large wooden tower of sorts lays behind the play structure, apparently the launching point of the slides I see crisscrossing the ceiling. “It’s a pretty big place, but there’s only so many entrances. We could probably be able to watch them all.”
After we take a quick lap around the park, I can conclude that there are only six total entrances. Three up front, one on the east side, and two at the back. Of course, there’s also a staircase that takes us up to a mezzanine and what appears to be a doorway leading into a restaurant of some sort. So maybe guarding every entrance isn’t as feasible as I first thought. 
But this place is still a good candidate for a base camp. We’ll spend a little more time scouting it out before making a decision, but I feel confident that we can find a suitable arrangement. So that’s one worry settled.
Now I only have about fifty others to take care of.
===Notcher Stott (District 8)===
My lungs scream for air and my legs burn with exhaustion as I finally pull to a halt, hands on my knees as I bend over and take panting breaths. 
I’m in a hallway of some sort. Large rectangular windows surround me on both sides, looking out at the resort and its abundant amenities. Or something like that. I haven’t taken the time to stop and sightsee. That would be stupid. This is the first time since the gong rang out that I’ve even stopped running.
I collapse into a sitting position, each breath coming hard and heavy. I hold an inhaler in my hand but make no move to use it. The stupid Capitol doctors gave me it after they did my health checkup when I first arrived at the Capitol. I told them I was fine, that I wasn’t sick, but they didn’t listen. Said I was asthmatic and needed this dumb thing. They practically forced me to make it my token. 
I resist the urge to smash it and instead tuck the inhaler into my pocket. It’s not that I think I’ll ever need to use the thing in the way they intended. Just…maybe it’ll come in handy later. I don’t know. Anything is possible. 
I continue to lean against the wall as I catch my breath and think back to the bloodbath. The only item I managed to grab was a small white bag emblazoned with a cross. I’ve seen that symbol before and was on the lookout for it the whole time. A medical bag. 
I glance up and look both ways. I’m in the middle of a long hallway that, as far as I can see, stretches on indefinitely. There are no doors here; just those wide windows. I try to mentally retrace my steps and realize that I’m on the second floor. The first thing I did when entering the building was ascend the staircase on my left. I’m pretty confident that no one else would think to replicate that move.
Once I was on the second floor I followed a hallway past a restaurant of some sort and came to a three-way intersection. I don’t have perfect recollection here, but I think the path I took had a sign overhead proclaiming something about a skywalk?
I rise to my feet—my breathing has become steady—and cross over to the nearest window. Peering outside, I can see that I’m on the second floor and above some type of canyon. A long wooden bridge crosses the steep cliffs, stretching over a small forest of pine trees which grow in the depths. The skywalk I’m on seems to connect one end of the resort to the other.
Content that no one will be able to approach me unseen—the hallway extends forward far enough for me to see anyone trying—I sit back down and finally open the lone bag I snagged from the cornucopia.
As it is marked with a medicinal cross, I am not surprised by its contents. Gloves, bandages, gauze pads, anti-septic wipes and other kinds of healing items are nestled snugly inside. The real prize, though, is the trio of small, slender needles I find. 
I assume they’re intended for stitching up wounds, but I have another use for them. Life on the streets of District 8 was tough enough that you needed to carry a weapon at all times, and as it was the home of Panem’s textiles factories, finding a stray needle was a simple task. Back home I always had one on me and can’t even count the amount of times I used a needle to defend myself. 
I stash all three needles in a different spot around my person, well aware that any kind of weapon is useless if I can’t reach them during an emergency. My encounter with Rupert Silks on Reaping Day is a good example. I hadn’t been able to reach my dagger, but the needles I kept tucked into my bootlaces came in handy.
I’m beginning to stick the rest of the stuff back into the bag when my hand brushes against something I hadn’t noticed. Pulling it out, I find myself holding a gas mask.
Strange. I stare at it for several moments, wondering what possible use I could have for this. Poison gas isn’t used in the Games very often; it kills the tributes too quickly and isn’t exciting enough for the Capitol audiences. Still, there must have been some reason it was supplied at the cornucopia. I doubt the Gamemakers are in the business of giving us tributes worthless items. Actually, never mind. That’s exactly the kind of thing they’d do.
Bastards.
When all my items—gas mask included—are safely secured I head off down the hallway. It’s a long, uneventful trek until I finally reach the end of the skywalk and am greeted with a two-way intersection. I pause, scanning the sign that hangs nearby. Apparently one direction heads towards an arcade, while the other passes by something called a Jurassic Java Shop. I have no idea what most of those words even mean, so I choose that direction. 
The hallway I follow takes me past dozens of hotel rooms. The numbers on the door plates are in the three thousands, boggling my mind. Does that mean there are thousands of these rooms in the arena? How the hell is anyone going find each other? 
The Jurassic Java Shop appears on my right as I’m trying to wrap my head around that implication. A frown crosses my face as I take it in. Apparently a Jurassic Java Shop is just a dinosaur themed coffee store.
The shop is built right into the hallway, with two glass windows giving me perfect vision into the store itself. I check for any sign of danger before stepping inside. Almost immediately I’m hit with the overwhelming scent of coffee.
Ugh! I hate that stuff! Back in District 8 the rich slobs I pickpocketed in the morning always reeked of it. To me, coffee is the scent of useless frivolity.
I raid the store, checking the drawers and underneath the cupboards. I mostly just find coffee pots and other paraphernalia, but I do discover some scones and other pastries in one of the cabinets. I scarf a few muffins down before shoving the rest into my jacket pockets for later. You never know when you’ll find food in the arena.
Afterwards I give the store one last look over before deciding I found everything worth keeping. Before leaving I pause beside a cardboard standee of a dinosaur. I don’t like the way it’s smiling, so I snap its head off and chuck the thing into the corner of the room. “Stupid dinosaur,” I mutter with a shake of my head.
My journey continues. The hallway I’m in stretches onward for what feels like forever, yet I know it hasn’t nearly been that long. Multiple staircases and branching paths lead off to the side, but I ignore them all and stick to the path I’m on. This has to lead somewhere. 
And it does. Eventually the hallway peters out to an end. Two doors rest before me, both clearly marked ‘Employees Only’. I glance down at my outfit, clearly some sort of uniform, and grimace. I bet the Gamemakers thought dressing us as employee’s was hilarious.
I push the doors open and find myself greeted with the sight of yet another hallway. Shoving aside my rising sense of irritation, I continue forward. Once again, dozens of side rooms pop up around me. One such room is a giant laundromat, full of washing machines and driers. Another is a break room, while several more appear to be nothing but storage places. There’s a door labeled ‘Cash Office’ that briefly grabs my attention before I remember that money is useless in the arena. 
My thoughts flicker to Lanon. I hope he’s alright. I told him not to try and retrieve the Capitol’ Credits until the Games are over, but he’s always been headstrong. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already tried to snag them. But if Rupert caught him…
I gnash my teeth and push those thoughts away. I can’t think about Lanon or home. All that will do is distract me when I can least afford it. No, I need to keep my full attention on the Games.
Eventually the hallway becomes clogged with stacked cases of soda and beer. I navigate my way through this mess, grumbling all the while, and find myself surrounded by yet another laundry room. I’m about to snap and curse out the Gamemakers when I notice the hallway has come to an end. A lone door stands at its terminus, labeled ‘Security Station’. 
Interesting.
The room is full of computers and wires. A single bright bulb hangs overhead, illuminating the cramped confines as I cross to the large desk set at the far end. Three screens hang on the wall, showing a variety of images. One of them is very clearly the cornucopia parking lot.
I sit at the chair and pull up to the computer. I’ve never used one of these things before, so it takes several minutes before I realize that I control the cursor on screen by moving a little handheld device across the table. Then several more minutes before I figure out how to click on things. The moment I do, however, I instantly hover over the words marked ‘Security Cameras’ and click.
A list of terms pop up, none of them recognizable to me. Three of them are highlighted, though, and one of those terms is named ‘Main Parking’. It doesn’t take a genius to connect the names with the places featured on the screens above me.
Clicking a name highlights it and brings up a security camera of that area, featured on one of the screens before me. There’s no sound, but the image shown is definitely a live look at whatever area is covered in the camera. Immediately I realize that the list of terms are the names for different cameras.
And there are hundreds of cameras on the list.
Soon enough I am shifting through live footage of the arena. Unfortunately a large amount of the cameras seem to show nothing but the top and bottom of various water slides, which is useless to me. Yet there are also dozens of cameras which show hallways, waterparks, and arcades. In fact, the more I click through the names the more I come to realize this security station has access to all of the resorts cameras!
My first instinct is to find the other tributes. I come across the Careers first, because their sheer numbers make them stand out. The group is picking their way through a waterpark that the cameras call Klondike Kavern, making a circle around a lazy river as they navigate their way past chairs and tables. A cursory glance through the various cameras lets me know that Klondike is located near the cornucopia and thus on the complete opposite end of the arena as me.
“Good to know the Careers aren’t going to stumble on me,” I murmur, shifting to the next camera. 
I find another group of tributes in a different waterpark named Wild West. They’re up on a mezzanine of sorts, drifting around somewhat aimlessly. The camera is placed at an odd angle, so I can’t make out any of their features, but their large size and the fact that they’re not fighting each other practically confirms that it’s Briar and her alliance. 
I continue to shift through cameras but don’t find a trace of any more tributes. That’s not too discomforting, though. The cameras are a great resource but they have definite blind spots. There are no cameras in any of the guest rooms or bathrooms, and there seems to be few placed outside. The ones that do exist seem to be mainly gathered around the various parking lots. 
And that’s not to say the other tributes aren’t constantly moving. I can only have three screens active at one time, so it’s not possible to watch everything. Not to mention that some of the cameras seem to be placed at awkward angles or filled with static. The tributes could very well be on a screen I’m watching and I’d never even know.
That’s an irritating thought.
Still, I continue to flit through the cameras at a casual pace. But only two. I keep one of the screens focused on the hallway leading down to the Security Station. If anyone were to try and approach I’d see them coming long before they got here.
That thought in mind, I check up on the Careers again. They’re still in the waterpark, gathered around a pool. Mako has stripped down to his swimsuit and is swimming in a circle. As I watch he reaches out and splashes one of the girls. As she recoils in shock the others erupt with I presume to be laughter.
Fools! The Careers are most dangerous threat in the arena and they’re acting like children! I change the screen, too disgusted to continue watching their antics.
I spend a good half hour listlessly clicking through the cameras before something catches my eye. It’s on a camera set in some darkened maintenance corridor. The only source of light comes from a single flickering lightbulb and I’m about to click away when something scuttles across the room. 
I sit up straight and stifle a gasp. Small and dark, the thing scampers out of sight almost immediately, but a few seconds is enough time for me to make out its humanoid form as it disappears into the dark. 
I sit still, disturbed. The thing looked vaguely human but…it was moving on all fours and its skin was far, far paler than it should be. 
“A mutt!” I say the word like it’s a curse. I hadn’t thought they’d be active so early. Unfortunate. Still, with these cameras I should be able to keep a pretty close eye out for them.
A shame that the other tributes can’t say the same.
===Mercia Occisor (The Capitol)===
I move down the hallway at a brisk but unhurried pace. There is no need to put undue pressure on myself. Excepting the bloodbath, it is quite rare for there to be any fighting on the first day of the Games, so I have no real worries as I traverse the winding halls of the resort. 
I tap my rapier along the floor as I walk. The weapon was the very first thing I grabbed from the cornucopia. Though Rozlyn has claimed that she’s supplied me with weapons, I am not meant to retrieve those for a few days yet. In the meantime it is paramount that I remain armed. 
I have people to kill, after all.
The duffel bag I claimed alongside my rapier bounces against my back as I walk. The contents are not very remarkable; a single flask of water, a packet of dried fruit, a bottle of painkillers, and a sleeping bag. Nothing substantial, but that is fine. For now the simple basics will do. I can always take more supplies off the bodies of my future victims.
The hallway I follow changes shape as I come upon a new section of the resort. A loud mechanical noise emits from an upcoming area on my right. It sounds like the revving of a vehicle of some sort, oddly enough.
I drop into a crouch and sneak my way forward. The carpet beneath my feet changes to cement as I enter a large, open room with a high ceiling. A small fence surrounds a race track and a sign proudly states the name of some Go-Kart attraction. 
I step up to what I assume is the ticket booth and watch in fascination as automated karts zip along the track behind it. They have no drivers, yet the karts race against each other all the same. A loudspeaker over the track narrates the race, claiming that kart number three is currently in first place. Soon enough the race ends and a victor is declared. When all the karts return to the start line, the loudspeaker calmly starts a countdown and suddenly they’re all off racing again.
“Peculiar,” I watch the scene with pursed lips. The whole thing is reminiscent of the Hunger Games itself; no matter who wins or how many times it occurs, another competition will always begin anew. Odd that the Gamemakers would draw attention to such trite repetition. 
I leave the track and ascend the staircase to my right. Unsurprisingly it takes me up to a higher floor, and this time I find myself in an arcade. I spotted a map of the resort plastered on the wall earlier, and apparently there are three different arcades in the arena. One to the north, one on the western end, and this one here. According to the map it’s named Glitter Gulch. 
The arcade itself is a mess of neon lighting and obnoxious sounds. The beeping of timers and chiming of a pinball machine stand out immediately. I cross the cluttered room, stepping around a claw machine full of stuffed prizes and walking past a row of machines with colorful pictures on the sides. The pulsating glow of the screens is almost enough to give me a migraine. 
I will not be staying here long. The noise is distracting to the point of being dangerous. How could one tell the sound of simulated cheering apart from an actual living person? The faked explosions taking place on screen could easily conceal the noise of a real explosive, or the squealing of a cars’ tires could mask the footsteps of an approaching tribute. Yes, this arcade is a trap. One I’m too wary to fall into.
My exit is swift. I simply walk from one end of the arcade to the other, slipping out the door without a single glance behind me. I can’t imagine that Solomon would ever hide in such a place, but if he did I’d loathe the thought of having to pursue him inside. 
But I’d still do so, of course.
I’m back inside the guest hallways. The doors are all numbered somewhere in the two hundreds, in contrast to the first floor, where all the rooms were below that mark. It doesn’t take much effort to put that information together and rationalize that room 301 must be somewhere on the third floor.
I didn’t initially understand what Rozlyn meant when she spoke of the room, but since seeing the arena it has made perfect sense. The room is clearly a guest room, one that I would surmise is outwardly no different than any of the rest. The perfect hiding place for a stash of items. Yet…
Something about her and the deal she offered is…troubling, I suppose. Dangerous, even. The slightest hint that she is favoring me could bring the wrath of the Gamemakers upon me. I am not so overconfident in my abilities that I could survive if they threw the full might of their resources against me. I am not so foolish as to give our deal away, but can the same be said for Rozlyn? What if she slips up? 
I could end up dead through no fault of my own.
Footsteps.
I freeze in place, rapier held at the ready. Loud, thumping footsteps sound ahead of me. Slow and steady, they seem to be making their way down the hall. Towards me. 
Fight or flee? I linger in place, debating the question in my head. It is only one pair of footsteps, so it is not an alliance. And yet they’re so loud. Almost too loud. Surely no tribute’s tread would be so heavy?
“Who wants a hug from Monty Moose?”
A voice rings throughout the hallway. It is reminiscent of a show I watched as a child. Obnoxious and cloying, like it belongs to a mascot for a cereal brand or children’s toy.
The footsteps continue to approach. Louder, now. The floor itself seems to shake. Not a tribute. No human could make such a noise.
Suddenly concerned, I glance around, searching for a hiding place. But I am in a hallway and the only path is forward or back. But there are also doors to my side. The guest rooms! I rush to the nearest one, hoping that it won’t be locked.
“Monty Moose is lonely!”
The door swings open. I rush inside, turning to slowly close it behind me, careful that it doesn’t make a sound. A mutt. It has to be a mutt. 
The footsteps are audible even through the thick wood of the door. My hands, slick with sweat, grip the rapier tightly as I turn to face it. I have experience with mutts. I’ve even tamed some, from time to time. But right now I have absolutely zero interest in trying to replicate that feat. 
The footsteps are so loud that I can barely hear the pounding of my heart. The mutt must be right outside the door. I can feel the vibrations through the floor. Passing through. That’s what it’s doing. Just passing—
The footsteps halt.
I don’t breath. My body is completely still and I don’t so much as blink. The mutt is right outside the door. It doesn’t know I’m here. It can’t possibly know! But it’s stopped moving. I stare at the heavy wooden door. It suddenly looks so frail. 
“Who wants to play with Monty Moose?” The voice bellows and the footsteps pick up again. Continue onward. 
I let out a silent breath. I knew it hadn’t sensed me. That was impossible. I was hidden long before it even came into sight. I stay still as the footsteps continue to fade. Soon the thing will be gone…
An intense curiosity fills me. Ignoring the voice in my head that screams for me to stop, I scoot forward and grip the doorknob with one hand. Slowly, carefully, I inch it open.
The hallway beyond is empty. There are no footprints, no sign of anything having been there at all. Yet I can still hear the footsteps. Opening the door wider, I peer my head out and glance down the hallway. It runs straight for about fifty feet before taking a sharp turn to the right. It’s there, cast upon the wall, where I spot the shadow.
Humanoid but with a thicker torso and elongated limbs. And taller. Much taller than any human. The shadow seems to stretch for eight feet from head to toe. And atop that heads rests a pair of antlers.
The shadow is gone within seconds. The footsteps continue to recede, the vibrations in the floor subside. Soon the hallway is deathly quiet. The only sound is the blood pounding in my ears. “A mutt,” I whisper the word. It had to have been a mutt. Nothing else makes sense. 
I waste no time and take off down the hall, headed the opposite direction the mutt took. I thought traversing the arena would be safe this early in the Games. Not so. With that thing loose and roaming the halls, I doubt anywhere is truly safe. 
A cold smiles forms on my lips. Danger and death. That’s what I, what Ivy, feeds on. Adrenaline has already taken over. A warm euphoric feeling rises in my chest. Rarely have I felt so excited. Killing these tributes will most likely be the most enjoyable of things. The Games are providing to be even better than I’d thought.
And they have only just begun!
===Chrome Kimathi (District 11)===
The sky overheard turns a purplish orange as the sun begins to fade and night descends upon the arena. I walk through an outdoor waterpark with a confident swagger, a wide grin plastered across my face. It’s not that I’m unconcerned about today’s events; rather, I want everyone else to think I’m unconcerned.
A splash pad burbles softly to my left. Geysers shoot streams of water into the air and small buckets continually drop onto the pad, sending up a spray of mist. I skirt around this feature with a grimace. Even though my arena wear includes a swimsuit, I’d much rather avoid getting wet if possible.
A small pool lies somewhere to the east, alongside a lazy river and a pair of tube slides. The steel towers that house the launch point of those slides loom up above me, reaching even higher than the roof of the resort itself. 
I pass my sickle from hand to hand, debating whether I should head up there or not. Can’t say I think any of the other dumbass tributes would think to look for me up there, but I don’t like the idea of sheltering outside. What if it rained?
Supplies could be an issue. Besides for my sickle the only thing I grabbed from the cornucopia was a small fanny pack that I wear around my waist. There was nothing inside but a flashlight, a small assortment of fruit, and some camouflage paints. A sneer forms when I think of the District 13 girl who punched me. She’ll pay for that. Mark my words. She’ll pay!
Rubbing a hand along my jaw—I can still feel the punch—I turn away from the splash pad and approach the series of glass doors that lie behind me. A sign overhead proudly declares the Waterdome Waterpark to be inside. Indoors, man, that’s the place for me!
The sound of crashing waves is the first thing I hear as I slip inside the building. In the distance, at the far end of the park, I spot the wave pool. A gigantic body of water filled with waves that wash up on an artificial beach full of beach chairs and loungers. 
I pick my way past a series of tables, headed for a small building tucked away in the corner of the park. An eatery. My stomach rumbles at the smells. I haven’t eaten anything but some fruit since this morning.
The entire ceiling of the park is made of glass. The sky overhead has gone almost completely dark as the sun fades from sight. Despite the size of the park, it doesn’t seem to contain any attractions but the wave pool, a small kiddie area, and a slide tower at the back. Oh, and about several hundred chairs and tables. “Wonder what this looks like when full of people?” I muse as I reach the eatery. Wouldn’t that be a sight to behold? 
I enter the eatery carefully. Despite my feigned confidence I know that the other tributes are out there. Earlier today I spotted the girl from the Capitol as she wandered through an arcade. I was hidden between some claw machines and watched as she passed within feet of me. I could have easily killed her, of course, but I didn’t want to take the risk of her landing a lucky blow. Better to make it through the first few days unscathed. Fighting straight out just ain’t my style.
There are no tributes in the eatery, but plenty of food. Chicken tenders, hamburgers, fries, and more are all laid out on a buffet style tray in front of the register. I guess the idea is that you grab what you want then pay. I grin. “No paying for me!”
I stuff my face with a little bit of everything. Back in District 11 I was one of the few people who always had food, but that doesn’t mean I had unlimited access. It wasn’t until I reached the Capitol and had a little taste of their fine dining did I learn how the rich truly lived.
That life will be mine, soon. When I win and become the greatest Victor Panem has ever seen! I’ll have whatever I want! Food, woman, money, everything! Even the deaths of those pathetic pukes who let me go into the Games. That’s what I want the most. Those damn fools think they won, think they escaped from me, but they’ll learn! I will return to District 11 and enact my vengeance! 
Roscoe Stryker has promised to help with that. I reflect on this as I use a soda machine to refill my plastic cup. He made me an offer to become his champion and asked what I desired most, so I told him. He vowed that when I win and support his presidency, he’ll help me kill everyone who has ever wronged me.
I take a swig of my soda and grin. He’s a fool, too. Man, just because I promised I’d support his presidency doesn’t mean I’ll actually do it! When I become Victor the first thing I’ll do is listen to the other heirs offers. They’ll be forced to sweeten their deal if they want my assistance. 
Aurilee. Now she’s a pretty little thing. Maybe I’ll switch my allegiance to her. She will be so desperate for my support that she’ll do whatever I ask of her. And ain’t there some things I’d love for her to do…
My grin widens as I stroll out of the eatery, casually glancing at a swim-up bar that lies across from the wave pool. How’d I miss that? The Capitol had a fine selection of alcohol available in the training center, but my stupid escort Hellie Helium forbade me from drinking any. I was too young, she said. Too young! I been drinking since I was twelve! Stupid hag. What does she know?
For a moment I want to go to the bar and drink to my hearts content, roasting Hellie and her prudishness all the while, but I know what a trap that could be. I ain’t never been one to limit my drinking, and even I know that getting drunk in the arena is a bad move. 
“What a shame…” I head the opposite direction, towards the slide. The whole park is themed after an island paradise, with tiki torches, palm trees, and the like. Having a glass of wine in one hand and a pretty girl in the other would have made that theme a reality.
Oh well. Maybe in a few days. Some of the female tributes are real lookers, and District 11 was filled with girls who were willing to do anything for a scrap of bread. I’m sure the tributes will be just as willing, if their lives are on the line.
The bottom of the slide is near the deep end of the wave pool, and you can walk right up to the railing. I stroll alongside the guard rail, sipping my drink, as I peer into the pool. The waves have momentarily stopped and water is placid, save for some small gray shapes swimming around. I frown at those. Triangular and gray, I’m sure I’ve seen somethin’ like those before. But where…
Sharks. 
I remember now. Those little shapes are the fins atop a shark. I’ve seen them in enough Games to know that. I back away from the railing. Sharks are trouble and I don’t want no trouble. Not yet.
Some kind of horn sounds and then the waves begin again. The sharks don’t seem to have a problem with it, though. Their little fins just continue on swimming. I chuck my empty cup into the pool and walk away with a shake of my head. Stupid sharks.
I spend the next half hour just exploring the park. There’s not much to see, though, so eventually I decide to walk up the stone staircase that leads to the launching point of the parks lone slide. The long and winding staircase puts an ache in my legs by the time I reach the top. Two small basins of water rest up there, leading into a dark funnel of water. Three dark blue, circular tubes rest on a nearby conveyor. Obviously you use those to ride down the slide.
I bypass these for now, headed for a large window set in the wall. Through it I can see a wide pond and a series of buildings far below. Condos or something? Maybe a villa. I shrug and turn back to the sign that holds the rules for the slide. That’s when I get an idea.
I cross back to the basin and pull one of the tubes off the conveyor. It lands in the water and is almost pulled down the slide before I grab it and climb in with a grimace. Looks like I’m getting wet after all. Whatever. I need to test my theory, so there’s no way to avoid it.
I push forward and the tube dips into the flume and then everything is dark as I spin down with the rushing water. Yet moments later I come to a jerking halt.
A smile crosses my face. It worked! According to the rules for the slide, at least two people need to ride the tube or it risks getting stuck inside the slide. Which, of course, was exactly my plan. 
I click on my flashlight and look around. The tube is caught in place between the dark green walls of the slide. The water continues to rush past, but the tube itself doesn’t budge. I rock back and forth, trying to see if it’ll come loose, but nothing happens. It’s still stuck.
It’s not until I climb out the back of the tube and forcibly push does it dislodge. I slide down behind it as the slide takes us downward, depositing me in a splash pool about a foot and a half deep. 
Ha. Looks like I found tonight’s sleeping spot! After the Anthem I’ll send the tube back up via the conveyor and repeat what I just did. There, stuck inside the active slide, will be where I spend the night. It’s the safest place I can think of. After all, who would think to look for me in the middle of a slide? I exit the water with a laugh.
I’m just too damn smart!
===Discordia Achlys (District 9)===
I sit in the shower, hugging my knees and staring at the drain as the cold water runs down my head. It’s hard to think that it was only this morning when Harmon was telling me not to worry about the Games. He had a plan, he said. He knew what he was doing, he said.
But he died.
My hands tighten their grip on my knees. I don’t remember much about our flight from the cornucopia. Only the taste of tears and the sobs emanating from my very soul. But I do know that Killen and Maximo took me into some building and it wasn’t long before they set me down on a couch. 
I spent a long time just lying there and missing Harmon while the two of them spoke in whispers. I don’t know why they took me with them or what they intend to do with me. I don’t really care. What is life without my brother?
I watch the water swirl as it’s sucked down the drain. Short, painful, and cut off with a sudden stop. That’s what life is. I stifle another sob and just try to think about what Harmon would have had us do if he hadn’t…if he made it past the bloodbath. Seek shelter, then water. That’s what he’d have done. He talked about it often enough.
I squeeze my eyes shut. Where am I right now? Is it sufficient for sheltering purposes? Maximo brought me into a hotel room. When my tears finally ran dry and I could pull myself up the very first thing I did was enter the bathroom, strip down to my one-piece swimsuit, and take a shower. That had always managed to calm me down in the past. 
But in the past Harmon was still alive…
I try to force my mind off…what happened. My eyes snap open and I study the shower. It’s a fancy one, with a bench built into the wall for somewhere for the elderly and infirm to sit while they showered. I suppose you could call me infirm. I’ve certainly been weak and helpless my entire life. It was always Harmon who picked me up when I fell. Harmon was brought me back from the brink. Without him…
The world is as hard and comfortless as the bench I am sitting on, as barren as the whitewashed walls around me. I feel tears like cold rain on my face. I didn’t understand until now what it meant to be alone, utterly and completely alone.
I lose track of time. Do I stare despondently at a wall for hours or minutes? Who knows. I can’t bring myself to care about this or anything now. Yet a feeling tingles in the back of my head. Harmon…wouldn’t have wanted me to give up. He would have wanted me to keep living, to make it home to our parents and live out the rest of my life for the both of us.
That’ll be impossible, of course. Hazel’s curse will see me dead long before these Games get anywhere close to completion. But the thought of having to meet Harmon in heaven and tell me that I didn’t even try is enough to force me to my feet. 
I can’t do it alone. I realize that as I turn the shower off and step out. The air outside is surprisingly warm compared to the coldness of the water. Killen and Maximo. I need them. I dry my hair with a towel and find myself hoping that they still want me around. If they’ve changed their mind and left me behind…
Then it won’t be long before I join Harmon in death. 
I only spend a few moments drying before impatience forces me to act. I crack the bathroom door open and peer out into the room beyond. It’s a simple hotel room, with two beds, a desk, and a small table and chair. Killen and Maximo are both seated at the table, a chessboard between them.
I take a breath of relief. They haven’t left! Yet I hesitate. Why? What reason could they have for keeping me around? I’m weak and frail. Useless. I could understand them wanting to team with Harmon, but now that he’s…gone, why do they still care? 
Harmon would talk to them. Ask them outright. But I can’t do that. People frighten me. I’ve never been capable of approaching someone I didn’t know and start a conversation. It might as well be the same as fighting Mako. Both things are completely beyond me.
But I have no choice.
I need Killen and Maximo. Without their aid I won’t last a day. So, with one last deep breath, I fully push the door open and stride into the room.
The two boys are so engrossed in their chess match that it takes several moments before they react. Killen is the first to notice. His eyes widen and he pauses in the middle of moving a rook. Maximo scowls, apparently thinking he’s being mocked. Killen is winning the game, and by quite a margin.
“Discordia!”
Killen scrambles to his feet, closely followed by Maximo. As they approach I note that I’m taller than them both. It’s odd that makes me more uncomfortable than the fact I’m wearing nothing but a swimsuit. Just a few days ago the thought of standing before two boys I don’t know in just a swimsuit would have been mortifying. But after what happened this morning—I will not think of Harmon I will not!—it feels so insignificant.
“I’m glad you’re alright, Discordia!” Killen flashes me a broad smile and I can’t prevent my cheeks from turning a bright red. The sandy haired boy is quite handsome. I find myself staring, so I force my gaze to Maximo. 
The grungy boy is watching me with a deep frown. Why? Have I done something to wrong him? Anxiety flares in my chest. Have I already screwed this alliance up? Oh, no! I can’t win without—
“Discordia?” Killen’s smile slips as he notices my distress. “You…you are alright, right?”
Tears well in my eyes. How could I be alright after…after Harmon? “No.” My voice is soft, almost a whisper. “But I have to fight anyway. I…I owe him that much.”
Maximo shifts his position. For once his hard expression has softened. “I understand what it’s like to lose someone important to you.”
He doesn’t. It’s impossible for anyone to understand how much I relied on Harmon. How much I depended on him to be my shield. Without my brother I’m barely a functional human. But telling him that would serve no purpose. Worse, it would weaken my own situation. “I…hope your offer for an alliance still stands.”
Maximo scratches his head and glances at Killen. The taller boy is nodding, a small smile back on his face. Yes. He is very handsome. Especially when he smiles like that. Maximo sighs. “I suppose it does. I can’t very well leave a girl on her own, can I?”
I flinch at the words. On my own. Harmon is…
“Where are we?” I force the words out to make myself think of something, anything, else.
“The third floor,” Killen is quick to answer. “We’re in the building east of the cornucopia. We didn’t want to run too far because…well, carrying you wasn’t easy.”
I feel my face redden. “I…that’s okay.” 
“We can see the cornucopia through the window,” Maximo says it so casually that I don’t immediately register it. Then after a few seconds I blink in shock.
“What?”
In response, Maximo crosses to the window and gently pulls the curtain back. I drift over and peer outside. I gasp softly.
It is night and the sky is dark, but I can see that the golden horn lies outside in the center of the parking lot. Dozens of cars surround it, along with tall cement posts that hold floodlights. These lights shine down onto the pavement, bathing the parking lot in light to see by. Several dark shapes move around the of mouth of the cornucopia.
“We’re this close?” I’m terrified. What if the Careers see us in the windows? They’ll come here and kill us!
“They won’t see us,” Maximo says. “There’s hundreds of windows in this building. What’s the odds they look at this particular one at the same time we’re looking out?”
“Perhaps we shouldn’t risk it anyway,” Killen walks over and gently pulls the curtain shut. I give him a relieved glance. He, at least, seems to understand our danger. “Though it is pretty handy, being able to keep watch on the Careers like this.”
Apparently the Careers had all left the cornucopia earlier today and were gone for hours. While I would have found it utterly nerve wracking to not know where they were, Killen says he just thought it would have been a good opportunity to sneak down and steal some supplies. 
“Why didn’t you?” I ask.
It’s Maximo who answers. “Because of you. Killen didn’t want to leave you unattended. He said that if you came out and didn’t find us, you’d think we abandoned you.”
I give Killen a surprised look. I hadn’t realized that he wanted me as an ally so intently. He tugs his collar, seemingly embarrassed. “Yes, well, I also didn’t want to risk it. We had no idea when the Careers would have returned.”
“When did they return?”
Maximo shrugs. “Sometime before nightfall. Don’t ask me what they were doing; I have no idea.”
After this, the three of us fall into a steady conversation. I keep talking so that I have no time to focus on what happened to Harmon. I need to keep myself occupied at all times or I know that I’ll fall back into despair so deep that I may never resurface.
Our supplies aren’t much. In the way of food we have some bread, a few packets of crackers, a canister of soup, and water. Maximo has an awl and a spile, while Killen has the only weapons amongst us three, with his two throwing axes. I have nothing. Not surprising, considering my circumstances. They’re willing to share their food with me, though, and once again I find myself thankful for their generosity. I am all too aware of what position I’d be in without them.
“Perhaps we should have risked the cornucopia,” Killen muses as we go over the supplies. “We don’t have very much here. Hardly anything, really.”
“We’ll have sponsors,” Maximo says. I have no idea what makes him so confident. The three of us are hardly what I’d call the most marketable of tributes. I don’t believe I’ll get a single gift throughout the course of these Games. 
Killen and Maximo continue to talk, but I no longer listen. A deep fear clutches my heart in an icy vise and my anxiety is running rampant. No matter how hard we try or what we do, the three of us have no shot of surviving these Games. All we can do is prolong the inevitable. 
Death is slowly reaching for us and I don’t know whether to cry or run away. Maybe it doesn’t matter. Nothing I do ever really does.
===Talia Migonette (District 3)===
Darkness has descended upon the arena. Outside the window I see the dark skies and reaching shadows, but they cannot touch me here in the waterpark. Bright lights shine down from the ceiling, illuminating the entire facility as well as daylight would. Though we are well into the night, you could not tell from the cheery radiance that surrounds me.
“It’s too risky, Faren,” Briar’s voice carries from over by the tables in the corner of the mezzanine. Our alliance had decided that it would be safest for us to settle up here, so that’s what we’ve done. “We don’t know what is lurking out in the dark. We should just wait until morning.”
I’m leaning against the railing, looking down on the waterpark. Along with the voices of my allies the park is filled with ambient noise. The water features are constantly spraying and every now and then a bell will begin ringing to announce that a gigantic bucket which rests atop the play structure is about to tip over and spill tons of water down. It creates a cacophony of noise that doesn’t even include the radio that can be heard throughout the park. Since our arrival it has played a nonstop medley of pop music.
“We’ll be fine. The lights are still on indoors, and we have flashlights anyway,” Faren’s voice responds. “I don’t want to waste time. Every second is…it’s…I can’t wait.”
I glance in the direction of my allies. Briar and Faren are seated at a table, staring at each other as they try to come to an agreement. Kia sits in a nearby chair, leaning back with her eyes closed, though I don’t think she’s asleep. Damian is pacing back and forth with his hands clasped behind his back, while Aiko just sits crosslegged while juggling her darts.
I can understand why Faren feels he has to rush. At the interviews he spoke about his girlfriend Joule and her condition. She could die any day now. That…that…
A shiver runs through my body. His situation is all too familiar. Back home my mother is suffering from cancer. It’s gotten worse, recently, and I wouldn’t be shocked if by the time these Games ended and I returned I would only find…
Becoming Victor would grant both me and Faren enough money to help our loved ones. But only one of us can win. How does that work? Maybe if one of us won then we’d be able to help the other out. I know that I’ll do whatever I can to help Faren. He’s a nice guy.
“If you end up dead that won’t help anyone,” Briar keeps her voice gentle but the words are like a hammer to Faren. He flinches back and looks down, playing with his hands. Briar sighs. “I understand that you want to check that maintenance closet for supplies, but that can wait until tomorrow. The supplies won’t go anywhere.”
So that’s what this is about. I don’t blame Faren for wanting those supplies. From what little I saw of the room, it looked like it contained much of the stuff he used back at the training center to construct his mechanical traps. And those traps are basically his only weapon. Faren, much like myself, is almost useless with traditional weaponry.
“I think Faren is right.”
We all turn to stare at Damian as his pacing comes to a stop. He faces us, one hand curled into a fist he uses to pound the palm of his other. “There’s some useful items in there, and if we push this off until morning than we risk some other alliance getting there first.”
Briar frowns. “That’s true, but…it’s risky.”
“I think we can afford a little risk,” Kia snaps her eyes open and stands. The wound in her stomach doesn’t seem to be affecting her. “If Faren really can make some traps with that stuff, then I don’t think we can afford to ignore this opportunity.”
You can practically see the gears in Briar’s head churning as she thinks it over. She will have the final decision, even if majority of us wanted to collect the supplies. Briar is the leader and has all of our respect. None of us would protest any decision she made, even if it went against what we personally want.
“Very well,” Briar lays her hands flat on the table. “We’ll go collect the supplies. But we can’t all go.”
“We’ll split up?” Kia arches an eyebrow. “I thought you were against risk.”
“There’s no other choice. If we all leave the park it’ll be left unguarded. Someone will have to stay here and watch the doors.”
I turn away from the discussion, blushing furiously. I had completely forgotten that I was meant to be on guard duty. 
A few hours into our exploration of the waterpark we realized that, up on the mezzanine, there was a particular spot that gave you a view of each entrance into the park. Naturally we posted a guard there, and since that moment we’ve all been taking turns on watch, rotating every forty-five minutes. 
My face burns red as I realize how spaced out I was. My allies were depending on me and I let them down! I focus my eyes back on the entrances, though I also keep my ears tuned to the conversation behind me.
“Faren needs to go, obviously,” Briar is speaking. “He’s the only one who knows what he’s looking for. As for who’ll go with him…any volunteers?”
“Ooh! Me! Pick me!” Aiko’s ecstatic voice is the first to respond. 
“Okay. Aiko will go with Faren. But I think we need one more. Damian?”
“Yeah, I’ll go.”
Faren isn’t going to like that. Though the boy has never said as much aloud, I don’t think he likes either of those two very much. Ever since training he’s been eyeing the both of them with suspicious looks, as if he thinks they’re going to attack him at any moment. Aiko I can understand. That girl outright terrifies me. But Damian? He’s a nice, funny guy. A bit too self-effacing, but I don’t think he’s dangerous in any way. 
I mean, he could probably kill me, but I don’t think he’ll ever try. Not like most of the tributes, at least.
No one has any objections to the plan, though, so the three of them gather their stuff and head off. From my spot atop the mezzanine I watch as they slip out one of the exits and disappear into the black night. 
A pit of worry grows in my stomach. I hope they’ll come back.
“I don’t like this,” Briar drifts over to lean against the railing beside me. Kia follows her more slowly. “It’s too dangerous for them to go off alone. We should have gone with.”
“And leave our base unguarded?” Kia sweeps a hand across the park. I watch as the giant bucket tips over and a wave of water rushes across the kiddie pool. “You were the one who said that was too risky, remember.”
Briar scrunches up her face. “I know! But…if anything happens to them I’ll—”
“Briar.” I jump at the firmness in Kia’s voice. I’ve only ever heard her use that tone once, when she was berating the boy from the Capitol. The dark-haired girl grips the railing until her knuckles turn white. “You can’t wrap us in a bubble and lock us away. I understand that you care for us, might even think you have a responsibility to keep us safe, but you’re not our mother. We can make our own decisions and accept the risks that those decisions may bring.”
There’s a long pause. Silence unbroken except by the spraying of water and the music of the radio. Finally, Briar laughs. “Oh, Kia. This is exactly the reason I wanted you for an ally!”
Kia gives a tight smile. “Because I tell it like it is?”
“Yes. I needed to hear that. I really did.”
I wish I could feel the quiet confidence that these two seem to extrude. But I’m racked with worry and fear. What are the odds a small, introverted girl like myself wins these Games? Watt did it, but that was in a Quell with four Victors. Not to mention that Courage gave himself up right at the end. Would Watt have won without those benefits? I’m not so sure. She didn’t win the 326th…
I pull my token, a sketching pencil, from my pocket and twirl it around my fingers. I wish I could be drawing something right now. That always calms me. When anxiety threatens to drown me, I can count on drawing to bring me peace.
“Oh! You’re an artist, right?” Briar has noticed the pencil. For some reason that causes me to blush. 
“Y-yes.” She knows all about my artistic skill because of the interviews. It came up after the host had asked me about my connection with Landon, a friend of mine who’d competed in the Games last year. I knew the question was coming, because Zekel had gone on before me and they’d asked him about his own brother. 
I thought I would fold under the pressure. Break down and cry or something. But somehow I kept myself intact and spoke about my painting, the portrait I made of Landon and the one I was working on for his District partner. My dream was to one day start a business that sold the paintings of past tributes. A way to memorialize them beyond what the Capitol did for them. The host thought that was a grand idea, and said that once I became Victor I could make paintings of all the tributes who competed alongside me. 
When I look at Briar and Kia, I realize that, if I do somehow become Victor, then those two will both be dead.
That thought is a bitter pill to swallow.
“Talia?” Briar blinks in concern. “Why are you crying?”
Am I? I reach a hand up, surprised to find my cheeks are wet. “I just…don’t want anyone to die.” I like my allies. I like Briar. I’ve only known her a short time, but she’s almost become a friend to me. I don’t want to lose her. Not like I lost Landon and Lorelei. Like how I could lose my Mom.
Briar puts an arm around my shoulder and draws me close. “It’s okay, Talia. I don’t want anyone to die either. There’s…we can…”
I sniff and blink back tears. There is no other way. No matter what Briar says or thinks, there is no path that doesn’t end with most or all of us dead. 
So I just cling to Briar and try to find some solace in the time I have with my allies. Even if it’s brief, it’s better than having no time at all. 
Kia watches with a stoic face as Briar steps back, patting me on the shoulder. Of all our allies, I think Kia is the only one who truly understands that we’re all going to die. The only one who accepts that fact and is still willing to stare fate in the eye. She is stronger than I could ever be. 
Below us a door slams open as three people rush into the park.
“We got the supplies!” 
Damian whoops with excitement as he fists pumps the air. Aiko and Faren follow behind them, less emotive but looking no less happy. Faren has a bulging garbage bag on his back. The supplies?
The three of them waste no time in ascending the mezzanine and regrouping with the rest of us. Everyone tries speaking at once and it’s a incoherent mess until Briar holds her hands up. “One at a time, please. Damian, did the plan succeed? Did you get the trap material?”
“Yes!” He has a wide smile on his face as he pulls a black rectangular device from his belt and tosses it to Briar. “And we found something even better, too.”
I peer over Briar’s shoulder, studying the item in her hand. It looks a lot like…
“A radio!”
Damian’s smile widens as hands an identical radio to Aiko and has her back off to the far end of the mezzanine. “These are two-way radios,” he explains as he presses some buttons. “And we can use them to communicate over long distance. We’ve already tested them somewhat, but I want to show you guys.”
“Hi! Can you hear me?” The radio crackles on, Aiko’s diminutive voice speaking through the receiver even though she’s on the complete opposite end of the room as us. 
“Loud and clear!” Damian talks into his own radio and turns to give us a grin. “Pretty cool, huh?”
Briar nods slowly, looking flabbergasted. Though Kia remains as stoic as ever, I can tell that she too is impressed. These radios are undoubtedly a huge game changer for us. Having the ability to communicate with each other from practically anywhere in the arena? You can’t put a value on that kind of utility. 
Damian recounts their foray outside, though there’s not much to tell. They found the pair of radios—there was only two, apparently—in the maintenance closet as Faren was gathering everything he thought he could use. They spent some time experimenting with the radios to make sure they worked, then just packed up and returned. They saw no sign of any tribute in the way there or back.
I glance at Faren, who is seated at a table already going through his haul of material. Honestly it looks like a bunch of junk to me, but if he thinks he can make traps with that stuff I won’t argue. He is the expert, after all. 
The others continue to discuss the radios with undisguised glee. I don’t share that excitement. While it’s true that the radios offer a huge strategic advantage, that doesn’t change the fact that we all have to die. Even if the radios let one of us win, that still means five of us are dead. 
So as the others bask in this exciting revelation, I find myself watching them with solemn dread. Eventually all this joy will turn into nothing but sorrow. 
And I can already taste the ashes. 
===Alcmene Eudia (District 1)===
The moonlight glitters across the parking lot, illuminating the cars that rest in tranquil silence as us Careers begin to settle in for the night. 
I breathe deeply, inhaling the crisp night air. Peace. That is what I currently feel. Peace and calm. It won’t last, of course, but nighttime has always had that effect on me. I lean forward on the crate I use as a chair, hands on my knees as I gaze out at the line of trees that mark the southern border of the arena.
The eight of us entered that little grove during our reconnaissance of the arena. There wasn’t much to find; just a small meadow full of wildflowers and butterflies. And something else. A rippling forcefield on the very end of the treeline. Valor declared the area clear and we continued our search elsewhere. Yet my thoughts continue to drift back to that meadow…
I would like to go there, just to sit and think in peace for a bit. Flowers have long been a great love of mine, and were instrumental my recovery after the Tragedy. Wisteria and Sakura in particular are my favorites. Someday I hope to have a garden full of flowers. One much like my family had before…
Solomon.
Any semblance of peace I’ve had is gone. Dashed to pieces. Cold anger takes its place. Fills me to the brim. He is beyond forgiveness. Whatever he once was, he has long since shedded that skin. He is no longer my loving big brother. He’s become a heartless monster who cares for nothing but his own well-being. 
The image of Solomon helping Teal to her feet flashes across my mind.
Impossible. I would have dismissed such a thing as mere lunacy had I not witnessed it myself. Solomon, the man who murdered his own family in cold-blood, had stopped to help his ally, putting himself at risk in the process. It makes no sense. Why would he do such a thing? And at the bloodbath, no less. There was every chance that I would attack him whilst he was assisting her. Why would he…?
I remember a time when he helped me like that. I had tripped and fallen in the family garden, scraping my knee on the decorative cement stones. I was crying, afraid and alone, until Solomon showed up to help my to my feet. I can still see the smile on his face as he set a warm hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Alci. No matter how many times you fall down, I’ll always be there to pick you back up.”
I had believed him. Like the good little fool I was, I’d believed that Solomon would always be there for me. My big brother was going to protect me. He would never let anything bad happen. I had wholeheartedly believed that.
Until the day of the Tragedy.
The sound of laughter pulls me from my thoughts. I glance in its direction, not surprised to find that Mako is the cause. He rests atop an overturned crate as Zeke and Matiss sit across from him, laughing uproariously. No doubt Mako has told yet another wildly exaggerated story. He’s done that quite often.
I sigh, aware that Solomon has drawn me back into a melancholic state. I can’t let him get inside my head like this. Obviously he was only helping his ally to trick me. He must have seen that I was watching and decided to take the opportunity to try and confuse me into letting down my guard. 
Yes, that’s it. He’s playing mind games. Probably thinks that he can still manipulate me as easily as he did when we were children. Well, he’s in for a surprise. I won’t let him trick me. Not again.
“You have to kill him, Alci,” Citria pleads. 
“I’m trying. I’m trying so hard!” I squeeze my hands into fists and press them against my head. Solomon’s only purpose in these Games is to kill me and finish what he started all those years ago. Why else would he resurface after so long? I’m sure he thinks that information would intimidate me, yet that knowledge gives me the edge. If he wants to kill me then he’ll have to seek me out. I don’t have to risk venturing out into the arena to find him. 
I just have to sit and wait for him to come to me.
Content with that realization, I brush all thoughts of Solomon out of my mind and turn my attention to the other Careers. Mako is still talking with Zekel and Matiss. He’s been attempting to try and get on everyone’s good side all day, though he has some competition in that regard. 
 
I shift my gaze to the other side of the cornucopia, where all three of the remaining female Careers sit at a small folding table, playing some sort of card game. Marina hasn’t exactly hidden her desire to try and connect with us girls; she’s been triggering conversations with us all day. While she’s had little difficulty in getting Yewan to open up, Opal and I have been a different story. Neither of us are keen to engage in any small talk with the girl.
It’s not that I dislike her—Marina seems to be fine enough of a person—but I merely have no desire to socialize with any of my allies. I’m not here to make friends. I’m not even here to win the Games. My only goal is to end Solomon’s life. To be truthful, the only reason I am even aligned with the Careers is because doing so presents me with the easiest path forward in the arena.
“Go fish!” Yewan abruptly stands up and smacks her cards down on the table. A triumphant grin spreads across her face. “That means I win!”
The other two girls exchange a perplexed look. “Yewan,” Marina’s soft voice is tinged with amusement, “do you even know what game we’re playing?”
The tall girl shakes her head. “Nope! And it doesn’t matter, because I just won!”
Somehow that bizarre statement results in both her and Marina breaking out into fits of laughter while Opal watches with narrowed eyes. I don’t know how or why, but I can see that the three of them have formed their own little clique. Which, of course, puts them at odds with Mako and his buddies.
The three of the guys are still seated together. Right now Zekel appears to be in the middle of a story, looking more animated than I’ve ever seen him. Those three clearly have their own sub-group and I know enough of Games history to see where this is going. Two separate groups of Careers are bound to end up clashing…but only if we lose our leader.
I watch Valor as he makes big looping circles around the cornucopia, doing a “patrol” as he calls it. Constant vigilance is a motto of his, one that he apparently lives by, though I am not sure if he actually thinks someone will risk attacking the cornucopia with all of us Careers assembled or if he’s just bored. If I had to guess I’d say the latter.
Regardless, his health is paramount to the success of our alliance. If Valor were to die his absence would leave a glaring hole in our leadership. Had Atticus still been alive that wouldn’t have been a problem, as he’d just step in and become the next leader. But since he’s dead, who is next in line of Valor goes down? Hunger Game history gives me the answer.
Both Marina and Mako would try to take charge, with their lackeys backing them up. It is unlikely that they could come to an amicable accord, thus the alliance is likely to split in two, with me left in the middle. 
I waste several moments wondering what I’d do in such a situation before snapping out of my fugue and realizing that it doesn’t matter. My only goal in these Games is to kill Solomon. If the Careers fracture then I’ll just strike out on my own and pursue that goal. 
Of course, this fate can only come to pass if Valor dies. As long as he lives we’ll stay strong and united. Hopefully he’ll remain breathing for a few more days. I’d prefer having the safety net that is the Careers at my back as long as possible. 
The others begin to settle down as the night stretches on. Some of them even find a spot to go sleep, despite the fact that the Anthem has yet to play. But then, there is little point in watching it. We’ve already gone over the bodies of all the tributes who died at the bloodbath and no other cannon has sounded throughout the day, meaning that there has been no further deaths. The Anthem and the Fallen won’t show us anything we don’t already know. 
Valor divvies up guard duty—he is adamant two of us remain awake at all times—and I draw first watch with Opal. The cold girl says nothing as she drifts to the other side of the cornucopia, but I understand her meaning anyway. We’ll both watch opposite sides. That way no one can approach us unawares.
Not that they’d have much opportunity to do so; almost the entire parking lot is bathed in floodlights from the lampposts overhead, so the whole place is illuminated brightly. While it ruins the quiet, serene atmosphere of night that I so love, it does make standing guard quite easy.
Boredom begins to sink in as the minutes drag on. I find myself playing with the pendant around my neck, the yellow crescent moon that Solomon gave me. Anger wells inside me but is diluted by the sense of nostalgia that touching the pendant brings. Things were so much simpler when we were children…why did everything have to change? Why couldn’t we have just stayed one big, happy family? Why did Solomon go to District 2?
That was the changing point. After his return he was never the same. What happened to him there? What set him on the dark path he now treads? I find myself with a vicious sense of glee over the deaths of Atticus and Lilith. Their District ruined my family, so it’s only fitting that they’re dead.
I’m aware that these thoughts are unnatural and not apart of my usual tendencies. Stress and fatigue must be getting to me. Gritting my teeth, I shake my head and look to the moon, hopeful that it will bring the tranquility I desire.
Instead I just see his face reflected there. Solomon, but not as he is now. A younger, kinder Solomon. The face I see is one of the gentle young boy who I loved as a big brother.
“He killed me, Alci!” Hyacinth whispers in my ear. “You have to avenge me, please!”
Solomon’s reflection warps, becoming the dark visage of the boy who huddled in the corner, clutching the blood soaked sword he used to murder our family.
“Come on, Alci! Let’s sneak out into the garden!” Solomon’s young laughter spills out into the night as we descend into the moonlit garden. Was that the moment my love for the night was born?
“He betrayed his family, Alcmene! You must kill him!” Father’s stern words destroy the image and I’m suddenly back in the arena, gazing at the moon and Solomon’s reflection. 
As I watch it distorts and extends, switching and merging between the two images in a constant stream of motion. Between the young, innocent Solomon I once knew and the dark man he’s become. There is no pause, no respite. The images are one and the same but different. Which is the true Solomon? Why did he abandon me?
I stare up at the moon in anguish, painfully aware that I have never been further away from tranquility.
===Remus Ring (The Capitol)===
I sit on a long log as I stare into the crackling flames of our small fire. Teal lies beside me, legs stretched out before her as she gazes up into the sky. The wound on her leg is wrapped in a poultice of healing herbs that Solomon had found earlier today. If it wasn’t for him I do not know how we would have treated her.
The night air is alive with the sounds of crickets and frogs. The quiet rustling of wind and the gentle bells of the wind chimes hung up on the villas behind us. A large pond is laid out before our campsite, the reflection of the almost full moon shimmering on its tranquil surface. If I didn’t know where I was, I could almost say it was a peaceful night.
“The Anthem should be soon,” Teal says quietly. 
I nod in agreement. Soon we will find out who died. I stretch my arms and stifle a yawn. Today has been long and tiring. My battle with Atticus at the bloodbath was more stressful than any of my bouts at the fight club. There I had no fear of dying, but here in the arena…Atticus would have killed me if I’d let him. 
The Careers will probably be after us because of my victory. I beat one of their strongest fighters and knocked him unconscious; they’re not like to forget that. The fact Valor considers me a traitor will only add fuel to those flames. 
I hope we put enough distance between us and the cornucopia. Our flight from the bloodbath took us through the outside of the main building, skirting the edges as we circled around it. That was Solomon’s idea. He said that the first place the Careers would look was inside the building, so that we should avoid it at all costs. 
We made our way through a secondary parking lot and down a small backroad before arriving at a set of buildings. They were log cabins writ large, the cedars stripped of their bark and stained with something that made them almost glossy, a warm yellow under the sun.  They were three stories tall, but the third floor was half the size of the other two, allowing the other half of what would have been the third floor to be a rooftop patio instead. A series of tables were scattered around the buildings, some close together and others a considerable distance away, as if they were trying to escape into the woods. Across from the buildings was a large pond, which is where we decided to make our camp. 
I stare into the crackling flames, wondering if Solomon is correct and that the Careers won’t hunt through the night. I was worried the fire would give our position away, but he told me that wouldn’t be a concern. Apparently it’s been more than a decade since the Careers have left the cornucopia after sundown on the first day.
Not that our fire is strictly necessary, mind. The night is far from cool, almost warm, and the cold isn’t likely to be a factor in our survival. Still, the fire brings me calm. Fills me with a sense of warmth that has nothing to do with heat. I feel at peace. Comfortable. But not unconcerned. Worries still gnaw at me, tear into my mind and threaten to rip away that comfort. No, I am not unconcerned.
How long has it been since I last felt so?
I let my eyes drift past the fire and to the pond that beyond. Solomon is down there, somewhere. That’s where he found the herbs, but the reason he’s there now is because he said that he wishes to check if there any mutts hidden nearby. 
I have no idea what his goal is, but I was loathe to question him. He’s the expert when it comes to nature, so I’ll leave that domain to him.
The first strains of the Anthem break the companionable silence that had befallen our camp. The night sky flickers to an image of the Panemian seal before transitioning to the first face. Lilith. So, a Career is dead? I wonder who killed her. Surely it is possible that…my line of thought trails off as I take in the next face.
It is Atticus.
Despite the heat of the fire, I feel cold. He is dead? But how? Surely my blow wouldn’t have…I close my eyes and let out a gentle breath. Yes, it would have. I held nothing back on that final blow and struck him straight in the head. It is more than possible that I cracked the boy’s skull. 
I open my eyes in time to see the face of Harmon fading away to be replaced with Shiloh’s. I know nothing of the girl, so I hardly react before she too is gone. Lucia rounds out the Fallen, and then the Seal is back in place. When the Anthem fades, the wildlife pick up their noise.
“Only five dead,” Teal says. “That’s the lowest amount of bloodbath deaths since the 326th.”
I grunt in response but my mind is still on Atticus. Someone is dead by my hand. The thought is a little more disheartening than I expected. I knew what the Games entailed and what I’d have to do, but to finally realize that a person is dead, that you killed them, it’s…unsettling.
Teal’s noticed my reticence and stops speaking. She eyes me for a long moment before nodding. “Is this about Atticus?”
“Yes.”
“Someone could have killed him while he was knocked out,” She says. There’s some truth to those words, but I daren’t accept them as gospel. It is far more likely that my strike was the one that ended the boy.
“No, I killed him.” I do not regret it. Had I not done so, Atticus would have killed Teal and myself. Still, it is impossible to simply shrug off the knowledge that you ended another’s life.
Solomon’s abrupt arrival dispels my melancholic mood. The boy trudges into the camp light, boots streaked with mud and lower half of his body soaking wet. I raise an eyebrow in silent surprise. He was in the pond?
 
“The Anthem just happened,” Teal says. He nods and tells us he saw, then crouches beside the fire, warming his hands and drying his clothes. 
“I was searching for mutts,” He says.
“Why?” Sometimes I wonder if everything this man does has to be dramatic.
He adjusts the hood of his jacket, pulling it more over his face. “I…have some skill with mutts. I may even be able to tame some, if they’re the right type.”
I exchange a glance with Teal. Take a mutt? Idle boasting or…He can’t possibly have that ability, right? Yet I know it’s not impossible. Other tributes have done similar things in the past and the Capitol certainly has its own methods of controlling the beasts. Actually, now that I think on it, I am sure that some of the Great Families have pet mutts of their own.
“Did you find any?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Not much. The pond is full of piranhas, but the only thing I know how to do with those is turn them docile. There’s some frogs, though, and I—”
“Wait, hold up!” Teal tries to stand but her leg gives out and she collapses back to the ground. I’m at her side, trying to help, but she waves me off. “I’m fine! Anyway, “turn them docile”? What the hell does that mean?”
Solomon rubs his hands together, still gazing into the fire. His expression never changes. “I turned off their predatory instincts. It wasn’t too hard.”
Teal gives an impressed whistle. I merely shift uneasily. There is so much we don’t know about this guy. Can he truly be trusted? “And the frogs?” I ask. I can hear them in the distance, croaking and ribbeting, or whatever it is called. “What about them?”
Solomon stands up and gestures at the pond. “You can hear them, right?”
Teal nods. “Yeah.”
“Watch this.” He takes a step out of the campfires light and the frogs immediately go quiet. An eerie silence surrounds us on all sides, then Solomon steps back into the light and the frogs pick up their song. 
A long moment passes before I understand what just transpired. Teal reaches the same conclusion just seconds later. “They sensed you!”
Solomon nods, crouching down beside the fire once more. “Yes. I have them set as sentries; they’ll go silent whenever they sense someone nearby.”
Teal gasps at this news but I remain silent, troubled that Solomon had this ability but hadn’t mentioned it until now. There’s too much about him that we don’t know. How am I supposed to trust him when he’s shrouded in so much myth? 
Solomon looks up and fixes me with a level gaze. We hold each other’s attention until he sighs and lowers his head. “It’s probably time I told you my full story,” he murmurs. “But you should…get closer. I don’t want to be overheard.” The surreptitious glance he gives the sky is enough to let me know that he’s worried about the cameras. Why?
Teal scoots forward, careful to keep her leg off the ground, while I reluctantly stand and approach the fire, rolling a sizable stone over for me to use as a chair. I do not like sitting in the dirt like a savage.
“So…?” I stare into the fire and the sizzling embers that rise from it. The gentle breeze carries them off into the night. 
Solomon begins his tale. It’s a sordid one full of misery and regret, with little to no happiness. The path he’s tread has clearly been full of despair. 
Neither I nor Teal interrupt while he speaks. She listens with wide eyes as he retells his past, and the expression on her face is one of sympathy and understanding. She undoubtedly is amiable to his plight, yet I find myself…perturbed. 
When Solomon finishes a long silence engulfs us. I stare past the flames of our fire, feeling cold and distant. Before hearing his explanation I had never…
“I understand if you no longer wish to be allies,” Solomon finally says. I lift my eyes from the fire to see him watching us with a somber face. “I’ll leave if you wish. I have no desire to burden you.”
“No, you don’t need to leave!” Teal offers him a smile. “We completely understand your situation. What happened to you…it wasn’t right. Your whole life spiraled out of control, but it wasn’t your fault. Don’t you agree, Remus?”
“No.”
I clasp my hands together and lean forward. Both of them watch me with dazed expressions. Shock practically glistens in Teal’s eyes. I fix Solomon with a long, hard stare. “I don’t agree with Teal. What you did was wrong. Completely and utterly wrong.”
He killed his own family at the urging a of a man who had routinely abused him. Yes, he felt forced. Yes, he wasn’t in a sound state of mind. But he murdered his own family. One of his sisters was only nine years old! 
I can feel dismay in the very core of my body. To me family is everything. I’ve been taught the sanctity of it for my entire life. I can sympathize with the abuse he suffered at the hands of his Father and brothers; mine own father has often been just as verbally aggressive, though he never resorted to physical violence. Yet even if he had I cannot fathom the idea of responding with violence of my own.
“We’ve all done awful things, Remus!” Teal glares at me. She seems more offended than Solomon, who remains silently staring into the fire. “I was a runner in my uncles drug empire. I knew what I was delivering, but I didn’t stop. How many people do you think died of overdose’s because of my deliveries?”
“It’s not the same.”
“And you?” She ignores me, tirade only just begun. She forces herself into a standing position, looming over me like a thundercloud. “Your family has destroyed the lives of how many people? Thousands live in poverty because of the regime they support!”
“That’s not the same!”
“I haven’t even mentioned your personal actions! You didn’t even hesitate before killing Atticus—” 
“It is not the same!”
My shout shocks her into silence. She steps back, wobbles in place, then collapses to the grass beside the fire. My concern for her is buried beneath the anger that begins to seep from the reservoir deep inside. I have to curl my hands into fists to prevent them from shaking. I take a deep breathe. When I speak, my words are an icy calm.
“Solomon killed his family. People who cared for him, looked after him. They did bad things, yes. Made mistakes. But they were his family. He should have protected them, treasured them beyond everything. Yet he killed them. And why? Because a wicked man told him to? That’s no reason at all.”
Though my words are addressed to Teal, it is Solomon whom I watch. He sits beside the fire, eyes cast downwards and face expressionless. He is not the evil man the Capitol claims he is. That much I can tell from my time around him. Perhaps he regrets his actions, might even seek to atone for them, but that does not excuse his past. No, Solomon isn’t evil.
But that does not make him good.
“He wasn’t in the right state of mind,” Teal says. She sounds troubled. Clearly she never thought I’d disagree with her. “Solomon didn’t know what he was doing. He didn’t understand—”
“He understood enough to spare Alcmene.”
Teal goes quiet. That is the crux of my argument. Solomon was of a sound enough mind to know he was doing wrong. Why else would he spare his favorite sister? He killed his family but couldn’t bring himself to end the life of the person he loved most. But why didn’t that love extend to his two youngest siblings? Citria and Hyacinth did nothing wrong. I can understand Solomon lashing out against his father and brothers for their abuse—though I cannot imagine ever harming my Father or Julius, even if they were the same—but why didn’t he spare all his sisters? Why just one?
Teal opens her mouth for another argument, but I hold up a hand to forestall her. “I wish to hear from Solomon himself,” I say. 
She nods glumly. “Very well. Solomon?”
He doesn’t respond immediately. His eyes stay focused on the flames crackling before us. When he finally speaks, his voice is little more than a whisper I must strain my ears to hear. “Remus is right. What I did was wrong. I have no justifications, only excuses.”
I feel no joy at the admission. Somehow it only makes me feel worse. “Then why did you do it?”
“Because I was stupid and naive. I did something awful, something unforgivable, and I will never be able to atone for it. If I could turn back time and change my actions, I would. But I can’t. Every morning I wake up from nightmares where I relive the Tragedy over and over. And when I wake, when I lie there staring at the ceiling or sky, I begin to weep. To curse myself for even waking. Because I don’t deserve the life I have, no matter how bleak it may seem. I deserve nothing more than the eternal torment that has me in its grip. You’re right, Remus. I am beyond redemption.”
Julius is beyond redemption! 
Father’s enraged words spring to the forefront of my mind. It was a few years past the incident, and I was up in my room studying. I had heard loud voices and so crept to the edge of the stairs in an effort to listen. A courier—from whom I knew not—had visited my Father in an effort to convince him to end Julius’ exile, but he simply drove the man away. 
Julius is beyond redemption.
“No.” My voice surprises even myself. I shake my head, conscious of the incredulous looks my allies give me. “No, Solomon. You are not beyond redemption. No one is.”
No one responds. Solomon shifts his position, looking decidedly uncomfortable, and then stands. “I will go, if you wish. You needn’t burden yourself with me.”
This time Teal has a response. “No! Solomon, you don’t need to leave. What you did was…I mean, you’re trying to make amends with your sister, aren’t you?”
“No.” His eyes never leave the fire. A remote sadness forms there. “I only wish to explain myself to Alci. I don’t…I don’t need her forgiveness or sympathy. I would like if she could forgive me, but…I neither intend nor expect she will. And that is understandable. I don’t want redemption. I only want her to know the truth.”
Solomon is not a good man. The actions and deeds he performed would never have been done by a good man. But just because he is not good does not mean he is bad. 
The world is full of men like him. People who are not evil, yet do terrible things regardless. I am under no delusions in that regard. My very Father is one such man. But Solomon has harmed his own family, and while that weighs heavily on my mind, I also know that he deserves a shot at redemption, even if he doesn’t desire it. Perhaps because he doesn’t desire it.
“I will help you with your goal,” I break the silence that has befallen our little group. “I will do whatever I can to assist you in your task…yet I won’t risk my life or Teal’s for it.”
Solomon bows his head. “I never expected you to. Your help is enough. I…I know I don’t even deserve that much. Thank you.”
I tug at my collar and shrug. For a man who has done such terrible things, why does must he be so likable? Had he only been an unrepentant jerk, then I could have cast him aside. And yet…I know I wouldn’t have. Despite all my bluster and bravado regarding the morality of his actions, I know that I would never have abandoned him. 
But it is not because I am a good man myself. A strong sense of shame builds inside me at the thought, but I know the reason I’d never cast him aside is because he is still useful to me, and a Ring never abandons something useful.
My allies continue to talk in whispers, but I no longer listen. I gaze deep into the fire and wonder just how far I will go to win these Games. Julius is waiting for me in the other side, along with Aurilee and her promises. Becoming Victor may even satiate Father and put an end to his rigorous demands. Winning could grant me everything I ever wanted…
But at what price?
I look at Teal as she laughs at something Solomon has said. If the Games came down to me and her, could I bring myself to kill her? If I did, if I could sacrifice her for my own sake, then would I be any better than Solomon? Than Father?
As I gaze intently into the flames, I realize that the true reason I was so upset with Solomon is that, deep inside myself, I am afraid that I will become just like him. No, not him. Aamon. The man who corrupted him. Greed and desire will tempt me into becoming the worst version of myself. I could win the Games and get everything I ever wanted…
…and the only cost would be everything I am.
==Day 2/ Fun In The Sun==
===Austin Aitken (Mentor)===
The sun has just risen over the Capitol as I make my way into the Mentors Lobby. The Lobby is almost empty this early in the morning but a few mentors hang around the kitchen area, either eating breakfast or simply drinking coffee.
“Mornin’ Austin!” Soot greets me with a wave, gnawing in a muffin. 
“Good morning.” I slide onto a chair at the breakfast bar, and wave away the Avox who approaches. I’ve been awake for hours. Most of that time was spent in the on-site gym, training and going through my sword forms. That’s been a ritual of mine ever since I first started training for the Games. 
“You just wake up?” Soot asks me. 
“Nope!” Lux takes the chair to my right, setting two mugs down in front of him. “Austin and I have been awake for awhile now. We just got down hitting the gym.”
Soot makes a face. “The gym? Ugh. Why bother training anymore? You’ve already won the Games.”
People have asked me that question before. If my sole reason for winning the Games was to avenge Eliza, then why have I continued to train? To teach the next generation of District 1 tributes? The short answer is because I am good at it. Teaching has come naturally to me, and it’s always been a philosophy of mine to do what you’re good at. The longer answer is…
“Hey, Ryam!” Lux shouts across the room, to where the District 4 mentor is standing with his arms clasped behind his back as he watches the television. “Are you still sore about me drinking you under the table?”
The older man chuckles. “Just wait for round two!”
Lux guffaws with laughter and takes a sip of his mug. Hot chocolate. He’s obsessed with the stuff, and recently he’s gotten me on the fad too. I lift my own mug and drink. 
“You’re just training a bunch of killers!”
Mist’s words cut me deep, once. He accused me of just furthering the Capitol’s propaganda by training my students, that each one I sent into the Games would go on to murder some innocent children. I’d thought he was right, once. 
But that was before I really got to know my students.
Despite what people may think, they’re not all bloodthirsty monsters. They’re not even all rich or pampered. A lot of them are just ordinary kids who’re doing the best they can to make a living the only way they know how. Plenty of them don’t even enter the Games and only attend the Academy for fun and socializing. 
Only the dedicated make it into my elite classes. I weed out the weak and unworthy, not allowing them to graduate to higher levels unless they’ve proven they have what it takes to properly represent District 1. Since Topaz and I started our class, one of our students has always been the District 1 male.
I set my mug down and stare into the dark chocolate. Our class has become the baseline for a District 1 tribute. No pyschopaths have graduated. There will be no more Dragons or Karma’s representing District 1, not as long as I have my way.
So my students aren’t monsters or deranged killers. And I’m not sending hundreds of kids to their deaths, either. Dozens of teenagers attend my classes each year, but only one of them actually competes in the Games. I didn’t mentor in the 328th, so the only Games I’ve had a student in were the 329th, 330th, 331st, and 332nd. 
I glance at the boy—he’s only a few years younger than myself, yet I still think of him as a boy—sitting beside me as he drinks his hot chocolate. Lux won the 330th, leaving only three of my students who…who failed.
Jasper…Agate…Turq…
I close my eyes and let out a sigh. I still remember their names. Some of the other mentors don’t. Ryam, for example, has told me that he can’t recall more than three or four of his. Maybe that’ll happen with me. Maybe I’ll become desensitized to the loss after enough years go by.
But somehow I don’t think I will.
When I reopen my eyes I spot two more mentors making their way into the kitchen. Edmund and Lilac. I watch the hairy man as he takes a seat at the table, quietly ordering something from the Avox. Yesterday a press release was sent out where he publicly endorsed Roscoe Stryker’s candidacy. 
All of the heirs have approached me, asking for my support. I’ve been non-committal with them, but I’ve sensed their impatience. Sooner or later they will pressure me into choosing someone.
Yet I have no idea who I’d pick.
“Your girl’s a drug runner, huh?” Ryam’s thick guffaw draws my attention to him as he approaches Lilac. The thin blonde woman arches a delicate eyebrow at him.
“Are you referring to Teal?”
“Of course!” He laughs and slaps the table. “What is it with District 6? Why are you all in the drug industry?”
It’s common knowledge that Lilac Drugs runs the largest drug empire in Panem, though rarely is it spoken aloud. The fact that her surname is “Drugs” has simultaneously produced many a joke and several claims that it’s a fake name. Lilac insists it’s real. 
“Is she apart of your enterprise?” Lux adds himself into the conversation. It’s an annoying habit of his, I must admit. 
Lilac’s eyes flash. “Of course not. I have no enterprise.”
Lux frowns. “Huh? But you run the—”
I elbow him in the stomach and his words turn into a garbled cough. “Don’t drink so fast, Lux!” I lean over to pat him on the back. And whisper in his ear. “Drop it. Lilac won’t admit a thing.”
Lux rubs his midsection, a small smile playing on his face. “Sure, sure. But I had to try, didn’t I?”
I roll my eyes and return to my hot chocolate. Ryam is still needling Lilac, but his fellow District 4 mentor has arrived and she engages Lux in a conversation about the Career alliance. That’s an interesting part about being a mentor to a Career; you have to work together with the other mentors quite a bit. 
My thoughts drift to District 2 and how all of their mentors were killed in a terrorist attack at their Reaping. That news had been shared with us mentors only recently, and I still haven’t fully come to grips with it. I was friends with more than a few of them, and Warden Greeneyes was instrumental in helping me master the art of swordsmanship. But now he’s dead…
I glance at Soot as he watches the television. It’s an open secret that he helps finance rebel groups across the country. Did he contribute to that attack? Is he in some way responsible for all those deaths? Him and I have never truly gotten along, even though I did save his life in the arena. If it wasn’t for me he’d be dead and Rufus would have came out Victor. 
Did that decision cost Warden and the others their lives?
The arrival of Mist disrupts my thoughts. He fist bumps Soot before taking a seat at the breakfast bar beside me. “Stupid people won’t leave me alone,” He mutters as taps his fingers along the wood.
“What people?” Of course Lux wants to know.
Mist leans back and makes an exaggerated face. “The Stryker’s! All of the presidents heirs, successors, or whatever you want to call them. They keep pestering me nonstop!”
So I am not the only one they’ve been bothering. Unsurprising. I sip my hot chocolate and shrug. “Make a decision and they’ll stop.”
Mist gives me a scathing look. “I’m not about to support any of those arrogant assholes!”
“Have you told them that?”
“Hell no! They’d probably skin me alive!”
“Support Nedry!” Soot says with a grin. “He’s so weak and stupid that it’ll be impossible for him to actually win the Presidency, so you won’t have to feel guilty about supporting a future tyrant.” 
“I’m going to pick whoever Austin chooses!” Lux chimes in.
Great. More pressure for me to make a choice. Just what I needed. I decide to change the subject. “What’s going on in the arena? Are the tributes awake yet?”
“Some are,” Edmund is the first to answer. “but they don’t appear to be doing anything.”
I glance up at the screen and see that he’s right. The cameras are currently focused on Valor as he organizes the crates inside the cornucopia. The only other Careers who appear to be awake are Marina and Mako, both of whom are currently standing guard. 
Valor. That boy has been one of my top students, excelling in every category there is. His personality runs too close to fanatic nationalism for my liking, but he’s a good kid. Though I doubt he sees the other tributes as anything more than mere obstacles, he’s not going to torture or main them for fun. To Valor, the Games are all about honor and glory. He’ll take the high road if he can, but he’s not afraid to fight dirty if he has to.
I lean back and sigh. The sun has barely risen and I’m already over analyzing the tributes. Not to mention the heirs are bound to approach me with some more offers. Guess I just have to take it on the chin and roll with the punches, because it seems like it’s going to be a long day. 
===Valor Forge (District 1)===
I circle around the cornucopia in a wide loop, weapons held tightly in my hands. The morning sun shines down upon us, basking us in a bright glow that hasn’t even reached its zenith yet. Sunlight reflects off the cars and is absorbed by the concrete. The air is hot and dry. By afternoon this parking lot will feel like an oven. 
Most of the others are awake and gathered at the mouth of the cornucopia. But Alcmene is still asleep and a few are just now waking, fitfully rubbing the sleep from their eyes. 
I approach them.
“What’s the gameplan?” Matiss asks with a yawn. His long, lean body towers over the others, though he is only a few inches taller than myself. 
“Valor will decide,” Opal sounds neither happy nor upset about that prospect; she simply states it as a fact. 
Their eyes flicker towards me as I stop beside them. I remain silent. I know that they expect me to make some grand proclamation, but I am content to wait before revealing my hand. 
Several awkward seconds tick pass before one of them deigns to break the silence. “Should we wake Alcmene?” Zekel asks. 
I eye the pale, dark-haired boy warily. Though he proved he had skill during the training session, he did has not shown that his practice translates to results. In the bloodbath he was knocked unconscious by the District 7 boy. An unacceptable result, to be sure. 
“Need you ask permission for every little thing?” Opal gives a disdainful sniff. “If you think something needs be done, then do it!”
Zekel mutters something unintelligible and retreats into the cornucopia, ostensibly to wake Alcmene. Once he’s gone Mako steps forward and splays his hands. “I’m sensing a little tension here, you know?” 
Some of the others shift their feet. Yewan laughs and says something about mutts. I still don’t understand that girl. Clearly she’s not as dim-witted as she behaves, but neither is her personality an act. Truly baffling.
“Yeah, I know that losing both Lilith and Atticus in the bloodbath was surprising,” Mako’s trademark grin slips from his face for once as he speaks. “It sucked. Massively. But their deaths weren’t a complete loss. It made us stronger. Smarter. We can learn from this and grow together as a group, become something more than we were. Loss only strengthens us!”
The others murmur quietly. Yewan even claps. Still I remain silent. This is an obvious ploy to try and garner sympathy and respect for himself. Though I neither liked nor cared for Lilith and Atticus, some of the others may have. Mako certainly wishes to gain some of that liking and use it for his own gain. 
I have no worries that he will try and supplant me as leader. Doing something as foolish as that would only fracture the alliance he is seeking to bolster. No, Mako has no designs on leadership…while I still live. 
I am aware that a power vacuum would open the moment I died. Someone would have to fill that vacuum. Mako apparently thinks it will be him. And why not? Were I to fall he would be one of only three left from the Career districts. A recruit certainly would never become leader, leaving the spot to either him, Marina, or Alcmene. His plan makes perfect sense. Except for one small flaw.
I will not die.
I have been trained for these Games since birth. Taught every skill and strategy. I know the paradigms and how to shift them to my liking. I recognize tactics that have been deployed countless times before. Despite owning the cornucopia and the bounty it offers my own backpack is filled with food and extra canteens of water; a precaution against any attempt to poison me. Nor will I be the first to enter any room; the threat of traps are too high. 
Austin and Topaz have taught me well. If I am to die, it will have to be in single combat. And who in this arena could possibly best me in combat? Mako would be my only real challenge, save perhaps Solomon and whatever underhanded trick he has up his sleeve. 
So I remain silent as Mako finishes his little speech. Perhaps he thinks I will die, perhaps he doesn’t. No matter what he believes, my death is far from imminent. 
Zekel returns with Alcmene. The blonde girl blinks at the sight of the burning sun. “Why’s it so hot?”
The sun continues to rise in the sky. Noon is still several hours off. “It’ll get even hotter before long,” Matiss says.
“Nothing a little water won’t fix!” Mako grins. I notice that he alone hasn’t taken off his jacket or sweatshirt. His rain jacket is merely unbuttoned to the chest. 
Despite his jockeying for position, I still hold him as one of my closer allies. Only someone who is loyal to the Capitol deserves to wear the Victor’s Crown, and despite the recruits all joining us of their own volition, I cannot be sure they truly believe in the honor of the Games. Which, once again, leaves only Mako, Marina, and Alcmene as viable contenders for the crown. Save myself, of course. 
The others have begun to converse amongst themselves. Marina is whispering to Mako while he nods to her words. Zekel and Matiss share some joke. Yewan is going on a long tangent while Opal listens with an expression that tells me she dearly wishes to strangle the girl. Alcmene, as usual, stands apart from the rest.
Well, I’ve wasted enough time.
“Everyone gather around!”
Everyone immediately snaps to attention as I step forward. I scan their faces and nod approvingly. Despite some of their quirks, this is a disciplined unit. “Today we are going to send a hunting party out into the arena. However, some of us will be staying behind to guard the cornucopia. Five of us will go hunting while the other three remain here. I will choose who joins which group.” I pause, waiting for an objection. Surprisingly none comes. “Mako, Yewan, and Alcmene will make up the guard duty.”
Mako lets out a whoop which Yewan copies. The rest remain silent. I eye them with distaste. Guard duty is hardly something to celebrate. “Everyone else, start gathering your weapons and whatever else you think you might need. We leave in ten minutes.”
The group breaks apart, each person hurrying to their own task. Yet the three who are staying behind seem to be in no hurry. Despite what it may appear, I chose those three for a particular reason. As far I’m aware none of them have any real relationship with the others, meaning that they’re hardly what you would call friends. Throughout my life I’ve learned that people are more likely to slack off and stop paying attention if they’re with their friends; something that could prove fatal in the Games. Thus, I ensured that none of our guards have a prior connection to one another.
A wise and prudent decision, if I do say so myself.
I spend my time watching the others as they prepare. I have no need to do so myself. I’ve been prepared for this moment since dawn. Everything I need is in the bag strapped to my back. Never leave the cornucopia without enough supplies to live off. Another lesson from Austin and Topaz.
My scanning pauses on Marina. The girl appears to be ruffling through all the unclaimed bags, searching for…what? As I watch she takes a small jar from a backpack and tucks it into her pocket. I narrow my eyes. Medicine of some sort? Well, I can hardly fault her for wanting to be prepared. Still, her behavior is unusual. 
“Valor.”
I turn to the side to see Opal has approached me. The girl’s face is as stern as ever. “May I assist you?” I ask.
“Not at all. I merely wished to tell you that you made the right decision by keeping Zekel off guard duty.”
Of course I did. But…why? “I assume you think he would have been inadequate for the job?”
She shrugs. “Zekel is…how should I phrase it…a bit of a coward, I suppose. Honestly, were he left on guard duty I don’t doubt he’d run off at the first sign of trouble.”
I find it hard to disagree with that assessment. Zekel has always struck me as the flighty sort. When he was nowhere to be seen after the bloodbath I had thought he’d simply fled. I imagine that Briar’s alliance would be more than willing to accept him; after all, his own District partner is amongst them. 
Yet I am not about to voice these doubts aloud. A leader shouldn’t be seen doubting his own allies. “Zekel will pull his weight soon enough,” I tell Opal calmly. “As of right now we should simply focus on our own tasks.”
The girl nods and heads off, face unreadable. I’ve never been able to get a good grasp on that girl. Something about her is just…different.
It turns out Opal was only the first of many who wished to speak with me before we head out. A medley of the people approach, each with their own concerns. Mako stops to pitch me his idea of trying to make the cornucopia more defensible. Though he doesn’t yet have a good grasp on how he’s going to do that, I sign off on the idea anyway. Good defense leaders to better offense. 
The moment he’s done talking Matiss and Zekel emerge from behind his shoulder; neither one is certain how much supplies they should bring with. I tell them to simply follow their best judgment and both walk away nodding in a such way that you’d think I told them some grand secret. 
Marina, done with searching the bags, wants to know if we’re going to split up once we leave the cornucopia. Though she says that’s a bad idea, she also doesn’t hesitate to begin giving me advice on who should pair with who. I shut her down with a raised hand.
“We’re not splitting up. That would be sheer idiocy.” Our forces are already split between guard duty and the hunting parting. Making any further divides would just be asking for another alliance to pick us off.
Marina accepts that answer and goes to join the others, who’ve gathered around the mouth of the cornucopia. I can’t tell if she’s pleased or disappointed; somehow she looks both.
“Hunting party, to me!” I raise a hand and the four I’ve picked come to my side. The other three remain where they stand. “Mako, you’re in charge while we’re gone. Make sure Yewan doesn’t accidentally burn the place down.”
Mako gives a quick salute. “Aye, Aye, Captain!”
Yewan simply cackles with laughter. 
“Was that a joke?” Marina seems surprised as we head towards the buildings straight north of us. My plan is to search that place top to bottom then move onto the western end. “Guys, I think Valor just made a joke!”
I allow myself a small smile. “I’m not a statue, you know.” The others laugh at that, though I wasn’t joking. Yewan really might accidentally burn the place down without proper supervision. Or maybe not so accidentally. Still not sure how trustworthy she truly is. The smile slips from my face. Dark thoughts for such a sunny day.
Trying to keep tabs on all my allies, sorting the trustworthy from the untrustworthy, figuring out their weaknesses and affiliations, is my least favorite part of the Games and leadership in general. Too many small things in this social quagmire could pull me down at any second. Too many unseen threats.
But I am leaving that behind, for now. The hunting party will be my focus. A thrill rises in me at the thought of combat. A real challenge. Something that I’ve waited my entire life for. I flex my arms as Matiss leads the way into the northern building. For their sake the other tributes better be ready. 
Because Valor Forge is in the hunt.
===Faren Gomery (District 5)===
The second day of the Games brings Joule one step closer to death.
I sit on the ground before one of the many entrances to Wild West. My thin hands fiddle with the box before me, trying to get the setup just right. I’ve been up since dawn, rigging all of the entrances with traps. This will be the last one.
Talia sits across from me, tongue slightly protruding as she focuses on the sheet of paper before her. Her pencil is a blur as she sketches out a map of the arena—or at least the portion we’ve traveled. The map was my idea, but Talia readily agreed to do the actual drawing. That’s a good thing, because her skill far exceeds mine.
The iron bar slides into the box and snaps shut with a satisfying click. I nod in appreciation at the finished product. Pressure activated, the box will react to the weight of a person and trigger the trap concealed inside. A potentially lethal one.
“You done?” Talia looks up from her sketch with a frown. 
“Yes.” I place the box on the foot of the doorway and back off to examine it. Anyone entering would most likely step on it. “That’s all the entrances now.”
Well, technically not all. One of the entrances in the back of the park doesn’t have a trap set beside it; a precaution in the event we have to make a quick getaway. And neither is the mezzanine entrance trapped, though that’s for a slightly more complicated reason.
“What kinda trap is it this time?” Aiko, the third member of our alliance present, doesn’t even look at me as she asks her question. Her focus is on the three knives she juggles in her hands.
I lick my lips. Aiko still makes me nervous. I know that Yewan had to have been lying—I’ve overheard Aiko mentioning an orphanage to Briar, so clearly she isn’t from an assassin family—but the girl’s complete disregard for death and killing is unsettling. 
Yet at the same time I realize that Aiko’s fighting ability and her eagerness to put said abilities to use can only benefit me and my goal to end these Games as soon as possible. Unleashing Aiko into the arena would certainly dwindle the amount of tributes down, and with each dead tribute I inch closer to victory and Joule’s cure. Yes, an unleashed Aiko would help, but…
Convincing Briar to actually unleash Aiko is another matter entirely.
I glance up at the mezzanine, where Briar and our other two allies, Damian and Kia, remain. Our leader has been very hesitant about any and all thoughts of violence. So much so that I was even worried she’d try and prevent me from making my traps lethal. While she didn’t make any vocal complaint, I have seen the uncomfortable looks she’s given the completed traps. Clearly she’s not pleased by their presence.
Aiko catches her knives and sticks them in her belt. Crouching, she rests her chin in her knees as she stares at my trap. “Looks like a bomb. Does it explode?”
I adjust my glasses. “No. It’s not a bomb, though I suppose you could say that it explodes, in a fashion.” Stepping on the box would activate the spring inside and cause it to launch over a dozen nails in a wide radius. Depending on their velocity and the entry site, it could very well prove fatal to the unsuspecting victim.
Aiko coos softly as I explain the trap. The little girl is entirely too interested in the type of wounds it could inflict. I glance at Talia, but the quiet girl doesn’t so much as flinch when I say the trap could kill someone. I didn’t expect her to be so accepting of violence, but I’m not exactly surprised either. At her interview she mentioned her mother and how she’s dying of cancer. Clearly Talia is willing to do whatever it takes to come home and cure her. 
I tug at my collar. The waterpark is suddenly uncomfortably hot. Our motivations are not too dissimilar, yet only one of us can win…
Trap complete, I tell the others that we should return to Briar. She’ll probably make a plan for the rest of the day. Aiko skips ahead of us, laughing about all the games she can’t wait to play. Talia walks slowly, still scribbling away at her map.
I step up beside her. “Talia?”
She looks up and brushes a loose strand of hair from her face. “Huh? What’s up, Faren?”
I know what I want to say, but the words refuse to leave my lips. How could I ask her to save Joule in my place? To put that sort of pressure on someone else…is it selfish? “I…I just want to let you know that if I win…I…will help your mother. In whatever way I can.”
Talia pauses and stares at me for a moment. Her blue eyes seem to look through me. Then she blinks. “Oh. Oh, that’s…yes. Thank you.”
I rub my neck self-consciously. I couldn’t ask her to save Joule. Not without making my own promise to help her. Talia smiles. “Th-thank you, Faren. If…if I win I will help Joule. I promise. I’ll help her!”
I return the smile and release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. For a moment I didn’t think she’d return that offer. Selfish, I know. Getting her to make that promise was the only reason I even thought of helping her mother. I should have told her this from the beginning. We all should have. Yet…the only thing I can care about is Joule. Joule is my everything. My whole existence is wrapped around her. 
All I know, and ever knew, is that I love her. 
Love her…to death.
There is no more conversation until we rejoin our allies in the mezzanine. Aiko got there ahead of us and is sitting on the railing, her legs dangling over the side as she sings some silly song about rabbits and foxes or something. Briar and the others are gathered around a table. They all turn to face us as we arrive. Judging by their expressions, they’d just been arguing over something.
Damian is the first to speak. “Faren, you trust Chrome, right?”
I open my mouth but no words come out. Chrome? For some reason my eyes scan the mezzanine, half-expecting to see the District 11 boy hiding somewhere nearby. Why are they discussing Chrome?
“Is he here?” I finally ask.
Briar shakes her head. “No, but he would be if Damian had his way.”
The taller boy shrugs. “We have a truce with him, so we might as well put it to use!”
It takes me a moment to understand what he’s saying. Our truce with Chrome. The one I made with the guy back in training. I told my allies about it, of course. It wouldn’t have been much of a truce if I’d been the only one to know it. Briar hadn’t been too excited by the idea, apparently she didn’t like the look of Chrome or something like that, but the others were just happy there’d be one less person trying to kill them. 
But I guess Damian saw a way to use this truce to his advantage.
“We need another fighter in our alliance,” Damian continues speaking, though his words seem more addressed to Briar than myself. “And Chrome is the only person who could possibly fill that role. Why wouldn’t we seek to capitalize on this opportunity?”
“Because we don’t know where he is!” Briar crosses her arms and taps a finger on her wrist. Despite being small and skinny, she seems to loom over the rest of us. “Splitting up to go gallivanting across the arena in the possibility that you might come across Chrome is a half-baked idea at best!”
An abashed silence falls over us. Well, most of us. Aiko is still singing her song. I understand both sides here. Recruiting Chrome would undoubtedly be a major help to our alliances combat strength, but at the same time Briar is correct when she says that actually finding the boy could prove difficult. Not to mention that Chrome had already declined my offer to join us back in training. Would he be willing to change his mind now that the Games are underway?
“I agree with Damian.”
Kia’s voice takes me by surprise. The girl steps forward and flicks a dark braid out of her face. “We need to be more proactive, and while setting up these traps was an excellent idea, we’ll need to do more than just sit around and wait for someone to step into them.”
I eye the sword strapped in the holster on her back. That was a sponsor gift she received this morning. The only gift for anyone in our alliance. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who the Capitol believes is the strongest among us.
A look of consternation crosses Briar’s face as she suddenly finds herself outnumbered. Though Talia has retreated to the side, quietly sketching out her map, Aiko has finally wandered over and is watching with wide eyes. She will undoubtedly choose Damian’s plan, if only for the “fun” it might bring.
Seeing this, Briar finally throws in the towel. “Fine. You can try and find Chrome. Just…just be careful, alright?”
So that’s how we find ourselves breaking into two groups, one to go scour the arena for Chrome and the other to stay behind and guard our base. I’m chosen to go with Damian to find Chrome; a choice that does not surprise me. I was the one who made the truce, so it’s only logical that I try to transform it into something more permanent. 
Kia is the third member of our group. The moment this is decided she takes Aiko aside and holds a quiet conversation with her. I can’t tell what is said, but there’s a lot of gesturing with the radios and Aiko keeps nodding. I find myself somewhat calmed by the presence of the radios. Despite the long distance that will grow between our two groups, we will be able to remain in constant contact thanks to them.
There’s still enough materials left over for one or two traps, so I stow them into my bag to take with. During yesterdays trip journey from the cornucopia I spotted a few places that I think could draw the other tributes interest; the perfect place for a trap.
Bags packed, I stand up and adjust my grip on the long pipe I retrieved from the maintenance room. It’ll do for a weapon in a pinch, but I am under no delusions about my fighting prowess. If we’re to get into a fight with the Careers, it’ll be up to Damian and Kia to get me out alive. 
Damian is receiving some last minute advice from Briar, instructions on how best to deal with a surprise attack and what to do if Chrome refuses our offer. Or worse, we don’t even find the guy. “We’ll be careful, Briar,” Damian says soothingly. “You don’t have to worry so much; we’re not going to do anything risky.”
Out of the corner of my eye I notice Kia fidget uncomfortably. What were she and Aiko talking about?
A few more minutes of conversation ensues—a couple of reminders about the traps we’ve set up at the entrances—and then we’re on our way. The bright sun beats down in my head the second we step outside. Today promises to be a hot one.
“You have your own plan, don’t you?” I flinch in surprise, but Damian’s words aren’t addressed to me. He’s facing Kia. So I wasn’t the only one to notice the fidget. 
The girl doesn’t look the slightest bit embarrassed. “Yes. I intend to scout out the cornucopia. Aiko is assisting me via radio.”
A seed of worry begins to grow within me. Kia is going to the cornucopia? That’s…very dangerous. “First we need to go to the maintenance room,” I say quietly. “I want to set a trap there.”
“We’ll head there first,” Damian says. Our feet take us across the small strip of concrete and towards the building opposite the waterpark. “Then we’ll head up to the second floor and cross to the other side of the resort. I doubt Chrome is on this side with us.”
Kia tells us that her own route coincides with ours for the time being, so she’ll be by our side for a little longer. That’s simultaneously reassuring and frightening. Kia is a strong fighter and definitely someone I want beside me, yet I know that soon enough she’ll head her own way and leave Damian and myself on our own. 
Fear threatens to overtake me but is washed away by a new feeling. Determination. Every second of every minute brings Joule one step closer to death. I can’t afford to play safe. I can’t hide away and hope for everyone else to just die. I need to be proactive and step out of my comfort zone.
In short, I need to take risks. 
And traversing the arena with only Damian by my side is probably the biggest risk of all.
===Maximo Gallardo (District 6)===
I peer through the blinds and out into the parking lot. The golden cornucopia is still there, of course, shining like a bloody beacon as the sun reflects off its metallic surface. Squinting against the light, I try to make out the forms of the three Careers left behind. One of them, a tall, muscular boy in a light blue jacket, is walking around the cars littered across the parking lot. Another—Killen’s District partner, judging by the color of her shirt—is doing something with backpacks. The third is still in the cornucopia, where she’s been since the others left early this morning.
“No change,” I carefully draw back from the window and plop myself down onto a plush armchair. “They’re still out there. Just the three of them.”
The small hotel room we’re in is rustic and wilderness themed. The coffee table is shaped like it’s made from logs, the walls are paneled with wood, and there’s even a deer head on the wall. I don’t like looking at the thing. It’s creepy.
“You think the others are still in the northern building?” Killen sits across from me on an armchair identical to my own. The sandy-haired guy is leaning forward with one hand cupping his chin as if he’s deep in thought.
“Where else would they be?” My second and newest ally, Discordia, sits on the couch with her long legs tucked underneath her. Wavy brown hair hangs almost down to her waist as she stares at the table with sad eyes. I don’t know what to think about her. I mean, originally I’d asked both her and Harmon for an alliance, but that was before her brother got himself killed at the bloodbath. What state has that left Discordia in? Yesterday she was a mess, but today she seems more…aware?
“They could have moved on to a new building,” I answer the question with a frown. “This one, for example.” Calling it a “new building” isn’t exactly correct, considering they’re both connected by a skywalk on the second floor, but that would be too much of a hassle to point out. 
The color drains from Discordia‘s face. Apparently she hadn’t considered that. “I’m pretty sure they’re not here yet,” Killen is quick to jump in. He’s been trying to coax Discordia out of her shell all day and definitely doesn’t appreciate my comment. “We’d hear them if they were anywhere nearby.”
That’s a nice segue into my next argument. Mainly the fact that our current position is not ideal. We’re much too close to the Careers for comfort; had they chosen to enter our building instead of the northern one we might have been screwed. As it is we’re just lucky they haven’t wandered over here yet. From what I can tell by watching the windows, their hunting party seems to be searching all the rooms they find.
The fact they split into two groups was also a royal pain in my ass. I was hoping they’d do the typical dumb meathead thing and leave the cornucopia unguarded, but of course they didn’t. No, they had to be all smart and leave three guards on it! 
I sigh and rub my forehead. I can feel the beginning of a headache coming on. 
I eye the two axes hanging from Killen’s belt loop as he quietly speaks with Discordia. Those are still our only weapons. Well, real weapons. I’ve decided to convert the fireplace poker into a weapon of my own, and Discordia found a large knife in one of the kitchen cabinets, but other than that we’ve got nothing. 
Like I said, if the Careers found us we’d be totally screwed.
“We’re going to need to move on,” I say aloud.
My allies conversation goes silent as they both turn to stare at me with curious eyes. Well, Killen looks curious. Discordia seems more startled than anything else. “Go where?” She asks.
“How should I know? Somewhere else! It’s not like I have a map of the arena!” My words make her flinch and I have to suppress a sigh. Forgot she was so flighty. Maybe I should try again. “We should go somewhere else because I don’t think this is a very defensible position!”
I can’t tell whether that helped Discordia’s mood or not, but Killen begins to nod. “Yes, that’s true. The Careers are bound to come searching this area soon enough.”
Of course now that Killen has said it, Discordia can’t agree quickly enough. The girl seems to have some kind of hero worship for him, which makes no sense, because I was the one who dragged her out of the bloodbath. But I’m not really surprised either. Girls always seem to fawn over the Killen’s of the world. 
Not that it bothers me overmuch. Without them bothering me it just means I have more time for catching ghosts!
Now that a plan has been made—or a semblance of a plan, I guess—the three of us gather our stuff. It doesn’t take long, mostly because all our stuff was already in the bags at our side. So it takes no time at all until we’re cracking the door open and stepping out into the hallway beyond. 
“Smells musty,” Discordia mutters. 
“That’s good,” I say lightly. “Mustiness means ghosts!”
“Keep your wits about you, everyone.” Killen takes up his axes and leads the way down the hall. I follow close behind. Despite what I said about ghosts, their presence might not be a good thing. Well, ghosts themselves aren’t too bad. I’m talking about that spirit which has been haunting me ever since my foray into the 327th arena. That one that…ended Gavin.
Thoughts of Gavin sobers me up, as they always do. Can’t help but feel that whole situation was somehow my fault. A foolish thought, I know, but I can’t stop the doubt from creeping in. 
Killen takes us down the first staircase we come across. After all, if we’re going to leave the building it won’t be from the third floor. The staircase is set in layers, so we actually follow it all the way down to the ground floor. I eye the door which leads outside skeptically. That would take us right out into the parking lot and to the cornucopia. The absolute last place we’d want to be.
So instead we head back into the hallways and follow them further down. It’s hard to place a direction when you’re indoors, but I’m pretty sure we’re headed east. And, according to the signs plastered all over the place, this hall will take us straight to the main lobby.
“Thanks for being so understanding about Discordia,” Killen drops back to talk with me as we walk. “I know it’s not easy having her around, but…we couldn’t just leave her.”
“Yeah, no problem. I completely understand.” It’s not like I wanted to abandon her to the Careers or anything. It’s just…I glance over my shoulder. Discordia is trailing a bit behind us, far enough away to be out of earshot, but I keep my voice low regardless. “Do you think she’ll be useful? I mean, if Harmon was here she’d definitely be an asset, but now…”
”She’ll hold her own,” Killen says. “Once we’ve given her enough time she’ll—”
Footsteps.
The three of us freeze as if someone’s given a signal. Loud, thumping footsteps sound throughout the hallway. The carpeted floor itself seems to shake with each step. Whatever is approaching is big and heavy. Way too heavy to be a person.
The hallway extends straight for several feet then bends around a corner. Whatever is approaching hasn’t turned that corner. Hasn’t seen us. Yet.
Several doors line the walls to either side of us. One of them has a glass window, showing a laundry room inside. Another is labeled ‘Manager’s Office’. The third door is simply marked ‘Employees Only’.
“We gotta move!” My voice is little more than a strangled whisper. Whatever is coming, I don’t want to see it!
“Monty Moose needs a friend!”
A loud, booming voice echoes through the hall and then I’m springing into action. I rush to the third door and swing it open, revealing a narrow staircase that leads down into some sort of basement. It could have led straight to an evil spirit for all I cared, as long as it got me the hell out of here!
I take the steps two at time and nearly slam into a wall as I trip on the last one. I can hear my allies clambering down after me. Killen has enough sense to pull the door shut behind him.
“What was that?” For once the fear in Discordia’s face doesn’t seem so misplaced.
“No clue.” A mutt. It had to have been a mutt. What else could make that kind of noise? 
“I don’t think it will follow us down here,” Killen says. There’s an air of confidence to his words, but I notice that his eyes never leave the door. “But we should move on. Just in case.”
“Yeah. Just in case.”
For the first time I think to check my new surroundings. Dimly lit with just a few flickering bulbs, we appear to be in some sort of maintenance tunnel. Branching paths protrude from the first intersection, each littered with miscellaneous items. A stepladder, a pair of buckets, some discarded tools. 
Nothing too dangerous.
“Let’s get going!” I lead the way down the hall, hands tightly wrapped around my poker. I squeeze it so hard my knuckles turn white. These tunnels would be the perfect place for a spirit to hang out. A nefarious spirit. Perhaps even a demonic one. 
Great. I just pysched myself out.
There’s no sound of pursuit as we traverse the lonely tunnels. Hardly any noise at all. My allies haggard breathing is almost deafening compared to the oppressive silence that surrounds us. 
Clank!
I jump into the air with a swear. A bucket rolls ahead of me, coming to a wobbly stop in the middle of another intersection. I turn around.
“Sorry!” Discordia‘s face is bright pink as she ducks her head. “I-I accidentally kicked it!”
“It’s fine,” Killen puts a soothing hand on her shoulder and gives me a small smile. “We’re just a little on edge. That’s all.”
He knows about the spirit haunting me. Probably understands just why I’m so jumpy right now. Not that you could blame me, after what just happened. I’m still not confident that mutt won’t come chasing us into these tunnels. 
So my sense of fear and trepidation doesn’t dissipate as we continue our path onwards. I would even go as far to say that it worsens. These tunnels are dimly lit and shadows lurk on the edge my vision. Sometimes an overhead light is burnt out, leaving an entire stretch of the hallway bathed in darkness. I feel my back itch with the sensation of unseen eyes. 
Is the spirit down here with us?
Clank!
Another bucket comes rolling in front of me as I exit one of the dark patches. I have to stifle a sigh. How careless can Discordia be? 
“Pay attention!” I snap as Killen and her join me in the light. “You can’t just walk into everything we pass!”
She blinks at me. “I didn’t hit anything.”
“What? But then who…” My head whips towards the bucket, which lies in the middle of the hallway. A tendril of fear has begun to creep down my spine. If Discordia didn’t do that…
A scuttling noise makes all three of us jump. I let out a curse and peer into the darkness behind us. Nothing is visible in that gloom. Wait, no. Something is there! Pale and low to the floor, the thing seems to be slowly inching forward…
Discordia screams.
I rip my eyes away from the darkness and turn to see her pointing down a side passage, shrieking unintelligible gibberish. Killen is at her side instantly. He grips her by the shoulders and speaks rapidly, voice low and comforting. I let my eyes drift back to the darkness.
There’s nothing to see.
“It’s crawling on the walls! On the walls!” Discordia’s wail echoes throughout the tunnels. With one last shriek she collapses into Killen’s chest, sobbing softly. 
“I thought I saw something too,” I say slowly. I don’t want to cause unnecessary alarm, but something was definitely lurking in the darkness. And if Discordia is right, possibly multiple something’s.
The three of us form a small triangle, our backs pressed together as we gaze out into the darkness all around us. There is little to see in the gloom but I swear I can hear something moving just out of sight. “I don’t think we’re alone,” Killen says in a whisper. Yet even that seems too loud. The echo of it resounds along the walls. 
And then something else.
Laughter.
The spirit! I can feel its presence. Like a noose wrapped around my neck, slowly tightening. I find it difficult to breathe. The breaths that do come are in short, ragged gasps. It’s down here with us! Hunting me. But I won’t let it succeed. I refuse to be caught!
I take off at a sprint.
Killen’s shocked gasp follows me as I race down the hallway, feet slapping against the concrete floor. Too late do I realize how stupid this plan is. Running from a spirit? That’ll never work! I should stop and—
Something slams into my back and drives me to floor. I let out a cry of pain as my nose takes the impact full-on. Blood clogs my airway as something settles on my back. Sharp pinpricks squeeze against my shoulder. I give a wheezing laugh. Seems like the spirit has already won.
“Get off him!”
There’s an inhuman screech followed by the spatter of liquid against my head. The pressure on my back dissipates as a hand grabs my wrist and hauls me back up. I wipe the blood from my face. “Killen?” I squint through the dim light and recognize my friend’s face. He holds a haggard expression as he stares down at the floor. Both axes are held tightly in his hands. “Th-thanks man!”
“What is it?” Discordia has sidled up alongside Killen. Her face is as white as a sheet. I scrub the blood from my face—stupid nose flares with pain when I touch it—and follow her gaze. I bite off a curse when I see it.
A small humanoid creature lies on the ground. Pygmy sized, its skin is a pale white—even whiter than Discordia’s face—and has slender, almost tendril like, arms. Yet atop these arms are a pair of hands lined with fingernails several inches long. Looking at the sharpness of those nails, I don’t have to wonder what had dug into my shoulder.
“What the hell is that?” I ask. My words are almost a burble as I wipe at the blood coating my face. That nose is broken for sure. 
“A mutt.” Killen uses his foot to turn the thing onto its stomach. Up close, I can see that the thing’s legs are a little stockier than its arms, and its small, round head stares up into the sky with dark, beady eyes. “It dropped from the ceiling and attacked. I didn’t even see it until it was on you.”
“I told you it was on the walls!” Discordia‘s voice is hushed. She can’t stop casting her head around in search for more of those mutts. 
“Looks kinda like a goblin,” I say, pointing at its long, hooked nose. ‘Course, it doesn’t have the stereotypical big ears of one. Instead its ears are tiny knob-like things set close to the head. Unfortunately there’s not much detail in the chest; that’s where Killen struck it with his axe. The only thing left is a bloody mess that is a sharp contrast to the pale white skin. 
“We shouldn’t linger,” Killen says.
I spit out a mouthful of blood and rise. “Righto.”
We take off in a shuffling formation, none of us eager to be any further from the rest than we have to. My face still blazes with pain. My breathing is messed up too. Definitely a broken nose. I open my mouth to make some sarcastic comment when I hear scuttling in the dark passage to our side.
Then they’re upon us.
Howling and screeching as they fling themselves out of the darkness, a pack of the Crawlers scratch and bite at us in a frenzy. I roar and thrust my fire poker out, slamming the end into the face of the nearest mutt. Killen is swinging his axes like a madman, taking one down with every blow. Discordia has her knife out and, when one of the mutts leaps for her, she slashes out wildly. It leaps away with a howl, several pale fingers clattering to the floor.
I thrust and swing the poker with reckless abandon, yet it seems to make no difference. For every mutt I strike down another appears to take its place. Sweat builds on my head and my arms begin to feel like lead. I wasn’t made for this type of combat. Soon I will tire out or make a mistake and then…
Demonic laughter fills my head.
No! I won’t die here! Never! 
 
With a roar I lunge forward and impale one of the mutts through the throat. Two more Crawlers skitter forward, slender arms reaching for me with outstretched claws. Dropping the poker, I duck underneath their grasp then, once I’m clear in the hallway, take off at a sprint. “Killen, Discordia, run! We can’t win!”
There’s a loud screeching noise behind me followed by the pounding of footsteps. My allies or mutts? I don’t stop to check. I keep running until my side begins to burn and my lungs struggle to find breath. I run and run until a staircase appears ahead of me and, at the very top, the yellow glow of sunlight.
“Freedom!” 
I begin to take the steps two at a time when something grabs my foot. I am yanked to a halt, knee slamming into the step. My cry of surprise is cut off as a Crawler clambers up the stairs and sinks its teeth into my ankle. I twist around and aim a kick at the mutt. My boot connects with the creature’s snarling face and it goes rolling down the staircase. 
The thing bounds back to its feet and lets out a frenzied hiss just as Killen’s axe takes it in the back.
“Don’t stop!” Killen rips his weapon free and hurtles up the stairs, pausing just long enough to help me to my feet. “Keep moving!”
I’m conscious of the forms of more Crawlers skittering down the hall as I ascend the stairs. Pain flares in my leg with each step but I don’t dare slow down. No time to think. No time for pain!
Killen reaches the door first and rushes into the sunlight. I follow moments later. The sudden heat hits me like a brick and I drop to my knees, a wide grin already forming on my face. We did it! I escaped! I turn to make a comment to Killen when the Crawler hurls itself out of the darkness.
The mutt bowls me over, snapping jaws reaching for my throat. My hands grasp the creature by the neck in a desperate bid to keep it away when it suddenly lets out a howl of pain and slides off. At first I think Killen has come to my rescue yet again, but when I rise to a shaky leg I see that is not the case.
The mutt lies on the ground, convulsing and emitting screeches of pain as its long limbs thrash about uselessly. Inexplicably, large burns begin to appear on its the skin. These burns widen and intensify to the point where the mutt literally catches aflame. Soon enough the mutt is completely engulfed in a small fire. 
“Does, uh, does that make sense to you?” I take a cautious step backwards. You never know when a mutt is truly dead.
“The sunlight…” Killen is frowning at the sky, a thoughtful look on his face. 
I blink. Sunlight! That’s it! We found the mutts in those dark tunnels where there was barely any light. In fact, I don’t think they even attacked us until we stepped out of the light!
“Light is their weakness!” 
The mutt is gone. The ground beneath the fire is concrete, not very flammable, so the fire soon disappears, leaving behind nothing but a pile of ash and dust. Whatever those things are, sunlight takes them out very quickly.
“Discordia!”
I spin around at the sound of Killen’s shout, expecting an attack, but all I see is the garbage storage area we appear to be inside. I open my mouth to berate him when it hits me. “Discordia!”
“Where is she? Did you see her?” Killen searches frantically, though it is obvious the girl isn’t hiding anywhere nearby. 
“No. I thought she was with you!” There’s only one place she could be. If she isn’t out here with us… “She must still be in the tunnels!”
Killen starts for the doorway but I grab him by the shoulder. “Whoa! Where do you think you’re going?”
“To help her!” He shakes my grip off and makes another effort to reach the staircase. This time I grab him with both hands and he spins, anger flaring in his eyes. “Let me go, Max! I need to help her!”
“That’s foolish! She’s probably dead already!” No way could she survive those mutts on her own. There had to have been a dozen of them! 
Killen shakes his head. “There hasn’t been a cannon. She’s still alive.”
I have to stop myself from punching him. Even if he’s right, she won’t stay that way for long. Soon she will die and if he goes down there…he’ll die too. I can see my whole Games going up in smoke. The moment I was Reaped I knew I’d need an ally, and I spent the entirety of the training period searching before finding Killen. If he gets himself killed now, I swear…
“It’s too risky! She’s not worth it!”
“I’m sorry, Max,” Killen twists his shoulders, wrenching free from my grasp. I stumble and suddenly my left leg seizes up and I drop to a knee. I’d forgotten about my injuries. “You’re my friend, Max, but so is she. And I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t at least try to save her.”
He gives a small smile, backing off towards the open doorway and the staircase beyond. Fear and anger has mixed into a overwhelming sense of despair. The spirit won’t kill me, no. Instead it’ll just claim the life of my friend.
“Don’t do it!” I shout at Killen as he crosses the threshold and disappears into the darkness. “It’s not worth it! Come back! Don’t throw your life away! Killen!”
The sound of laughter resounds in my head. 
===Discordia Achlys (District 9)===
Darkness surrounds me. My breaths are quick and shallow as I gaze out through the venetian blinds that cover the doors window. The hallway beyond is motionless, lit by a sole lamp that hangs from the ceiling. Occasionally it’ll sway back and forth, moving the circle of light and casting shadows upon the walls. In those shadows I can hear the scurry of movement.
When those mutts first came upon us, I didn’t have time to think. There were so many! It was all I could do to use my knife and defend myself. Those claws…their teeth…I self-consciously clutch my arms close to my chest. One of the mutts had left a long gash stretching from my collarbone to the left side of my ribs. I haven’t worked up the courage to check how bad it is.
I don’t even know how I escaped them. Everything was just a frantic fight for survival and I couldn’t keep my head straight. I thought I heard Maximo yelling for us to follow him, but I don’t know. Him and Killen have both disappeared. Either they’re dead or…or they abandoned me.
I don’t know which one would be worse.
Through the blind I catch a flash of movement. One of those mutts is crawling on the ceiling and has brushed past the lamp. I don’t know how they do it, but they can stick to the walls and crawl along them like spiders. Large spiders with fangs and claws.
I shiver. These tunnels are going to be my tomb. 
‘Don’t give up, Cora!’ A voice speaks in my head. Harmon. He was so strong and brave. No matter what happened he’d always find a way out. He wouldn’t have been trapped in a closet by some mutts. ‘You have to escape, Cora. You can’t stay down here all night. You have to escape!’
“But how?” Even to my own ears I sound weak and pitiful. 
‘You were always the creative one, Cora. Use that. Use your skills!’
I swallow and look back out the window. The hallway is seemingly empty. The lone lamp swings from its chain. There is no sign of the mutts. Creative. I have to use creative thinking. Why haven’t the mutts found me in here yet? What caused their attack? We were in the tunnels for quite awhile before they did. Was their a trigger? Or…
I lose my train of thought as I watch the lamp swing back and forth. Back and forth. There’s not much light down here. 
Light!
A faint memory stirs. The mutts seemed to avoid the light when they attacked. Is it too bright for their eyes? Most creatures who dwell in darkness aren’t well adjusted for the light. Perhaps it’s true for them. Could I use that? How?
I can’t stay down here. I knew that much even before Harmon said it. The mutts clearly live in these tunnels. If I can just get clear I won’t have to worry about them. Easier said than done. 
I slowly ease the closet door open. My fingers tighten around the knife in my hand. Not much of a weapon, but it helped me fend off several of the mutts. I might have even killed one. 
Nothing stirs. I slip out the door and walk underneath the lamp. I’m surprised that the hallway isn’t echoing with the sound of my heartbeat. I’m afraid it’s about to jump out of my chest. Where are the mutts? I cast my gaze around the darkened hall but see nothing amiss. Another lamp hangs half a dozen feet away. A short gap to cross, but…
Will they attack the moment I step out of the light? I adjust my grip on the knife. It’s begun to slip from the sweat on my palms. One mistake and I’m dead. Just like…like…
No!
I shake those dark thoughts off. I can’t afford to think about that. I can’t. ‘You’re doing well, Cora. Don’t stop now!’
Taking a deep breath, I hurry across the gap between lights. A brief scuttling noise echoes to my left but I keep my gaze straight ahead as I slam to a halt underneath the next light. I’m trembling so badly that I can barely stand. Breaths are short and quick. How many more times must I cross such gaps? Can I even find an exit? 
‘Don’t stop to think. Act!’
I take my brother’s advice and continue on. No matter what I see or hear, I never pause for more than a few seconds as I cross gap after gap. The lights seem evenly placed every dozen feet, giving me an easy pattern to follow. Slow, check, move. I can do this. I can—
My foot slips on something firm and it squirms out of from underneath me. I fall hard, skinning my palms against the concrete in an effort to break my fall. A metallic object rolls in front of me, just underneath the next light.
Maximo’s fire poker.
That was his only weapon. He’d never have dropped that if he had a choice, meaning…
I scramble to my feet and lurch into the light just as I hear the mutt drop from the ceiling. It steps forward, head cocked at an angle, and stares at me. The dark, beady eyes seem to look right through me. It can see. It’s not blind like other dark-dwelling animals. I wish that realization didn’t fill me with dread.
The mutt opens its mouth and hisses. I thrust my knife in front of me in what I hope is a defensive posture. “Stay away!” I hope talking isn’t a mistake. “Leave or I’ll kill you! Go!”
The oddly humanoid mutt makes a soft chittering sound and slinks back into the darkness. I hear a quiet scuffling along the walls, then silence. I take a deep breath. I’m not dead. Not yet.
“Discordia!”
The sudden shout sends me into the air with a yelp. Nearly slipping on the fire poker again, I spin in a circle, trying to pinpoint the direction it came from. Excitement has begun to swell in my chest. That was Killen!
I continue to spin, trying to locate the source. Which way is he? Another shout, closer this time. There! I take off running, not caring that I cross through several dark patches. Killen is alive! He’ll help me! We can both live!
Scuttling footsteps alert me to the presence of the mutts, hidden somewhere just out of sight, but I don’t slow down. Hesitation is death. They can’t catch me if I don’t stop. They—
Killen!
He stands at the far end of the hallway, moving at a slow walk as he stops to check every little thing around him. He has his back to me. “Discordia!” He yells again, for some reason looking inside a trash can. “Where are you? Discordia!”
A mutt drops down from the ceiling behind him. Softly. Quietly. Killen doesn’t notice a thing. Panic immobilizes me. It’s going to attack him! Assaulted from behind with no warning…Killen doesn’t have a chance!
I feel cold, as if I’m standing in a storm, ice seeping in through my skin. Seeking my heart. Killen will die just like Harmon. I will be left alone, again. Left down here to die in the dark.
“No!”
I run. Hands pull up my knife. Angle it forward. The mutt is so focused on Killen that it doesn’t suspect a thing. I crash into its back just as it begins to leap. My knife strikes home. It sinks into the back of the creature’s neck with the full momentum of my body behind it. 
Killen turns to see us both crashing to the ground. 
“Discordia!” He kneels beside me and pulls me up. I take my knife with me. Dark blood has begun to pool from the mutt’s wound, forming a small puddle on the floor. The creature itself doesn’t stir. “I’m so happy you’re safe!”
He wraps his arms around me in a hug. I stay still, eyes unfocused, mind wandering. I killed it. I killed that mutt. I saved Killen! I begin to make a small noise. Something between laughter and crying, I think.
“I’m sorry about Maximo,” I say quietly.
He backs off, hands on my shoulders as he frowns. “Maximo? What about Maximo?”
“I…he…I found his poker. I thought he…”
“No.” A smile breaks out into his face, followed by a small laugh. “No, Maximo isn’t dead. He and I escaped the tunnels, but I went back to get you. He’s fine.”
“Oh.” I wipe my cheek with a torn sleeve and frown when it comes back wet. I am crying. “That’s good.”
Killen opens his mouth to say something else, but the only sound he makes is a strangled gasp. His eyes widen into saucers. 
I react.
I drop down and drive my shoulders into his legs, tackling him to the floor. We slide a few feet across the smooth cement as a dark shape lunges over us. Another mutt!
Killen is on his feet instantly, axes a whirlwind of movement as he smashes and hacks at the mutt. I stay behind him, bloody knife in hand. Light. We need light! I cast my gaze around and see an overhead lamp down an adjacent hall. “Over there!”
“No!” Killen’s axe takes the mutt in the neck and it drops to the ground. He rips it back out with a loud crunch. “We go this way! Maximo is waiting!”
I don’t resist as he grabs me by the sleeve and drags me back the way he came. Overhead lights flash by as we zip down the halls. The scuttling mutts follow along the walls, avoiding the illuminated pools. So many. If they attack as one…
A staircase appears ahead. “Up there!” Killen points to the doorway, where an intense light shines down. “That’s outside! Maximo is waiting!” 
My response is lost in the snarling of a mutt as it lunges towards us. Killen spins to face it and there’s an explosion of red as it drops like a stone, snarl transformed into a whimper. “Go!”
We both clamber up the steps. I take them two at a time. I can hear the mutts behind us. I tremble so badly that I wonder how I’m still standing. Then we’re out. Bright, hot sunlight shines down on our heads as race across smooth concrete. I nearly trip and have to stagger in an effort to remain standing. A figure catches me and keeps me upright. Maximo.
“You made it! You actually made it!” Astonishment is clear on his face as he gapes at Killen. The taller boy is dusting off his jacket as he turns to give him a grin.
“I told you I would, didn’t I?”
I almost smile at how heroic he looks, standing there with a halo of light behind his head shining like a crown. Maximo just shrugs. “Yeah, well, I’m glad you’re not dead. But maybe we should get moving? I know sunlight kills those Crawlers, but I sure don’t want to be any closer to them than I have to!”
I take stock of our injuries as we head off. Maximo definitely seems the most hurt; his left leg has a clear limp, but both Killen and myself are covered in cuts and bruises. We’re going to be feeling this encounter in the morning. That thought actually fills me with a giddiness close to euphoria. Because we’re going to see another morning. We survived the tunnels! Escaped the mutts! I’m practically bouncing with excitement until Maximo mutters something that sends it all crashing down on me.
“We might have survived this time, but the day isn’t over yet. No. This day has only begun.”
===Mercia Occisor (The Capitol)===
I spend the second morning of the Games scouting out the arena.
Oh, I am aware that I have a list of tributes I need to kill. Quite a long list, in fact. But I am in no hurry to begin the process of whittling them down. Time is on my side. Each tribute who dies from some other cause is one less target for myself, one less competitor I need worry about. Of course, Solomon himself has to die by my hand at all costs, but that too can wait.
I spent last night sleeping in the hotel’s lobby. While the large open room was filled with modern couches and chic chairs, I eschewed both and slept on the floor behind the counter. While I enjoy luxury like every proper Capitol citizen, I am aware what a trap luxury can be. Needless to say I am not about to leave myself vulnerable to any of the others who inhabit this arena.
The second I awoke I searched the lobby top to bottom. There wasn’t much to find. Advertisements for various rides and attractions, a toolbox stashed in a closet, a handful of keys inside the reception desk, and other miscellaneous objects were about all there was. I took the keys with me, but left everything else behind. None of it will prove useful in the long run, especially not once I finally open the stash Rozlyn left for me.
A few days. That’s how long she told me to wait. Should tomorrow be the day I retrieve it? Or the fourth day? I haven’t decided yet. There’s still much to do before making such a decision.
After the lobby I approached the gift shop nearby. Once again I found it filled with a smorgasbord of unnecessary objects. Still, I did find a pocket knife on one of the racks. It’s a small thing that is clearly meant to be a souvenir, but the blade is more than sharp enough for the tasks I’d give it. My biggest prize, however, was the packet of celery sticks I found.
I would have completely overlooked the thing if it wasn’t for the bright markers on the packaging. There, written in big, bold words, was the proclamation that celery sticks are ‘Monty Moose’s favorite snack!’ It even had a little depiction of Monty, showing some sort of moose mascot suit. 
So that gave me two things. One, I had a tool to use against that mutt. Two, I know what the mutt looks like. Clearly it’s just a larger version of that suit. 
Afterwards I left the gift shop and made my way up to the third floor, where I knew I’d find Room 301. While I have no intention of actually accessing the room yet, I do want to find a secure route to it. The part of the building where the room is located isn’t too far from the cornucopia; the first floor literally exits out into that parking lot. I want to ensure I have a path which isn’t blocked by Careers.
Room 301 turns out to be located on the very end of the third floor, just above the lobby. I can reach it pretty quickly from where I spent the night; the exit to the west brings me to a hallway which stretches past the Go-Karts and Arcade, then onwards to the guest rooms. It’s here where the stairwell brings me up to the third floor and my target.
Room 301 is outwardly no different from any of the other rooms. A plain brown door with a blue number plate on it. Of course, that was intentional. Had the room stood out then it would have become obvious that something was hidden inside. I spend a few moments watching it then decide to head along the hallway to my left. I want to know everything that surrounds the room.
A long, straight hallway with doors on both sides is about the only thing of note. The numbers continue to increase the further down I go; I expect that room 399 will be waiting at the far end. But I only make it to 350 before deciding to head back. There’s little point in seeing more of the same. 
I only get halfway back to room 301 when I hear the footsteps.
The floors shake. The walls vibrate. I know what I’m going to hear even before the voice booms from the stairwell to my right. “Who wants to play with Monty Moose?”
My first instinct is to run. To escape this mutt and reach safety. But another more calculating part of my mind thinks that I could do something more useful. 
And more dangerous.
I have a history with mutts. As Ivy I’ve encountered and fought more of them than the other tributes have probably ever seen. I know how they work and, most importantly, how to manipulate them. Every mutt has a weakness. A trigger. The hardest part is figuring out what that is, but…
I reach a steady hand into my bag and pull out the packet of celery sticks. Monty Moose’s favorite snack? Well, let’s see how true that is. I pop the lid and set the packet on the floor, taking several long steps backwards. Certain types of food have been known to put mutts into a more docile mood. I am sure that is the case here as well. Why else would the Gamemakers not only supply the food, but market it as such?
The footsteps grow louder. Soon a shadow crests the stairwell and then, not seconds later, Monty himself appears.
He is not a mascot suit. Oh, he’s wearing the bright red shirt and the yellow shorts, alright. He even has a little propeller hat set between the pair of large, broad antlers that grow from his head. But his body is definitely not that of a suit. 
He’s tall, so tall that his antlers are practically brushing the ceiling. His arms and legs are elongated to the point of being grotesque. The trunk of his main body is stout and wide, much thicker than a human’s. A dark, bristly fur covers his body from head to toe. And his head…it is shaped like that of a moose, with a broad snout and wide forehead, but those dark eyes are decidedly human in their appearance. And, most alarming of all, his face holds a twisted smile.
That smile holds me frozen in place as Monty begins to make his way down the hall. A smile does not belong on the face of a moose. Neither do those intelligent eyes. I’ve seen similar things on other mutts, of course, yet the combination here is chilling. 
“Oh boy!” Monty’s loud voice booms throughout the hallway. He pauses to stare at the packet I set in the hallway. “Celery sticks are Monty’s favorite snack!”
Without so much as bending, Monty reaches down with one elongated hand and snatches the packet up. He then opens his mouth and sticks the entire thing, container and all, inside. Monty chews loudly, a wide grin on his face. “Thank you, friend! Monty loves celery sticks!”
This was a bad idea. Working with mutts always has risks. Why did I decide this was one worth taking? I grit my teeth as Monty swallows his meal and takes another step forward. His eyes are focused on me. 
Well, there’s no changing things now.
I remain still as Monty approaches. I do not worry. Worrying has never fixed anything. And so far my plan has worked perfectly. Monty accepted my offering and called me his friend. Surely that is a good sign. Yet I keep a firm grip on my sickle all the same. Monty will be in for a surprise if he tries anything funny.
Monty stops right in front of me. Seeing him so close, I finally understand just how much he dwarfs me. That body is huge. A wide grin splits his face. “Monty Moose wants a hug!”
Then, before I can so much as twitch, his hands grip me underneath the arms and lift me up. I remain still as he brings me up to his face. I saw what those teeth did to that container and have no doubt about what they could do to human flesh. 
But he doesn’t bite my head off. Monty lays my head against his shoulder and wraps me in a hug. His dark fur bristles against my face. I can feel the rippled bands of muscle in his arms as he squeezes, just enough to force the wind from my lungs. He could crush me as easily as I crush a soda can. 
That is a terrifying thought.
Then it’s over. Monty pulls me away from his body and, as I dangle from his arms, just drops me. I land softly on the carpet, using one hand to steady myself. Is he…?
Monty turns his back to me and begins to walk away, humming all the while. It’s so loud that it sounds like a particularly loud air conditioner. I stay put until he turns the corner and is lost from view. Monty Moose is gone.
Have I accomplished my goal? Debatable. I certainly cemented myself as a ‘friend’ of Monty’s, but what does that actually entail? Rarely has something so simple been so frustrating. Well, regardless of what I may or may not have done, I must keep moving. Hesitation is death, and I have no plans for my own death.
I set off down the hall at a brisk trot. Soon Ivy will be unleashed upon the arena but, for now, Mercia will have to survive on her own.
===Yewan Felling (District 7)===
The hot afternoon sun hammers down on my head, making me feel like a potato wrapped in tinfoil inside a oven right before the tinfoil catches fire and rolls out, setting the entire kitchen ablaze. 
I tap my chin thoughtfully. Nah. That metaphor sucked. New one. Okay, it makes me feel like a potato wrapped in tinfoil that—No. The tinfoil idea is stupid. I need something else. What’s hot in District 7? I mean, clearly nothing has ever reached the heat level this stupid parking lot is currently at, but there’s definitely something that equates. 
Ooh! Forest fire! Those are always wickedly hot! Okay, the heat makes me feel like a loose branch trapped in the center of a raging—
I lose my train of thought as the sun reflects off the marbles in my hands, casting a cacophony of marvelous colors across the palm of my hands. A smirk crosses my face when I recall the plan I have for these bad boys. It’ll be much more interesting than whatever the heck Mako is currently doing.
A few hours have passed since Valor and the others tromped off into the arena. Alcmene has spent most of that time sleeping in the cornucopia, while I have been going through the backpacks in search of some hidden treasure—at least that’s what I’m doing when I’m not getting distracted. Anyway, not important. Mako, however, has spent his time…rearranging the cars in the parking lot?
I pause beside one of the launch platforms, bouncing a marble up and down on my palm as I watch him approach a car from behind and start to push it. Slowly, very slowly, it begins to roll forward. What the heck is he doing? I mean, he’s been at this for hours and I should be able to discern his motive by now, but I’m still not the slightest bit certain of what his goal is. 
At any rate, I’m not going to find out by just watching.
I approach Mako and he turns, wiping a hand across his sweaty forehead. He’s shirtless and his muscular body is practically glistening with sweat. I know some girls back in District 7 who’d probably be swooning at the sight of this, but I only wrinkle my nose. I bet all that sweat smells something awful.
“You having fun pushing those cars?” I ask. I wipe sweat from my own forehead. This stupid parking lot is practically an oven. I can feel my shirt sticking to my back.
Mako frowns at the cars he’s moved. They seem to be in some sort of pattern, alright. “It’s not fun, no, but it’s definitely necessary.”
“Yeah, backbreaking work in the intense sun is definitely always necessary.”
The look he gives me seems to be trying to figure out if I’m joking or not. None of these Careers ever seem able to tell. Well, no one in general really seems able to tell. They all think I’m a scatterbrained fool who doesn’t think two steps ahead. Little do they know that I’m a mastermind who is always thinking five steps ahead. Even right now I have several pans in the fire. I’m a—
My attention is pulled back to the pattern Mako has arranged the cars into. A neat, square block. I frown. That pattern seems to have opened up—
“An unblocked line of sight towards the hotel doors,” Mako says with a smirk. I arch an eyebrow at him. He noticed that I noticed, huh? Well good for him! 
“Making it easier to stand guard?” I ask, stepping back to adjust my hair. Unfortunately the heat has really done a number on it, and it has begun to droop to one side. Ugh. Stupid heat is annoying me in more ways than one!
“That’s the idea,” Mako bends down to pick up a canteen and pours the thing over his head. He laughs as the water runs down his body. “Ah, that’s much better!”
I pause my hair maintenance and frown at him. “Should we be wasting water like that?”
Surprise flashes in his eyes. “That’s unusually serious for you, Yewan.”
I flash him a snazzy grin. “Yeah, well, I don’t fancy the idea of dying of dehydration, you know?” I can’t imagine a fate that would be much worse than that. Well, no, I can, but those fates are so much more horrific that I don’t really wanna think about them. 
Mako shrugs, grabbing a towel and beginning the process of wiping himself down. “All those sinks inside the hotel actually work, remember? No one in this arena will be hurting for water.”
I don’t really have anything to say to that, so I make a snide comment about the Gamemakers shutting off the water and skip away. Mako watches me go with a frown. I thought his actions would have been more interesting than they were. But making clearer sight lines? That’s not interesting, it’s boring! 
I approach the pile of empty backpacks that I went through earlier. I was searching for some kinda secret weapon or overlooked supply item, but I didn’t find anything too useful. Interesting, yeah. Useful…not really. But’s it’s all good. I’ve gots a plan!
I snatch up the packs and carry them off to the Launch Plates that surround the cornucopia. Mako watches me but makes no comment. He’s probably used to my antics my now. Probably thinks I’m playing some sort of prank. Well, I’m not. This isn’t a prank. It’s a strategy. 
I start dropping the bags down in various areas around the outskirts, ensuring none are positioned too closely to each other. Then I take the bag of marbles from my belt and begin to lay those suckers out beside the packs.
I cackle to myself as I work. Anyone dumb enough to try and grab these bags is going to slip on those marbles! The main goal is to disable them long enough for us guards to notice their presence, but I haven’t dismissed the possibility that any intruder might impale themselves on their own weapon. 
Mako has stopped watching and I work in solitude. Well, a semblance of solitude. I know that there’s dozens of cameras trained in me right now. Probably really expensive ones that can zoom in to view the most minuscule of things. They might even be able to see the tiny droplets of sweat passing down my face. 
I grimace at the thought. I hate this sweat. It’s so gross and…and…No. I’m not going to think it. Sweat is not slimy. It’s not. It’s definitely not in any way, shape, or form similar to the horrid texture of slime. Nope. 
Still, I find myself shivering despite the heat. Slime is…wrong. It just shouldn’t exist. 
I quickly finish setting my trap and retreat to the shade offered by the cornucopia. My parents—if you can even still call them that—are probably watching on those cameras. Dunno if they even want me to win after I told them I wouldn’t let them live in my mansion with me when I won. I’ll let Camora stay, of course, but those two can just suck it. They haven’t ever cared about—
“Ooh, shiny!”
Something laying among a mound of supplies catches my eye. Glinting in the sunlight, it’s metallic and shiny, and I want it. Scooping the object up, I quickly find out that it’s a ring. The signet set on the center catches my attention and I press a finger against it. Almost immediately a blade pops out from the indentation. It’s only a few inches long, but when I press my finger against the tip it starts to bleed. 
A wide smile crosses my face. “Oh, baby! This is definitely a hidden treasure!”
A shadow falls across me. Recognizing it, I set the ring back into place and turn around. “Good morning, sleeping beauty!”
Alcmene rubs a fist against her eyes, stifling a yawn. “What time is it, Yewan?”
I glance up at the sun, which is an orb of pure heat in the sky. I make a show of counting my fingers then give a satisfied nod. “Somewhere between noon and midnight,” I say.
Alcmene’s expression doesn’t so much as flicker, yet I swear I can see annoyance in those gray eyes of hers. “Very droll, Yewan.” She shifts her feet so that she has a better look at Mako. The muscular buffoon is pushing cars again. “What is he doing?”
“Pretty sure he’s playing chess.”
Yep. That’s definitely annoyance in her eyes. A smirk tugs at my lips as she sighs and puts both hands on her hips. This time her gaze is almost a glare. 
I speak before she can get a word off. “He’s moving all the cars around, see? Just like chess pieces. I think that red pickup truck is his king. It’s on the back end of the board and he hasn’t moved it yet.”
I was hoping to get a laugh or maybe even a smile, but Alcmene only gives me a flat stare. Okay. This isn’t exactly what I wanted. I was meant to be strengthening my bonds, not breaking them! Of course, bonding with people had never really been my strong point any—
“Wanna play cards?”
Alcmene gives a start. “What?”
“Cards! Wanna play them?” That’s one of the ways I can learn more about people. Playing games has always let me bond with others. One of the few things in life I know for a fact. That’s how I got so close with Marina and Opal. Well, Marina. Opal can’t stand me. She thinks she’s being all clever and hiding it, but I can see right through her—
“No, thank you.” Alcmene brushes past me and makes her way towards Mako. I notice that she pulls her hood up to protect herself from the sun. Definitely not a day person, Alcmene.
Huh. That didn’t work. Oh well. Plenty of opportunities to try again later. I approach a nearby pile of backpacks and am about to rifle through them in yet another search for hidden items when I spot something tucked away in the corner of the cornucopia Alcmene just abandoned. I stare at it in pure amazement. The most wondrous of treasures!
A box of chalk!
I laugh to myself as I gather up the container, marveling at the different colors inside. I could do so much with this! In fact, there are so many possibilities that I find myself completely stumped as to what I should do first. I stand there, balancing the box on the palm of my hand, for several seconds before it hits me.
I can make the biggest, baddest tic-tac-toe board ever!
I laugh wildly as I begin sketching out my board. None of the others stand a chance against me! I’m an undefeated champion of tic-tac-toe! 
===Marina Mattel (District 4)===
The five of us make our way through the hallways of the resort, periodically stopping at every door we come across. By now our behavior has become routine; we pause at each door, wait for Valor to give the signal, then Matiss swings the door open and lurches inside. The rest of us quickly file in after him and ensure a through search of the room before moving onto the next, where we repeat the process. Valor said that this was be the quickest and surest way to search the hundreds of rooms that the arena holds.
So far we’ve found nothing.
Valor leads our group down the long hallway of the third floor. His back is straight and his head held high, yet none of the rest of us can match his continued vigor. Zekel slouches in the back of the group, staring at his shoes and frowning. Opal looks severely annoyed, and even mighty Matiss has shown fatigue. 
The first two floors of the northern building were much the same; long wide hallways with doors leading to hotel rooms on each side. Hundreds of them. And we spent hours searching each one. If any other tribute was hidden inside we would have found them. 
I glance back down the hall we came from. Each of the doors are swung open, revealing the rooms inside. It was Valor’s idea to leave each door open; that way we’d know if someone else were to double back and try to head inside. A closed door means the presence of another tribute.
A very smart strategy. I am not surprised Valor came up with it. In the short time I’ve known him I’ve quickly realized that he is far from being just another dumb meathead. No, Valor is a serious, genuine threat that is playing the long game.
Well, so am I.
I slow down my pace, allowing the others to bypass me until I’m beside Zekel. The tall boy looks up and glances at me. His face remains completely blank, but his eyes reveal the fear that he is feeling inside. Strengthening my bonds. That’s my strategy to these Games. I need a strong, firm alliance to reach my goal. 
“How’re you doing?” I pitch my voice low enough so that the other’s can’t hear. “I can tell you’re not at your best.”
Zekel flinches. “I’m fine.”
He said it too quickly. The uncertainty in his voice only amplifies my knowledge of his fear. I don’t know why, but he’s been cagey and nervous since the gong first ran out. I’ve had doubts about what I saw at the bloodbath, but the longer these Games go the more certain I become that Zekel was hiding beneath that tarp.
“Okay, that’s good,” I keep my voice light and jovial. I have to sway Zekel to my side. Right now him and Matiss are entrenched firmly in Mako’s camp. That’s not necessarily a problem; Mako isn’t technically against me. I spent some time this morning attempting to convince Mako the importance of keeping the Careers together, but it didn’t go as well I’d hoped.
I grimace as I remember the interaction. I told him, because we’re both from District 4, that I held a strong bond with him. His only response was to laugh and tell me that everyone has a strong bond with him, because “he’s Mako Melanesia bay-bay!”. I’m sure he meant it in an inoffensive way, but the way he said it was infuriating.
What an insufferable man!
“Uh, you alright, Marina?” Zekel’s eyes have widened just a bit as he watches me. Remembering where I am, I wipe the scowl off my face and attempt a bright smile.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just remember that if you ever need anything, I’m here for you.”
I pick up my pace and rejoin the others. Opal gives me a sidelong glance but doesn’t say anything. She, along with Yewan, are technically my closest allies in the Careers, but I’m not sure how far either can be trusted. I doubt Yewan would ever purposely betray me, but she’s so chaotic that she could accidentally ruin all my plans with one foolish “prank”. 
Opal, on the other hand…
She has given me no reason to distrust her. She has been unfailingly polite and respectful in my every interaction with her. She is, in many ways, the perfect ally. Yet those very factors are what creates my doubt about her. 
How did a District 5 girl get so skilled? So refined? All of the recruits are impressive in their own ways, but Opal is the only one whose a mystery. Zekel was trained by his parents for his whole life. Matiss is a professional athlete. Yewan is…Yewan. But what is Opal’s story?
I suppose it doesn’t matter. In the long run none of the other Careers will be too trustworthy. We’re all out to win these Games, after all, and the only way to do that is kill the other tributes. Which includes your fellow Careers.
Still, I want Zekel on my side. Numbers are important. Maybe I should—
Valor barks an order and our group pulls to a halt. We’ve reached the end of a hallway. A stairwell sits to our right, with one set leading up and another down. I resist a groan. How many rooms are in this place?
“We going to check the third floor?” Matiss asks.
Valor shakes his head. “No. I doubt that any of the tributes are hiding up there. It’s time for a change in strategy.” He takes the staircase leading down and the rest of us follow him silently. Valor stops once he reaches the ground floor. A set of double wide doors rest to our right, labeled ‘Employees Only’. He nods at Matiss and the giant boy swings them open and strides inside.
We’re at the end of a long hall. The floor is made of gray tiles and the walls white cement. The quiet hum of machinery vibrates through the hall. Opal goes to peek out the door to the left of the one we came from. “The cornucopia parking lot is out there,” She says. 
I nod. Makes sense. Our path so far has just been shadowing the edge of the parking lot. This whole building is shaped like an inverted ‘L’ that surrounds it. We’re just now reaching the turn. 
“Stay watchful,” Valor warns us as we head down the hall. “These corridors are narrow. It’d be difficult to fight in here.”
True. The hall only has enough room for two of us to walk abreast. If we were attacked it’d be difficult to use the numbers advantage in our favor. I adjust my grip on the trident in my hands. It’s one of two that I’ve managed to secure from the cornucopia. The second is strapped in a holster on my back. That makes it awkward to squeeze through narrow doorways, but having a spare weapon is too important for me to leave it behind.
The hall is filled with adjacent rooms. A laundry area full of machines and bins of towels is on our right. A small office to the left. The further down the hall we go, the more rooms appears. Some room full of pipes. A break room with several circular tables. Each room has its door open, so we just gaze inside and see that it’s clear. Nothing stands out.
Until we reach the end of the hall.
A lone door is on the right hand wall, nestled between two bins full of garbage bags. Unlike every other door, this one is shut. The words on the front are labeled ‘Maintenance’.
Matiss glances at Valor. “Think someone is inside?”
The tall boy narrows his eyes. “We’ll find out. Positions, everyone!”
The three of us shuffle into the semblance of a battle formation, no easy task in the cramped confines of this hallway. Valor takes up a spot to the left of the door and holds up three fingers, silently counting down. When he reaches zero, Matiss kicks the door in.
It practically flies off its hinges, crashing against the wall with a loud thump. Matiss storms in, weapon held high go as he searches for an enemy. It’s only then that I see the tripwire on the floor. I open my mouth to shout a warning.
Too late.
Matiss’ foot hits the wire and activates the trap. Ironically, it’s his height that saves him. Something silver flashes in the corner of the room. It strikes Matiss in the shoulder and he screams in pain, dropping his weapon as he grabs at his wound. Immediately the rest of us are pouring in, searching for his unseen attacker. Only I saw the tripwire.
“It was a trap!” My shout draws their attention and I point to the wire. Zekel curses. Opal looks troubled. Valor crouches down, examining it in detail. I turn to Matiss, watching as he pulls the silvery object out of his shoulder. 
It’s a circular saw blade. Matiss curses and tosses it aside. I raise an eyebrow. “Good thing you’re so tall.”
“And why’s that?” He crouches down, unslinging his backpack and rifling through its contents. He pulls out a gauze pad and presses it against his wound. It’s deep enough that the white of the pad immediately turns red. 
“If you were normal sized that saw blade would have taken you in the neck.”
“That was the trappers intent,” Valor has followed the tripwire to the wall, where the saw blade was launched from. He’s studying it with dark, angry eyes. This is the first time I’ve really seen him so upset. “They intended to bait someone in here and kill them unawares. A cowardly trap.”
“Wonder who it was,” Zekel says. I’ve noticed that he’s stepped back out into the hall. No doubt worried about further traps.
“It was District 5.” Valor says it so matter-of-factly that I’m caught off guard. How could he possibly know that?
“You think Opal did it?” Zekel frowns. “That’s impossible—” He catches himself and his frown deepens. “Oh. You mean her District partner.”
Valor nods. “This trap is the same design as the types he made in training. I have no doubt he was behind this.”
I didn’t pay any attention to the District 5 boy during training, so I can’t even remember his name until Opal calls him Faren. Apparently she thinks he’s a cowardly little sneak who wouldn’t last five seconds in a straight up fight. 
Valor leads us all back out into the hallway. His face is a thundercloud. I don’t know why, but the knowledge that we walked right into Faren’s trap has greatly angered him. But I don’t have much time to dwell on this; almost immediately he orders us to form up and move out. “Briar and her alliance can’t be far away. They wouldn’t have set this trap unless they were close.”
I have no reason to doubt that assessment. It would make little strategical sense to set a trap that was far from your base. Yet, at the same time, they also wouldn’t have placed one too close. So it stands to reason that they must be somewhere nearby, but not right atop us.
But where?
Valor leads the way. He strides back into the hall and continues down the path we were on before our detour into the maintenance room. The atmosphere around us has changed. Before there was a sense of lifeless boredom around us, but now…there’s a sharp tension in the air. An anticipatory eagerness. A fight is approaching. We can all feel it. 
Our route takes us back outside into the oppressing heat of the afternoon. I blink rapidly and rub at my eyes. The sudden light is intense enough to disrupt my vision. Doesn’t help that it seems to reflect off the asphalt that makes up the strip of land between us and a nearby building.
“Looks like another waterpark,” Zekel says.
He’s right. The big sign hanging over the main entrance declares it to be the Wild West waterpark. Squinting at the building—my eyes are slowly adjusting—I see that there’s a side entrance along the way. Two glass doors. “We going inside?”
Valor nods. “Yes. But not through the front door.” He stalks across the strip of asphalt until he’s approached the side doors. There he pauses, a few feet to the left of the doors. They’re made of glass, giving whoever is inside a clear look outside, so we’re not about to stand in front of them like a pack of idiots.
“There’ll be another trap on the inside,” Valor speaks softly, his eyes focused on the doors. “So I’ll enter first and disarm it.”
I exchange a look with Opal. Valor, taking risks? That’s new. He must have some sort of personal dislike of Faren. 
“Once the trap is sprung,” Valor continues, “I want Matiss and Marina to follow me inside and take up positions on my flanks. Opal will enter on their heels and form the rearguard. Zekel, you’ll stay behind to guard the doors and secure our line of retreat, should one become necessary.”
I nod. The plan sounds easy enough. From what I remember from training and the bloodbath, Kia is the only real threat amongst Briar’s alliance. The others are unlikely to be a danger to us, even that little girl Matiss claims is so tricky. 
We shuffle into position and then Valor gives a silent countdown. He charges forward the moment he hits three, slamming the doors open. I don’t see the trap, don’t know what triggered it, but Valor does. The second he’s fully inside the building he raises his shield and prepares for the blow. 
Two large weights drop from the ceiling, striking the shield and rolling aside. I grimace at the sound of impact. Those blows were hard enough that Valor’s arm must be numb. 
“Now!” Valor bellows the command.
Matiss and I charge into the park, fanning out to his sides. My eyes are scanning for danger and immediately spot the pair of tributes far to our right, standing near the base of a gigantic kiddie structure. Briar and Talia. The two girls have noticed our presence and are staring back in shocked horror. 
“Up there!” Matiss’ shout draws my attention to a mezzanine that hangs over the park. A small, dark-haired girl is sitting on the railing, watching us with wide eyes. Aiko. That makes three. Where are the rest?
“Matiss, Opal, after the girl!” Valor waves his shield at Aiko, who’s slid off the railing and disappeared from sight. He turns to face the others, who’ve already started sprinting deeper into the park. “Marina, with me. The hunt is on!”
There’s no hesitation. Valor runs at a dead sprint and I am forced to follow. For their sake, Briar and Talia better hope they’re fast runners. Because if we catch them, it won’t be a fight.
It’ll be a curbstomp.
===Briar Destry (District 10)===
The side doors slam open and a large boy comes barreling into the park. Faren’s trap triggers the second he’s fully inside. The two weights he’d perilously balanced over the doorway come crashing down onto the boy’s shield. Somehow, someway, the guy has the strength to keep ahold of his shield. He doesn’t even grimace at the impact! 
“Now!” The boy—Valor—bellows an order and two more Careers come rushing inside.
I feel dread in my heart. An icy numbness that threatens to shutdown my body. The Careers have found us. The Careers have found us. 
“Up there!” A large boy—A faint part of me recognizes him as Kia’s District partner—points up at Aiko, whose standing guard on the mezzanine. I feel like an idiot. We should have been up there with her, but Talia and I were doing another lap around the park, making sure that her sketch of the arena would be as accurate as possible. 
That desire for thoroughness could cost us our lives.
“Matiss, Opal, after the girl!” Valor continues to bark out orders, seemingly unconcerned about our presence. And why should he be concerned? Our three strongest allies are gone, off on some crackbrained mission to find Chrome. We’re sitting ducks! 
“We need to go!” I grab Talia by the shoulder and practically drag her with me as I turn and run. She seems to be in shock. Her mouth hangs open, blue eyes staring at the Careers in fascinated horror. “Talia!”
Pulling her along is too hard. Out of options, I smack her across the face. 
She blinks. Uses a hand to rub at the red mark I’ve left. “S-sorry!”
We take off sprinting. I can hear the Careers footsteps pounding against the hard floor. They’re in pursuit. They will catch us. We’re not fast enough to outrun them. We need something to tip the balance in our favor, something unexpected.
At the far end of the park, near the staircase that leads up to the slide towers, I spot another pair of doors. Faren’s traps! He set one at every entrance, didn’t he? 
“Which trap did he set there?” I ask Talia as we run. She helped him set all the traps. She should know which is which. 
Talia has difficulty answering. Several times she opens her mouth but no words come out. The doors are fast approaching. The trap will be just as deadly to us if we don’t know what it is. “Talia!”
“No trap!” She forces the words out between heaving breaths. “This door was left alone. For an escape route!”
I curse. There goes my plan! But still… 
“Jump when we reach that chair,” I point out a table which is set near the doorway. “Pretend you’re avoiding something.”
Talia’s only response is a harried nod. She probably doesn’t understand what I’m saying. There’s no trap set at the doorway. But the Careers don’t know that. They’re probably already expecting another one, and if they see us jumping as if to avoid something…
They’ll have to slow down and check for the trap, unless they intend to run straight into it.
We reach the chair. I jump in the air, as if I’m hurtling over some unseen danger. Talia mimics me, but her jump is a lot lower than mine. Hopefully the Careers don’t realize the discrepancy.
I slam into the doorway, shoving it open. Sudden heat washes over me. The air is dry and still. Reminds me of District 10 when it’s in the midst of a drought. 
“Where do we go?” Talia pulls to a halt, hands pressed on her knees as she bends over panting for breath. I take her arm and pull her along. We don’t have time to catch our breath.
“There!” I point past a small chain link fence, where another waterpark awaits. This one is outdoors, with a single slide tower that looms in the far corner. “We need to reach the other side!”
The small gate set in the fence is open, so we just blow past it. A gigantic pool takes up most of the area inside the park, with a small island set in the center of it. Wooden chairs and loungers litter the beach, surrounded by large rocks carved into the likeness of bears. A sign proudly proclaims this to be the Lazy Lake.
Talia and I sprint alongside the pool. I don’t dare stop to examine my surroundings any further. I can hear the Careers shouts behind us. My trick only slowed them for a brief time. We can’t run forever. Maybe I could; it’s possible that my stamina would last longer than theirs. But Talia? That girl has already begun to lag. Soon she’ll run out of endurance and I’ll be forced to choose between leaving her behind or staying with her to die.
And I refuse to ever leave a friend behind. 
The slide tower appears on our right and Talia makes a move towards it, but I grab her arm. That’s not our target. 
Another chain-link fence marks the perimeter of the park on this side. Another part of the hotel lies beyond it. I angle myself towards the gate. When we get through we can—
The gate is locked.
Even from this distance I can see the padlock that had the gate chained shut. There will be no easy way through this time. 
“Talia!” I reach the fence first. I brace myself against it, hands clasped together as I turn to face my friend. She’s sprinting as hard as she can, hair whipping wildly as she runs. Behind her lie the Careers. Only two of them. Valor and the girl from District 4. “Get ready! I’m going to boost you over the fence!”
Talia arrives at full speed, one foot landing atop my cupped hands. I give a grunt of effort and pain, lifting her up. Her momentum does most of the work and she sails over the fence, smartly tucking to roll as she hits the cement path behind the fence. She slowly regains her feet. “Briar!”
“Hold on!” I resist the urge to look behind me. The Careers are undoubtedly right atop me. No delay. No hesitation!
I scamper over the fence, the chain-link giving me easy purchase as I climb. Within seconds I am dropping to the other side, flashing Talia a smile full of false confidence. 
A sword slams into the fence behind me.
I leap away with a shout that sounds much too like a squeak. The two Careers stand on the opposite side of the fence. Valor growls as he pulls his sword back to him. The girl—Marina?—stays a little ways back, trident held up in a defensive posture. Neither one makes an effort to climb the fence.
I understand why. Doing so would require both hands and would leave themselves vulnerable for a precious few seconds. More than enough time for me or Talia to attack them. Of course, the only weapon either one of us has is the knife I borrowed from Aiko this morning. That’s currently tucked away into my belt. 
I hesitantly draw the blade, backing away from the fence. “Leave us alone! We don’t want to fight!”
“You’re only delaying the inevitable,” Valor says with a shake of his head. “Running will only get you so far. Sooner or later you must fight.”
His words are, painfully enough, true. These Games can’t be won without fighting. But that doesn’t make him right. “Yeah? And how about you? How long do you think your allies will have your back? How many days before they put a knife in it?”
His eyes almost imperceptibly flit towards Marina. So. He’s not dismissive of that possibility. “You face the same dilemma,” He says. “How long before your allies turn on you?”
“That’s the difference between you and me,” I tell him. “The people with me? They’re not just my allies; they’re my friends. And my friends will never betray me!”
Valor laughs. He actually laughs! “Oh, that’s rich. You honestly believe they’ll become martyrs for your sake? Well, I wonder how you’ll feel when one of your “friends” puts a knife in your back because they don’t value your friendship as much as the Victor’s Crown.”
Something is off here. Why is he just engaging in conversation with me? It doesn’t feel right. It’s—I catch movement in the corner of my eye. Marina has hoisted her trident over a shoulder, primed to throw. 
“Talia, run!”
I don’t know if she actually throws the weapon. I don’t hear anything over Talia’s scream and the pounding of feet as the two of us turn and rush into the nearest building. A trick! Valor was baiting us right into his trap! And, like the fool that I am, I nearly fell right into it! 
Talia and I rush up a stairwell on our right. I take the steps two at a time, but have to pause and wait for Talia to catch up when I reach the top. Time. We don’t have time! Valor and Marina could be scaling the fence this very second!
“I…can’t keep this pace up…” Talia forces the words through heavy breaths. Her haggard appearance gives truth to her words. We can’t keep running. So…
“Follow me!” I take off down the hall, noticing all the open doors that lead into hotel rooms. Where to hide? There! I duck into an alcove set at the corner of the building. Two vending machines are placed against the wall, humming gently. 
I duck behind them. Talia joins me moments later. The knife in my hand feels slippery against the sweat that builds there. I press my back against the machine and try to silence my breathing. It’s difficult. Panic and fear are trying to wrest control of my body. I can’t let them win. I need to be in control at all times. 
Seconds tick away, then minutes. There is no sound of footsteps. No shouts or cries of discovery. Just the quiet humming of the vending machines. Talia has curled herself up into a ball. Tears leak from her eyes, but she makes no sound. That was so close. If the Careers had only been a little faster…
“We’re safe,” I say softly, patting her on the head. “The Careers can’t find us. We’re safe.”
Yet a question remains nested in the back of my head. One that has been plaguing me since these Games began. No, since I was Reaped. We might be safe right now, but how long will that last? How long can I go before I finally lose a friend to these Games? How long before they claim someone I care about?
And what will I do when it does?
===Kia Gage (District 12)===
I keep my breathing quiet as I slink across the room, body kept low to the floor as I slide past a couch and make my way towards the windows. Peering through the blinds, I can see the cornucopia parking lot laid out before me, with the golden horn itself resting in the exact center.
I am alone. I left Damian and Faren a little while back, eager to get on with my own plan. This plan was the real reason I agreed with Damian’s proposed plot to recruit Chrome. 
I wanted the chance to spy on the Careers and find out how best to hurt them.
The three of us originally stopped at the maintenance room, where Faren set his trap. It was some kind of tripwire thing that, once activated, would launch a saw blade out at the unsuspecting tribute. I know that Briar would have squirmed at seeing such a lethal trap, but I had no qualms about it. We need as many tributes dead as possible, and if we can kill a few with no risk to ourselves it’s more than worth the effort.
After the trap was set we headed up to the third floor. Unlike most of the other hallways, this one wasn’t filled with hotel rooms. Instead there was a bunch of offices. Real fancy looking ones. Faren figured that this must be where the heads of the hotel stayed, and I had no reason to doubt him. I grew up on the streets, so I haven’t the foggiest idea of how these type of resorts work.
It was when we passed by the offices and returned to a hallway filled with rooms that I decided to part ways with the two boys. Continuing forward would have taken me past the cornucopia, so I couldn’t go with them any further. Faren seemed concerned that I was taking the radio with me, but Damian only shrugged it off and said that they’d be back long before sundown.
I like that guys confidence.
So that’s how I find myself here, crouched in a room on the third floor and staring out a window at the Careers base. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t slightly concerned about Damian and Faren. Those two are an excellent combination of strength and intelligence, but they’re still not the deadliest thing in this arena. The wrong action at the wrong time could spell doom for them. But then, the same could be said for me. Especially for me. 
I have to squint across the bright sunlight that bathes the parking lot. It’s hard to make out, but I think there’s only three Careers at the cornucopia. One of them sits on an overturned crate, hood pulled over their head as they stare out towards the forest to the south. The other two sit in the shade of the cornucopia, a little fold up table they ostensibly found amongst the supplies set up between them. Small objects litter the table and both tributes hold something in their hands. Cards?
I shake my head. They can’t actually be playing cards, could they?
My gaze flickers to the outer edges of the parking lot. I can’t just examine the obvious. It would be an easy trick to hide someone in the shadow of the hotel, or possibly even inside one of the cars that fill the parking lot. Though they’d have to be pretty dedicated to hide in one of those for any length of time. If it’s blazing hot outside then it must be even hotter inside one of those vehicles.
Several minutes flicker pass. I see no sign of any other tributes, Career or otherwise. There are only three people down in that parking lot. Three guards. I chew my lip in thought. If they kept the same amount of guards tomorrow…
I could bring the whole alliance here with me and we could wipe them out. Yes, three Careers are deadly. Each one is a skilled fighter. But we’d have the element of surprise. They couldn’t watch all of the possible entrances into the parking lot, so we could definitely sneak in on them. Actually, thinking of which…
None of the three are watching the hotel entrances. The two playing cards aren’t paying attention to anything other than their game, and the third seems strangely lethargic. I could easily slip down there and…
And what?
Steal some supplies? That would be too simple. Not worth the risk. But is that all I could do? I’m armed. I know how to be stealthy. I could sneak up behind that Career sitting on the crate, kill them, then hide myself before the cannon even sounds. Then, when the others come to investigate, I emerge and strike one down from behind. Then it’ll just be me and one other. A fair fight. A fight I know I could win.
I could kill three Careers just like that.
I run a hand down the length of my sword. Sponsors gave me this expecting me to use it. Knowing that I would put it to good use. These whole Games would shift if I succeed. It’s risky, it’s oh so risky, but the reward far outweighs the risk. Three Careers dead? My life is worth that risk. Maybe I’ll only get two and die by the third, but I don’t think so. I have supreme confidence in my own abilities. 
I put a hand to the radio on my belt. “Aiko, this is me, Kia. I am observing the cornucopia. I think I have a plan.”
“Kia!” Aiko’s voice emits from the small rectangular box. She sounds surprisingly frantic. “I forgot you had the radio!”
I shake my head. Aiko and her idiosyncrasies. “Okay, well, I’m glad you remembered it.”
“This is bad, Kia! We’ve been attacked!”
A spike of alarm shoots through me. “What? How? By who?” 
“The Careers. They just stormed into the park and attacked! I don’t know what happened to Briar and Talia!”
I let out a hiss of breath. Damn them! While I was sitting here plotting to attack the Careers, they were busy assaulting my allies! I turn back to the radio, mind reeling. “Are you safe? Did you escape them?”
“Yes! Two of them tried chasing me, but not very far. The big guy seemed nervous and the girl didn’t like it when I threw a knife at her.”
I quickly do the math in my head. If there are three guards, then that means five Careers attacked. Two chased Aiko, so…three of them went after Briar and Talia. “Did you hit her?”
“Nope. I tried to stick her in the eye but she dodged! She’s so fast, Kia!” There’s a small pause. “I hope I get the chance to play with her later on!”
“Focus, Aiko.” Three Careers after the two members of our alliance who are the weakest physical threats. That’s not a good matchup. “Where are you now? Are the Careers around?” 
I glance over my shoulder and back into the hotel room. It’s still as empty as ever. The Careers aren’t here and they haven’t returned to the cornucopia, at least. 
“I ran through the restaurant then crossed some long hall into an arcade. That’s where I threw my knife. Then I…went up a staircase? I think I’m on the third floor.”
“I’m on the same floor,” I say. That means the Careers aren’t still around. If they were, I’d have heard them. At least I hope I would have. “Stay put. I’m coming to you.”
I have to shove down a sense of regret as I say those words. I don’t know if I’ll ever have a better chance to strike at the Careers then this moment, but I can’t very well just abandon my allies. 
“Only you? What about Faren and Damian?” 
Right. I hadn’t told Aiko that my plan meant splitting up with them. “They went on ahead to find Chrome. Don’t worry, they’ll be back later.”
“You split up?” Aiko sounds dubious. “Briar won’t like that, Kia.”
“Briar may be dead!” I snap and stick the radio back onto my belt. I’m not angry at Aiko. It’s this entire situation that has angered me. I had an opportunity to strike at the Careers taken from me! Because the Careers were quicker than I was! I resist the urge to take another look out the window. I could still do my plan. I could attack and…no. Too risky. What if the other Careers returned? That seems likely now that they’ve encountered my allies.
I slip out the door and back into the hall.
Moving at a quick but careful pace, I keep low as I retrace my steps back to the hallway with the offices. Despite what I said to Aiko, I know that Briar still lives. No cannons have sounded yet today, so that means no one has died. Briar, and Talia too, must both be alive. 
But there’s no guarantee they’ll stay that way.
As much as I hate to admit it, I don’t like their chances of survival. Facing three Careers is a tall task for anyone, yet alone those two. Soon enough I anticipate there’ll be two cannons, and then…
Best not to think about it.
The familiar wallpaper of the office hallway comes into view, pastel colors with a floral pattern. I stare at the doors and only now realize I don’t know which room Aiko is in. I pull up the radio. “Where are you? Which room?”
Aiko responds immediately. “Third on the left, starting from the far end.”
“Understood.”
The door she indicated turns out to be labeled ‘General Manager’ and when I push it open I find myself in a large office room. It’s about what I expected, the walls are a dark-paneled wood and the floors a highly polished linoleum, smelling slightly of cinnamon. A few potted plants line the walls, and a large framework desk dominates the room. Behind the desk, sits Aiko herself, spinning around in a round office chair. “Hiya, Kia!” From her peppy tone and cheerful grin, you’d never have guessed that she just had a run-in with the Careers. “Do you see this chair? It’s amazing!”
“That’s not important. We need to—” I break off with a yelp. There, sitting in the corner of the room, is a large marble statue of a man. Aiko, seeing my reaction, chortles with laughter. 
“What the hell is that?” I feel myself flush. I hate being surprised! Creeping closer, I peer up at the statue. It’s modeled after a tall, thin man with fading hair and long limbs. A pair of glasses rest on his aquiline nose. 
“That’s Mr. Schindler!” Aiko sounds entirely too pleased with herself. 
“And who the frick is Mr. Schindler?” I don’t like the stern expression on the man’s face. Looks as if he’s perpetually disappointed with everyone and everything around him.
“He’s the general manager!” Aiko pops off the chair and slips over to the statue. She points a skinny finger at a nameplate below the statue itself. “See?”
True to her word, the plate does indeed read ‘General Manager’. I scowl at it for a moment before shaking my head. “He doesn’t look so tough.”
“I don’t think he’s supposed to be tough.”
“Whatever.” Why are we still talking about this stupid statue when we have more important things to discuss? “Are you okay? Where did you lose the Careers?”
“Oh!” Aiko turns her cheerful smile onto me. “They gave up somewhere inside the arcade, before I went upstairs.”
The arcade is on the first floor, so that means they aren’t anywhere near us right now. Good. Though I am sure Aiko and I could handle a pair of Careers, I don’t fancy the idea of them catching us unaware. 
“This office should probably be a safe place for us to stay,” I turn to examine the door leading inside. Should I block it off with the desk? Or would that just make it too obvious someone is hiding inside?
“You mean we’re not going back to the waterpark?”
I shake my head. “The Careers know that not all of us where there when they attacked. They’re expecting us to return. Probably even set some traps of their own.” I am not about to present myself to them on a silver platter.
Aiko doesn’t protest like I thought she would. Instead she returns to her chair and sits quietly, expression thoughtful. “I don’t like abandoning friends,” she says softly.
“We’re not abandoning them. We’ll search for them later, when there’s not so much chaos.” That will probably have to be tomorrow. Crap. Can Briar and Talia hold out until then? Can they even last the next hour? 
As I turn and punch the wall, I find myself, for the first time in these Games, overcome with anger and uncertainty.
===Damian Gonzalez (District 10)===
Faren doesn’t speak as we move through the halls at an unhurried pace. He’s been even more quiet and withdrawn than usual since we separated from Kia. I don’t necessarily blame him for that. Not having Kia at our side is very…disheartening.
I wanted the extra strength at my side for this task, but losing her isn’t the end of everything. Faren himself is actually the lynchpin of this strategy. Chrome made the truce with him, after all, so his presence will be necessary to pull the guy to our alliance.
Do I trust Chrome? Not at all. The only reason I want him on my side is because of his skill set. While my current allies have plenty of strengths, combat ability isn’t really one of them. With the exception of Kia, I don’t think any of them would know the first thing to do in a fight. 
I throw another glance at Faren. The guy is practically hugging that pipe he intends to use as a weapon. As much as he wants these Games to end quickly, I’m sure he’s aware of the fact that fighting isn’t his strong suite. That’s why we set up those traps, after all. But to win he’ll need to defeat someone in combat. I wonder what his plans for that are? As for myself…
I have extensive knowledge of knives and the multitude of ways one can butcher an animal with them. That may not mean much compared to the Careers, but it’s definitely better than what some of the other tributes can do.
The hallway reaches a split. Faren pauses before a sign placed on the wall between the branches. I stop beside him, one hand on my machete as I read. “A skywalk to the Glacier Canyon region is that way,” I say, pointing to the left. “The other path should take us to a park called Klondike Kavern.”
“I can see that.” Faren frowns. I blush, embarrassed at myself for pointing out the obvious, but his attention seems to be fully on the sign. Eventually he adjusts his glasses and motions to the right. “We should check out Klondike. The map says that it’s also connected to Waterdome and I think Chrome might be inside one of those parks.”
Makes sense. After all, our alliance sought the shelter of a park. Why wouldn’t he have done the same?
As we make our way down the hall, I try to find something to say. Faren will be an important ally in the days to come, but so far I feel that he and I haven’t exactly gotten along. I know that some of his nervousness around me has to be from that incident during training, when Valor confronted him. I saw the way he looked at me. I knew he wanted my help, but…what could I have done? I’m not strong enough to have helped him. There was nothing I could do that would have helped. But…
Chrome helped him.
I hate feeling useless and inferior. But maybe, just this time, those feelings of inadequacy helped me. Because if I had stepped in to help Faren, then Chrome wouldn’t have had to and we would never have made a truce with him. Still, I need to patch things up with Faren. 
But what to say? What do we have in common? Is there something the two of us can bond over? Surely there must be.
A few more moments of silence tick pass. Anxious and unsure of myself, I force myself to speak. “So…you have a girlfriend to save?”
Faren jumps as if I’ve dumped cold water on him. “Y-yes.” He pushes his glasses up his nose. “H-her name is Joule. If I don’t…she’s very sick.”
I know. Pretty much everyone has heard the story from his interview. Faren was one of the Capitol’s favorites after that. “I also have someone I want to get back to,” I say quietly. Less people know about me and Preston. I didn’t exactly feel comfortable revealing that at the interview. 
“You don’t have a time limit,” Faren mutters. 
I frown but remain silent. He’s not wrong. While my father is against mine and Preston’s relationship, he only ever had power over me. I was forced into the conversion camp, but Preston himself is fine. He’ll still be there when I come back.
At least I hope so.
I make a few more attempts at conversation but Faren only responds with one word answers. I fear that bringing up his girlfriend has done more harm than good. He seems more nervous and frantic, occasionally muttering to himself. At one point I hear him lament the lack of cannons, which confuses me until I remember that the Capitol signals each death with a cannon. There hasn’t been a single cannon today.
Which means no one has died. That’s unusual but not unheard of; I can remember a Games from back when I was young that only had a handful of deaths up until the third day. Of course, that third day then had tons of death. I don’t know whether it would be beneficial for that to happen with us. More deaths means I’m closer to winning, yes, but what if the deaths are mine or my allies? Does Faren even care if his allies die? He seems so desperate for these Games to end that I have to wonder.
My thoughts come to an end when we reach a door that leads into the Klondike waterpark. Faren stops beside it and waits for me to open it. I don’t know why, but he seems to have some sort of aversion to touching door handles and the like. Strange guy.
The roar of water features and the pulsing of the radio fill my head as we enter, stepping onto the carpeted floor of a mezzanine. It’s not too dissimilar from the one we made our camp on back in Wild West. “Think he’s in here?” I ask, walking over to the railing and leaning over. A lazy river makes a circle around a small island that is littered with tables. A giant kiddie structure dominates most of the island. 
Faren shrugs. “Possibly. I don’t know the best way to find out, though.”
I have an idea, but it’s a risky one. Considering his actions so far, I don’t think Faren minds a little risk. I cup my hands around my mouth and about. “Hello! Chrome, are you here?”
Faren swats my shoulder. “What are you doing?” He hisses. “Anyone can hear you!”
I let my arms drop. “Yeah, that’s the point. If Chrome is here he’ll have heard that.”
He goes silent. Faren is smart. He probably understands that I’m right. Probably. I find myself fidgeting, suddenly uncomfortable. I wish I understood people better.
“I don’t think he’s here,” Faren eventually says. “We can see pretty much the whole park from up here, so unless he’s hiding on top of one the slides…”
“So we should check Waterdome, then?”
”Yeah.”
Our trip through the park is uneventful. A rickety staircase takes us down to the ground floor, where we skirt around an activity pool full of basketballs and follow the lazy river to the other end of the park. We pass by a basin of some thrill side and the stairs that leads to its launching point. I can see its outer structure through a nearby window, and I have to say that I wouldn’t enjoy having to ride down that thing. It’s ginormous! 
I tell Faren this, but he only grunts. I resist the urge to sigh. How am I supposed to befriend this guy?
We find a skywalk at the far end of the park. A large sign decorated with a wooly mammoth tells us that Waterdome is up ahead. I find myself nervously running a hand along the length of my machete. What happens if Chrome isn’t there either? Do we just return empty handed? No. I can’t do that. I’d look weak and useless to Briar and the others. We can’t return without Chrome.
We can’t.
I try not to think about what will happen if Chrome refuses to come with us. 
Waterdome turns out to be much more open than either of the previous parks we’ve visited. A gigantic pool full of waves takes up most of the far end of the park, but the rest of it is open and clear, filled with chairs, loungers, and artificial plants. Fading sunlight streams in through the glass ceiling above. 
I use a hand to shade my eyes, scanning the park. I don’t see anything out of the—
“There!” Faren points across the beach, towards an eatery set against the eastern wall. A tall, dark-skinned boy has just exited, sipping on a smoothie as he goes to seat himself at a nearby table.
Chrome.
I resist the urge to call out to him. Thinking back on my actions, I realize that If he heard an unfamiliar voice shouting his name he’d be more likely to run and hide than come approach us. I nudge Faren. “Try to get his attention. He trusts you, remember?”
Faren nods, running one hand along the collar of his shirt. I didn’t expect him to be so nervous, but I suppose it makes sense. Faren has been hyping up Chrome and his truce with him since training; what will it look like for him if things go awry?
Faren steps forward and takes a deep breath. “Chrome! It’s me, Faren! I want to talk with you!”
At the sound of his voice Chrome literally jumps out of his chair. For a moment I think he’s going to run for it, but then he stops, spinning in place as he tries to locate the source. When he finally spots us a look of relief crosses his face.
But is almost immediately replaced by wariness.
“Faren?” Chrome puts one hand on the sickle hanging at his side as we approach. “Why you here, man? Your allies ditch you already?” 
I notice the way his eyes flicker to me. He’s confused by my presence. Maybe he thinks this is a trap? I don’t blame him if he does. “I-I wanted to align with you, Chrome,” Faren says, stopping a few feet from the guy. Chrome edges around the table, placing it between us and him. “My allies agreed that…that it would be best for everyone involved if we did.”
Chromes grins widely. “Thought we already went over this, yeah? Remember what I said back in training?”
Faren hesitates. I give him a sidelong glance. What did Chrome say in training? Had Faren tried to recruit him? If so, he never mentioned that to us. “I…I know that you’re a lone wolf, Chrome, but we…we could really use your strength.”
That draws another grin from him. Chrome, evidently, enjoys being praised. I’m not too surprised by that. After Faren told us about his truce with him, I made sure to keep an eye on Chrome during training. He spent a lot of time trying to get the other tributes to watch him, and was eminently pleased when they offered him compliments. 
How do I use this knowledge to my advantage?
“How’d ya even find me anyway?” Chrome sits down at the table and motions for us to do the same. Neither one of us hesitates. Right now Chrome holds all the cards. “I thought I was pretty well hidden.”
“We kinda just stumbled around the arena,” I say with a self-effacing smile. “You were really hard to track down. I don’t think we’d ever have found you if Faren wasn’t so determined.”
Chrome smiles again, but I notice it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Really? That’s good. I’d hate to think I was easy to find.”
“So will you join us?” Faren asks. “We really need your strength. I know that you would be a big help.”
Chrome splays his hands. “Look, I’d love to help ya out, but the situation you’re in? Doesn’t look so good. I mean, you guys are by far the biggest alliance, so the Careers will be coming after you any day now.”
That’s true. I’ve been worried about that same thing since these Games began. But that’s part of the reason why I want Chrome on our side. “You could help us beat the Careers!” I say. “You’ve already shown you’re smarter than them, so I’m sure you’ll help us beat them.”
“Maybe that’s true, but whose to say I can trust your allies? No offense, but you guys ain’t the most trustworthy of people. Especially those two girls.”
I blink. “Two girls?”
“Aiko and Kia,” Faren says immediately. He must have known Chrome had some distaste for those two. Well, I understand his hesitance to trust Kia. I fully expect her to stab Chrome—and myself—in the back as soon as we’re no longer useful to her. But Aiko? Yeah, she got a high training score and helped Kia kill that Career, but she’s only twelve! What harm could she do to Chrome?
“I’m sure we can come to an understanding,” I say, not feeling sure of any such thing. Chrome’s distrust of us just might win out over his eagerness to be praised. How do I pull this situation to my advantage? 
“Monty Moose wants a hug!”
A door set in the wall behind Chrome suddenly bangs open and the largest, most monstrous thing I have ever seen in the arena walks into the park.
A tall, long-limbed humanoid with a pair of antlers growing from its head, the creature has the face of a moose but the mouth of a human. And that mouth is twisted into a smile. 
“Friends! Come give Monty a hug!”
Faren screams a second before I do. Both of us are on our feet in an instant, sprinting away from this nightmarish monstrosity.
“What the freaking hell!” Chrome whips past us, his long legs carrying down the beach of the wave pool. I follow after him, my heart pounding in my ears. Booming footsteps shake the floor. The mutt is in pursuit!
“Don’t run, friends! Monty wants to play!”
Faren and I draw even with Chrome. His eyes are wide as saucers. “What the hell is that thing?”
“Don’t know!” Hard to speak while running. Difficult to even breathe. “But have to get away!”
“I’m right with ya, man!”
The three of us sprint towards the nearest door, one labeled ‘Exit’ and slam it open. The sky overhead has turned a purplish orange as the sun begins to set, but the air is still warm and humid. None of us hesitate. The moment we’re outside we take off sprinting down the nearby road, fleeing into the arena as night begins to fall.
===Killen Timmerhout (District 7)===
I stumble to my knees as trees begin to pop up around us. Soft green grass tickles my skin as I take a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scents of wildflowers. Silvery moonlight bathes the clearing in a cool glow, illuminating our surroundings.
A series of picnic tables are set up around an open fire pit ringed by several artificial stumps. Two large cabins lie in the distance, both emanating soft yellow light from lanterns that hang above their porches.
“This looks promising!” Maximo wipes the sweat from his forehead as he walks forward and drops himself onto one of the stumps. 
I nod slowly as Discordia drifts into the clearing. The girl has both arms wrapped around herself in a tight embrace. “Better than the tunnels, that’s for sure.”
Our flight from the tunnels took us all over the arena. We passed through multiple buildings and down some twisting hallways—being careful to always remain in lightened areas—before eventually emerging back outside. At some point we passed over a bridge, and then we decided to head off the main path and take to the woods that appeared to the west of the hotel. 
The day has slipped away during our venture. The sun having recently set, night has only just begun. Still, we’re alive. That has to count for something. 
“What if those mutts come after us?” Discordia offers me a hand and I let her pull me to my feet. Despite the nervousness in her voice, she no longer resembles the frightened girl we saved at the bloodbath. She holds herself straight and has a fierce determination in her eyes. 
“We’re pretty far from the tunnels,” I say, approaching Maximo and seating myself on the stump beside his. “I doubt they’d follow us here.”
“But it is dark now,” Maximo points out. “Whose to say they don’t just swarm the arena at night?” 
I have no answer for him. The soft breeze blowing through the trees is the only response. Concerned, I cast my gaze around. I see no footprints or other signs of human presence—or mutts.
“They didn’t do that last night,” Discordia’s quiet voice breaks the silence. She’s seated herself on the stump across from us. I try not to gawk at the way the moonlight shines on her hair. Long and dark, it falls to her shoulders in waves, like—
“That’s true,” I force my head in another direction, towards the cabins. Can’t let myself get distracted like that. “But we should probably stay inside the buildings tonight, just in case.”
Even if the mutts do traverse the arena at night, the lights inside should keep them away. After all, the simple lightbulbs inside the tunnels did. 
Yet none of us make any move towards the cabin. I think we’re all just exhausted from our journey, Maximo especially. I’ve noticed the way he’s been favoring his left leg. He must have hurt it during our escape from the tunnel, though I don’t know how.
As for myself, I’m fortunate to have escaped mostly unharmed. Those mutts were fearsome foes. Fearsome enough to give me doubt over what will happen when we encounter other tributes. So far we have been lucky in that regard, having not seen a single one up close since the bloodbath, but that won’t last forever. Soon enough we’ll have to fight and then…
My gaze travels over my companions. Maximo lost his poker during the chaos in the tunnel and is now weaponless. Discordia has her knife, but how useful will that be against other tributes? The only real weaponry we possess are my throwing axes. 
That won’t be enough.
“We’re going to need more weapons,” I say, breaking the silence.
There is no response. Maximo is staring into the barren fire pit, mind elsewhere. Discordia has her arms wrapped around herself again, her gaze fixed firmly on the woods in the distance. I find myself wishing I could say something that would cheer her up. But, at the same time, I can’t help but think of Narcissa. The way she played me and used me. I don’t want the same thing to happen, but I can’t bear to close myself off to the world. That wouldn’t help anyone. It would only—
“That spirit is sabotaging us,” Maximo finally speaks, his voice tinged with bitterness. “Everything we do goes wrong because of it.”
The look Discordia gives him is one of pure confusion. She doesn’t understand what he’s going on about, of course. And even though I do understand him, I find myself annoyed. Back in training I loved debating the existence of paranormal entities with him; I’m willing to hold any conversation if it has merit. But his constant talk of that spirit is…well, it’s not helping our situation. 
I just can’t bring myself to accept the possibility that a spirit has followed him across the country and is purposely making everything around him go wrong. That’s…it’s just absurd. Still, he sincerely believes that is the case, and I’m not about to berate him for his personal beliefs.
“So how do we stop it?” I ask. 
He gives me a rueful look. “Dunno. I’ve been trying to find a way since it started.”
“Well, if you have any ideas feel free to share them. But for now we should focus our efforts on other tasks.” I hold out three fingers and tap them in order. “Shelter, weapons, food.”
“Those cabins will do for shelter,” Maximo says with a shrug. “As for weapons…I dunno. We can probably scavenge up something around here, though we should wait for morning. I’m not about to stumble around in the dark with those mutts loose!”
“Don’t we have food?” Discordia looks up from her seat. 
“For now,” I say. “But it will eventually run out and we don’t know how long these Games will last.” One loaf of bread and a canister of soup could last two days, with proper rationing. It wouldn’t completely satiate us, but we can manage some discomfort. Still, we’ll need some more if we intend to last long.
“Once again, the cabins might be our answer,” Maximo stands, wincing slightly when he puts weight on his injured leg. “We should check them out and see what we can find.”
That sounds reasonable to me. I turn to Discordia. “You okay with that?”
She nods slowly. “I don’t see what other choice we have.”
So that’s how the three of us decide to make our way over to the cabins. Today hasn’t been the easiest or simplest of days, but it has been a learning experience. We may not appear to be the strongest tributes in the arena but I believe that, when we work together, nothing can stop us.
===Teal Arden (District 6)===
The soft summer breeze carries the scent of roasting fish as the three of us sit around the small campfire in a situation that is reminiscent of our first night in the arena.
Not much has transpired in the last twenty hours or so. The three of us hung out around our campsite for most of the morning, until Remus decided that he could no longer stand sitting in the blazing sun and sought refuge in one of the villas behind the pond. I went with him, but Solomon declined our offer for him to join us, saying he was more comfortable outside, despite the overbearing heat. 
When we entered the villa and learned they were air conditioned, I found myself quite happy with my decision. 
I was concerned about splitting up with Solomon, of course, but I know if there’s anyone in this arena who can look after themself, it’s him. But as I thought, my concerns were unwarranted. Remus and I only stayed inside until the sun began to sink beneath the horizon, wherein we went back outside and met Solomon at our previous campsite. 
I watch him now as he sits across from us, tending to the fire that cooks the fish he caught earlier this evening. He’s spoken very little since his argument with Remus last night. Right now he’s huddled up inside the hood of his jacket, the blaze of the fire reflected in his blue eyes. How he’s worn that black jacket all day without overheating is beyond me. 
Remus sighs, leaning forward and resting his hand on a bent knee. “It appears we’re destined to have a long Games.”
I look up to the dark sky and the stars illuminated there. No cannons have sounded. No tributes have died. This could be the first time since the 326th where the second day in the arena has no deaths. 
“There’s still a few hours left before the Anthem,” I say conversationally. “Who knows? Maybe there will be a medley of cannons.”
I keep an eye on Solomon as I speak, wondering if he’ll join in on our conversation, but he just continues to stare into the fire. He hasn’t even reacted to our words. Well, I suppose that’s fine. I can’t force him to speak if he doesn’t want to, and I wouldn’t even if I could. 
Remus makes an obligatory response to my comment and I nod, flexing my injured leg. It doesn’t hurt so much now, but it feels stiff and I don’t have my full range of motion with it. Running will be difficult. Still, I can only imagine how bad of shape I’d be in if it wasn’t for Solomon. 
Thinking of which, I remember an occurrence earlier today, when I had gone to thank him for the healing poultice he applied to my leg. He was down by the pond seemingly talking to himself. Curious, I stopped to listen and learned that he was muttering about how he’ll kill both Remus and I the second we’re no longer useful. 
To say I was shocked would be an understatement. For a few seconds I had to forcibly prevent myself from jumping down and beating him senseless. How dare he betray my trust like that? It was only when he continued speaking, talking about how in a few days he would murder Alcmene and finally put an end to his entire family, did I realize that he was simply playing up his villainy for the cameras.
I feel my cheeks flush red. Even thinking of that moment is embarrassing! How could I be so quick to doubt Solomon after all the times I told Remus to trust him? At least he didn’t overhear it. I can’t imagine that would have gone well. Remus…well, I don’t quite think he fully trusts Solomon yet. 
A long silence has befallen our group, broken only by the soft scuffling sounds of Solomon removing the fish from the fire. Seems like our dinner is finally finished.
“I’m glad you’re here, Solomon,” I say as he begins setting the fish on some plates we found inside the villa. “As long as you’re around I doubt we’ll ever go hungry!” I don’t even know how he caught the fish. Did he make some kind of pole or something while we were sheltering from the heat? 
Solomon ducks his head. “Thank you.” He hands me my plate and sets the other in front of Remus. I expect him to say something but he remains silent. Glancing at Remus, I see that he’s staring out into the darkness surrounding us, absently flicking a lighter open and close. I frown. Where did he get that?
“You find that in the villa?” I ask, waiting for the fish to cool.
Remus blinks and shakes his head as if coming out of a stupor. “Hmm? What are you…Oh! My lighter!” He snaps it close and sticks it in his jacket pocket. “No, I did not. It’s my token, you see.”
Now that annoys me. Not because Remus has a token or anything, but for the simple reason that I have no token of my own. It’s not my fault. I would have brought the pendant my brother Allan gave me, but I couldn’t because I had all my possessions taken from me when I was locked up in District 6. Basically the only thing I could have brought as a token would have been my detention uniform, and there was no chance of that happening. 
As usual, thoughts of my family bring a familiar pang of loss. Everything I did was for them. I only ever wanted to help. But my actions just might have been the catalyst to this whole situation I find myself in. Would I still have been Reaped if I never joined with Starling? Logically the answer should be yes; after all, nothing I did there changed the outcome of the Reaping. But I can’t shake the feeling that, somehow, my name wouldn’t have been drawn had I not become a drug runner.
Stupid, I know.
Thinking of my family, I wonder how they’re doing right now. Are they watching me? What do they think of my strategy so far? Uncomfortably I realize that they, like all of Panem, believe that Solomon is a cold-hearted killer. And they’ve probably seen him muttering about how he’ll betray and kill me. And I doubt they trust Remus either; not after learning about his family’s importance to the Capitol. 
So…yeah, they probably aren’t too keen on my current alliance. 
Once again they find themselves thinking I’ve put myself in a horrid situation surrounded by awful people. Well, they might have been right about Starling and his operation, but they’re wrong here. Remus and Solomon are good people. At least deep down they are. 
I wish I could find a way to set the record straight and tell my family, but that would be impossible without letting all of Panem know about Solomon‘s true intentions. And if he’s telling the truth, then revealing that would sign his own death warrant, and I have no intention of getting him killed.
I squirm, suddenly very uncomfortable, as I realize that Solomon will die regardless of what action I take. He himself as already stated he has no intention of winning these Games. The thought of someone willingly consigning themselves to death…it doesn’t sit well with me.
“Nighttime has always been her favorite…”
I look up. Solomon is staring into the sky, his meal completely untouched as he whispers softly. “You mean Alcmene?” I ask.
His head whips around to stare at me. Any softness that was in his expression is long gone, replaced with an icy hardness. “Yes. She’s strongest at night, so when I kill her it must be in the morning. No one in the arena stands a chance against her in the dark.”
He’s acting again. I have to remind myself of that to avoid the chill of fright that makes its way down my spine every time I see him in character. I fail.
Solomon pulls off pretending to be a maniacal murderer very well. When I watch him talk about how he’ll kill his own sister, I find myself believing him even though I know that it’s all an act. I am truly glad that he’s not my enemy.
“I am going to turn in for the night,” Remus sets his empty plate on the ground and stands. He takes a few steps out of the firelight and I frown.
“Where are you going?”
He looks over his shoulder. “To the villa. It has beds inside, so why would I lie in the dirt when I could have a bed?”
It’s hard to dispute that logic. But still…I glance at Solomon. He has finally begun to eat his meal. There’s no chance he’d bunk inside the villa with us. “We shouldn’t split up,” I say.
Remus sighs. “The villa also has doors and windows, which can be locked. We’d be a lot safer inside than we are out here.”
Once again, his logic is sound. There’s no good reason why we shouldn’t spend the night indoors. Except…I give a sigh of my own and slowly nod. “Makes sense, I suppose.” I can give it one last try, at least. I turn to my other ally. “Will you join us, Solomon?”
“No. I am comfortable outdoors.”
Well, I tried. I give him one last smile and turn to follow Remus as he heads up to the villa, which lies just a little ways up the hill from the pond. I can’t say that I’m really against the idea of sleeping on a bed in an air-conditioned room, but I don’t understand why Solomon has to hold us at arms length all the time. We might have only known him for a short length of time, but we’re his friends who care about him.
Why can’t he see that?
===Faren Gomery (District 5)===
The night air is warm and humid as the three of us come to a stop beside a small garden plaza. A nearby chain link fence separates us from an outdoor waterpark; the gentle splashing of the water features inside gives off a peaceful ambiance that would, under normal circumstances, soothe my frayed emotions.
Unfortunately these aren’t normal circumstances. Our frantic flight from that horrible moose took us all over the arena and left me with little time to check our surroundings. I know at one point we ran parallel to a large forested canyon that appeared to our left, and then we darted back indoors and tried to lose our pursuer in a maze of hallways. 
I don’t know how long it took before we realized we were no longer being chased, but when we did I had us stop to try and get our bearings.
And that’s how we found ourselves in this little garden plaza.
Damian walks over and seats himself on a bench, both hands pressed against his forehead. “What the hell was that thing?”
“A mutt,” It’s not the answer he wanted, but it’s the only one I have. I walk past him and stare out over the fence and into the park. All nearby signage declares this to be the Wild West section of the resort, so we must be close to our base camp. “That would mean this is the outdoor park connected to Wild West…”
“At least it’s a cool night out,” Chrome says with his trademark grin. I don’t know how he can keep his spirits up after what we just witnessed. Isn’t he terrified? I know I am. I have to force my body into calmness, otherwise I’d still be trembling. 
I turn from the fence, frowning. A cool night? The air is thick and warm to me, but perhaps that’s just my own perspective. I have to remember that both Chrome and Damian come from a different part of the country than I do. Their weather is most likely unusual compared to mine.
Thoughts of home quickly bring Joule to mind. The ticking of a clock plays in my head. One more day gone. Another step closer to her death. How many more days can I afford to waste? These Games need to end.
Soon.
“We’ll need to find a way to cause some tributes to die,” I force myself to say the words aloud. Just thinking and hoping for it isn’t enough. At this rate I’ll need to stir up chaos myself, or Joule will be dead before we even reach the top eight. 
Damian and Chrome both turn to give me incredulous looks. I squirm uncomfortably beneath their gaze. Don’t they understand? I don’t want anyone to die, but I need them to die. We all do. How else can these end? I use my sleeve to wipe my forehead, then adjust my glasses. “W-we can’t just keep to the status quo,” I try to explain. “If we want to win we’ll h-have to kill some people.”
I hate myself for saying those words aloud. For being the voice of death and destruction. But I see Joule’s face every time I close my eyes. I see her dying. I can’t just sit back and let it happen.
I can’t!
“We should probably rejoin with the others first,” Damian says quietly.
I nod. “Of course.” Kia will have a plan. Isn’t that what she went to do today? Make a plan to take out some tributes? I’ll ask her. Maybe there’s someway I can help.
“You know,” Chrome paces the length of the plaza, a coy grin on his face. “I’m beginning to think you guys aren’t as weak as I thought!”
We only spend a few more minutes catching our breath before setting off again. A nearby door takes us into an arcade, one that I recognize having seen back on the first day, before we made it to Wild West. We walk past the dazzling lights and beeping machines, searching for an exit.
“These places make great hiding spots,” Chrome says as we walk. 
I give him a sidelong glance but it’s Damian who speaks. “Have you been here before?”
“Nah. Not this one,” He flashes a wide grin. “But there’s another one on the other side of the arena. I was there day one when the Capitol girl walked pass. Stupid bitch didn’t even see me!”
I frown. The Capitol girl? I feel as if I should be able to remember her name, but it slips my mind. I do remember her training score, though. It was a six, just one number above mine and below Chrome’s own seven. 
Above both us and the arcade is some sort of ropes course. It reminds me of the one in training, with crisscrossing ropes and platforms for people to use as they try and cross from one side to the other. I remember my dismal failure in training and make a silent vow to stay away from this particular course. Play to my strengths and avoid my weaknesses. That’s what I need to do in order to win and save Joule.
We slip out the doors on the far side of the arcade and emerge into the same small parking strip that rests in front of Wild West. I nod to myself in approval. All that studying with Talia to make her map paid off.
“Is this door safe to use?” Damian asks, pointing a finger at the side doors straight across from us. 
It takes me only a moment to remember which trap I have placed there. “Should be. This door was the one I rigged with a…” The words die on my lips. Through the glass door I spot two large weights lying on the ground. That’s not right. I had set both of those weights above the doorway in a deadfall designed to drop onto an intruder.
Damian has noticed my dismay. “Something wrong, Faren?”
“The trap has been activated,” My voice is hoarse. Our allies are too smart to have accidentally triggered it themselves, and if someone else had come in and been hit by the trap, I know that they would have moved the weights. That means…
“They’re not dead,” Damian sets a hand atop my shoulder. “There’s been no cannons, remember? So they’re still alive.”
I force myself to nod. That’s true. There have been no deaths today. So…I walk forward and swing the doors open, not even minding that I touched a germ hotspot like a door handle. Once inside, I cast my head around, desperately searching for any sign of my allies.
There’s no sign of any struggles or altercations. All the tables are still neatly set up and I can spot no trace of footprints or anything else on the floor. I let out a shaky breath as Damian and Chrome join me inside. “I don’t…where are they?”
The radio and water geysers are still active, lending noise to the otherwise silent waterpark. Aiko, Briar, Talia…Where could they have gone?
“Kia would have come back, wouldn’t she?” Damian finally shows the worry I’ve felt since spotting those weights. “She couldn’t have gone anywhere else…”
Chrome whistles softly, approaching the kiddie structure which dominates the center of the park. “Maybe they abandoned you, yeah?”
I shake my head, unable to get the words out. No. That wouldn’t make any sense. There would be no benefit for them to do so. But then how do I explain this situation? Where have they gone? Ignoring the startled exclamation of Damian, I rush towards the next closest entrance. 
The trap I set this morning with Talia is still there, untriggered. I run my hands through my hair, fighting back a rising sense of agitation that only continues to grow as I dash from entrance to entrance, checking each trap. All of them are as I left them. Active and untouched.
I rejoin Damian and Chrome as they ascend to the mezzanine. A jolt of melancholic pain strikes me as I spot the table where we made our plans just this morning. “Who had the radios?” I ask quietly.
Chrome raises an eyebrow. “Y’all had radios?”
Damian ignores him. “Kia had one and…Aiko carried the other, I think.”
We should never have let Kia leave us. If she was still here than we would be able to contact Aiko and learn what happened. But now…how will we ever find them? The arena is a big place, and there’s tons of dangers lurking in every corner. The other tributes…mutts…Gamemaker traps…and possibly even more things that I can’t even fathom. 
“This isn’t good,” I mumble more to myself than to the guys around me. “Almost the worst thing that could have happened.” The only thing worse would be for one of us to have died. But as things stand, that might happen soon. 
I stare helplessly at the ceiling as the second day in the arena inexorably ticks away. Minute by minute. Second by second. I can’t stop the progress of time, no matter how hard I try. The third day draws ever closer…
…And brings Joule one step closer to death.
===Zekel Zin (District 3)===
The overhead floodlights bathe the cornucopia parking lot in a cool, even light as the eight of us gather together at the mouth of the cornucopia, watching the Anthem play in the sky. There’s nothing to see, of course. No one has died today. The Careers have failed to kill anyone.
I eye Valor nervously. Though he hasn’t shown so much of a hint of anger over it, I can’t help but feel that he is infuriated by our inability to kill the others. And I’d understand why he feels that way; after all, we had Briar’s alliance boxed like a fish and still let them get away. 
None of that was my fault. Valor left me to guard the entrance, and I did that flawlessly. I only hope no one noticed the relief I felt at being given the safest task. The last thing I desired was to be chasing armed tributes into an unknown location. As Matiss told me when he returned empty-handed, that’s a dangerous proposition. What if they led us into another trap?
“We’ll need to work harder tomorrow,” Valor is the first to speak when the Anthem ends. He holds both arms clasped behind his back as he turns to face us all. “I am fine with us not making any kills today—Briar and her allies proved to be craftier than I’d thought—but we cannot afford to let this…inadequacy become the norm. We must do better.”
”Here, here!” Yewan whoops. She doesn’t seem to notice the dirty looks some of the others give her. 
Valor divvies up guard duty. Like last night there’ll be two people on watch at all times and shifts last two hours. I get third shift, with Marina. Though she gives me a small smile when we get the assignment, I cannot hide my disappointment. I’d have preferred to be on duty with Matiss or Mako. 
The group begins to dissipate the second Valor finishes with the assigning. Most of us seem to be searching for their bedrolls, but I notice Alcmene approach Valor. The blonde girl says something quietly to him and he pauses, nodding slowly as he listens.
”Third shift, huh?” A large hand claps me on the shoulder as Matiss comes up behind me. “I had that last night. It sucked.”
I chuckle softly, eyes still on Alcmene and Valor. What could they be speaking about? 
“There you guys are!” Mako’s cheerful voice rips my attention away and I turn to watch him swaggering up to us, a wide grin on his face. “How was the hunting? I mean, I know the general picture, but I wanna hear the details!”
I listen silently as Matiss begins to give a detailed, minute-by-minute account of our day. I’ve never really had friends before—I don’t understand most human interactions—but these two boys could possibly be described as such. I like and trust them more than any of my other allies, which I think is probably enough for that designation. 
As I listen, I keep an eye on Alcmene. Whatever she asked Valor, he’s apparently given his blessing, because she’s begun to gather her bags and weapons. Frowning, I watch as she slips away from the cornucopia and disappears into the maze of cars that litter the parking.
”Wonder what that was about,” Mako’s voice makes me jump. The tall guy is leaning on his trident, eyes focused on the parking lot. I didn’t realize he had noticed too.
“She was supposed to be on first shift with me,” Matiss says. “So am I alone now or what?”
Unbeknownst to either of them, Valor begins to make his way towards us. I resist the urge to squirm underneath his steady gaze. He doesn’t know what I’m feeling. He can’t possibly be aware of the terror I feel every time we leave the cornucopia. 
Can he?
“‘Sup bro?” Mako offers him a high-five when he finally announces his presence. 
“I had to make some changes to guard duty,” Valor says, voice as formal and stiff as ever. “Matiss, I will now be joining you on first shift.”
The tall boy nods. I stare at Mako, surprised that he’s still grinning despite the fact Valor has ignored his high-five. Eventually he lowers his hand, sticking it into the pocket of his jacket. “So where’d you send Alcmene? Surely not to go chasing after her brother.”
Valor’s eyes shift towards him. “Alcmene has another assignment. She’ll be back before daylight and, needless to say, that is the only information which should be relevant to you.”
Mako shrugs, still grinning. “Cool. Well, have a good night!”
Valor dips his head. “Likewise.”
We all watch him walk away. None of us speak until he’s on the far side of the cornucopia. “Is he favoring Alcmene?” Matiss finally asks. 
Mako gives another shrug. “Dunno. The two of them do seem to be set apart from the rest of us.” 
I was wondering if any of the others had noticed the divide. Marina and the other two girls clearly have some sort of bond, and the three of us are close as well. Only the pair from District 1 seem detached. Thinking of this reminds me of Marina’s actions during our hunting trip. Namely, her effort to get me to open up. Is she trying to sway me to her side? Worried, I relay my story to Mako and Matiss.
”We shouldn’t be too concerned,” Matiss scratches his head when I’m finished. “We’re all on the same team. I can’t imagine she’ll try to harm us.”
“Don’t worry!” Mako continues to grin. Has he no concern for anything? Or is he just hiding his insecurities like I am? I don’t know which one would reassure me more. “I played some cards with Yewan today, and I got her talking. If Marina has any plans to betray us, she hasn’t told her friends about it.”
Betrayal. Another worry to be added to my growing list. 
Time slips away as we speak, and soon enough Mako and I head off to bed, waving to Matiss as he goes to stand guard. As I climb into my sleeping bag at the back of the cornucopia, I can’t be rid of the worry that fills me. I escaped death today, but what about tomorrow? Or the day after? How long can it be staved off? I’ve already lasted longer than Zevran did…
The thought of my brother—and how he looked when he died—turns my worry into cold fear. I lie awake, staring at the ceiling of the cornucopia, for an unknowable amount of time. Sleep is impossible. I know that the only thing waiting for me there is death and despair. I don’t want to die. 
Not even in a dream.
Before I know it Mako is shaking me, seemingly assuming I’m asleep. “Your shift is up, Zekel!” He tells me with a wink and a smile. 
I nod slowly and stumble out of the cornucopia, body feeling cold and stiff. The lights from the lampposts make it impossible to see the stars, but the moon is bright in the sky as I rub my arms to warm myself.
“I’m going to watch the other side,” Marina is already there. She nods at me, her deep black hair absorbing the light which shines upon it. “Just call for me if you need anything.”
I nod again, unable to form any words. Though the parking lot is illuminated, darkness lurks on its outer edges. Anything could be hiding out there. Maybe even my death.
Marina frowns. “Zekel, I…just know that I’m here for you, okay? If you ever need to talk—”
”I’m fine!” I cut her off. Does she know my…affliction? She saw me at the bloodbath. What if she didn’t believe my lie about being knocked out? What if she told Valor? Suddenly angry, I turn my back on her. “I don’t need anything. Just leave me alone!”
”I…okay. I’ll be on the other side of the cornucopia, in case you change your mind.”
I close my eyes and breathe out. That was stupid. What if she didn’t tell Valor? I could have just angered her enough for her to go and do so now! My hands curl around the haft of my spear, squeezing it until they hurt. I never thought that the Games would have so much social interactions! 
I begin to pace the perimeter of the cornucopia, trying to force my mind into peace. Every second in this arena is agony. I’m just counting the seconds until my death. All of my training will be useless. 
I pause near the base of the closest lamppost, stamping my feet to try and get some focus. What am I even keeping watch for? Maybe I should have asked Mako. No. That’s a dumb question. I’m obviously keeping watch for the other tributes trying to sneak in and steal our supplies. 
I stifle a yawn, aware that my rambling thoughts are a clear side effect of my lack of sleep. Maybe that’s a good thing. If I get too tired maybe I’ll have dreamless sleep. I raise one hand and rub my eye, wondering how much longer my shift will be, when the metal tip of a blade erupts from my throat.
My eyes widen as hot blood begins to pour from the wound. The spear drops from my hands as they shoot to my throat, feeling at the disappearing blade. Can’t breathe. Gurgling softly, I drop to one knee, desperately trying to stem the flow of blood. 
I don’t even feel the blade as it lands a second time.
===Matiss Ferrum (District 12)===
The distant sound of voices wake me from my slumber. I roll over onto my side, grumbling softly, as I try to get back to sleep. What’s going on? Can’t those guys knock it off? 
“Matiss!” An urgent voice cuts through the fog of my mind and I shoot up into a sitting position.
The inside of the cornucopia is dark. Faint moonlight filters in through the mouth, illuminating the line of crates we have pressed against the wall. A rack of swords and spears lie directly across from where I made my bed. The shadowy form of a tribute stands beside them. 
”Mako?” I rub at my eyes, suddenly confused. Why is he waking me? “What’s happened?”
His face is grim. “I don’t know, but the others are in a panic. They’ve gathered outside.”
I rise to my feet, taking the time to grab my weaponry. It can’t be an emergency, otherwise Mako would have been way more panicked. Still, it always helps to be prepared.
Some of the others are formed into a tight semi-circle as we emerge from the cornucopia. They’re standing near one of the lampposts, talking in frantic voices. I stretch, wincing as one of my joints pop from the effort. 
“What is going on?” Opal emerges from somewhere behind us, rubbing at her eyes. “Why are you all awake?”
I go to answer her but the words die on my lips as I finally see it. High in the sky and swiftly departing the parking lot. 
A hovercraft.
”Someone died,” Mako’s voice is low, more serious than I’ve ever heard it. “One of us, I mean.”
I rush towards the others, worry growing. How could this have happened? Valor notes my arrival with a nod, turning away from where he was apparently arguing with Marina. “Now that you three are here, that makes everyone.”
”Not everyone!” Yewan shakes her blonde head. “Alcmene isn’t here!”
I quietly do a a count of my own. Valor, Marina, Yewan are all here. Myself, Mako, and Opal make six. If Alcmene is still absent…
Zekel.
”He’s dead,” My voice is a strained whisper. Zekel. Dead. How…?
”His cannon alerted Marina,” Valor explains. “She didn’t think much of it at first, but then she saw the hovercraft and…well, she found his body.”
”He was stabbed twice in the neck,” Marina stares at her shoes, face hard as a rock. “I didn’t have much time to examine him before they took his body, but…I think he was attacked from behind.”
Behind? But that would mean his attacker came from the…cornucopia.
”The assailant could have slipped around him or Marina,” Valor says quickly. “We have no reason to assume one of us is the culprit.”
I don’t respond. What would I say? Did one of us really…Why would they murder Zekel? For what purpose? He was our teammate!
”Ooh! A murder mystery!” I look up sharply and glare at Yewan as she rubs her hands together, cackling gleefully.
Opal steps forward, eyes flashing. “How do we know you didn’t kill him?”
”That’s the beautiful part…you don’t!” Yewan breaks into another round of laughter.
“Where is Alcmene?” Mako’s voice is cold. Hard. He turns to face Valor. “Where did you send her?”
Everyone else falls silent as we wait for our leaders response. He folds his arms behind himself, hands clasping his forearms. “Alcmene volunteered for a nighttime reconnaissance. I saw no reason to refuse her, so I gave the mission my permission. She should be back before daybreak.”
”And if she’s not?” I think of the possibility that Alcmene just walked back into camp, past an unsuspecting Zekel, then turned around and stabbed him. He wouldn’t have questioned her. It would have been so easy. 
Valor fixes me with a flat stare. “If she does not return by morning, then I will assume she has abandoned us. Therefore she will then become our target.”
“But what if you planned this with her?” I demand. I don’t know why he would have, but it’s the only thing that would explain her bizarre behavior. 
Anger flares in his eyes. “Trust me, if I wanted to kill any of you I wouldn’t do it while skulking in the shadows like a rat!”
”We should all calm down!” Marina steps between us. She alone seems to have kept her composure throughout this discovery. “Arguing will get us nowhere. We just need to step back and think things through.”
Zekel was my friend. He trusted me and Mako. I could tell just by looking at him that he wasn’t someone who gave his trust easily. He was…he…
I stare at my shoes, trying hard to keep my composure, as the others continue their discussion. It’s useless. We won’t discover who did it or why. Not by talking. Maybe not ever. 
The third day of the 333rd Hunger Games has begun with a death.
==Day 3/ Assassin’s Blade==
===Nedry Stryker (The Capitol) ===
Nedry shook his head as he watched the commentators on TV discuss the most recent death in the Games. His Uncle Escortius must be steaming mad. Two of his three Champions were dead, and they were only a little under forty-eight hours into the Games. It was looking more and more unlikely that he would win the competition—or the Presidency.
All the better for me, he thought as he put on his tie. He still had all three of his own Champions. Switching from Lucia to Notcher had been a wise choice. But no one will ever tell me so. Just once he would like someone to recognize his genius. To give him the praise he deserved. Surely that wasn’t too much to ask for.
It’ll all be mine once I win this competition!
Onscreen the Careers were still discussing the recent death of Zekel. Nedry would have loved to stay and watch them try to sort this mystery out, but he had an early morning meeting with his Father. The agenda was boring and drab—something about taxation rates for grain—but Nedry couldn’t simply skip the meeting. At least, not without losing face with his siblings.
And I cannot afford to make myself seem any weaker in their eyes.
Nedry rose and exited his plush rooms, striding into one of the grand hallways that made up the Presidential Manor. As he walked, he marveled at the crystalline chandeliers, the gilded barristers, and soft carpets. 
One day this would all be his. One day very, very soon. 
“Nedry! What a pleasant surprise!”
Nedry spun on the spot, dabbing at his forehead with a handkerchief, as his youngest brother made his appearance, approaching from the far end of the hall. Dimentio was short and thin, with pale blond hair and watery blue eyes. He, like Aurilee, had taken after their mother. In both appearance and manner.
“Good morning, Dimentio!” Nedry breathed in silent relief that it was his youngest brother who he spoke with. There would be no jabs or mockery here. “What did you make of that most recent death in the Games? Exciting, yes?”
Dimentio shrugged his angular shoulders. “Oh, I don’t particularly care much about it. Everyone else seems to have liked it well enough, however.”
Nedry nodded in a way he hoped looked wise and knowing. Dimentio’s words sounded like they contained some sort of innuendo or code, but he hadn’t the faintest idea what it meant. “Escortius must be very upset,” He said.
Dimentio gave a small smirk. It looked decidedly odd on his cheerful face. “Oh, very much so. He’s still enraged that Rozlyn stole Mako from him!”
Ah, yes. Choosing a Champion had been first come first serve, and Rozlyn had picked the District 4 boy with her second choice; robbing Escortius of what was undoubtedly going to be his third. Uncle Escortius was a staunch traditionalist and had sought to make all three of his Champions the males from the traditional Career Districts. But with Mako taken, he’d been forced to make do with Zekel. A poor choice, that turned out to be.
“He couldn’t have expected this outcome,” Dimentio said with another smile. Nedry started. He hadn’t realized he’d spoken that last part aloud. Sloppy. What if he accidentally said something more important? He mustn’t give his plan’s away. That would ruin everything!
Suddenly sweating profusely, Nedry ran a handkerchief over his head. When he became President he’d go fully bald, and make that the most stylish look in the whole Capitol! No one would dare mock his fading hairline then! 
Nedry looked at his watch and cursed. He was going to be late!
“I must be going,” He told his brother with a nod. “I have a very important meeting—”
“One moment, please.” Dimentio dug a hand into his pocket and removed a small object. “I was…well, just take a look at this, if you please.”
Nedry held back a groan. Dimentio was a nice lad, but he certainly had no understanding of important meetings. One couldn’t simply delay them to see silly trinkets! And yet, Nedry was loath to disappoint his younger brother, so he leaned in to look at his object.
There, sitting on the palm of Dimentio’s hand, was a small red glove.
Nedry recoiled, shock and fear coursing through his veins. The Red Hand of Ra! Were they here? Was the Capitol under attack? He had to flee! To his safe room locked—
No. He was overreacting. Had it been an emergency then Dimentio would have been more urgent; as it was, the boy simply stood there watching him with a bemused expression. 
Nedry smoothed his suits lapels, trying to save as much face as he could. “Where did you find that?” 
The hint of a smile twitched on Dimentio’s face. “Oh, nowhere important. Just inside Erevan Newcastle’s apartments.”
“Inside…?” Newcastle, that young upstart? Why would he have had this glove inside his very own apartment? That is…Nedry felt his face pale as the implications hit him.
Dimentio laughed lightly. “I see you have come to be same conclusion as I. Yes, I believe Erevan Newcastle is in some way associated with that terrorist group.”
”How did you find it?” Nedry was at a loss for words. Erevan, a terrorist? It would make sense yet…it was still hard to believe. How could he have fooled Father so? 
“Oh, I had an appointment with Erevan,” Dimentio waved a hand as if it was unimportant. “He was running late, however, so I took the time to…examine his quarters. I found this little doily inside his sock drawer.”
Was Erevan behind the attack? Or was he just a piece of the larger puzzle? Perhaps he was being used by someone else, or maybe he truly was the ringleader. Did it matter? The country was at risk! 
“We must warn Father!”
Dimentio stared at him for several moments, not saying a word. Nedry found himself fidgeting. Sweat built on his brow and he raised his handkerchief to wipe it. Finally, Dimentio splayed his hands to the side. “I highly doubt that would work. Erevan is a well-respected figure, and blindly accusing him would get us nowhere.” He paused, as if thinking. “But what do I know? Nedry, you are much more intelligent than I. If you wish to warn Father, then by all means, go ahead.”
Nedry beamed, pride swelling in his chest. Someone had finally recognized his brilliance! They’d seen the truth sitting right in front of their nose! Nedry was intelligent. He understood things better than anyone else! Dimentio had seen it and, soon enough, so would the rest of Panem!
He quickly borrowed the glove from Dimentio and made his farewells to the lad. He had a meeting with Father to attend. Yes, he was going to be late for it, but surely Father would overlook that once he revealed Erevan’s treachery!
He reveled in his thoughts as he made the long, arduous trek down the halls. Why must everything be so big? Nedry wouldn’t have minded if the Manor had been a little more compact. He was practically sweating through his suit by the time he reached the large, opal-laden doors that marked Father’s private ballroom. Taking a deep breath, Nedry pushed the doors open. 
The hall was enormous, as typical. Massive, ornate stone pillars were set into the walls, running between the windows. Just before the pillars met the floor, the wall fell away, indenting and creating a single-story gallery beneath the windows themselves. Dozens of white-clothed tables sat in this area, shadowed behind the pillars and beneath the overhang. In the distance, at the far end of the hallway, Nedry could make out a low balcony set into the wall, which held a smaller group of tables. 
“Father will be up there, no doubt,” Nedry muttered to himself. Reaching it would involve staircases—the bane of his existence. 
A string orchestra played to his left as he set down the chamber. Father enjoyed music and often found any occasion an excuse for it to be played. Nedry paused briefly to listen and wound up shaking his head. Too classical. He much preferred the newer styles to those of the olden days. As he listened to the music he heard voices from the balcony above. Familiar voices. Father and…Roscoe.
Why was he here? 
Nedry started his way up the nearest spiral staircase. Unfortunately it was as cumbersome a journey as he’d expected. Nedry found himself huffing for breath before he was even halfway up. It was then, as he paused to catch his breath, that the words from above became distinguishable. “I still do not understand why you let him be apart of this competition!” That was Roscoe. Nedry would recognize his brother’s harsh voice anywhere. “He is not even a Stryker! He has o business being involved!”
Nedry blinked. They were talking about Erevan! What were the odds of that? 
“He is a capable and intelligent young man,” Father’s deep, sonorous voice responded. “Had I just one child like him, then perhaps this competition wouldn’t have been necessary in the first place!”
Nedry flinched. He could imagine Roscoe doing the same. Never before had Father insulted them so! He’d always been a harsh man, but he’d never gone so far as to say something as disparaging as that!
”Erevan first came to my attention through rumors,” Father continued to speak. “Apparently he’d been talking about the ridiculousness of our Presidential system to other Capitol men of high worth. He was questioning the very idea of why it always had to be a Stryker who ruled. Why not, he reasoned, have the next President chosen be a Capitol official who was best for the job? Why must it simply be the flesh and blood of the prior President!”
“Those words were treasonous!” Roscoe seethed. Nedry had gotten high enough up the stairs to see his brother now. He was seated across from Father, his icy blue eyes narrowed as he stared over the oaken table between them. “He should have been executed immediately!”
“I had him brought to me,” Father continued, ignoring the outburst. “And I questioned him myself. When asked if what he said was true, he did not lie or deflect. He merely told me that it was, and asked why Panem’s Presidency was not a meritocracy. After all, every other facet of our country is. So why not the President?”
Insane! The words Nedry was hearing were completely insane! He struggled to the final step, wheezing for air. What a fool Erevan was! A complete fool!
“His words interested me,” Father steepled his fingers and leaned forward. Roscoe’s attention was fixed firmly on him, so he never saw Nedry’s appearance. “So much so, that I came up with an idea. An idea to decide whom our next President shall be.”
Roscoe thrummed the table. “The competition.”
“Yes. The competition. It is, I have decided, the fairest way to determine whether his theory has any merit.”
“It has no merit!” Roscoe’s voice was hard as frozen rocks. “There is no chance he could ever rule better than a Stryker could!”
“If that is what you believe, then prove it!” Father leaned forward, voice sharp yet quiet. “Win this competition and prove for once and all that no one holds a candle to the Stryker’s! Prove that our family is the pinnacle of human perfection! Prove it!”
Nedry lost his balance and tumbled into the room. Both of the men shot to their feet, spinning to watch as he hit the ground and came to a rolling stop. Roscoe’s expression was one of disgust, yet Father’s…
Nedry flinched at the disappointment he saw in those eyes.
“So my eldest son finally arrives,” Father’s voice was kept emotionless. He’d always been good at hiding his feelings. “It’s been so long that I had thought you’d forgotten, Nedry.”
“No! I’d never!” Nedry struggled to regain his feet, only managing when Roscoe sighed and walked over, pulling him back up. Nedry dusted his vest off, certain Roscoe would never have helped him if it weren’t for the presence of Father. “I merely got waylaid.”
Father’s eyes never changed. “Of course you did. You always do.”
“This time it was important! I found this!” Nedry stuck a hand in his pocket, blindly groping for the glove. It took him a few tries, but he eventually got a grasp and pulled it free. “Behold! Proof that Erevan Newcastle is a traitor!”
He smacked the glove down onto the table.
Roscoe gave him a flat stare. “And what is…this thing?”
“It’s a glove!” Nedry puffed his chest out with pride. “The same kind the Red Hand of Ra uses!”
Silence. Nedry frowned, wondering what he’d done wrong. He sent his gaze from Roscoe to Father, then back. Neither one stirred. Both were focused on the glove. “Where did you find this?” Father finally asked.
Nedry opened and closed his mouth. The truth wouldn’t do. How could he tell them that Dimentio found it? The younger lad would take all the credit! No, he had to be creative. Dimentio didn’t find it…Nedry did!
But where? He was painfully aware that admitting to trespassing in Newcastle’s personal apartments would have terrible repercussions for him. Trespassing was a crime! Nedry didn’t commit crimes! He was no criminal! But then where did he find the glove?
Sweat built on his head as he struggled for a response. Father was watching him with a cold gaze. Roscoe’s eyes were narrowed. Judging him, again!
“I found it in the hallways outside his apartments!” Nedry forced the words out. “Clearly he dropped it whilst he was in a rush!”
Father exchanged a glance with Roscoe. Neither one spoke for a long time. They just sat there, staring at Nedry with stern, cold gazes. He fidgeted, tugging at his collar and wiping his head. Did he say something wrong?
“You believe Erevan Newcastle is working for the Red Hand of Ra?” Father finally broke the silence with a soft question. Nedry nodded. He knew enough to keep his mouth shut. Words weren’t…well, they weren’t his strong point. “You believe he is smart and cunning enough to trick me into trusting him, yet is also so stupid as to leave a piece of highly incriminating evidence just lying outside his bedroom?”
“Yes!” Nedry couldn’t hide the wide smile that crossed his face. 
“Nedry, you fool!” Roscoe slammed a hand down onto the table, causing Nedry to jump. “I hate Erevan even more than you, yet I am aware enough to realize that this accusation is a sham! Why would he leave that lying outside his own quarters?”
It was then when Nedry felt his dream coming apart at the seams. Both his father and brother were staring at him with such looks of fury that he knew they thought him an imbecile of the highest order. He let out a groan. Oh why hadn’t he just told them he’d found it inside his sock drawer? 
“The glove itself is alarming, however,” Father’s words caused him to perk back up. He was leaning in his chair, hands steepled as he stared at the glove. “Its mere presence in our Manor is an affront to our dignity. Whomever left it meant it as an insult.”
“It was Erevan—”
“Finding it outside his quarters is hardly proof it belongs to him. Someone could have meant to leave it as a warning for him.”
Nedry wiped his forehead. That actually was a possibility, wasn’t it? What if someone had left it in his drawer as a warning, and Dimentio merely found it before Erevan could? But no. Accepting that possibility meant abandoning his own shot at glory, and that he would not do. 
“I will personally instruct my men and have them look deeper into this mystery,” Father never gave him the chance to protest. “But as for now, I believe we have a discussion on tax rates which needs to be held.”
Nedry nodded numbly. What else could he do? Any further argument was destined to fall on deaf ears. Oh, why did everyone except him have to be so stupid? 
“I’d like to see those reports.”
Nedry blinked. “What reports?”
”The one’s on the tax rates. You were meant to fetch them from the administrative office and bring them here. That was the sole reason I requested this meeting.”
Oh, right. Nedry knew he’d forgotten something. Wiping his head once more, he squirmed beneath Father’s gaze. “I, ah, that is…I mean to say…”
“You forgot the reports.” It wasn’t a question. 
Nedry bowed his head, at a loss for words. Why did this always happen to him? 
“Once again my dear brother proves himself to be a fool!” Roscoe burst into laughter, an all too familiar sound. How often had Nedry heard it growing up? Almost every day! He felt his cheeks flush as his arms and legs began to tremble. Today was meant to be his day of glory! The day he’d prove once and for all why he was the only logical choice to succeed Father! Instead, it was just another day of shame and humiliation.
As Roscoe’s laughter resounded in his head, Nedry silently held back his tears, wishing that for just once things would finally go his way.
===Mako Melanesia (District 4)===
The predawn sky is gray and bleak as we sit in the center of the parking lot, awaiting the rising sun which, if Valor is to be believed, will also herald the arrival of Alcmene.
None of us speak. We have been sitting in relative silence for the past few hours now. The tension is so thick that you can practically feel it in the air. Who killed Zekel? Was it one of us? If so, why? What purpose does killing him this early serve? 
I let my gaze drift over my allies, searching their faces for any sign of guilt. Matiss stands near the cornucopia, reapplying bandages to the shoulder wound he received yesterday. He’s surprisingly good at this medical stuff. But his own eyes are cold as they take in the rest of us Careers. He was closer to Zekel than any of us, so he’s taking his death the hardest. 
Next I examine Opal. She is sitting on a crate, sharpening her axe against a whetstone to bide the time. She hasn’t been very affected by Zekel’s death, but that is to be expected. I don’t think she ever really got along with the guy. But was that dislike enough to kill him?
I can’t wrap my head around this situation. It just doesn’t make sense. Why would one of us decide to kill Zekel now of all times? What was the purpose? It seems almost perfectly designed to drive a wedge into our alliance, to break bonds and create mistrust. I would have thought the murder was done by someone outside our alliance, but the facts are against that possibility.
Marina—the only one of us to actually see the body—said that Zekel’s wounds were consistent with someone who’d been attacked from behind. Who else could have gotten behind him if not one of us? Zekel was too paranoid to let someone slip by him, and if they’d come from the opposite side of the cornucopia, why would they bypass Marina just to target him?
The attacker wasn’t a different tribute. No, Zekel’s killer was one of us.
I continue the examination of my allies, pausing my gaze on Yewan as she shuffles her deck of cards, laughing all the while. I never expected her to take this situation seriously, so I am not surprised by her lack of care. Did she, perhaps, murder Zekel? I wouldn’t have thought it possible for her to kill anyone, but she did take down Lucia at the bloodbath. 
What if she’s the killer?
Movement catches my eye and I turn to watch as Marina approaches Valor, her face blank and withdrawn. Memories of last night and how he and Alcmene held a similar conversation flash in my mind. I still find her disappearance strange, and only Valor has any proof she’s actually out on patrol. And now he’s going to have another private conversation? Secrets and mysteries will bring this alliance down if we’re not careful. 
I won’t let that happen.
I rise and begin to approach the pair. Matiss notices but doesn’t try to follow. I stick my hands in pockets and adopt a stern expression as Valor and Marina pause mid-conversation and turn to stare at me. “I don’t want anymore secrets,” I say simply.
“It wasn’t meant to be secret,” Marina gives me a small smile. It seems forced. What’s going on?
“She wants to go out and search for Alcmene,” Valor says with a wave of his hand. He seems irritated. With Marina or just the situation in general? I can’t tell, but he has been clearly thrown off my this unexpected assassination. “A foolish notion, to be sure, since Alcmene will return any time now.”
“But what if she doesn’t? What if she’s been attacked and can’t return?” Marina frets. 
“If she doesn’t return and her face isn’t in the sky tonight, then I think that’ll be a pretty good indicator she killed Zekel,” I say. Why else would she cut and run on us? I mean, her killing Zekel and abandoning us wouldn’t make any strategical sense at all, but how else could you explain the situation?
Valor sighs, leaning back and pinching the bridge of his nose. “If you want to run out into the dark and search for Alcmene, be my guest.” 
Marina’s face twitches for a moment before returning to her worried expression. I frown. Was that…the beginning of a smile?
“But!” Valor holds up a finger. “If you get yourself killed or stuck in some stupid situation, don’t expect us to come and save you. Alcmene is going to return before dawn, so your search is an exercise in futility to begin with.”
Marina doesn’t seem to mind that harsh statement. She only nods and goes to collect her stuff when Valor gives permission. Afterwards the tall boy gathers everyone up and begins to spread the news. I approach Matiss, deep in thought.
“What’s that all about?” He asks, one finger feeling at his bandage. Though he’s been mistrustful of everyone since Zekel died, he clearly doesn’t suspect me. 
I quietly explain, watching the others reaction as Marina slips away into the parking lot with a bulging backpack slung over her shoulder and a weapon in each hand. She walks along the side of the main resort and I follow her with my eyes until she disappears from sight. “So she’s either an idiot or has an ulterior motive,” I say when my explanation comes to an end.
Matiss frowns. “Marina is no idiot.”
“I know. That’s what worries me.” What’s her plan? Marina is too cunning to be rushing out there in search of Alcmene. She must have some other goal. Maybe she doesn’t really believe one of us is the killer and she’s trying to hunt down the real one? But then why would she go by herself? 
Time slips by as I sit in thought. The sky overhead becomes progressively brighter, a lighter shade of grey, as dawn slowly inches closer. Valor paces up and down the length of the cornucopia, hands folded behind his back as he stares out into the parking lot. He seems troubled. Maybe he’s not so confident Alcmene will return after all.
As for the others, Yewan sits beside Opal, talking loudly about how she’s going to investigate the “crime scene” once it becomes light enough to see clearly. It doesn’t seem like she notices the obvious disdain on Opal’s face; sometimes I wonder if Yewan is the only person who doesn’t realize that Opal hates her guts.
“Alcmene is here!” 
Matiss’ shout draws all of our attention and we flock to his side, gathering together on the edge of the cornucopia. There, in the distance and emerging from behind one of the buildings, is the lithe form of Alcmene. 
I note that she’s coming from the direction of Wild West, where Matiss said they encountered Briar and her alliance. It’s also the complete opposite direction of where Marina went. Coincidence? Or some kind of plot between the two? 
Alcmene slows as she draws near. A frown crosses her face. She’s probably wondering why we’re all gathered together to greet her. 
“Where have your been, Alci?” Opal is the first of us to speak. She steps forward, hands splayed to the side as she keeps her voice diplomatic and calm.
“Don’t call me Alci!” Alcmene snaps at the girl before turning her attention to the rest of us. “What’s going on? Why are you all staring at me?”
“Don’t deflect the question!” There’s clear anger in Matiss’ voice. No question who he blames for Zekel’s death. 
“I’m not deflecting anything,” Alcmene sets her spiked club in the ground and crosses her arms. Her eyes flit to Valor, who is standing quietly in the back, before turning back to the rest of us. “Where’s Zekel and Marina?”
“Zekel is dead,” I say before Matiss can snap off another angry question. We need answers here, not accusations. As our leader, Valor should be the one taking charge, but its become evident to me that he wants to stay out of this. Probably worried about appearing biased for Alcmene. An understandable concern. “He was killed last night, during third shift. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
I keep a close watch on her face as she digests this information. Any sign of guilt or worry would be a major red flag. But her only visible reaction is a raise of her eyebrows. “He’s dead? So that’s who the cannon was for.”
Well, she’s certainly not torn up over his death. But that in itself is hardly proof of her guilt. I open my mouth, ready to start another line of questioning, when she cuts me off. 
“How did he die?”
Odd question. “He was stabbed twice,” I say.
She nods, as if that somehow means something. “Well, that solves the matter, doesn’t it? If the weapon was bladed, I had no involvement. Solomon killed my entire family with such a thing, so I have an adversity to touching them. Besides such, my own weapon is a spiked club, so I certainly didn’t kill him.”
“Do you think we’re idiots?” Matiss lunges forward with such ferocity that Alcmene jumps away, hand darting towards her belt. “If you wanted to secretly kill Zekel, of course you wouldn’t use your signature weapon! That would be tantamount to admitting you did it!”
Opal nods along. “Oh, yes. If you were going to quietly pick us off one by one, you definitely would try to hide your identity.”
Alcmene’s face tightens. Clearly she didn’t expect such pushback on that. “What reason would I have to kill Zekel? Why would I want to kill any of you?”
This time it’s the rest of us who fall silent. That’s been the big question plaguing us this entire time. Why would anyone want to betray us this early in the game? And why choose Zekel out of everyone? 
“Perhaps you are assisting your brother?” Opal breaks the silence. “What if you’d been working alongside him this entire time? Maybe the both of you planned the Tragedy together?”
For the first time since I’ve known her, I see true anger in Alcmene’s eyes. A cold, raging fury that seems to stir from deep within her. “How dare you?” She takes a step forward, ignoring Matiss as he tries to wave her back. “How dare you? You haven’t the faintest idea what I’ve been through! What that bastard of my brother did to me! You couldn’t possibly understand! The only reason I am even in these Games is so that I can kill him!”
I exchange an uncomfortable look with Valor. Opal has gone too far. Solomon murdered her entire family in cold blood. To suggest that she had helped him do that…it’s unfathomable. 
“I joined the Careers because it presented the best opportunity to advance in the Games!” Alcmene is still seething, but her voice is low and cold. Quiet. She hasn’t raised it a single time since her arrival. “My only goal is to find an opportunity to reach Solomon. Killing Zekel and upsetting the balance of this alliance would have only harmed that goal.”
A mistake. Alcmene just made a big mistake, and she hasn’t even realized it yet. I can already see the others slowly putting her words together. Even Valor, who up until this point has remained unresponsive, has a frown on his face. If Alcmene only joined the Careers because it helps her reach Solomon then…
“So you have no loyalty to us,” Opal is the first to speak. The girl has a smug smile on her face, almost as if she was looking forward to this. “You’ll abandon us the moment you get a shot at your brother!”
The expression on Alcmene‘s face shows that she finally realized that admittance was a mistake. She’s almost completely botched her defense. But, oddly enough, her terrible explanations make me confident that she didn’t kill Zekel. The real murderer would undoubtedly have spent a good deal of time coming up with an airtight alibi and several reasons why they couldn’t be responsible. In short, they would have made themselves as unnoticeable as possible.
Basically the complete opposite of what Alcmene has done.
“I am not the only person in this alliance with ulterior motives!” Her eyes are chips of ice. She shifts her gaze from Yewan to Opal, staring them down. Yewan flashes a grin. Opal merely narrows her eyes. “So you should be careful of what you accuse me of, lest your tower of cards come crumbling down upon your head.”
I still don’t have any idea who actually killed Zekel, but I am confident it wasn’t Alcmene. If she had killed him, why would she leave the cornucopia and come back? It makes no sense. And I think that the others have begun to feel the same, for everyone remains silent as Alcmene continues to stare them down. 
“Speaking of deflecting questions,” She gives Matiss such a ferocious look that the tall guy averts his eyes, staring at his shoes and mumbling something incoherent. “I noticed that you never fully answered mine. Where is Marina?”
“She went looking for you,” I answer before anyone else can. “Apparently she was real worried about you. Any reason why?”
She raises an eyebrow. “Marina was worried about me? I cannot fathom why that would be the case. We were hardly what you’d call friends.”
“She was the only one who saw the body,” Matiss says. The tall guy doesn’t sound nearly as hostile now. Perhaps he’s also begun to doubt Alcmene was the killer. “Maybe she saw something that made her want to speak with you?”
“What?”
Matiss blinks. “Uh, what?”
I look back and forth between them, searching their confused expressions. “What?”
“What!” Yewan gives off a gleeful shout.
“Can we please stop with the whats!” Valor shoots Yewan a glare and steps forward for the first time since Alcmene arrived. “Alcmene, please explain what it is about Matiss’ statement which has you so confused.”
The blonde girl nods. Her stoic demeanor has returned in full force. “He said that Marina was the only one to see the body. Is that true?”
“Yes. The hovercraft had taken it before the rest of us had time to reach him.”
A wave of cold realization washes over me before Alcmene can even respond. I already know what she’s going to say. It’s so obvious. How did we all miss it?
“So Marina was the only one who saw how he died,” Alcmene lets her gaze pass over each of us. It lingers on Matiss before moving on to Opal. “She could have said anything and none of you would have been able to contradict her. Then, just now, she slips away to go “searching” for me. Doesn’t that strike you as suspicious?”
A long silence falls over us all as her words settle in. Marina told us Zekel had been stabbed from behind, but was that the truth? There are any number of ways he could’ve died. Including…including by her own hand. 
“Marina killed Zekel?” Matiss sounds lost. His rage long forgotten in the revelations that have come to light.
“We don’t know that for sure,” Opal herself, once a fount of smug arrogance, is a little uneasy now. “But I’d say the odds are likely that she did.”
But why? Once again I find myself grappling with that question. What purpose would she have had to murder him? There’s something going on here, some bigger picture that we’re all missing.
I just have no idea what it is.
“She said she’d be back within the hour,” Valor’s voice snaps me back into focus. He’s standing between Alcmene and the rest of us, arms in the air as he speaks. “So we’ll find out our answer then.”
“But what if she doesn’t return?” Opal asks.
Valor lowers his arms, face darkening. “Then we’ll still have our answer.”
There’s nothing left to do but wait. We all return to the cornucopia mouth, settling down on the crates or sitting on our sleeping bags, as we begin the wait for Marina’s return. Unease seeps its way down my spine as I struggle with the sense of deja vu. Didn’t we just go through this same thing with Alcmene? And, at the end of it, we still had no answers.
I have a bad feeling that this time won’t be any different.
Soon enough the sun rises and bathes the arena in a gentle yellow glow. The air is hot, but it’s not a dry heat like yesterday. Instead it’s humid. Thick and muggy. Though there’s not a cloud in the sky, my experience as a sailor back in District 4 lets me know that there’s a storm on the horizon.
The sun slowly rotates overhead as an hour ticks away, then a second one, without any sign of Marina. When we’re halfway towards a third hour, Valor abruptly stands, his face showing all the emotion of a statue. “It has become evident that Marina will not return.”
“Does that mean she killed Zekel?” Matiss asks.
“It doesn’t matter whether she did or didn’t. The fact that she has not returned to us is a clear sign of her betrayal. Marina is no longer apart of our alliance.”
I give a low whistle. Just like that, huh? Well, can’t say I’m surprised by his decision. The lack of cannons has pretty much confirmed Marina’s still alive, and other then for the possibility of her lying wounded somewhere, the only reason left for why she hasn’t come back is betrayal. 
I kinda wish I knew the girl better. Despite being from the same District and attending the same Academy together, I barely know a thing about her. Is she the type of person to murder an ally and then go gallivanting off on her own? I wouldn’t have thought so, but…there’s lots of things I don’t know.
 
Valor waves me over and I approach. “What’s up?”
“I’m going to create a hunting party,” He tells me quietly. His voice is low enough that only the two of us can hear. “I don’t want this situation to negatively effect our gameplan.”
“Okay.” That’s fine by me. All of us sitting around here twiddling our thumbs wouldn’t accomplish much anyway.
“I an going to leave you in charge of defending the cornucopia. It’s getting to the point where the other tributes will begin to run out of the supplies they secured at the bloodbath, and I don’t want any of them getting a free refresher from an unguarded cornucopia.”
“Makes sense.” Controlling the cornucopia is typically a safe route to the finals for the Careers. No point in deviating from that strategy. 
Valor nods, pleased with my approval. “I want you to choose two others to stay with you.”
I turn and look at the others assembled behind us. Matiss is staring dejectedly at his shoes, while Yewan and Opal seem to be in some sort of argument. Alcmene stands off on her own, as usual, watching the rest with that piercing gaze of hers. 
I scratch my head. “Matiss and Yewan will do.”
Valor frowns. “You trust Yewan?”
“Not at all. But I do trust Matiss, and with both of us keeping an eye on her I doubt she will be able to get up to anything nefarious.”
“Smart. Well, that leaves me with Opal and Alcmene. Which is good, because now Alcmene and I can keep an eye on her.”
I find it interesting that he thinks Alcmene is more trustworthy than Opal, but he’s striding off before I can comment on it, bellowing for everyone to gather around. I watch in silence as he explains our plan for the day to the rest. No one objects, but I catch Opal frowning slightly. Wonder why.
Soon enough I find myself standing in the center of the parking lot, watching as Valor leads his group off towards Klondike, the first waterpark we searched. The sun is rising in the sky, a hot orb of heat that does little to dispel the mugginess of the air. Feels a lot like summer in District 4.
“Is Zekel’s murderer gone?” Matiss whispers as he steps up beside me. “Or are they still here, watching and waiting for another opportunity to strike?”
I wish I had an answer to that. I really do.
===Faren Gomery (District 5)===
I sit at one of the many tables set up inside Wild West, staring at the mess of mechanical parts and scraps of metal that lie before me. My mind is abuzz with ideas for new traps. Traps which, hopefully, will finally prove lethal.
Briar and the others are still missing. I thought it was possible they might return once the arena became light again, but it’s been hours since sunrise and there’s been no sign of them. 
Is that my fault? Did someone manage to make it through my traps unscathed and assault my allies? What if Briar was lulled into a false sense of security because of my traps? Was last night’s cannon for one of them? Maybe it was all my fault.
Yet…
A part of me knows that each death is a good thing. It brings me one step closer to winning, and saving Joule. 
Is that true even if the death was one of my allies?
”We probably need to go and search for them,” Damian’s voice carries over from where he is pacing back and forth on the beach of the kiddie pool. “I don’t think they’ll come back here, not after what happened yesterday.”
I wish we even knew what happened yesterday. Kia had gone off to scout the cornucopia, but had she made it back before the others were attacked? Or were they driven off before she arrived? She definitely had to have returned before we did, otherwise we’d have seen her by now. But…
“How we know anything even happened?” Chrome is sitting perched on railing, his boots resting atop the table next to mine. “What if they just left on their own?”
“Why would they do that?” My mind is only halfway on this conversation. I’m still wondering what I could do with these leftover parts. 
“Dunno, man. They your allies, you tell me!”
“They definitely wouldn’t have just abandoned us,” Damian says. He’s still pacing, a sign that he’s not as confident as his voice suggests. “Briar would never have done that. So it stands to reason something drove them away.”
I could set the weight trap back up. It’s a simple mechanism, but is completely deadly if it gets a direct hit. Though it has been bypassed before. How? 
“Whatever you say, man.”
A silence befalls us. I rub a finger along my temple, head beginning to hurt from all this stress. Too many variables. Not enough answers. Where did Briar and the others go? Will they return? What triggered my trap and how did they avoid it? Should I set up a new one? But then I run the risk of my allies getting caught in it. Yet if I don’t and some other tribute comes…
I rub at my nose, which has been red and itchy ever since last night. My eyes water slightly. Another bout of sickness, I suspect. I knew I shouldn’t have touched those doorknobs.
I look up and stare at a beam of sunlight as it shines through a window set high in the wall. Damian walks along its length, hands in his pocket as talks quietly to himself. The sun has returned to the arena, but that makes no difference inside the waterpark. Here the lights remain on twenty-four seven.
”Bro, you sure we can trust ‘em?”
Chrome slides into the chair beside my own, causing me to jump in fright. Embarrassment floods me, which I try to hide my adjusting my glasses. “Oh, uh, yes. I mean, do you not trust Damian?”
Chrome glances over his shoulder at the boy. His wandering is taking him further away from us. “Nah. I ain’t talking about him in particular. I meant the others. You think they’re trustworthy?”
“They would never harm us.” Well, Briar and Talia wouldn’t. I can’t be sure of what goes on inside Aiko’s head, and as for Kia…I fear she is the type of person who’d do anything to win.
”See, I find that hard to believe,” Chrome leans forward, hands cupped together. “Everyone has ta kill everyone else, ya know? When push comes to shove, you better believe they’ll kill you.”
”That doesn’t mean we can’t trust them. After all, you and I are in the same predicament.” I can’t imagine being in a situation where I’d have to kill my allies. I know that, logically, they’ll have to die—and soon—but I don’t want to be the one to end them. 
Yet I know I’d still let them all die if it meant saving Joule.
“True, but we’ve been honest with our intentions,” Chrome continues. “You and me? We’ve never said anything but the truth about how we intend to win. But them? Naw! They all pretend like they’re friends and that they’d never harm one another!”
“I don’t think they will.” 
He snorts, leaning back into his chairs padded cushion. “They will. Trust me. I’ve spent a lifetime dealing with those sorts of people. The type who go on and on about friendship and camaraderie…you wanna know a secret about them?”
I remain quiet, lost in my own thoughts. Yes, if it came down to it, Aiko and Kia would strike me down without a moment’s hesitation. But Briar wouldn’t. She’s just not that kind of person. It would be antithetical to her entire being. Like a goldfish flying, or a pigeon that could burrow underground. 
“When the shit hits the fan, those types are the very first to throw you under the bus!” Chrome must of took my silence as acquiescence, because he continues regardless. “Trust me, buddy. Briar and her pals? They ain’t looking for us. They’ve probably already cut their losses and run.”
“So what do you suggest we do?” I ask quietly. 
He flashes me a smile full of large, white teeth. “We go our own way. You, me, and Damian. The three of us make a promise to reach the final three, then we let the best man win. Sounds good, yeah?”
It is tempting. The thought of having Chrome and Damian at my side, backing me up against any threats. While it is true that Briar and the others provided the same benefit, us being separated has erased that. Trying to find them will be difficult and risky. How do we even know where to look?
But just turning my back on the others, abandoning them to the whims of the arena…it strikes me as the type of thing Rotor would do. Somehow, that thought is what cinches my decision. 
I cannot just give up on them. Not without even trying.
I shake my head. “W-we need to at least make an effort to find Briar!”
The smile slips off Chrome’s face. His eyes narrow. For a moment I fear he is about to argue the decision, but then his anger passes and he’s laughing, slapping a palm against his knee. “Sure, sure. Why not?” He stands up and walks away, chuckling to himself. 
I am relieved. I was afraid that my choice would drive him away. I need Chrome at my side. He’s a strong, dependable ally. I may not know how far I can trust some of the others, but I do know that Chrome is proving himself to be a trusted confidant.
Yet he still has to die for me to save Joule.
I fiercely rub at my nose, wishing this stupid cold would go away. That’s why my eyes are so watery. My cold. Not the guilt which is slowly eating my alive. It’s stupid to feel guilty. I didn’t put anyone here. It’s not my fault when they die. But…I…Joule’s life will be saved at the cost of their own. 
It’s a trade I’m willing to make, but it’s also one that is ripping me apart.
I’m in the process of gathering all my materials and stuffing them back into my bag when Damian returns, Chrome lagging behind him. “You good to go?” He asks.
I shove the last of my things into the bag and struggle to zip the overflowing thing shut. “Y-yeah. But…where will we search first?” Briar and the others could literally be anywhere. It’s hard to make a plan to find them, especially when we don’t even know what drove them off. 
“We’ll begin indoors,” Damian says, tapping the flat end of his machete against the table. “I doubt they would’ve stayed outside in that heat, plus the buildings have light.” 
“Okay. That sounds—"
Crash!
The glass doors behind us shatter as something large and massive slams through them. The metal frames wobble and tip over, grinding against the concrete floor before being crushed underneath a gigantic hooved foot. 
We all scream as Monty Moose turns to face us.
“Friends! Let’s play! Monty is bored!”
“He just doesn’t give up!” Damian staggers backwards, eyes wide as saucers. I pull away from the table, trip over a chair, and hit the ground hard. I let out a hiss of pain as I regain my feet, one hand unconsciously feeling at my skinned knee.
How did he find us? Why is he still following us? I remain still, fear rooting me to the spot, as Monty slowly begins to approach us. He moves at a careful walk, his feet making an odd clopping sound against the ground. 
“”Friends! Let’s play! Let’s play!” His dark, beady eyes are focused on us. A lopsided smile splits his face. 
“I’m getting the hell out of here!” Chrome turns and runs.
That triggers me and Damian to do the same. We sprint away from Monty at an angle, headed for the back door that holds no trap. 
“No! Don’t run, friends! Monty wants to play!”
Chrome easily outpaces the both of us, reaching the doors and slipping outside before I’m even halfway there. My side aches with pain as I sprint, fear making its way down my back. The mutt. Did it…was this the reason Briar and the others ran? 
Damian reaches the doors. He holds them open, waving me on. “Hurry up, Faren!”
I turn off my mind and focus solely on running. Feet pound against the concrete. Breaths slow and measured. Can’t die here. Not before I save Joule!
I blow past the doors and exit into the sunny day. I pause to catch my bearings, blinking in the sudden light. A chain link fence lies to our right, a small parking lot is to our left, and a large outcropping of trees are straight ahead of us. 
“Into the forest!” Damian whips by me, and I turn to follow. Ahead of us I can spot the form of Chrome as he continues to run, disappearing further into the trees. 
That’s how the three of us escape into the forest, leaving Monty far behind.
===Marina Mattel (District 4)===
I walk along the outskirts of the large, brown building, sweat gathering on my forehead as the sun continues to rise into the sky. Noon isn’t far off. 
The Careers are finished. Maybe not in totality, but the groundwork has been laid. I don’t know who killed Zekel or how they got past me, but I have them to thank for opening my eyes to the situation. None of the others were trustworthy enough to stick with. My original plan had been to create a core alliance of people I could rely on, but things have changed. I don’t need their help.
I never did.
The air is thick and humid. ggy. If I wasn’t so used to this weather from living in District 4 I’d find it uncomfortable. The other tributes are probably seeking shelter indoors as of right now; something that may make the next part of my plan difficult.
I need to find another alliance. Preferably a strong one. Despite the fractures that are clearly forming in the Careers, they’re still the deadliest tributes in this arena. If I just leave them alone I run the risk of encountering them at full strength later in the Games. A risk I am not prepared to take.
Currently I find myself on what I suppose is the eastern end of the arena. After leaving the others I struck out along the main resort, following the walls of the building until I reached the other side. There I encountered a smaller parking lot and another building set apart from the resort itself. From what I can tell, it’s some sort of restaurant.
The fact that it offers protection from the sun and has the potential to hold food makes it a prime hiding space for tributes, but I don’t want to risk entering a building yet. The chance of a trap is just too high. Better to stick with the outdoors, where I can see my enemies coming long before they reach me.
I bypass the restaurant, heading towards the shape of a large building to my north. Judging by the form of a giant flume that exits and enters the building in a spiral, it must be one of the arena’s many waterparks. Who are my enemies? I wonder this as I walk. The Careers, for sure. Have they noticed my long absence and decided that I’m never coming back? Will Valor rile up the others and have them hunt me down? That could prove problematic to my current strategy; I’m banking on them forgetting about me and going on with their day. If instead they’re hunting me…
Well, I’ll cross that bridge if I come to it. Right now I have to believe they’re not after me.
A series of buildings appear ahead of me, not too far away from the one that houses the flume. A relatively large pond surrounded by reeds and ferns sits out in front of the buildings. Even from this distance I can hear the buzzing of flies and croaking of frogs. 
“What a miserable place!” I wrinkle my nose at the sight. Who’d want to stick around somewhere like here?
I skirt around the edge of the pond, gaze focused on the nearby buildings. They’re large and made to resemble log cabins, with wide doors and rectangular windows. I can’t quite place my finger on it, but something about these make me think of wealth and luxury. Maybe the richer guests stayed here?
I pause right when I reach the end of the pond. A small campsite is set up near the pond, in a small clearing a little ways from the water itself. The campsite isn’t too unusual a sight—I’ve seen several others on my way through the arena, clearly arranged by the resort staff—but this one is different. Faint smoke rises from the campfire, and coals smolder underneath the blackened form of logs.
Someone has been here. Recently.
The whispering movement of the reeds is the first sign of his presence. I spin on the spot, trident at the ready, as he rises from his hiding place beside the pond and stares me down with cold, gray eyes. The wind flicks at his black coat, sending the edges whipping sideways. 
It’s the Kin-Killer.
Solomon.
I don’t panic. This is exactly what I wanted. Didn’t I just say that I needed to find a strong alliance? You can’t get much stronger than Solomon and his goons. His appearance will play right into my hands.
I just need to decide what angle to take.
“I mean you no harm!” I lift my trident and slam it into the soft dirt, where it sticks upright, and take a step back from it. Despite what it may seem, I am far from unarmed. I still have another trident strapped in the holster on my back and a pair of knives in my belt. I even have a baton squirreled away on my person.
“Where are the other Careers?” Solomon hasn’t so much as twitched since my arrival. His expression has not changed. Though he is seemingly unarmed, you would never be able to tell from his demeanor. In his mind, he holds all the cards.
“I left them,” I say, wondering if I should adopt a weaker tone of voice. I decide against it. Though I think it’d work with most of the other tributes, somehow I feel Solomon would see right through my act. “I am alone, now.”
I know what to say. How to sway him to my side. Solomon only entered the Games to kill his sister. Everyone says so. The Capitol, the other tributes, even Alcmene herself thinks that’s the case. But if that was true, then why do I never see hatred in his eyes? I know what true hatred looks like. What it feels like. I’ve struggled with that feeling every day. Whenever I think of Tristen and how’s he gone unpunished. An all-encompassing rage fills me any time the thought of him crosses my head. 
I’ve seen my eyes in the mirror and saw the hatred reflected. I’ve seen the very same hatred in Alcmene’s eyes whenever she saw or spoke of her brother. I’ve even seen it in Notcher‘s eyes when he looked at the rest of us tributes.
But I’ve never seen it in Solomon’s eyes.
Back in training I caught him watching Alcmene numerous times. But never once did his eyes or expression contain even the hint of hate or anger. There was no malice. Just…a melancholic emptiness. 
What does that mean? I don’t know for sure, but I think it’s a sign Solomon doesn’t hate his sister as much as he pretends to.
And, if that’s true, it’s a weakness I plan to exploit.
“Is that so.” Solomon‘s lower half is obscured amongst the reeds. If he has a weapon, it’ll be hidden there. “And why, exactly, have you forsaken your alliance?”
The tale I tell him starts off true enough, with Zekel being murdered last night and none of us being able to figure out who did it. I even include Alcmene’s late night disappearance and how we all began to suspect each other. It’s only when I get to the crux of my tale do I begin to lie. 
“They eventually decided that Alcmene was responsible,” I say, putting a little bit of emotion into my voice. Going full-on sob story won’t work, but neither will remaining completely stoic. That would just be begging for him to doubt me. “And that they’ll get one last day of use from her before they kill her tonight.”
I’ve been watching his eyes the entire time I was speaking. For most of the tale there was no change, but that last part brought a definite tightening of his eyes. Yes. Solomon isn’t here to kill his sister.
Far from it.
“That doesn’t explain why you’re here,” His voice betrays no emotion. It’s cold and hard, like a rock. 
“Alcmene is the only Career I could trust,” I tell him. “Once she’s dead I’ll have no one.”
He goes silent. Flies buzz at my ears. I resist the urge to swat them away, afraid Solomon will interpret the movement as hostile. Eventually, he shakes his head. “Your leaving could get Alcmene killed,” He says quietly.
Well, that’s not what I expected him to say. “How so?”
“Think about it. Alcmene’s closest ally leaves right before they’re going to kill her? It’ll be suspicious. They might even panic, thinking their plan has been leaked, and kill her immediately. You really didn’t think this through.”
At first I begin to bristle at the insult, but then I realize what this means. He believes me! He actually thinks that Alcmene is in danger! Stage one is a success!
“Then we have no time to waste!” Actually, we have plenty of time. The last thing I’d want is for us to roll up at the cornucopia only to find that they’re all off hunting someone else. “If we don’t act soon, then Alcmene will die! We have to save her!”
“You misunderstood me,” Solomon smiles. It looks…unnatural. Like it doesn’t belong on his face. “I don’t want to save Alcmene, I wish to kill her.”
Was I wrong? Is he really out to murder his own sister? But no, I know what I saw. He was truly alarmed when he learned about the “danger” she was in. But then why…?
“Alcmene needs to die at my hand,” Solomon continues. “I can’t just sit back and let some idiotic clown like Valor kill her!”
His features contort, a ghoulish smile widening across his face. That expression combined with the way the wind blows his jacket, I could easily imagine he is every bit as evil as the rumors say. 
Except that smile doesn’t touch his eyes.
I don’t know how to respond here. I mean, yeah, I’m pretty sure he’s only pretending to hate Alcmene for some reason I can’t explain, but that doesn’t help me figure what to say. I just told him Alcmene was my friend; am I supposed to sit back and let him proclaim he’ll kill her himself? “You…want her dead?”
“Yes. But only I may kill her. The Careers have no right to lay a finger on her.”
Whatever. I won’t feed into his delusional rants. As long as he’s willing to do what I suggest, I don’t care what he says his reasons for helping are. “You’re going to attack the Careers?”
“I can’t let them kill her, now can I?”
He comes striding out from the reeds, finally revealing his lower half. I can spot no sign of any hidden weapons and frown. Surely someone as dangerous as Solomon hasn’t gone two days in the arena without a weapon? I find myself uneasy with this whole situation, but I can't back out now. "What about your allies?" I ask. "Are you going to ask them their opinion?" 
He gives a small smile. "Of course not. The two of them will do anything I say."
I thought as much. Why else align with a deranged psycho if not to follow his lead and hope he doesn't turn on you? Of course, Solomon isn't truly a psycho, but I doubt any of the other tributes have noticed that yet. Solomon points at one of the large cabins that lie behind us. "My lackeys are inside that building. We will speak with them then set out immediately." He's a good actor, I'll give him that much, but he is definitely overdoing it. Lackeys? What kind of megalomaniac actually refers to people like that? 
We begin to approach the building, but then he pulls to a halt, frowning. "I forgot my supplies beside the pond. Wait here, I'll be right back." He turns and makes his way back into the reeds, scuffling along the floor. I frown. Something about this entire situation feels...off. I can't quite place my finger on it, but this is not the way I had imagined this would unfold. 
Movement in one of the villa windows draws my eye. Was that someone peeking through the curtains? If so, it'd have to be either Remus or Teal, his two "lackeys". Neither one yet knows of my and Solomon's deal, so they're probably wondering why—
The shadows at my feet flicker and change. No longer is my shadow by itself. A taller one has appeared behind it, looming over me, a large, long object in hand. 
I throw myself to the side just as it crashes down.
Solomon grunts, pulling the log back to his side. The hunk of wood is big and heavy looking; a blow from that would be more than enough to end me. He holds it up in a defensive position, face contorted into a snarl as he steps forward and swings it again. I sidestep the blow, barely avoiding the strike.
My eyes widen. He is trying to kill me!
"Did you really think the kin-killer needs your help?" Solomon laughs as I dance away from him. "I will stop your pathetic Careers and kill Alcemene, but I will do it alone! I have no need for someone of your ilk!"
Was I wrong? Is Solomon truly the monster everyone says he is? I can't believe it. I know what I saw in his eyes when I spoke of his sister. No matter what he says, I know that he does not mean to kill her. Of course, that hardly matters when he's currently trying to kill me. 
Change of plans. If this moron thinks he can kill me with just a log, then he wouldn't have been any use against Valor and the others anyway. No point trying to bend him to my side. I may as well just end him here and now. I adjust my grip on the trident and thrust it straight for his neck. 
Solomon alters his swing mid-stride and puts his log between himself and the trident. My arm trembles from the impact as the tines of my trident slam into the solid wood of the log, sticking in place. Solomon grins. "Not so clever now, are you?" He twists his shoulders and pivots, sending his log flying and yanking the trident out of my hands. Both weapons go rolling towards the pond.
He's so strong! I take an involuntary step backwards, fear and awe alike growing inside me. Did he really just disarm me with nothing more than a log?
Unfortunately for him I have backup weapons.
I put one hand on the trident strapped to my back, ready to draw it and end Solomon’s miserable life, when the door to one of the villas kicks open.
“Solomon!” Two people come rushing out, faces matching masks of concern. I recognize them immediately. Remus and Teal. His “lackeys”.
I swear and back off, one hand still on the trident. Three against one is not a fight I’m willing to take. I give Solomon one last look. “You’ll never save your sister without my help!”
“We’ll see.”
I turn and run. Footsteps pound behind me as Solomon’s allies reach him, but I don’t look back until I’m halfway down the small side road which leads around the waterpark. When I do, I see that none of the three are making any effort to chase me. 
I swear again. Stupid ignorant fool! How does he expect to save his sister without my help? Not that Alcmene is actually in any danger, but…
I shake my head and return to running, following the road as it crosses over a long, wooden bridge. This did not go how I planned. 
===Remus Ring (The Capitol)===
Teal and I sprint towards Solomon. The dark-haired girl, the one from District 4, goes rushing away, displeasure clearly etched on her face. But where are the others?
I slide to a halt beside Solomon, body swiveling to try and look every direction at once. “Where are they?” I demand, hands clenched around my staff. If the entire Career pack has come after us…How will we survive? “How many are here?”
Solomon doesn’t answer. He’s staring after the girl, face blank and expressionless. What happened? Is he injured? I see no visible wounds, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t been hurt in some aspect. 
“Solomon!”
Teal’s shout is what draws him out of his stupor. He turns his startled eyes on me. “Hmm? What are you—Oh!” He shakes his head and laughs. “Oh, no. The other Careers aren’t here.”
He explains Marina’s arrival and her assertion that she abandoned the Careers because they are imminently going to turn on Alcmene. My face darkens as I listen. The situation seems too…convenient. Marina happens to find Solomon right as his sister is in jeopardy? I find it hard to believe. This smells like a Career trap. 
“And you believed her?” I ask him when he’s finished.
Solomon nods. “I do, yes.” He frowns as he spots something lying beside the pond. A hefty log with a trident embedded in its side. “I’ve long suspected Valor would do something to try and draw me out, and threatening to kill Alcmene is definitely an easy way to do so.”
Valor made no secret of his dislike of Solomon. In training he was constantly needling and insulting him, making veiled allusions to how he’ll die inside the arena. I don’t think it’s too hard to believe Solomon’s claim. “So you think Marina is working for him?” Teal asks.
He shakes his head. “No. I believe Marina was genuine in her attempt to get my help—she truly wishes to save her friend. But I am certain that her arrival here was all according to Valor’s plan. He wanted her to warn me.”
Plots within plots. The arena is beginning to feel like a game between the Great Families. “So Alcmene actually is in danger?”
Solomon doesn’t respond immediately. He walks over to the trident stuck in the log, casually grabbing its haft as he places one foot upon the log itself. “Yes. Valor may very well kill her.” He leans back and pulls. The trident comes free with a loud crack of the wood. 
“If Marina was being honest, then why didn’t we accept her help?” Teal asks with a frown.
 
“I can’t trust her. Think about it, would you feel safe with her beside you?”
I cannot speak for Teal, but I certainly wouldn’t. None of the Careers are tributes I’d willingly associate with. It’s not that they’re necessarily bad people—just that they’ve all been trained to win the Games.
By any means necessary.
“So then we need to save—I mean, we’d need to kill—” I stumble over my words, suddenly reminded of Solomon’s act. He’s pretending that he hates his sister, so what am I supposed to say here?
“You can’t kill her if Valor does,” Luckily Teal has kept up with the charade better than I have.
Solomon nods. “Correct. We’ll need to find a way to stop the Careers—and soon. Marina said they’ll kill her tonight.”
That does not give us much time. From my estimates of the sun’s position—which, as someone who’s rarely spent time outdoors, I fully admit may be inaccurate—I’d fathom we only have around twelve hours before midnight. Maybe less. 
“At least we all have weapons now!” Teal says with a wave of her hand. The metal blades of her knife glove glisten in the sun. She received the weapon from a sponsor early this morning. It’s not exactly something I’d recommend to use against the Careers—it feels a little too short-ranged and impractical for most combat situations—but it will most definitely prove useful as a self-defense weapon.
”Yes. Marina has indeed helped us,” Solomon spins the trident with a deft hand, planting it tip first into the grass. Even if I hadn’t already known of his skill with the weapon, the way he holds it would have let me known I was gazing upon an expert. “Though perhaps not in the way she intended.”
I still am uneasy around Solomon. He isn’t the monster people say he is, but he’s still a murderer. I will never understand his actions, but I fully sympathize with his desire to reconcile with Alcmene. Yet…
I glance at Teal. Her dark eyes sparkle with excitement as she gazes upon him. She is fully committed to helping him in all his endeavors, seemingly unaware of everything that could go awry. If Solomon truly intends to take on the Careers, then our lives will be in serious danger. 
“We’ll need a plan,” I say. “The Careers will not go down easily.” Yes, I killed Atticus at the bloodbath, but that fight took everything I had. Not to mention it was one-on-one. If we struck at the full pack they’d swarm us. Their numbers more than double our own. 
Solomon nods. Say what you will about him, but he is a very intelligent individual. “Yes. I’ve been thinking about that. I believe—”
A howl rips through the air.
I spin on the spot, staff whirling into a defensive position. Beside me Solomon and Teal do the same. That sound. It can only be—
A pack of large, muscled animals come striding out from behind the villas. They slink low to the ground as they walk, their dark fur bristling. My mouth goes dry as I watch them.
Wolves.
“There’s too many to fight,” Teal whispers. She sounds terrified. Her eyes are wide as she takes a single step backwards. “We have to run!”
“Wait.” I grab her wrist to hold her in place. I know from my studies that predators instinctively chase after prey which runs. “Don’t do anything rash!”
There’s five wolves. I count them as they prowl forward, gazes fixed firmly on us. One of them opens its mouth and snarls, spittle flying forward. Teal’s right. We can’t fight this many. Even if all three of us immediately struck one down, the others would be upon us.
“Solomon,” I remember something he said on our first night in the arena. “Can’t you do something? You have experience with mutts, right?”
“I do, yes, but…” He shakes his head. “All my knowledge is of aquatic mutts. I know very little about the terrestrial variety.”
That is not what I wanted to hear. I was banking on Solomon’s affinity with mutts to remedy this situation. Because as things stand right now…
I’d rather fight the entire Career pack then these mutts. All of my combat training has been geared towards human opponents, people who are either using weapons or fighting barehanded. But this? These mutts? I don’t have the first thought of what I should do against them. 
“We need to run!” Teal is shaking. Her entire body literally trembles with fear. “W-we can’t win! We need to r-run!”
Yes, but where? The wolves are between us and the villas, and the only other building is the one twenty yards behind us. Judging by the giant flume which extends out from it, I believe it to be a waterpark. A lone door is set in the shadow of said flume. Potential safety?
The wolves shouldn’t be able to follow us inside, but…would we make it to the door before they caught us?
I glance at Teal. She’s still shaking, tears having begun to stream down her face. She is truly terrified of these mutts. Oddly, I find myself rather detached from everything. I feel no fear and very little worry. Almost as if I’m watching everything play out from afar.
“I’ll draw them away.”
“What?” Solomon‘s proclamation brings a jolt of emotion into my being. The solemn man is staring out at the wolves, gray eyes expressionless. 
“I am going to run away, and hopefully draw them to me. If not, then I’ll try to distract them long enough for you two to escape.”
He’s going to use himself as bait? So that we can escape? My mind blanks at the thought. I’ve always thought of myself as the type of person who’d do anything to protect those that I care about, but not once did the idea of using myself as bait cross my mind. 
Yet the fact that it crossed Solomon‘s mind, a man I’ve denigrated and judged…
A wave of shame passes over me. Yes, I truly am my Father’s son.
“Let me do it,” I say quietly. I can’t let him sacrifice himself for me. I just can’t.
“No. I know what I’m doing—you don’t.” Solomon steps sideways, and immediately the wolves all turn to watch him. I don’t protest. And the fact that Teal doesn’t either is a testament to the fear that she must be feeling.
Solomon turns his head to give us a nod. “Run for that door the moment they come after me.”
Then he’s off, sprinting towards the pond. He skirts around its edge, putting it between himself and the wolves, who have already taken off in pursuit of him. All three of them lope at a frighteningly quick pace, rapidly closing the distance—
Three?
Three!
My eyes widen in fear as I spot the two wolves which have remained behind. Watching me and Teal. The fear that has long eluded me suddenly comes upon me in full force.
“No!” 
Teal lets out a scream and turns to run. The wolves bound forward the moment she does, and I have no choice but to do the same. I sprint at full speed, focused firmly on the door beneath the flume, when I realize that I’ve already outpaced Teal. The girl is lagging behind me, her gait awkwardly unbalanced. Almost as if she has a—
I curse my stupidity and double back. I forgot about her injured leg!
I pull to a halt in front of her. “Climb on my back!”
”But—”
“No time to argue!” I can hear the wolves howls. Their frantic snarls. How fast can they run? Undoubtedly faster than me. 
Teal clambers onto my back, hands clasping around my neck, and I loop my staff underneath her, using it and my arms to support her weight. Then I take off running.
I am athletic. Someone who has spent many hours honing their body and testing their endurance. So even with Teal upon my back, I run at a frantic pace. As sweat streams down my head, I make a silent vow that, if I make it out of the arena, I will personally thank everyone who has ever helped me train.
Then I’m at the door. I don’t slow down as I approach and run headlong into it, hoping that it opens inwards. 
It does. I blast it open and emerge into a brightly lit waterpark. The overbearing scent of chlorine hits me as I turn and slam the door shut. A moment later it shudders from the impact of the first wolf.
“Th-that was close!” Teal slides off my back, hobbling over to a nearby stool and dropping down onto it. 
I don’t respond. The portion of the waterpark we find ourselves in is a maintenance area of sorts. Flat tubes lie in a pile, shelves containing rows of cleaning supplies line the walls, and a series of boxes rest in the corner. I grab one of these boxes and drag it over to the door as it gives off another shake.
How long will those wolves attack? I stick the box underneath the door and grab another one, stacking it atop the first. Will they be able to break in? I wouldn’t think so, but…
“We should move on,” I say, backing off from the door. Sweat builds on my forehead and I wipe it away with my sleeve, breath coming in panting bursts. That run…it was harder than I’d thought. “I don’t want to risk them breaking through.”
The door has stopped shaking, but that is no guarantee the wolves are gone. They may just be trying a different strategy.
“What about Solomon?” Teal rises to her feet with a grimace. “We can’t just leave him!”
“He knows what he’s doing.” I certainly hope so, at least. There has been no cannon, so he’s not dead yet. “Let’s try to find a window, maybe we’ll be able to spot him.”
Teal agrees, so the two of us make our way further into the park. The maintenance area is tucked away underneath the slide tower, in a little fenced off area next to the slides runoff. The park itself is tropical themed. We discover this as we drift between the orange chairs and oval tables. 
Artificial plants grow in planters strategically placed around the park. I don’t recognize many of the types—foliage was never a focal point of my studies—but I know a theme when I see one. Palm trees stand tall around the wave pool, where the water currently sits placid and still. A bar surrounded by tiki torches sits in the far end of the park, just before a series of glass doors which look out into another, outdoor park.
“Did people actually come here?” Teal sounds amazed as she takes in the sights. 
“Yes.” I came here myself. I still remember swimming in that wave pool. When I look at the eatery, I can taste the blue raspberry icy I had afterwards. Life was so simple back then. The pressure to excel was still there, of course, but it wasn’t so…all-encompassing. 
Not like the past few years. 
There are no windows which look in the direction I’d like. The only ones present—excluding the glass ceiling—are a series of wide windows on the opposite end of the wave pool. These look in the direction Marina fled, which would be helpful had we been searching for her instead of Solomon.
“We should ascend the slide tower,” I tell Teal. I believe there was a large window halfway up the staircase. When I was a child, I can remember gazing out it as I waited in line. In fact, wasn’t there a pond I liked to stare at? Maybe it’s the same pond where we had our campsite?
Yes. As I gaze up at the tower and note the direction it is facing—the very same as the door we just came through—I realize that it has to be the same pond. 
I approach the large cement staircase, Teal close behind me. My misgivings over Solomon’s character have abated. Perhaps not totally—I am unsure if that will ever be possible—but enough so that I must search for him. He risked himself so that we may escape. That is not a trifling thing to do.
I reach for the handrail, eager to be on my—
Something draws my attention. A glimmer of movement in the shadows to my left. I throw myself backwards, narrowly avoiding the knife which comes spiraling towards me. Teal screams in shock as a figure emerges from the shadow.
A tribute? Clad entirely in black, there is little to identity them with. They wear black pants, black shirt, a black balaclava pulled over their head, obscuring their features, and a pair of wide goggles cover their eyes.
I stumble away from the figure, staff already snapping forward into a defensive position. That is not our arena wear. Who is this, and how did they get this outfit? Is it a mutt? 
The figure steps forward, walking in a tight semi-circle around us, careful to keep out of my range. No. This is not a mutt. There has been humanoid mutts in the Games before, but the way this person moves, their mannerisms…it’s definitely a human.
The person steps back, then suddenly splays their hand forward. Two knives make an appearance, flying straight at me. I slap the first away with my staff, but am forced to sidestep the second. Yet in those few seconds the attacker closes the distance. They dart at me, outstretched hand thrusting a small, thin sword for my throat.
Instincts alone save me. I weave to the side, arms bringing my staff back just in time to deflect the stab. Then, while the attacker is reeling, I swing again.
My staff connects with their shin and they back off without a single elicitation of pain. I frown. That blow was certainly hard enough to draw a reaction. How…
I stare at their clothes as they resume their circling. It’s bulkier then I first thought, with aberrations to its form. Not a single smooth outfit…I curse as I realize what I should have noticed immediately.
That outfit is armoured! 
“Remus!” Teal’s voice sounds distant. I’m focused solely on the fight. Adrenaline rushing through me as my mind works overtime to figure this out. Is the armor padded, or is it of the tougher variety? Could it hold up to a thrust? What about a blow to the face? “Remus, look out!”
I step out of the way as a small object flies from underneath the person’s wrist, missing me by a foot. That was…I’ve seen its like before. One of my Father’s bodyguards has it. A wrist mounted dart gun. How did they…?
I stare at them in amazement. “Who the hell are you?”
Their only response is wind back their arm and throw a knife. But not at me. To the side of me.
At Teal!
I lunge to the side and swing my staff, adjusting my grip so that I have a longer reach. Even with that added reach, I just barely make it. The tip of my staff connects with the end of the knife, diverting its path just enough so that it skitters into the ground at Teal’s feet instead of taking her in the heart.
I sense movement behind me. Without even seeing it, I know that it will be our attacker. They threw that knife to distract me, to make me lower my guard, knowing that I’d have to put myself out of position to save Teal. 
I won’t have time to defend myself. Already I’ve begun the process of turning, but I’ll be too slow. Will probably take a knife to the shoulder. That’s fine. I don’t regret it. I need to protect Teal. It’s an almost pathological urge. Protect her. At all costs. 
Half-turned, I see the figure lunging forward, rapier thrust outward. I was wrong. They’re not attacking with a knife. I won’t get stabbed in the shoulder.
They’re going for a killing blow!
“Remus!”
Teal steps between us, swinging her right hand and intercepting the sword. There’s a clash of steel as the knives on her glove crash into the blade, knocking it aside and disrupting the attackers rhythm.
I take this opportunity to strike. 
My staff connects with their chest. A dull thump as my attack hits the hidden armor. The person pivots, letting their body move with the momentum and twisting away, out of my range. Teal darts forward but I reach out and grasp her by the shoulder, hauling her back. “Stay behind me!”
“Like hell I will!” I ignore her vitriol, keeping my eyes on black-clad figure. Who are they? Only now do I notice they’re small, lithe. Almost half a foot shorter than I am. Despite the concealing garments, something about them is decidingly feminine. 
“Teal, please. I can’t fight and defend you at the same time!”
“I can’t just sit back and watch you fight!” 
I grit my teeth. Of course. Teal has never been one to sit idily by while there was something to be done. But this opponent is above her skill level. Perhaps equal with mine. I have all the innate physical advantages, yet I am still struggling. They’re too quick. Too coordinated. 
And all that equipment…
They strike. One moment they are standing still, the next a rapier is thrusting at my face. I move to intercept the blow right as I recognize it as a feint. There’s no time to adjust my trajectory as my staff moves to block an attack that will never come. 
There’s pain in my shoulder as the knife hidden in their left hand slashes through my flesh. 
I hiss in annoyance, recoiling from the attack, and resetting my stance. Whoever this assailant is, they’re not unbeatable. There’s a hole in their attack. One I will exploit. Right when—
Teal steps up, hand outstretched as she stabs with her glove. My eyes widen. Mouth opens to shout a warning. Our attacker, the mystery assassin, sees the movement and twists out of the way. Teal stumbles forward and then the assassin is behind her. I see only the flash of steel before they drive the blade into Teal’s neck.
No!
I bellow wordlessly, staff already swung. The assassin only has time to let go of the knife before my staff slams into the side of their head.
They fall to the ground and roll, coming to a halt at the foot of the nearby staircase. Everything falls silent, save for the rushing of the water slide and the mangled gasping of Teal.
Teal…
She drops to her knees, eyes wide as she grasps at the knife lodged in her neck, blood gushing over her fingers as they feel at the wound. No. No, no, no! This can’t be happening! I was supposed to protect her! 
A hacking cough draws my eyes back to our assailant. They’ve pushed themselves to their hands and knees and have pulled the balaclava down from their face as they cough, spitting out blood and something white—teeth.
“You’re a bit stronger than I anticipated,” The coughing pauses as they rise. My heart skips a beat. That voice…
“Mercia…?” 
My fellow citizen of the Capitol rises to her feet, one hand ruefully rubbing at her mouth. Through the flow of blood, I can see that some of her teeth have indeed been knocked loose. 
“Why…” How is this possible? I’ve seen Mercia in training, spent several days in the apartments with her, and never once did I get the slightest hint that she was so skilled. “How did…why would…”
I’m going into shock. Everything is automatic. My emotions deadened. Teal is still gasping for life, and my heart is screaming for me to go to her, to do something, anything, to help her. But I can’t. I know that Mercia will attack the moment I make any effort to assist. 
Mercia rubs a thumb in the gap of her teeth and grimaces. “You’re dead,” She says softly.
Making threats? Now? When Teal lies dying at my side? My body trembles with despair. Protect. I was meant to protect. But now… 
“You can’t kill me.” My voice is leaden. Devoid of emotion. 
Mercia loops her foot under the handle of her rapier and kicks it into the air. “I already have,” She says, catching the sword with one hand. “The knife I struck you with was poisoned. You have less than twenty-four hours to live. Goodbye.”
She throws something onto the floor. 
There’s an explosion of light and I cry out in shock, stepping back as thick smoke begins to billow forth. I spin in place, coughing as I try to see through the smoke. Where is she? She could come from any angle and I wouldn’t be able to see. Eyes watering, I begin to lash wildly out with my staff, anger finally getting the best of me. I failed. I failed! I was meant to protect! Who have I protected? 
Who?
Eventually the smokes fades. I find myself swinging at empty air, tears streaming down my face. Mercia is gone. 
For a moment I just stand there, arms going slack. Then I hear Teal’s rasping and I rush to her side.
She’s lying on the ground, staring up at the ceiling with one hand clasped around the hilt of the knife. A single glance at her is enough for me to know that she is beyond my capacity to save. Beyond anyone’s.
“Teal, I’m here!” I take her free hand and hold it. Clasp her fingers with mine. Blood drips from between our hands. 
Her eyes swivel to find mine. So dark and serious. She was the little sister I never had. Odd, how that thought comes to me now. 
“Tell…” Her lips move, somehow forcing words out from that ruined throat. “Family…that I’m…”
The light in her eyes go out. Her grip slackens. Her last words go unfinished. Teal has left this world behind.
A small noise escapes my lips. So this is the price of failure. I wasn’t strong enough. Not fast enough. Nowhere near smart enough. Father was right all along. I’m just not good enough. 
I refused Maximo’s offer for an alliance because I didn’t want to protect too many people. Well, turns out I couldn’t protect anyone at all. I should have just let him join. Maybe he’d have done a better job protecting Teal than I did.
I force myself to stand, fighting back the tears that threaten to erupt, and look to the ceiling. There’ll be a camera somewhere up there. “She was sorry,” I keep my voice as level as I can muster, letting her family hear the words she couldn’t finish. “Teal was sorry. For everything.”
Boom!
Her cannon punctuates my words. I sink to my knees. There’s surprisingly little blood around Teal’s corpse. Just a small puddle beside her head. She looks so small. So fragile. I suppose she was, in the end. My fault. I should have been able to stop Mercia. 
Thinking of the girl brings her words to mind. I run a hand over my wounded shoulder, feeling at the thin line of already dried blood. Was she…telling the truth? Have I been poisoned? I don’t feel any different, but then, should I? 
I force myself to a standing position. I cannot just sit here. Though Teal’s death covers me like a heavy blanket, I know I can’t remain stationary. These Games are still ongoing. I need…what do I need?
I need to find Solomon.
===Mako Melanesia (District 4)===
I sit in silence as Yewan shuffles through the crates around me, periodically chucking something over her shoulder as she finds it to be useless. I don’t understand what she’s doing. I asked, of course, but she just told me that she was “looking for clues” and continued with her search.
The only other Career present, Matiss, meanders in a circle around the cornucopia. He seems to have wholeheartedly bought into the theory that Marina killed Zekel. I understand his position. Context clues and logic indicate that Marina being the assassin is a high probability. I don’t blame him for believing that.
But what do I believe? 
Marina being the killer seems too simple. Not to mention a little confusing. Why would she have killed Zekel then brazenly left a few hours later? Was she worried we’d figure out it was her? But if that was the case, then why bother sticking around to begin with? Wouldn’t it have been better to leave immediately after killing him?
And why Zekel of all people? You’d think that if you were willing to blow up your position in the Games to take out a Career, you’d want to kill someone a little more threatening, like Valor or myself. Going after Zekel…
It just doesn’t add up.
“Aha!” 
Yewan lets out a whoop of excitement from somewhere behind me. She probably found some kind of board game again. Wonder why the Gamemakers supplied so many of those. 
“What’d you find?” Matiss rushes over, looking eager. That guy has been entirely too interested in Yewan and her “investigation”.
“What did I find, you ask?” Yewan drags the proceedings out as I stand and stretch, lazily making my way towards the two of them. It’s still early afternoon; I doubt the others will be back for several more hours. “What I found is perhaps the most important item to this investigation!”
“And what would that be?” I ask, crossing my arms. 
She holds up a knife. “The murder weapon!”
I frown at the small weapon. As far as I can tell, it’s just an ordinary single edged knife. There has to be dozens of those lying around the cornucopia. “And you know this…how?”
“See the tip?” She runs a finger along the blades spine, pausing it on the end. “Notice how it’s chipped off? Wanna know how it happened?”
I see where she’s going with this. So does Matiss. “You think the tip broke when Zekel was stabbed?” He asks.
“Exactamungo!” Yewan gives a flourishing bow. “Yes, I believe that the murderer used this knife to kill Zekel, then cleaned it and tossed it back in the pile of weapons!”
Matiss scratches his head. “Why would they do that?”
“Because they didn’t want to use their own knife, of course!” 
I remain silent, pondering her words. Her theory isn’t as far-fetched as I first thought. If you wanted to secretly kill one of us, it would make sense to use a weapon that wasn’t connected to yourself. “That means one of us is the killer,” I say quietly.
No non-Career would have bothered trying to hide their weapon, nor would they have risked trying to hide it among our supplies.
 
Yewan grins, wagging her eyebrows at me. “Indeed it does. But the question remains; which one of us is the murderer?”
“It’s Marina, isn’t it?” Matiss looks back and forth between the two of us. “I mean, why would anyone else have killed him?”
I have no response. Why would Marina even kill him, let alone someone else? I ask Yewan to hand me the knife, and I examine it closer when she does. True to her word, the weapon bears the telltale sign of a knife that has taken damage while in the act of stabbing. 
“My investigation isn’t complete yet,” Yewan continues to speak, drawing Matiss’ full attention. “But I am beginning to get a clearer picture. I don’t think this was a spur of the moment killing. Whoever the murderer was, they have a long term goal—”
Ping!
We all fall silent. That sound…
“Did something hit one of the cars?” I ask, turning to gaze into the parking lot. A a sea of cars stare back at me. Nothing is amiss. At least, nothing I can see. “That noise was definitely something hitting a car.”
“I didn’t see anything,” Matiss steps forward and follows my lead, staring out into the parking lot. With his height, he’d have a better chance of seeing something. “Maybe it was just—”
Ping!
There it goes again! I whirl around, confident that the sound came from behind us. “This isn’t normal.”
”Aha!” Yewan races to the other side of the cornucopia, Matiss lumbering after her. “The plot thickens! This is most definitely a clue!”
“Be careful!” I keep my weapons close as try to keep up with the two of them. They pause on the backside of the cornucopia, staring out into the section of the parking lot which borders the Wild West region. “We don’t know what—”
Ping!
The sound reverberates throughout the parking lot. It’s hard to pinpoint the source, but I think I manage. It came from behind us. I grit my teeth. How is that possible?
“Marina may not have left,” Matiss speaks slowly, as if piecing a puzzle together. “She could have hidden in the parking lot, then waited for the others to leave. She might still be here.”
That’s not a bad theory. Of course, it wouldn’t explain why she’s making so much noise, or how she’s in two different sections of the parking lot at the same time.
“Imma going to investigate!” Yewan grabs her halberd and rushes off towards the nearest car, cackling like a madwoman. I shout for her to stop, but she doesn’t so much as glance backwards. 
I curse. “What is she thinking?”
“I should go with her,” Matiss says, giving me a sidelong look. Guess he thinks I’ll try and stop him. I won’t. It’d be pointless at this juncture. 
I sigh. “Go ahead. Make sure she doesn’t do anything else dumb, yeah?”
He gives a curt nod before breaking into a jog and slipping into that maze of cars. While Yewan sometimes disappears from sight behind them, Matiss never does. He’s tall enough that his head is always visible.
I stifle a yawn and start walking, trying to keep my head clear. I’ve been awake for far too long today. Haven’t slept a wink since Zekel’s death. None of us have. Wonder how Yewan has so much energy.
I make a lap around the cornucopia, checking to make sure everything is still in place, then return to watching Matiss and Yewan. For some idiotic reason the two of them are on separate ends of the parking lot. 
“What are you two doing?” I mutter to myself as I watch them. Undoubtedly Yewan thought splitting up would make her “investigation” go smoother. 
I am in the process of turning away to check the supplies for something other than water to drink when Matiss gives a shout. I turn back just in time to see his massive frame dropping to the ground, disappearing from sight. 
“No! Not you!” His cry of panic clips off. I curse, already running, when Yewan gives her own shout of alarm.
She’s at the far end of the parking lot, body thrashing around as a girl with long, dark braids slashes at her with a sword. I recognize the girl. Kia.
A trap! Briar and her alliance have set a trap!
Yewan and Matiss are both under attack. I don’t have time to reach both, and every second I spend delaying is one second closer to both their deaths. 
I sprint towards Matiss.
I slide over the hood of a car, then vault onto the bed of a pickup truck, using that to springboard myself to the next vehicle. I stick the landing then hop back onto the ground, casting my head around in search of my friend.
Where was he? What row did he disappear in? I weave between the cars, adrenaline giving me frantic speed, when I hear him give another shout. There!
I slide over a small red sports car and find myself in the thick of it.
Matiss lies on the ground, torso propped up against a nearby car as he swings his scythe, keeping the little girl from District 8 at bay. His legs are splayed out before him. One of them has been torn open with a nasty gash which looks awful even from this distance. 
“Help, Mako!” Matiss’ swings for the girl, but she merely steps back out of his range. His swings aren’t as fast or strong when he can’t use his lower half for leverage. “She hamstrung me from beneath a car!”
I turn to the little girl, trident poised and at the ready. Her dark hair is a tied back in two ponytails, her luminous eyes wide as she watches me. A kid. She’s just a kid.
A kid who helped kill Lilith, and is trying to kill Matiss. 
I aim my thrust for her skull.
Aiko jumps backwards, landing atop a nearby car and laughing as she pulls two small, silvery objects from her pocket. “Oh! You’re much faster than the others!”
I throw my trident and it slams into the windshield of the car as she throws herself off it, adroitly landing between two others. And near Matiss.
Matiss swings his scythe, the very tip of the blade slicing across her shoulder. She stumbles back, eyes widening, as she turns to stare at him. “Uh-oh! I forgot all about you!”
Matiss uses the end of his scythe as a cane, pulling himself to his feet. Even stooped like he is, he still towers over the girl. “I won”t let you kill another one of my allies! Not again!”
Unbeknownst to either one of them, I’ve slipped around and recollected my trident. I have a spear at the ready, but I’m more confident with my main weapon.
Aiko frowns. “I don’t wanna play with you anymore, you’re already broken!”
I start forward, trident aimed for the square of her back, when Aiko suddenly ducks and rolls backwards, slipping between my legs. I stumble and turn, swinging my trident, but she steps to the side and throws one of her shurikens.
The silvery star zips through the air and takes Matiss in the face. He staggers backwards, scythe slipping from his grip, when a second shuriken strikes him just above the eye.
Matiss falls. His head smacks against the side of the a car as he drops to the cold, hard concrete. He doesn’t move. Not so much as twitch. Which can only mean…
Boom!
I spin around and face Aiko. The little girl is winding up her arm for another throw when I reach out and punch her in the chest.
There’s a sharp hiss of breath as she falls backwards, rolling to the ground, one hand clutching at her chest while the other holds a small black box close to her head.
“Dammit!” I let out a roar of anger. First Zekel, now Matiss! How could I have let this happen? 
Aiko is on her hands and knees, coughing weakly. I stalk forward and kick her straight in the ribs. She literally flies through the air, landing flat on her back several feet away. Her eyes stare blankly into the sky, wheezing breaths the only thing letting me know she’s still alive.
Well, that won’t be for long.
I feel no sympathy for her as grab my trident and move in to finish the job. I don’t care that she’s just a child. The goal of this game is to kill, and so far she’s been playing it splendidly. 
Aiko’s hand twitches, pulling the black object closer to her. Oddly, she speaks into it. “Kia, hurry up…”
I frown. Isn’t that a radio…?
Footsteps pound behind me. I spin on the spot, trident flashing out in an arc, and Kia shrieks in surprise as the blunt edge of my trident smashes across her face.
The girl hits the ground hard, but bounces back to her feet immediately, sword flashing out in front of her. I back off, warily eyeing Aiko as she slowly climbs to her feet, disoriented and winded, but still very much an active combatant.
Where’s Yewan? Kia had been engaged with her, but now the girl is nowhere to be seen. Is she dead? I only heard one cannon, but what if it was for her instead of Matiss?
No. Matiss lies motionless on the ground, blood trickling down his forehead and over his vacant, glassy eyes. Matiss is gone, so Yewan must still be alive.
For now.
I go on the attack. Slashing and stabbing my trident at Kia. The girl ducks and weaves, dodging most of my blows but occasionally deflecting one with her sword. She steps back, panting heavily. “Aiko, run!”
“I can’t leave you!” The little girl has picked herself back up and is watching from a safe distance away. 
“Don’t worry about me!” Kia sidesteps my attack and swings her sword for my head. I parry it with relative ease. “I’ll follow after you!”
Is this some kind of trick? Is Aiko going to pretend to leave, then double back to take me from behind? Well, I can’t let that happen!
I change course and head for Aiko. Her already wide eyes widen even further as she spots me barreling towards her. I thrust my trident out, prongs aimed for her heart.
Then Kia is there, slapping it away. “I told to run!”
I parry a blow from Kia, watching as Aiko nods and slips away between the cars. I don’t trust that she’s actually gone. “Don’t you care she killed your District partner?” I ask as our battle circles around the corpse of Matiss.
“No. I barely knew him. And why should I?” She barely manages to block my attack, grunting with the effort. “Do you care about the kids you murdered?”
I think about the guy I killed at the bloodbath, the District 9 male. To be honest I can’t even remember his name. Maybe it was Hank or something. I know he had a sister, the pretty one who sucked at everything. Wonder how she’s still alive.
I slap her sword away and step forward, one hand shooting out and punching Kia in the face. “Nope. My dream is more important for that!”
Kia falls to one knee, lip busted open and blood spilling out. Her dark eyes burn with an angry hatred as she stares at me. I don’t understand why. She’s the one who killed my allies, shouldn’t I be the angry one? 
But instead of answering, Kia turns and darts underneath a car, scampering on all fours. No! I won’t let her escape! Not after everything she’s done! 
I leap over the car, landing on the opposite end just as Kia emerges from underneath it. She growls wordlessly and tries to slip under another one, but I’m quicker. I drop my trident, grabbing her right foot with both my hands, and pull her back out.
Kia snarls at me, aiming a kick with her left foot. I take the hit to my shoulder then throw myself onto her, hands clasping around her throat. Kia doesn’t try to break my grip. Instead, she reaches into her belt and pulls out a knife. I curse and throw myself away from her just as she slashes out. 
Kia scampers to her feet and, instead of pressing the attack, turns and runs. She weave between the cars, moving at a quick, lithe pace. I calmly pick up my spear and find the tallest car, a nearby truck, and climb to the top of it. From this vantage point I can see Kia sprinting through through parking lot, heading for the Wild West region. Then I let my spear fly.
I’ve spent years practicing to hit a moving target. So, as the weapon sails in the air, I don’t worry that I’ll miss. I’ve put in too many long hours for that.
Kia is about to reach the last car in line when the spear slams into her lower back.
I feel no sense of accomplishment as I watch her tumble to the ground. No enjoyment. Killing the other tributes is just a necessary action, nothing more. They’re all just roadblocks in the path to my dream.
I hop off the truck and carefully make my way towards her prone body, aware that’s Aiko or her other allies could still be lurking nearby. Just because I haven’t seen them yet doesn’t mean they’re not here. 
Boom!
A cannon sounds as I approach the body. Kia lies on her side, as if she was attempting to roll over. Blood pools underneath her, stemming from the spear which has pierced straight through her. She looks completely dead, but I nudge her with my trident, just to be safe.
She doesn’t move.
I pull my spear free with a wet squelching. Kia doesn’t so much as react, which is a pretty good indication that she’s as dead as a doornail. But still, something about her body catches my eye. The small black object which rests in her right hand. A radio?
I pry it free from her grip and click the talk button. “Hello? Can anyone hear me?”
I’m not expecting a response, so I’m surprised when the radio crackles to life. “What did you do to Kia?” I recognize that small, light voice as belonging to Aiko. 
“I killed her.” No point in lying. 
“Oh.”
That’s all. The radio falls silent. I linger in place for a moment, wondering if she’ll respond further, when I spot movement in the corner of my eye. I spin on the spot, bloody spear twirling in my hands, and find myself confronting Yewan as she walks out from the maze of cars.
“Looks like you got her!” Yewan lets out a cackling laugh as she comes to a halt, halberd resting in the crook of her arm. She doesn’t look so good. A large, bloody cut stretches from beneath her right eye down to her jawline, and one of her hands is completely wrapped in gauze.
“What happened to that?” I ask, sitting down on a nearby curb. Adrenaline has worn off and fatigue finally washes over me. 
“What, this?” Yewan waves her bandaged hand as, behind her, I spot the first appearance of the hovercraft come to claim Matiss’ body. “Nothing much. Kia just sliced my pinkie off.”
“What.” I’m too tired to be shocked by anything.
Yewan laughs again and crouches down beside Kia’s body, poking at it with her uninjured hand. “Yeah, her sword was flying for my face and I didn’t have time to get my weapon in the way, so I slapped at it with my hand.”
“Ouch.” Can’t imagine that felt good. 
“Yup! It was pretty painful!” She rises back to her feet and glances back at me. She raises an eyebrow. “What’s got you so morose?”
“Matiss is dead, and the girl who killed him got away.” I feel like that should explain why I’m not sunshine and rainbows right now. 
The smile finally slips off her face. “I saw. Matiss…he was a good guy. Had the makings to be an excellent investigative assistant.”
“Yewan, how can you be so cheerful all the time?” I think of myself as a pretty happy-go-lucky guy, but even I can only handle so much stuff before my optimism fades.
“I don’t know how to be anything else,” She says quietly.
Fair enough. I let us fall into silence as a dark shadow covers us. The hovercraft come to claim Kia. I watch the claw descend, wondering if she and her allies were behind Zekel’s death, or if it really was one of us Careers.
Maybe I’ll never know.
===Notcher Stott (District 8)===
Through the security camera I watch as the hovercraft picks up Kia’s body and ascends back into the sky. 
“Another tribute dead,” I mutter to myself and lean back in my chair. After yesterday went by without a single death, today has seen a flurry of them. Still, it’s not enough. Not for my liking. 
Other then for a brief run to snatch a few cases of soda, I haven’t left the security station since my first day in the arena. And why should I? I have everything I need here—shelter, safety, and most importantly, knowledge.
It is thanks to these cameras that I know the identity of every tribute who has died today. I watched as Mercia—though I had no idea it was Mercia until she unmasked herself—attacked two thirds of the Trio and killed Teal. I witnessed Aiko and Kia’s attack on the cornucopia and the deaths it caused. I even know from watching the Careers and their strange behavior this morning that Zekel was slain sometime in the night. 
I would know exactly how he died if I hadn’t been asleep when it happened!
As Mako and Yewan return to the cornucopia, I flick through the cameras, searching out the other tributes. I am careful to keep one of the three screens focused on the hallway leading to the security room—whether in the arena or elsewhere, I will not allow myself to be caught unaware. Not ever again.
I find the other Careers first. Valor is leading them along a maintenance road that runs parallel to the canyon which separates the southern half of the resort from the northern end. Not much is happening with them, but it’s interesting to note that this is the furthest they’ve strayed from the cornucopia all Games. 
I continue searching.
Briar and Talia are moving between the halls on the second floor of the main resort, seemingly on path towards Wild West, where Aiko is currently sitting atop the mezzanine, staring over the railing. I grimace at the sight of her. I knew she was stronger than she appeared to be, but I hadn’t expected her to slay a Career! If I encounter her in the arena, I will ensure I kill her before she even knows I’m there.
I flick between a few more cameras.
Solomon makes his way through the main lobby, black jacket billowing behind him as he goes. I don’t know why, but I swear he seems upset. Meanwhile, his lone remaining ally Remus wanders through Klondike with a dazed expression on his face. Doesn’t look like he’s taking Teal’s death well. 
Fool! What did he expect would happen in the arena? That him and all his friends would survive?
I continue cycling through.
Mercia is sitting atop the launch tower of one the slides, not doing much of anything. I still don’t know where she got all those supplies from, or why she she’s so skilled. I had written her off as a weakling in training, but evidently I was wrong. 
The last tribute I spot is Marina. She’s outdoors in a giant waterpark that rests in the northernmost section of the resort. She walks among the pools, muttering to herself, and occasionally kicking a nearby object. I wish I knew why she was no longer with the Careers, but that kind of information isn’t something the cameras can provide.
As I return to the cornucopia, I do a quick tally in my head. Only six tributes are unaccounted for. I’m not too concerned about Faren, Damian, and Chrome—I saw that horrendous mutt chase them into the forest, so it’s not too hard to imagine they’re still there. But what about Maximo, Killen, and Discordia?
I don’t think I’ve seen any of those three my entire time watching cameras. Wherever they’ve been all Games, it’s not somewhere visible. Maybe they’ve been cooped upside a hotel room, or possibly they’re hanging out in the forest. Maximo and Killen are probably still together, but I haven’t the faintest idea where Discordia could be. 
I lean back in my chair and stare at the ceiling, eyes throbbing from all these hours watching screens. I wish I could keep track of that stupid moose mutt, but every time I try to follow it with the cameras, the damn things begin to go staticky or simply shut off. Then, by the time I get them working again, the moose has completely disappeared. 
I don’t know where it goes or how, but the mutt is just seemingly gone. No matter how many cameras I flick through or how hard I search, it cannot be found. I’m sure it’s all some Gamemaker ploy, but it still infuriates me to no end! How can I keep myself safe if I don’t know where it is?
My stomach rumbles and derails my train of thought.
I am aware that I eventually need to find a source of food. The only thing I’ve eaten since coming into the arena was some pastries I took from the Jurassic Java Shop, and I've run out of those. I’ve gone longer than this without food before, of course, but the arena is no place to be starving. If I am too weak to fight back when the other tributes finally find me…
I need food. Now.
I go through the cameras again, double checking all the tributes locations. Marina is the closest to me, but she is outside and unlikely to come wandering over here. None of the others are in any position to reach me, disregarding the three missing tributes. 
So I can afford to make a supply run.
I stand up and check my needles, ensuring they are in place. I’ve done a supply run before. Yesterday I darted out into the hallway and snagged two cases of soda, bringing them into the security room with me. But I didn’t find any food, so this time I will have to venture out further. 
I passed a break room on my way here. I know I saw a few vending machines inside. I need only get there, grab some grub, then rush back. Simple. I’ve done hundreds of thieving jobs just like this one. How hard could this be?
I check the cameras one last time, then collect an empty bag from beneath the counter. I don't know why these bags exist, maybe security put lost and found in them or something, but I don't really care. Slinging the bag over my shoulder, I slip out the door, careful to close it behind me, and set off down the hall. 
I move at a quick but unhurried pace. Rushing leads to mistakes, and a mistake is something I can ill afford right now. The first room to appear to my side is a laundry room. Though I doubt there will be any food inside, I take peek anyway. A bunch of loud machines are set against the far wall, surrounded by blue bins full of towels and bed sheets. A few cabinets dot the corner of the room, but I continue on without checking them. Why would someone put food in one of those? It wouldn't make any sense, even for the Gamemakers. 
After the laundry room is when the hallway gets clogged full with cases of beer and soda. This is where I ventured out to yesterday. I checked to see if there was any food stored here as well, but there wasn't anything except case after case of beverages. So this time I go past the crates, retracing my path from the first day in the arena. Soon enough, the break room I remember seeing appears on my right hand see. I stop before the door, gazing into the room.
The lights are off, leaving the room almost completely dark, but the vending machines resting in the back of the room glow with a faint light of their own. Even from here I can see the illuminated shapes of candy bars and bags of chips. My stomach rumbles again. I need that food. Yet...Why are the lights off? I only vaguely remember the room from before, but I could have sworn that it wasn't so dark. 
I stand motionless in the doorway, just staring into the room. I am aware that I'm wasting time. That every second spent here is one more second Marina could use to close the distance and catch me unaware, but I can't force myself into action. Something about this entire situation just feels...wrong. 
Skittering motion from inside the room draws my attention. I step back, drawing one of my needles, and crouch beside the door. What was that? It looked pale and bony, almost human but not quite—I curse as I realize what I saw. 
A mutt!
One of those stupid pale things that slither around in the darkened maintenance halls! I've seen them enough time on the cameras to know what they look like. I thought that I'd be safe from them if I stayed out of their way, but evidently that will not be the case. These mutts are not content to remain idle in one place. 
What now? I can't just give up and go back—my food shortage is a problem that needs to be solved sooner rather than later. But fighting a mutt is a bad idea. A very, very bad idea. My plan is to make it to the end of these Games without ever getting in a physical altercation, so tangling with one of those things would be the absolute worst idea possible. 
I rub my maimed hand ruefully. There has to be something about this that I can use to my advantage. Something I can do which would...the lights!
Without stopping to think how risky an idea this is, I take a quick step into the room and press a hand against the wall, fingers desperately searching for a switch of some sort. The moment my foot crosses the threshold a loud hissing noises emanates from the darkness and a small scratching sound, like fingernails on a chalkboard, picks up. It doesn't take a genius to to realize that the mutt has noticed me. But I am unworried. Because, not more than two seconds later, my fingers brush against the goal of my search.
A switch.
I flick it up and the overhead lights suddenly turn on. The room is full of tables, some small and oval, others long and wide. A bank of lockers fill up the left side of the room, and a kitchenette full of paraphernalia like sinks and even a refrigerator rest on the opposite end. But none of that is what really catches my eye. No, that is the mutt as it comes to a screeching halt in the center of the room.
The pale humanoid creature lets out a shriek of pain, tiny blisters bubbling on its skin. I stand in place, transfixed, as the creature rolls around on the floor, hissing and growling as its long, slender arms thrash about wildly. Then, without warning, the mutt seemingly overcomes the pain and pushes itself to its feet. 
Its dark and beady eyes flicker towards me, but then, before I can even so much as raise my needle, it turns and launches itself into the air, landing upon the wall. Somehow the creatures uses its long arms to crawl along the wall without falling, much like a spider, and it rushes towards a nearby vent. The mutt sticks its fingers into the grate covering and rips it off the wall, sending the heavy metal crashing to the the ground. Then, contorting its body in ways I never thought possible, the creature stuffs itself into the vent and disappears from sight. 
I stand in silence, staring at the grate as it slides along the floor, slowly coming to a halt. That is not what I expected to happen, but it has supplied me with decent information. Light apparently hurts those mutts, so I should be fine as long as I remain out of the dark.
I approach the vending machines, confident that the light will keep the mutts away, and tap on the glass separating me from the food inside. Unfortunately, it feels rather sturdy. Hardly glass at all. Probably some type of reinforced plastic or tempered glass. My illicit activities back in District 8 have given me some knowledge of these types of things, and reinforced plastic is a lot harder to break than simple glass. 
I pound a fist on it, to no avail. I never stopped to consider how I'd get the food out. There was a Cash Office somewhere in this hall, but taking the time to go grab money and feed it into the machine would take too long. Besides such, who knows if it would even work? Better to explore all of my other options first.
I pick up a nearby chair by its feet, grimacing at the awkwardness of trying to hold it with one maimed hand. I hate reminders of that accident. Always makes my skin crawl. Trying to ignore that feeling, I lift the chair and slam it against the vending machine. It bounces off with a reverberating thunk, and comes loose from my grip. I watch it skitter across the linoleum floor and swear. That didn't work. 
But what else can I try? I glance at the vent to see if the mutt has decided to make a reappearance. It hasn't. That settled, I cast my gaze around the room in search of another answer. How can I break through?
My eyes settle on a small red toolbox as it sits on a counter in the kitchenette. I walk over and flip the lid open, revealing its contents. A wrench, a pair of screwdrivers, and a hammer all rest inside. I grab the hammer without hesitation. I know a thing or two about breaking glass and the like; a hammer is the best possible tool I could have found. Returning to the vending machine, I run a hand along the length of the glass, pausing on the top corner. A solid strike here should do the trick. I raise the hammer and swing. 
It caves inward with a crash, exposing the top corner. I immediately swing again, this time aiming at the left hand corner. It takes a total of four swings, each to a different corner of the glass, before the pane collapses. The moment its out of the way, I go to work. I grab everything I can and begin shoving it into my bag, filling the thing to the brim. I don't care what kind of food I take; food is food, and the only thing that matters to me is if it fills my stomach. 
Once the bag is full I swing it back over my shoulder and head for the door. Mission accomplished. Time to head back and check the cameras to see if any of the tributes have—
The light shuts off.
I am dropped into darkness. I pause, hand tightening around my hammer, as I hear the telltale skittering of nails against the floor. The mutts! Have they returned so quickly? I scarcely breathe. Heart is pounding in my ears. This is bad. But I can't panic. Panic is the catalyst from which all mistakes are born. I need to stay focused!
A soft hiss emanates from somewhere to my left. Yes. That mutt has returned. What was it doing? Just sitting and waiting for the right moment to come back? Damn animal! I bet the Gamemakers purposely engineered this very situation! Why else would the lights randomly turn off? 
I break into motion. Rush for the doorway. Faint yellow light peers out from the crack between it and the floor. The mutts hate light, so they won't chase me once I'm out. Unless the Gamemakers intervene again. 
I hear the mutt's approach. It's frantic movement, snarled hiss, and scratching claws. I pull to a stop and spin, hammer swinging out with the full force of my momentum. There's a shuddering impact as the hammer comes into contact with something. My arm goes numb. Unseen liquid spatters against my face. But I don't stop to revel in my success, feet already back on the path to the doorway. 
But I only get a few steps before a weight lands on my back, driving me to the floor. 
My head bounces off the linoleum. Teeth chatter from the impact. Somehow I've kept ahold of the my hammer, but the weight atop me makes it impossible for me to use it. I hiss in pain as something sharp digs into my shoulder, tearing at the flesh. There was a second mutt! Either that, or my strike didn't kill the first one. No matter. I refuse to die here!
I thrash about wildly, kicking out my legs and swinging my arms. I don't hit anything, but my movement must dislodge the mutt, for the weight slips off my back. The moment it does, I roll over, hammer flashing out in all directions. I think I see the pale form of a mutt right before my hammer collides with it.
Then I'm back on my feet, sprinting for the doorway as fast as humanly possible. Snarls from behind let me know that the mutt isn't dead. Skittering nails tell me that it's in pursuit. The door is fast approaching. I lower my head and throw my full body against it.
The door slams open and I fall to the floor, sliding along it until I hit the far wall. I scramble to my feet, not surprised to find that my hammer is coated with a thin layer of blood, and gaze into the blackness of the break room. A lithe white form stares back at me. The mutt.
The stupid thing lost! I laugh to myself and back away, careful not to turn my back on the creature. It's small, round head follows me as I go. Dark beady eyes stare unblinkingly. What the hell is it? Some kind of pygmy? Or maybe a goblin? I swear that the urchins back home tell scary stories about creatures just like this one.
When I get far enough away from the door, I turn and sprint back to the security station, bag full of food bouncing against my shoulder. I'm glad I didn't lose it. That would have made everything I did completely pointless. 
The moment I reach the station I slam the door shut and prop a chair underneath the knob before turning to the cameras, doing a quick search for all the other tributes. Marina is still in that waterpark—Lost World, its apparently named—sitting inside the shade of a cabana. None of the others have gotten closer to me, in fact, the Careers have begun to move in the opposite direction. 
I allow myself a small sigh of relief. Somehow, despite that damn mutt mishap, everything still worked out for me. I rifle through my bag of food and grab a bag of chips, ripping it open as I lean back in my chair. Now all I have to do is sit back and wait for the rest of those idiots to finish killing each other.
===Briar Destry (District 10)===
I lead Talia through the hallways of the resort, a dark sense of unease pressing down on my despite my best efforts to keep it away. Who were those cannons for? Have some of my friends died?
I cannot help but feel guilty. I’ve spent all day attempting to find any trace of them to no avail. To be fair, I didn’t really expect to find any of them hanging around the laundry room where Talia and I spent the night, but the fact that so many cannons have sounded…
“Do you really think they returned to the waterpark?” Talia keeps her voice quiet as we walk. The hallways are completely silent. Almost eerily so. 
“They should’ve. Where else would they have gone?” Damian took the others off on a trip to find Chrome, so it’d only make sense that they returned to Wild West. Of course, that’s assuming they actually managed to find Chrome. Or that they weren’t waylaid on their way back. Or that, when they did return, our absence didn’t cause a panic and cause them to flee. Or if—
What am I doing? Thinking about all these worse case scenarios isn’t helping anyone! 
I shake my head in an effort clear it of negative thoughts. The others are fine. They’re probably waiting for us back at the park, wondering why we’re taking so long. Except…
What about Aiko? She was with us when the Careers attacked, and is unlikely to return on her own. What is she doing now? How will we find her? Was one of those cannons for her?
The hallway begins to adopt a familiar form as a doorway pops into sight at the far end. Loud, boisterous music blares from a large room to our right. An arcade. The very same one we bypassed during our first day in the arena. 
Talia pauses, staring into the arcade with a pained look. “You don’t think…they didn’t hide in there, did they?” 
“Probably not.” Though I could easily imagine Aiko being drawn to the place, I know that Damian and the others are too wary to surround themselves with all that noise and distractions. 
We continue onwards, exiting out the far door and emerging into the small parking strip which separates our building from Wild West. The air is humid, thick with the promise of a storm. One glance to the sky is enough to cement my assumptions. Dark clouds gather on the horizon, far enough away for us to be safe, but close enough that the chance of it missing us is almost impossible. 
“The Gamemakers are going to make it rain,” Talia comments. Of course. I’d completely forgotten that the Gamemakers control everything here, even the weather. 
“It won’t hit us until later tonight,” I tell her, hoping that my experience with the weather back in District 10 doesn’t fail me now. “Those clouds are hours away.”
Talia nods, accepting my words, and the two of us scuttle across to the side doors. But when we draw near, any hope and optimism I might have had is ripped away. 
The door lies flat on the ground. The metal frames are twisted and bent at impossible angles, the ground littered with shattered glass. I gape at the sight. How could this be possible? 
"Did the Careers do this?" Talia cautiously steps over the glass, peering down at the twisted metal. 
"No." This is far beyond the means of any tribute, even the Careers. But that would mean... "A mutt had to have done it, or some kind of Gamemaker trap."
An icy wave of despair washes over me. There has been four cannons, one late last night and three this afternoon...What if Aiko was caught and killed by the Careers last night? And then Faren and the others returned here, expecting to find us, but instead were attacked and killed by...something. What if all four cannons were for our allies? That would mean...
That would mean all my friends are dead.
I drift into the park, mindlessly following Talia as she pokes around among the rubble. I knew we should never have separated! Our entire strength lied in us being together! The moment we split up we just became easy targets, ripe for the plucking. How could I have let that happen?
"Briar?"
I look up. Talia is staring at the mezzanine which hangs above us. It hurts to look at that. Just yesterday we were all together and making plans to win these Games. And now..."What is it, Talia?"
"I think I saw someone up there!"
I immediately draw my knife and step in front of Talia. I won't let anyone harm her! "Where? On the mezzanine?"
"Yeah. It looked like—"
"Briar? Talia?"
A small head pokes over the railing and I let out a yelp of surprise. 
Aiko!
In a flash I am rushing up the steps and racing across the mezzanine, wrapping Aiko in a hug the moment I reach her. She's alive! I haven't lost all my friends! I'm not a failure as a leader! 
Aiko squirms in my grip. "Briar, you're hurting me!"
"Oh, sorry." I let her go and step back, wiping away the tears which have begun to slide down my cheeks. "I'm just so happy to see you're alive!"
"Do you know where the others are?" Talia has joined us, arms wrapped around herself as she takes a seat at the very same table we used to plan out yesterdays events. "We've looked everywhere, but we couldn't find a trace!"
Aiko looks at her feet and I feel my heart drop. Only now do I see the pain and hurt in her eyes. The sorrow which drips from her very being. "Don't say it!" I find myself shaking my head, vision blurry with tears. 
"I don't know where the boys are," Aiko's voice is soft. She still hasn't looked up. "But Kia is...she was...Kia is dead."
I listen to the full story with a heavy heart, tears already run dry. Kia is dead. Killed by the hands of the Careers during an attack on the cornucopia. Why? Why did she feel the need to take such a risk? It's not until when Aiko explains how she told her to run and save herself do I understand. Kia was trying to weaken the Careers for our sake. She wanted to make our own paths to victory easier. Everything she did, every risk she took, was designed with her allies in mind.
“We have to survive,” I find myself talking aloud, holding hands with Aiko. “We have to make sure her dream is carried out.” Except everyone can’t survive. Even in the best case scenario only one of us can live.
“Briar, I found something!”
At Talia’s call Aiko and I both hurry to her side at the table. She’s leaned over it, examining the surface with a wide smile on her face. “It’s a message!” She looks up as we approach. “From Damian!”
Words have been carved into the table. From what I can tell, it seems like someone took a knife or another bladed weapon and just went to work. I read them.
Briar. F and I have found C. We came back here but U were gone. If U C this, don’t panic, we are searching the nearby buildings for U.
I stare at the words with a rising sense of optimism. Damian and Faren aren’t dead! Things haven’t completely fallen apart! I can’t resist the smile that forms on my face. 
“That doesn’t explain what happened to the door,” Talia says quietly. 
Huh. She’s right. If this message is accurate, than Damian and Faren returned here without much fuss, and they didn’t comment on the broken doorway, implying…what? That it happened after they left?
“They could’ve been attacked after writing the message,” Aiko says, cradling an item close to her chest. The radio. I was disappointed to learn that the other had fallen into the Careers hands, making it useless to us. What would be the purpose of communicating with them? “That could explain why they didn’t mention it.”
That’s true. Suddenly my worry is back like a weight on my chest. Faren and Damian could still have been killed afterwards. 
“So what now?” Talia asks the question that is on all our minds. “Do we stay here and wait for them to come back?”
I cross over to the railing and peer down at the leftover debris that was once a door. Who or what did that? Did Damian and Faren see it? If so…I can’t imagine them willingly returning here. 
“No,” I shake my head and return to the others. “We can’t stay here. This place has been compromised, both by the Careers and whatever did that to the door. I don’t think it’s safe to remain here.”
“Won’t Faren and Damian come back?”
”I doubt they will.” I have to face the truth, no matter how painful. “They probably returned last night, which means they’d have had hours to search the nearby buildings. If they haven’t returned by now…it means they’re not going to.” Whether because they’re dead or some other reason, it doesn’t change the fact that waiting for them is a fools errand. 
This decided, we do a quick search of the park, just in case there’s more messages or anything else left to find. The only thing that sticks out is that one of the back doors, the very same one Talia and I fled the Careers through, has been destroyed just like the side doors. 
“Someone was definitely being chased,” I say when we find it. It’s a struggle to keep my voice steady. The more information we discover, the more I begin to fear the worst. I’ve already lost Kia. How could I bear to lose even more? 
We cross over the threshold and into the open air. The gentle splashing of the outdoor park tinkles from over the chain link fence. A stiff breeze has begun to blow, the first real source of wind I’ve seen in the arena. Broken glass cracks underneath our feet. 
“What now?” Talia asks quietly. I wonder what is going through her head. Everything has fallen apart around us. Has she begun to doubt my leadership? I wouldn’t blame her. 
“I want to kill the Careers,” Aiko says.
I stare at her in amazement. She was always a little…too eager for violence, but that bloodthirsty proclamation was a step above her usual tendencies. “Kia wouldn’t want us to throw our lives away.”
Aiko frowns, fiddling with her knife. “It wouldn’t be throwing anything away. I can kill them. I know I can.”
More bloodshed. The mere thought of it makes my stomach queasy. I know the Careers killed Kia, but…I still don’t want to see them murdered. 
“We’re not going to pick a fight,” I tell her. “If they attack us, then yes, we’ll defend ourselves and kill them. But we’re not going to hunt them down. Understand?”
Talia nods slowly. She, at least, seems to agree with me. But Aiko shakes her head, twin ponytails bouncing. “Mako is too strong. If he attacks us head on, he’ll win. He’s not like the others. He’s…Briar, all of us, Faren and Damian included, could fight him at once and we’d still lose.”
I know that. I’ve known the truth since training. None of us can stand up to the Careers in a real fight. That’s why I had us all band together. “If he’s so strong, then why do you want to fight him?”
”I’d kill him from behind. Like with Matiss. Only, I wouldn’t be playing this time, so he’d die faster.”
Oh, how those words are like a knife to my chest. What was Aiko’s life like back in District 8, for her to be so calm about death and killing? 
“Aiko, that’s just the sorrow speaking. You’re not in a right state of mind. We can’t—we won’t fight the Careers. It’s suicidal.” Didn’t she and Kia prove as much today? They had all the advantages and still lost. They killed Matiss, yes, but he wasn’t even really a Career, just a recruit. 
Aiko goes silent. She stares at her shoes, playing with her knife. I hope she understands that I’m just trying to protect her. That’s all I’ve wanted this entire time. To protect my friends. 
“So what are we going to do?” Talia interrupts my thoughts. 
I straighten my shoulders and stare out into the forest across from us. I can tell from the trampled grass and disturbed undergrowth that something has been through here recently. Hopefully Damian and Faren. “We’re going to head into the woods and seek shelter. The buildings have been good to us, but I’m a country girl. Nature will provide everything we need.” And hopefully the other tributes will stick to the purported safety of the buildings, leaving us alone. 
So that is how the three of us make our way into the woods, a grim cloud of despair hanging over our heads, an almost exact match to the dark clouds which gather on the horizon. Kia may be dead, but I will protect the others. 
I must.
===Killen Timmerhout (District 7)===
I sit in a wicker chair beside the fireplace, watching the cuckoo clock placed over the mantelpiece. Time slowly slips away. An afternoon which has brought us a series of cannons fades into evening, the prospect of another night in the arena looming ahead.
Today has been exactly what I hoped it would be; peaceful and quiet. We’ve stuck to our cabin and the small picnic area around it, searching for useful supplies but not venturing too far away. We didn’t want to risk taking any unnecessary fights.
I lean back against the chairs cushion and sigh, relaxing my grip on the axe in hand. Last night was stressful beyond belief. We kept the cabins lights on throughout the night, a deterrence in the event the mutts showed up. I cautioned against this approach, thinking that it may draw the attention of any passing tributes, but Discordia and Maximo were both far more concerned about the “Crawlers” as Maximo christened them. 
“Don’t forget about the Careers,” I’d reminded them.
”How could I ever forget them?” Discordia said bitterly. “They killed my brother!”
I still feel awful just thinking about that conversation. How could I have been so dumb as to throw that horrid memory back in her face? Of course she hasn’t forgotten the Careers. 
I watch her now, as she sits on the long couch set in the center of the cabin, a pillow propped underneath her chin as she listens to Maximo tell yet another of his silly ghost stories.
She’s everything Narcissa wasn’t. Quiet. Introverted. Kind. Rarely does she disagree with either one of us, typically keeping her opinion to herself. I can’t imagine her ever trying to exert control over anyone. 
“—and that’s how I finally found proof that the Ghost of the Greenway existed!” Maximo finishes his story with a triumphant grin. 
Discordia coos softly, hugging her pillow even tighter. I’d have thought that Maximo and his ghost hunting would have frightened her, but its been the total opposite. Discordia has, for some reason, been completely enthralled with tales of his exploits. 
“I knew it!” She giggles, jumping up and down. “I knew ghosts existed! I told Harmon so many times, but he always had a rebuttal ready!”
“There’s many people who simply refuse to see the truth,” Maximo says with a nod and glance towards me. I frown. Is he still upset that I don’t believe in spirits? 
“My family barn is haunted,” Discordia continues. “I even saw the ghost myself, but Harmon said it was just a trick of the light. I told him he was right, but I didn’t really believe him.”
Somehow their conversation turns towards the prospect of ghost animals, and I can’t help but chuckle. Maximo notices and raises an eyebrow at me. “Got something to say, Kil?”
”Not much,” I answer truthfully. “But I must say that the idea of a “ghost cow” is truly one that boggles my mind. Whatever would inspire a cow to start haunting a place?”
”That’s what the Paranormal Action Squad is trying to find out,” Maximo says with a completely straight face. Across him, Discordia nods. 
“Sure, okay, but if ghost cows exist, then do ghost fish? What about ghost ants? Is any limits to what can become a ghost?”
“I once saw a ghost dog,” Discordia says. 
I open my mouth to respond, but something catches my eye. Tucked away on the top of a large wardrobe set in the corner of the cabin, I spot a small gray box. How did we miss that? We’d pretty throughly searched this cabin and all the nearby ones, pocketing any useful items we found.
Not that there were many of those. We found a flashlight—which Discordia carries at all times—some packets of food, a handful of medicinal supplies which Maximo used to treat his leg, and a splitting maul. This last object currently rests at the floor at Max’s feet, the large wooden head leaning against the coffee table. 
“What’s up there?” I point out the box, interrupting Discordia’s tale of her ghost dog.
Maximo swivels in place, craning his neck to try and spot it. “Dunno. Let’s find out!” He stands up, his injured leg hardly noticeable, and approaches the wardrobe. It’s tall enough that he has to use a chair to reach the top.
As he takes the box and sets it atop the coffee table, I find myself hoping it contains a weapon of some sort. Though we found plenty of food inside the cabins, the only weapon was the maul that Maximo discovered outside next to a pile of split wood. That will definitely prove useful, but if we want to seriously challenge the Careers—or any other alliance—we’ll need better gear.
Maximo flips the lid open.
Discordia gasps.
Inside, nestled upon a small cushion, lies a bright red handgun. 
“Dude, seriously?” Maximo snatches it up and begins to swing the thing around, looking at it from every angle. I surreptitiously try to avoid the end of the barrel as he rotated it. “No way did they give us a gun!”
“It’s a flare gun,” I tell him. I’ve seen the like before. Back in District 7 loggers used them all the time. “And stop waving it around like that! You’re going to get someone killed!”
He waggles his eyebrows at me. “I know what I’m doing, Kil!” Still, I breathe easier once he sets the gun back into the box. 
“We can take the Careers now!” Discordia is breathless with excitement. She stands, towering over the two of us, and claps her hands excitedly. “If they come for us we can just shoot them!”
“It only has one shot,” I hate to be the one that destroys her joy, but it’s better than letting her have false hope. “And a flare gun is an unconventional weapon to begin with.” 
She goes silent, crestfallen. But then she looks back up. “It’ll help against the Crawlers, won’t it?”
That’s…actually true. Flares produce both heat and light, which will undoubtedly be enough to keep the Crawlers at bay. Maximo decides that he will keep ahold of the flare gun, which is slightly worrisome to me, but I can’t exactly make a convincing argument against his case. I have two throwing axes as weapons, but his only one is a heavy maul, which is basically just a blunt axe.
So I just smile and tell him to be careful with it, then go to the sink and get myself a glass of water. Maximo immediately launches into another one of his tales.
I watch Discordia as I sip my water. The way her eyes light up when she listens to Maximo. The excitement she shows when he reaches the climax of his tale. I’m not jealous, per se, but the way she dotes on him and his stories…
Why don’t I interest her as much?
“Look! Up ahead!”
I frown at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. I glance at my allies, but neither one seems to have noticed. Setting my glass down, I cross over to one of the cabin‘s two windows and peer out.
The late afternoon sun streams through the forest trees, illuminating the ground dappled with fallen leaves. The area around the cabin itself is mostly clear, with some lawn furniture and a grill set up. A small shed hangs at the edge of the yard, nestled among the trees which grow there. I don’t see anything unusual, but I know I heard something. 
“Guys, I think someone is outside!”
Both of them fall silent. Discordia retreats to the far wall, eyes wide as she shakily draws her knife. Maximo approaches the opposite window, keeping low so that no one can see him from outside. “You sure?”
“I haven’t seen anyone, but I thought I heard talking.” The windows only give us a view of the sides. What if they are behind us? Or worse; what if they are approaching the front door? I exchange a look with Maximo, then we both turn towards the door. 
"We should probably block that off," He says quietly. 
"Yeah, good idea."
Maximo, still keeping low, begins to make his way across the room. But he only gets halfway to the front door before it suddenly swings open and three boys walk into the cabin. "I don't think the moose will find us—" They're in the middle of a conversation, but it comes to a screeching halt the second they see us. For a long moment none of us react. They're evidently as shocked to see us as we are to see them. 
I recognize two of them as the male members of Briar's alliance, but the third is the tall, dark-skinned boy from District 11. Chrome, I think his name was. What is he doing with those two? The silence continues to stretch on, none of us moving a muscle as we stare at the others like they're strange cats. Maybe this doesn't need to end in violence. Maybe I can find a way to end this amicably. Surely they don't want—
Discordia screams and all hell breaks loose.
Chrome is the first to react. He lunges across the room, driving his shoulder into Discordia and slamming her against the wall. Her head smacks hard into the wooden plaster and she drops to the ground, unconscious. Maximo darts forward and lands a sucker punch on the face of the bespectacled boy from District 5, then steps away as Damian swings a machete for his head.
No! This has gone all wrong! Panicked, I lift my axe and throw it straight for Damian. He dives to the ground, narrowly avoiding taking the axe to his head as it slams into the wall behind with enough force to rattle the windowpanes, and crawls behind an armchair. I hover in place, torn between pressing the attack or helping one of my allies. Discordia lies in a heap on the floor, while Maximo wrestles with Faren on the couch, the bespectacled guy being quickly overpowered.
I rush to Discordia's side and check her pulse. She's alive. That's good, but...
Chrome is making his way towards Maximo, a wicked half-moon of a blade in his hand.
I only have two axes, and one is stuck in the wall. If I throw this second one, I'll be completely defenseless. Unwilling to take that risk, I rush across the room and slam into the side of Chrome. The guy topples over, landing atop the two wrestling boys and sliding off to the floor. Damian rises from behind the couch, stabbing out with his machete.
"Maximo!" 
I grab my friend by the shoulders and haul him off Faren. Damian's machete skewers the couch cushion, right next to the skull of his own ally. Me and Maximo retreat to the far wall as Damian rolls Faren off the couch and helps him to his feet, tugging him along as he files back out the front door. Chrome, meanwhile, is nowhere to be seen. 
"Yeah, you better run!" Maximo shouts, flipping them the double bird. "We just kicked your asses!"
Damian and Faren fade from sight. Through the sound of my own heavy breathing, I can hear their frantic footfalls as they flee into the surrounding forest. Maximo rushes to the window to confirm they're gone. I eye him with distaste. "Did you need to taunt them?"
He shrugs. "It's not taunting if it's true."
"I am not sure it was," I let my gaze take in the scene before us. The cabin is a mess. Table overturned. Couch bleeding stuffing. Papers strewn across the floor. "Besides, where did Chrome go?"
"Eh?" Maximo looks over his shoulder. "The District 11 guy? He fled as soon as you pushed him. Kinda a wussy."
I ignore him, crouching beside Discordia as she lies on the floor. I feel at her head, but find no obvious wound. That's good. I wouldn't have wanted her to die from internal bleeding or something like that. My arms are shaking. Vision fluctuates. I never thought that I'd be so scared in a fight. This wasn't like with the mutts. Fighting humans, other tributes...somehow that felt a lot more stressful. Odd, considering neither Damian nor his allies were going to eat my face like the Crawlers would have. 
"There's like half a dozen cabins out here, so why'd they have to go and try to take ours?" Maximo clearly does not share that stress. He seats himself on one of the armchairs, propping a foot up on the overturned table. "That was a little too convenient, don't you think?"
I don't find anything about this situation convenient. Terrifying, yes. Worrisome, most definitely. But convenient? Resoundingly not.
I lay a cushion underneath Discordia's head and then go retrieve my axe from the wall. I must have thrown it harder than I thought, because it takes real effort to pry it loose. A lot of things are running through my mind. Why were Damian and Faren with Chrome? What happened to Briar and the others? Why did it almost feel like they were fleeing something? I think back to their words when they first entered the cabin and frown.
"Max?"
"Whats up?" He is in the middle of eating a slice of bread. 
"I think those guys saw Monty Moose." How else to explain their bizarre statements about moose?
"Yeah? Well, good for them. What's it got to do with us?"
Nothing much, other than for the possibility that it comes searching for us next. My feet itch to flee and find a new location to bunker down in, but I know that would be impossible. Discordia is still unconscious, and we can't very well drag her along the arena with us. No, we'll have to wait for her to wake up before we can make any further plans. Still, I don't feel particularly safe.
I take up position beside the window. No matter what happens or who attacks, I won't allow us to get caught off guard again.
===Solomon Eudia (District 13)===
As the sun finally begins to sink below the horizon, I walk down the small maintenance road at a leisurely pace. It’s not that I somehow have found a way to feel confident after everything which took place today; it’s merely that I want to appear confident. 
The Kin-killer wouldn’t be worried about his allies. He would have no fear of being attacked by the other tributes. He would think that all of them were below him. Insignificant. He would stroll through the park without a single concern, intent on finding Valor and preventing him from killing Alcmene before he could do it himself.
So that’s exactly what I’m doing.
Yet deep inside myself, I worry for Remus and Teal. Neither one is exactly what I’d call a friend—I don’t believe I am capable of friendship anymore—but both of them are the only humans to show me any compassion since I left District 13. I hardly wish to see either one dead, yet…
There has been three cannons today. I am not worried about the first. While it came soon after the wolves attacked us, I find it hard to believe that the mutts could have killed one of them without also killing the other. But as for the next two cannons…
They came so close together. It is very possible that those cannons represented Remus and Teal. And if so, if they are now dead, then I am left on my own. 
Orange sunlight spills onto the concrete road as I walk along it, a stiff breeze stirring my jacket. One of the waterparks, Klondike I think, rises to my left. On the other side lies a set of small buildings which surround a large tower which juts over the nearby forest. A zip line stretches over the trees, extending all the way across to where I can spot another tower. 
Those zip lines present an easy way to cross the canyon which separates the northern half of the arena from the southern. Yet only to those willing to risk the integrity of the lines. I am not so sure that I am. A single mishap, just one broken wire, and I’d find myself plummeting to a quick death. I’d rather not take the risk.
Speaking of risks…why did those wolves come after us? I hardly believe it to be coincidence. No, those wolves seemed too coordinated. Almost as if they were sent after us in particular. Why? Did the Gamemakers grow bored of us remaining in place? Or were they merely testing me? Do they desire to see what the Kin-killer can truly do?
I hope I impressed them. Losing the wolves that chased me was simple fare. Once I put the pond between myself and them, it was merely a matter of outrunning them to the restaurant on the eastern edge of the arena, wherein I then fled inside and waited for them to lose interest. 
I wasn’t certain if the tactic would work. What if the Gamemakers had the mutts stay outside and wait for me? But I watched from the windows, and the wolves didn’t stay for longer than an hour. Even so, I remained inside for several hours. Better to be safe than sorry. 
But I didn’t dare stay longer than that. Marina’s words have been pounding inside my head all day. Valor will kill Alcmene at nightfall. I need to stop that. I cannot allow my sister to die before I talk with her. If she does, if I lose her…
The small, fragile raisin of hope inside me begins to dwindle. If I lose Alcmene, then there would no longer be a point in living. The only way I survive these Games is as Roscoe Stryker’s puppet. He would use me to denigrate the name of my family, brand them all as traitors who deserved their deaths. He would absolve me of all wrongdoing and make me out to be a hero. 
In short, he would grant me a fate far worse than death.
My family didn’t deserve to die. I do. They don’t deserve to be forever known as terrible traitors. I do. I haven’t seen eye to eye with Remus in many things, but on this we agree. 
I feel thankful for Remus and his doubt. I had grown too used to Teal’s belief in me, had begun to think that Alcmene would also understand my situation and come to once again view me as her beloved brother. But Remus…he has shown me that it is merely a fanciful daydream. Alcmene most likely will not forgive my actions, no matter my extraneous circumstances. Unlike with Teal, it was her own family that I killed. How could she ever look past that?
I pause and lower my head, staring at the ground. No, forgiveness is not something I shall ever receive. But until Teal, I never expected it anyway. I’ve known since the Reaping that I will die in this arena, unmourned and forgotten.
Another gust of wind swirls past. All this thinking must be playing with my mind, for I swear that I can hear Alcmene’s voice. I sigh and shake my head, straightening out. That’s dangerous. I mustn’t allow myself to be caught up in—
Hang on.
Voices drift with the wind. I spin on the spot, turning to face the direction I’ve just come from. The faint sound of footfalls can be heard. Whoever they are, they’re just around the corner.
And if I heard Alcmene’s voice that can only mean…
The Careers are approaching. 
You’d think this would make me happy, having finally found the group I’ve sought all day, but the truth is far from that. Who knows how many of them are here? I can’t possibly fight them all alone, and if Alcmene is present I wouldn’t even try. The risk of her being hurt is far too great. So if I can’t fight, then I must run. 
But where? I am on a straight path that travels between the zip lines and the waterpark, about halfway down. The waterpark side presents no avenues for escape, just flat walls. As for the zip line cabins…
I slide over the ticket booths countertop and duck underneath it, trident close at hand. 
Soon the voices of the Careers become audible. “Do you think Marina will try to attack us again?” That’s a haughty female voice, one I do not recognize. “Because I have no doubt that she will. I believe she won’t rest until she’s killed us all.”
”I don’t see how she could possibly harm us,” I easily recognize the deep timber of Valor. “She only managed to kill Zekel because she had the element of surprise. That won’t happen again.”
They think Marina killed Zekel? But I thought—no. Of course they’d say that. Marina abandoned them shortly after they made plans to kill Alcmene, so it checks out that they would suspect she also had a hand in his death. Yet…something feels off here. 
“I very much doubt she is planning any such thing, Opal,” Alcmene finally speaks. I can recognize my sisters voice anywhere. “It would endanger herself far too much for too little a reward.”
Alci is defending Marina. That at least partially backs up the story the District 4 girl told me. Still, sunset is almost here, and if her story was true, then they’ll kill Alci when they reach the cornucopia. I can’t let that happen. But to stop it…
I’ll need to kill all the Careers present.
How many is that? Opal and Valor, certainly. Are there more? I did reconnaissance at the cornucopia earlier this day, and the only tributes I saw present were Mako and Yewan. That leaves the giant from District 12 unaccounted for. Is he here? Three on one would be too much to handle. Well, two on one is already too much. And Alcmene won’t just stand idly by…
I cautiously raise my head over the counter and peer out. Three people are making their way down the side road, backs turned to me. Alcmene is among them. Yes. Attacking would accomplish nothing. Even if I were to kill the other two, Alcmene wouldn’t stop to have a conversation with the man who killed her allies. 
As I watch, she says something to Valor and he nods, waving a hand at Opal. The girl frowns and flicks a braid with her finger, but eventually nods as well. Then Valor turns around.
I duck underneath the counter. Did he see me? My pulse quickens as I hear approaching footsteps. Two pairs. Not good. If they’re trying to entrap me…
”Well? What did you wish to speak about?” Valor speaks, disrupting my panicked thoughts. He didn’t see me. I lay my head against the wall and breathe in quiet relief.
”I just wanted to thank you for believing in me,” Alcmene is talking. I think that she and him have separated from Opal to have a private conversation. “And apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused the alliance.”
“It is of no matter,” I can imagine Valor waving off-handedly. “You couldn’t have anticipated Marina’s betrayal.”
I listen to their conversation and find myself troubled. Both of them appear to truly believe Marina was the one who killed Zekel. Alcmene seems to have no concern for the girl, which is at odds with Marina’s assertion that she was her friend. Of course, she could be pretending, but I like to think I know my sister well enough to tell when she’s lying. There’s also the way Valor speaks, cordial and casually. It does not sound like he is mere moments away from plotting her death. 
“I wish to ask for your assistance in slaying Solomon.”
I freeze. Though I had long known her hatred for me, I had not anticipated that she was quite this eager for my death. And to ask Valor…
“Of course. I will do whatever I can to help you eliminate the Kin-killer. Honestly, I believe you and Mako to be the only other Careers worthy of wearing the Victor’s Crown.”
Their voices begin to fade as they move further away from my hiding spot. Alcmene asking for Valor’s assistance, and him agreeing to give it…that does not quite match the tale Marina told me. 
I remain behind the counter for a long time, just ruminating on everything I overheard. A sense of unease seeps through me. Despite my earlier belief in her, I have begun to suspect that perhaps not all of Marina’s tale was true. Alcmene certainly doesn’t appear to be in any danger from Valor. 
Time continues to pass. I make no effort to pursue the Careers or even stand. If Alcmene is not in danger, then I do not need to attempt anything risky. I cannot yet dismiss everything Marina said, but it has become clear that this situation is more nuanced than I had expected. So what does that mean for me?
The sky has become dark, the sun having finally set during the Career’s conversation. Soon yet another day in the arena shall begin. Best to seek shelter than try something new tomorrow. 
I rise to a standing position and hop over the countertop, landing softly on my feet. I take only a moment to check my surroundings before heading off down the opposite direction the Careers took. Alcmene is safe, for now. Better to avoid them. 
I continue on alongside the wall of the waterpark until a door appears on my right. I feel more comfortable outdoors, but I do not like the look of those distant clouds. All my weather sense is screaming at me that a storm is coming, and I’d much rather have a roof over my head when it gets here.
The door leads me into the park called Klondike, and I find myself next to a pair of runoffs for the bodyslides. A series of tables lie to my right, and a wafting lazy river meanders straight across from me. A curved bridges fords it. I walk up to the railing and peer into the rivers depths, wondering if there any mutts inside. Unlike with the wolves, I have firsthand knowledge of many varieties of aquatic muttations, and I am sure I could find a way to bend them to my will.
“Solomon!”
I spin, trident in hand, and come to a halt as Remus comes staggering over the bridge, dropping to his knees. “Remus?” I blink. He looks…utterly drained. Exhausted. “What has happened? Where is Teal?”
”Teal is…” He takes a shuddering breath and closes his eyes. “Teal is dead. Mercia has killed her.”
Mercia. I can’t place the name off the top of my head. Not a Career, though. I walk over to Remus and offer him a hand, pulling him to his feet when he takes it. “I am sorry,” I say softly, knowing the cameras will not hear. “Teal was a good person.”
Remus nods. He looks lost. Face blank. Eyes staring ahead distantly. Teal was like a sister to him, so her death must have hit hard. Seeing his grief makes me feel guilty that my biggest concern is that Teal’s death has just made my position in the Games much weaker.
It’s not that I don’t care she’s dead, it’s just…I have spent so much time and effort building towards my reunion with Alcmene, that I have little energy left for anything else. Even my own life is just a tool I will use until it breaks. 
“I…did you…Alcmene. Is she…?” Remus can’t form a sentence as he grasps at his shoulder. 
“Alcmene lives.” I have adopted the Kin-killer persona. Made my voice stoic and face expressionless. “Valor is her staunch ally. It seems Marina has misled us.”
“Oh.” Remus grabs at his shoulder again and frowns, as if surprised he is doing so. “Mercia said…she told me that the knife she cut me with was poisoned, and that I only have twenty-four hours to live.”
That news is troubling, but I don’t let it show on my face. “Isn’t your father a big shot in the Capitol? You’ll be fine. There’s probably already hundreds of people lining up to sponsor you.”
”I, ah, suppose you’re correct,” Remus falls silent. His head really is in an awful place right now. Must feel like his world is crumbling around him. I know that feeling all too well.
Eventually I urge him to keep moving, knowing that our current position is too exposed. I don’t like these waterparks. Anyone could be watching us from one of the slide towers, or even the mezzanine. We cross the bridge and skirt around the large kiddie structure which takes up most of the space on the island we find ourselves. 
Remus pauses beside a tiny children’s slide, staring forlornly at the bubbling water. “Solomon?”
”What is it?” 
“I…still wish to help you reconcile with your sister,” I wince slightly at his words. Remus was never the best at keeping up the facade. “But I want…I wish to ask your assistance with my own goal.”
”Which is?” I ask even though I already know the answer. There is only one thing he would require my assistance with. 
“I want you to help me kill Mercia.”
There it is. I close my eyes and breathe deeply. I entered these Games with one singular purpose; to reunite with Alcmene. I had never expected it to be a simply task, by any means, but I hadn’t counted on all these…complexities which have sprung up around me. 
I want to deny Remus’ request. I am already too busy with my own goals to help him accomplish his. But how could I ever bring myself to do so? Remus knows my secret. He could bring the entire castle of lies down upon my head. One word, one utterance of how I am not the monster everyone thinks I am, could bring disaster upon me. No, I will not be escaping this favor of his. I must help him in his endeavor.
Besides, don’t I owe Teal as much?
“I will help you kill Mercia,” I say quietly.
Remus’ face lights up. “Thank you! I…I owe you.” He reaches out and grasps my forearm, bowing his head. “I am grateful. Mercia won’t be an easy opponent…”
I listen, troubled, as he explains Mercia’s skill and her vast assortment of equipment. There is a lot I do not understand about that woman and her mysterious ways, things which could prove fatal if I fail to grasp them. Killing Mercia won’t be an easy task. Worse, it could be time consuming. If something were to happen to Alcmene before I can speak with her…
There is a limited amount of time available to me, and I am afraid that I will soon run out.
===Mercia Occisor (The Capitol)===
I sit on the end of the hotel bed, legs crossed and one foot bouncing as I stare at the wood paneled wall, wondering how long it’ll take to kill all the other tributes.
Oh, I did splendid work today. Teal is dead, the first name crossed off my list. Funny enough, it was pure coincidence that I even encountered her and that musclebound fool. I was merely making my way through Waterdome when they basically fell right into my lap. I hid in the shadows and watched as they spoke, eventually mentioning that Solomon was absent. Hearing that, I couldn’t resist the urge to strike.
I allow myself a small smile. Solomon lost a key ally today, which shall surely weaken him for our inevitable encounter. 
Night has fallen on the arena. Outside my window lies the New Frontier water park, its slide tower bathed in shadow as dark clouds hide the light of the moon. I am on the third floor, inside room 395. It was early this morning when I made my move on the supply cache Rozlyn had hidden inside room 301.
And what a cache it was!
Inside lay dozens of knives, several types of poison, a crossbow, another rapier, and three separate sets of armored clothing, among other things. In fact, it contained so many items that I couldn’t possibly carry them all. So I only took what was necessary, leaving the rest securely locked inside the chest I found them in.
I stand and stretch, walking over to the sliding glass door which leads out onto a balcony. There is no possibility another tribute comes along and steals anything I left behind. The chest itself is hidden inside a closet, locked with two separate biometric scans, one for my iris, and the other for my fingerprints. 
So no, I am not concerned about anyone else claiming my stuff. The Gamemakers, however, are a concern of mine.
I don’t care how well Rozlyn hid the cache or if she thinks it’s untraceable, I wasn’t about to foolishly reveal the chest. Instead, I hid all the items amongst my person then pretended to “find” them in different areas of the arena. If the Gamemakers want to prove Rozlyn is cheating, then they’ll have to work for it. 
I run a thumb along the gap where my missing tooth is meant to be. I am thankful for the padded balaclava I was wearing, otherwise that blow from Remus might have had enough force to knock me unconscious. That fool was tougher than I’d anticipated. I’d forgotten that the Great Families often train their children in martial arts as a precaution against assassination attempts. 
Still, despite his strength, it was mine own fault that he had a chance to defend himself to begin with. Rarely do my assassinations get physical. The only reason this one did was because I had not anticipated he would have noticed me skulking in the shadows. 
That was a mistake I won’t replicate. 
I back away from the window and return to the center of the room. Of the three outfits provided in the chest, I chose the black clothing because it gave me the best opportunities to blend in with the arena. My other options were camo…and a completely green one.
Did Rozlyn expect me to wear Ivy’s getup? Did she really think I was about to reveal my identity to the entire country? True, my skills alone might do so, but I am not about to remove all doubt. Not yet, at least. 
My mind drifts back to Remus and my failed attempt to kill him. I really cannot focus today. Killing him would have been preferable, because it would have left Solomon without any allies to assist him, but though I failed to outright slay him, I may still end up having the last laugh. I stare at the two knives tucked into my belt. One of them was poisoned, the other was not. Which one did I strike Remus with?
I do not recall. This is a rarity for me, but in the heat of the moment I failed to remember which knife was which. That was the reason behind me telling Remus he was poisoned. Because if he was, in fact, not poisoned, he now believes he was. Panic will set in, hopefully unsettling him enough to make some form of mistake. Such a thing will be necessary if I am to meet him and Solomon both together. I stand no chance against their combined might in a straight up fight.
Of course, I have zero intention of engaging either of them in a fair fight.
Darkness will be my friend. Inside Rozlyn's chest I found a pair of goggles that can provide both thermal and night vision. I will be able to see even in the darkest of locales, while everyone else...They will be blind and helpless.
Inside my mind I see the list that Rozlyn showed me back in the Launch Room. The names of the tributes I must kill. The ones in bold were my biggest targets. Supposedly the other heirs favorites. Teal was one of Erevan's Champions, but she was not his favorite. That honor belongs to Damian. Him, alongside Opal, Remus, Valor, and Killen form the bolded names. They will be my main goals. 
However...
My contract with Aamon shall take first priority. Solomon must die, and he must die by my hand. I have never failed before and I have no intention of starting. But when to come for him? Right now he will be angry at the loss of Teal, and though anger can often cloud one's judgement, it can also grant strength. Perhaps I should try to strike now, but perhaps not. But I need not decide tonight. These Games have just begun, after all, and I have all the time in the world. 
===Yewan Felling (District 7)===
The five remaining members of our alliance sit gathered around the mouth of the cornucopia as we watch the clouds massed in the eastern sky. Even though it is close to midnight, I can still tell that they are dark, ominous, and seem to be closing in on us faster than I'd like.
"That's a storm if I've ever seen one," Mako says darkly. He's seated on an overturned crate, a plastic cup in his hands as he watches the sky. "We'll need better shelter once it finally hits us."
Valor, our oh-so-esteemed leader, frowns as he turns to follow Mako's gaze. "Perhaps. But I am loath to leave the cornucopia now. Especially with our...fewer numbers."
We told him and the others about what happened to Matiss when they returned to the cornucopia around dusk. Needless to say, none of them were very pleased with it. Valor went all cold and stiff, then finally said something about how he was thankful we at least killed Kia. Alcmene frowned and said it was sloppy work, while Opal just sniffed and said she wasn’t surprised he died.
Man, that haughty girl doesn’t like anybody!
A long silence befalls our group. The only noise is the whistling wind. My hands begin to twitch as boredom sets in.
“What’re you drinking?” I ask Mako, looking for any excuse to break this miserable silence.
He seems surprised to be addressed. “This?” He proffers his cup in the air. “It’s just a powdered fruit drink I found in the cornucopia. You mix it with water and it makes juice.”
”Well, I, for one, am parched!” Opal stands, her weapons jangling together as they hang from her person. “I am going to make myself some. Does anyone else want any?”
”Ooh! Me!” I raise my left hand in the air and wave it around. Opal’s gaze slides pass me and over to the others. Alcmene says she’ll have some, but Valor politely declines. I continue waving my hand. “Me! Me! I want some!”
Opal makes her way back into the cornucopia and begins to rummage through our supplies for the mix. Valor sighs, leaning back and staring into the sky. “We are falling at too quick a pace. At this rate we’ll be outnumbered by the other tributes!”
”We’ve only lost the chaff,” Alcmene says quietly. “As long as our core group remains strong and healthy, the others pose no risk to us.”
That statement kinda hurts. Matiss was a good dude. He was the only one who cared about my investigation, and he was funny to boot. The others all just assume Marina was the killer and have given up searching. That’s bad form. I don’t have any definitive proof yet, but I am confident that the true killer is still among us.
”That is true,” Valor dips his head to Alcmene. “The allies we have lost so far have been weak and careless. Soon only our strongest members shall remain.”
I shift uncomfortably at those words, shielding my heavily bandaged right hand. I haven’t been honest with the others about it. Yeah, Kia’s sword took off my pinkie, but that wasn’t all it did. 
Her blade claimed three of my fingers, leaving only my thumb and index. It also dug deep into the flesh of my palm, cleaving a nasty gash that still pains me now, even though I’ve eaten practically an entire bottle of painkillers. Sometimes it throbs with a dull, aching pain, yet at other times it becomes a raging inferno of heat. I don’t know which is worse, and that scares me.
But it doesn’t scare me as much as the others talking about weakness and cutting the chaff. I can’t let them know the full extent my injury. If they do learn, I don’t trust they won’t cut me loose and kill me. I already know that they don’t think much of me. I’m just that crazy girl who cracks jokes and makes bizarre comments. If they learn I’ve been handicapped to such an extent…
Opal returns with the drinks. She’s put them in canteens and hands one to Alcmene while keeping the other for herself. I frown. “What about me?”
“Oh, I must have forgot,” Opal turns to face me and adopts a fake, happy tone that is at odds with her stern eyes. “I am very sorry, but it seems you’ll have to get your own.”
Yeah. Sure. Opal hasn’t ever been secretive about her dislike for me, but she’s never been this blatant either. She must be feeling more confident about herself. Well, good for her!
“No prob. It’ll just give me an opportunity to make my own special, super-duper, unique drink!” But I don’t even get time to think about what that entails, because the moment I stand a loud blaring noise blasts through the night air. 
The Anthem.
We already know most of the dead tributes, but there’s still an unknown death out there, so we all gather around and gaze up into the sky. The very first face is that of Zekel.
“I haven’t given up on finding your killer,” I mutter as his face fades away. The others might have already decided Marina was the culprit, but not me. I won’t rest until I have solid proof!
The next face is the mystery tribute. Turns out to be Teal. There’s some quiet rumblings at her appearance. “She was allied with the kin-killer,” Mako says. “So how’d she die?”
I glance at Alcmene, wondering if the blonde girl will show any emotion at the death of her brother’s ally, but she remains as stoic as ever. Can that girl even change her expression? Man, life must be a pain for her! 
The final two faces to show are Matiss and Kia, both dead from that altercation earlier today. Just the sight of Kia’s face makes my hand flare up with pain. I wouldn’t call myself vindictive, but…yeah, I don’t mind she’s dead. Kinda makes me feel a little better. 
But it still doesn’t erase the pain.
“District 12 isn’t getting their third Victor,” Valor comments as the Seal returns.
 
“Of course not!” Opal scoffs. “The only people with a chance to win are in this alliance!”
“Ooh! So that means you think I might win!” I can’t resist taking the easy bait. Opal throws me a glare and makes some fancy-smancy comment that is probably meant to be offensive but completely goes over my head. Silly girl. Doesn’t she understand that, for insults to be effective, the other person has to understand them?
So I just smile and nod, which for some reason seems to make her even more upset. But before she can say anything else, Valor speaks.
“It’s time to divvy up guard duty!”
Despite his supposed solid belief that Marina was the killer, he still takes extra precautions with the way he assembles guard duty. Two of us are to be awake at all times, and we’re not to separate from one another for any reason. Alcmene, meanwhile, will stay awake throughout the night, keeping watch from atop the cornucopia. That basically means only two of us will be asleep at any one time, so Valor decides that each of us will do two shifts in a row.
Valor and Mako get first shift, wherein Opal will then replace Mako for the second, and I will replace Valor for the third. Opal will then tag out with Mako for the fourth, and so on and so forth. 
But since I don’t have to stand guard until four hours…
“Sleepy times is the best of times!” I let out a whoop and dive into the mass of blankets I have assembled just inside the cornucopia. Snuggling into their warm center, I close my eyes and slowly drift to sleep.
My dreams are quick and varied. In one I find myself running through a forest, desperately trying to escape a giant sword which cleaves through the trees. In another my missing fingers come back and try to strangle me, but my pet tarantula Princess shows up and eats them. Finally, I am crowned Victor and given a large mansion for me and Camora to live in. 
I am about to open the front door and take my first step inside when I am shaken awake.
I sit up in the darkness, a sudden blaze of pain raking my right hand. Valor kneels beside me, face cast in shadow. “It is your time to stand guard, Yewan.”
“Right. Of course. Definitely!” I struggle out of my blankets, rubbing at my eyes. I pause when I see the mass of bandages that cover up my right. Makes it kinda hard to do anything too delicately.
Valor returns to his own bedroll and I stagger outside, where Opal is waiting. the girl narrows her eyes at the sight of me, but doesn’t say anything. The rest of the arena is pretty much the same as it was before, only now it’s even darker. Can’t even see the moon or stars through that thick blanket of clouds.
Opal turns to walk away, but I rush to catch up with her. “Hey! Valor said we had to stick together!”
She pulls to a halt and sighs. “I fail to see why that is necessary. I very much doubt Marina will strike again.”
“Ah, but what if Marina wasn’t the killer?” I wag a finger. “In fact, I feel very confident in saying that she isn’t the killer.”
Opal stiffens. For a moment I think she’s just going to ignore me, but then she turns to give me a withering look. “Is that so? Well then, please, pray tell, let me know who you think the killer is.”
“I haven’t figured that part out yet.”
“Of course.” She turns and tries to walk away, but I follow after her. Once again she pauses and gives me another of those ‘I’m so disgusted with you’ looks. “You realize this is utter foolishness, yes? Alcmene is atop the cornucopia and can see us both at all times!”
For the first time I look above the cornucopia and, true to Opal’s word, spot Alcmene on top of it. She’s hard to make out through the thick gloom of the night, but I manage. She’s sitting with her legs tucked close to her chest, hood up as she sips from her canteen, gazing out into the illuminated parking lot. I frown. Never did get any of that fruit mix myself.
Opal apparently thinks that she’s won the argument, because she tries to walk off again. I follow her, my uninjured hand holding my halberd like a walking stick. That’s one major problem with my mangled hand. Can’t really use a halberd properly without both hands. 
I absentmindedly tap the ring on my left index finger. One twist of the cap and the knife hidden inside pops out. Glad I found this yesterday, because it’s probably going to be the only weapon I’ll be able to effectively use. Major suckage.
We spend a few minutes doing figure eights around the cornucopia before Opal eventually realizes that she’s not going to be able to shake me. So instead she goes to stand on the outskirts of the clearing, close to one of the Launch Plates. She presses two fingers against her temple, clearly agitated.
”You have nice hair,” I say conversationally.
”You are quite the—“ She cuts herself off and turns to give me a quizzical look. Clearly she didn’t expect that. “My hair? Whyever would you bring that up?”
I shrug. “Cuz it’s cool. I mean, not as cool as mine, obviously,” I use a finger to flick my fringe. “But it’s still pretty awesome. All those bobs and braids…must take a lot of effort to get them in shape.” 
Opal stares blankly, at a loss for words. I know that the girl must care about her hair; I’ve seen her spend most mornings doing nothing but maintaining it. I get it. My hair is important as well. Without neat hair you’re just…well, you’re boring. Like Valor.
“Cool hair is just something we have in common,” I continue. Maybe this will be something we can finally agree on. Maybe things don’t always have to be so frosty between us. 
“I have nothing in common with the likes of you!” Opal sneers and turns her back on me.
Guess not. Oh well. Was worth the try. 
Neither of us speaks after that. We just stare out into the parking lot and…stand guard, I suppose. I idly note that, while the floodlights on the lampposts do a pretty good job of illuminating the parking lot, they don’t light up the whole thing. There’s still some patches of darkness between the posts. Perhaps that’s how someone snuck up on Zekel?
But no. He was attacked from behind. Both Marina and my preliminary investigation say so. A Career killed him. One of us. But which one? Not Marina. That’d be too obvious, and it’s never the obvious answer. Maybe Valor? It’s possible that him and Alcmene set this entire thing up, orchestrating a grand plan to fool us all.
While such a conspiracy would be wicked awesome, it doesn’t quite add up. What’d be the motive? Valor doesn’t need to stealthily kill us. While I don’t know who the killer is, it seems like everything they’ve done has been almost perfectly set up to inspire fear and suspicion among the Careers. Like they wanted to weaken us all or something.
Huh…
I glance behind me, at where Alcmene sits atop the cornucopia. She has her back to us and is sitting hunched over, with her head between her legs. Almost looks like she’s sleeping. I point this out to Opal, but she only grunts. Clearly she doesn’t care if Alcmene is sleeping on the job or not.
I shrug and adjust my position, letting my halberd rest in the crook of my arm. My thoughts are stuck firmly on the investigation. Motive…motive…what would be the the motive? Weaken the Careers? Inspire suspicion and mistrust? Yes! They wanted to shatter our bonds and drive a wedge between us. Marina leaving…Mako suspecting everyone else…it all adds up! Someone, one of us, wanted to weaken the Careers!
But who would do that? Who would it most benefit? The only person who comes to mind is—
A wave of pain hits me. I spasm, dropping to one knee as the pain arcs up my left side. The halberd slips out of my grasp, clattering across the cement. Frantic with fear, I swing my elbow out wildly and feel it collide with Opal’s head.
Opal!
The girl reels backwards, bloody knife in hand as she glares at me. My side aches. Drips with blood. I’m too panicked to think straight, but it doesn’t take a detective to connect the wound in my side to the bloody knife in her hand. 
Opal is the killer! She murdered Zekel in an effort to weaken the Careers, and now…now she’s come for me. 
I can’t fight her. One of my hands is mangled, and the wound in my side is deep. Already I feel slow and sluggish. The blood is spurting out in steady intervals. It’ll kill me if left untreated. 
But Opal might kill me before that.
”Help! Help—"
Opal lunges forward and punches me straight in the throat. My words break off into a hacking cough as I stagger back, leaning to one side. Can barely breathe. Can’t think. Opal advances, knife at the ready. I twist the cap on my ring and swing.
Opal curses, stepping back as my hidden blade rakes along her side, just below the ribs. Time. It’s given me time. Have to get away, warn the others. Can’t sit back and die.
I stumble forward, but the second I do Opal kicks me in the knee. I collapse. Hit the ground hard. Skull cracks against the concrete. Vision is blurry as I stare into the sky, where Opal makes an appearance, axe in hand. Her dark eyes glisten with malice. 
“I’ve always hated you, Yewan!” She lifts the axe. The curved edge glitters in the light. “So it brings me great joy to be the one to finally shut you up!”
The axe comes down. It slams into my clavicle, between my shoulder and neck. Pain. Pain and darkness. Blood bubbles between my lips. Words die in my throat. Can’t speak. Can’t think. Pain. Pain, pain, pain. Everything is pain.
And then there’s nothing at all.
===Opal Crane (District 5)===
I step back from Yewan’s body, panting hard. Damn girl! Damn her aggressiveness! I hadn’t expected her to resist so mightily! 
I place one hand on the wound below my ribs, feeling at it, prodding to check the severity. I grimace. It is deep. Too deep to hide. 
I can hear voices from somewhere behind me. The others waking up at the cornucopia, no doubt. Yewan’s screams probably woke them. Troublesome girl. My original plan had been to kill her silently, then drift over to the other side of the cornucopia and feign ignorance. Yewan went off by herself, I’d tell them. She didn’t want to stay by my side. It would have been so simple. So neat. But of course that idiot had to go and ruin my plan!
I grab her corpse by the arms and drag it out of the light, into one of the nearby patches of darkness between the lampposts. There, I roll her onto her stomach and wipe my knife off on her jacket. Hopefully this will conceal her wound. Because if they notice it came from an axe…
I step back into the light, aware that I don’t have much time. Once her cannon goes off I’ll be too late. Can’t afford to wait.
I open my mouth and scream.
”Intruder! We’re under attack! They got Yewan!”
Raised voices sound from the cornucopia, followed by the frantic pounding of footfalls. I am bent over, one hand pressed against my side and panting heavily, when Mako and Valor come charging onto the scene.
“What happened?” Valor comes to a halt in the middle of the light, head swinging around in search of any danger. 
“It was Marina!” I put fake terror into my voice, peppering it with the familiar tones of the weak. “She crept out of the darkness and attacked! Yewan was down before I could even react!”
Boom!
Her cannon finally goes off. It took long enough that I know my original plan would have worked splendidly. Damn Yewan for ruining it!
Mako turns to stare into the parking lot. Despite having just woken up, there is no sense of tiredness around him. “She fled?”
I nod. “Yes! I managed to strike her with my axe!” I wave my bloodied weapon, drawing both their eyes. I’d have preferred to wipe the blood off, but there was too much of it for that. Better to give a reason for its existence then try and hide it.
Valor’s eyes narrow. “You’re wounded.”
Damn, he’s observant. “Yes, Marina slashed me with her knife. I am lucky her aim was off, or I might also be dead.”
A hovercraft appears in the sky, drifting below the dark clouds. Impatience itches at my skin. If Valor and Mako decide to inspect the body before they take it…
“I didn’t think she’d attack us again,” Mako says. He sounds worried. As well as he should. The fool has no idea what is really going on. “And I definitely didn’t think she could take two of us on at once.”
“A true Career will always be a match for the other tributes,” Valor responds. He’s come forward to check my wound, and as I allow him to, worry begins to creep in. What happened to Yewan’s knife? If they spot the blood on it…
My worry turns into full-on panic as Mako begins to approach Yewan’s corpse. If he sees the axe wound he’ll learn what truly happened! I stand no chance against him and Valor in a two-on-one fight. That is why I began this plot to dismantle the Careers in the first place! Why bother fighting them head on when you could destroy them with doubt and subterfuge instead? 
I could have killed one of them last night, but that would’ve been too obvious. Someone might have put two and two together and realized what was happening. Better to take out a weakling like Zekel. That way I allow time for doubt and mistrust to creep in. Let them accuse each other and create fractures in their bonds, and perhaps they’d kill each other without me having to lift a finger. That fool Marina played her part excellently. I never expected for someone to make themselves such an easy scapegoat.
Yes. My plan has been going splendidly so far. These fools haven’t expected a thing! 
But my plan will completely collapse if Mako is allowed to inspect that body!
“Where is Alcmene?” 
My question brings Mako to a halt. He stops on the edge of the light, turning to frown at me. “Huh. Yeah, it’s weird she isn’t here. Wasn’t she meant to be watching from atop the cornucopia?”
”She was.” Valor’s face hasn’t so much as twitched, but his voice is low and quiet. He is also troubled by her absence.
I barley resist laughing. This, too, is part of my plot. “Perhaps she hasn’t noticed,” I say, watching as the hovercraft appears overhead. Come on! Just a little closer! “It is entirely possible she is still atop the cornucopia.”
Mako steps towards us, Yewan’s body forgotten. “We should check on her. If she’s missing…”
The hovercraft sends a claw down, scooping up that miserable excuse of a human called Yewan. The sight is almost enough to elicit a smile from me. Almost.
”What’s happening?” A groggy voice calls out as a new person comes onto the scene, rubbing at her eyes. Alcmene. “And why are you all out here?”
Valor begins to explain as Mako watches her like he would a fish. His eyes are cold and predatory. Clearly he does not trust the girl an inch. I smile inwardly. Perfect. 
Alcmene blinks rapidly when Valor finishes, running a hand along her hair. She seems deeply troubled. “I’m sorry. I…fell asleep. I didn’t wake up until just now.”
“You were meant to be standing guard!” Mako has a hard time keeping the anger out of his voice. “Yewan was murdered because of your ineptitude!”
Her eyes flash. “My ineptitude? I’m sorry, but didn’t you say that Marina attacked both Yewan and Opal? I am hardly at fault for a single person defeating two!”
Indignation runs through me, but I resist the urge to act upon it. This is what I want. For the others to view me as weak. Worthless. Hardly a threat at all. That’ll just make killing them all so much easier. 
“And why were you sleeping anyway?” Mako ignores her jab, continuing on his tirade. “Weren’t you supposed to be an insomniac or something? Isn’t that why you snuck off the other night?”
”I…don’t know why I fell asleep,” For once Alcmene sounds unsure of herself. “For some reason I just felt so…tired. Like I took sleep syrup, or something.”
Discomfort flits through me like a wave. I had not anticipated that she would recognize the symptoms of sleep syrup. I should have, I know. Of course an insomniac would be used to the effects of such a medication. Still, I suppose I should just be grateful she didn’t recognize its presence in the fruit drink I gave her.
That was another step of my plan. I knew that Valor would attempt to use Alcmene and her love of night to his advantage, so I sought a way to counteract it. And what better way then to put her to sleep? I dug through our supplies, found the syrup, then waited for the perfect opportunity to slip her some. Luckily the fruit mix presented the most opportune chance.
“There’s been too many coincidences surrounding you,” Mako shakes his head. “For all I know, you and Marina have been working together this entire time!”
“And how do we know you aren’t working with Marina?” Valor finally steps into the conversation, unsurprisingly taking Alcmene’s side. “She is your District partner after all.”
I watch this whole thing with supreme satisfaction. I could, if I wanted, side with Alcmene and Valor, and accuse Mako. Undoubtedly the three of us could overpower and kill the guy if we wanted. That would make one less threat to my own Victory. Yet, where would that leave me? District 1 would stick together, and I can’t say for certain they wouldn’t then immediately turn upon me. No, I can’t allow them to kill Mako. Not yet.
“I do not believe Mako had any hand in the attack,” I say, drawing everyone’s attention. “I suspect that Marina was working alone. Mostly because—”
Lightning strikes.
A bolt of pure blue plasma flashes down from the clouds and strikes nearby, throwing up a wave of concrete and dust. We all scatter, shielding ourselves from the debris, when the clouds open and it begins to rain.
Hard and fast. The rain has no beginning, no buildup. It simply arrives as a complete deluge. The wind whips into a frenzy, sending water spraying everywhere and splashing everything. Puddles form at my feet as I stagger forward, desperately searching for shelter.
”Careers on me!” Valor has to scream in order to be heard over the wind and rain. 
I sprint towards him, followed by Mako and Alcmene. The rain comes down in torrents, sheets of water soaking through our jackets and sweatshirts. Thunder roars in the sky. I spot more than a few bolts of lightning as Valor leads our rush towards the nearest building.
The wailing wind threatens to knock me off my feet as we reach the door. Valor holds it open, screaming for us all to hurry. I dart inside, shivering and clutching myself as we form a small huddle. Valor struggles against the wind to shut the door. Eventually he just lets go and we all watch as the hurricane-like gusts yanks the thing off its hinges and carries it off into the night.
”I told you a storm was coming,” Mako says as we retreat deeper into the hotel. I recognize this hallway as one that sits right outside the nearest waterpark. Klondike, I think it was called.
The overhead lights gives the hall a cheerful glow as we all pause to catch our breath. I can’t stop shivering. “At least we have shelter,” Valor plays the optimist. “Though I hope you all took food and water with you, because I doubt much will remain after that wind has been through with it. That said, we should—”
The roar of thunder cuts him off, and the lights go off.
We’re left in complete darkness. I can hardly see two inches in front of my nose. The harried breathing of the others is the only way I can tell they are still present. I fumble around in my pocket, remembering something I claimed at the cornucopia. When I finally find my night-vision glasses, I slip them on my face.
My vision gains a sickly green glow, slowly snapping into focus. Across from me, I can see that Valor wears his own pair. 
“This is inconvenient,” Alcmene flicks a flashlight on, a small circle of light enveloping us. “For more reasons than one.”
I remain quiet. Hopefully this new distraction will draw the others attention away from Yewan and her death. Perhaps it will make them forget all about it. Wouldn’t that be helpful? The fools. They have no idea that I’ve been sabotaging them from the very beginning. The Careers started at ten strong, but through my efforts we have been reduced to a mere four. From the very outset of these Games I knew that my only real competition would be the Careers. I knew that, for me to win, I must kill them all with haste. So far I have not only succeeded at my goal, but I have hidden it from the rest. Perhaps that will not last. Maybe they will begin to catch on, but what does it matter?
They’re already too late to stop me.
==Day 4/ Lights Out==
===Nedry Stryker (The Capitol)===
Though it was now well past midnight, the party in the Capitol continued on. Parties like this were common among the upper crust during the Games; there was often one every night.
Nedry sat on the outskirts of the room, watching the dancers as they whirled about in a mass of bright, colorful clothing. He felt uncomfortable at parties. He always had. Typically he avoided attending, but that was not possible this year. Not when the other successors attended each one. 
He couldn’t afford to give the others yet another reason to mock him.
The ballroom was shaped like the inside of a pyramid. The dance floor was set on a waist-high platform in the center of the room, and the dining tables sat on four similar platforms surrounding it. Servants moved through the trenches running between the platforms, delivering food to the diners.
Four tiers of balconies ran along the inside perimeter of the pyramidal room, each one a little closer to the point at the top, and each one extending just a little bit more over the dance floor. Though the main room itself was well lit, the balconies were dimly illuminated. Nedry could just make out the forms of the people sitting there, but he had to really look to discern their identities. 
Roscoe and Rozlyn were atop one of the balconies. That was no surprise. Though they always attended the parties, the twins often held themselves apart from the common rabble. They did not like interacting with their inferiors unless necessary. And though he could not make out their clothing from this distance, Nedry also knew it would be stern and taciturn. Either black or dark grey suits that spoke of tradition and functionality, a sharp contrast to the elaborate and garish outfits of the others upon the dance floor.
Nedry shuffled in place, patting his handkerchief. He, too, wore a simple black suit. Once he had tried to emulate the popular styles seen below to…less than spectacular results. 
A large, holographic screen was displayed upon each wall of the ballroom. Throughout the party the Games were shown at all times. A loud chorus of boos had rained down when Opal finally eliminated Yewan. During the first few days the District 7 girl and her zany antics had proven quite popular in the Capitol. 
Popularity among the tributes was important. Rarely was a Victor crowned who was disliked by the masses. That’s not to say it never happened; Soot, for example, had been extremely disliked by the Capitol citizens during his Games. Yet, despite that, his mere existence as Victor was enough to eventually propel him to celebrity status. Even someone as unlikeable as Soot would be used as a spokesman for various products.
Had he ever agreed to such a deal, that is.
Nedry waddled up to the edge of the nearest elevated platform. Seated at one of the round tables, nearest the trench where the servants ran to and fro, sat Soot himself. He was joined by a multitude of other past Victors; Charce, Watt, Amaranth, and Mist. The two District 12 Victors were in low spirits. Day three had seen the death of not one, but both of their mentees.
They are hardly the only ones left sour! Nedry thought bitterly, walking past the table. Matiss had been one of his choices for Champion. A giant of a boy, he’d been projected by analysts to make it further into the Games then he had. A disappointment, he’d been called. 
Nedry shook his head, continuing on towards the next raised platform. The only positive thing over the third day was that Nedry hadn’t been the only one to lose a Champion. Both Rozlyn and Erevan had also lost one of theirs, leaving Roscoe and Dimentio as the only heirs not to lose a single Champion.
Dimentio…
Where was the lad? Nedry had spent quite some time searching for him at the party, but so far he’d seen neither hide nor hair of the boy. All the others were here. Uncle Escortius was seated at Father’s table, on the very top balcony, the one which was placed closet to the point of the pyramid. Unlike all the other balconies, this one was not dimly lit, rather, it was illuminated with a limelight. Father didn’t want to hide, he wished to be seen. 
Nedry paused, waiting for an Avox carrying a tray of three separate types of cheese to move so he could continue on his way. Father loved the spotlight. He always wanted his presence to be known. Of his children only Aurilee shared that trait. All of the others, Nedry included, preferred to remain out of the public eye. He couldn’t speak for why his siblings avoided the publicity, but as for Nedry…he simply didn’t want to be ridiculed. 
The Avox finally moved, so Nedry pushed through the crowd and continued on. He passed by the dance floor as he did, catching a glimpse of Erevan as he whirled around atop it, a laughing Hazel Dyer clutching close to him. 
Nedry couldn’t avoid the frown that crossed his face. Erevan’s relationship with the woman was troublesome. Hazel was one of the Capitol’s most beloved Victor’s, and its citizenry would support or buy anything she told them to. Companies had paid her fortunes to just be seen with their product. For her to so publicly side with Erevan…
It was not good.
The man was a terrorist. Though Father and Roscoe had refused to believe him, Nedry knew this fact to be true. Why else would he possess that glove? And besides such, Nedry had done his own research in the hours following his humiliating attempt to reveal Erevan’s true colors. Each time the Red Hand of Ra attacked a transportation line, it did so with obvious foreknowledge of the intended route. How did they gain this knowledge? Why, from Erevan of course!
That dastardly man practically ran the nation’s supply lines. Nothing so much as moved without his knowledge or say so. It was his own company that kept trade afloat, providing the much needed transfer of resources from District to District. In short, he had the perfect opportunity to slip information to the Red Hand.
People believed Nedry to be a fool. His own family were among those that did. But they were wrong. Nedry Stryker was no fool! And when he finally brought down that terrorist Erevan, he would show them that!
Erevan and Hazel slipped away into the crowd, obscured by the other dancing couples. It was a shame that Erevan was a terrorist, because him and Hazel actually made quite the pair. If they got married Nedry suspected that they would produce appallingly beautiful babies.
Nedry frowned. Thoughts of children always upset him. He was married himself, of course. He’d wed when he was young, back when everyone thought that he’d become the next President by virtue of being Father‘s eldest child. Many woman had wanted his hand, but Father had eventually decided that Nedry would marry Atalanta Valii, the eldest daughter of Corsovar Valii. Atalanta had been so happy, believing that one day she’d bear a son who’d become President in his own time. 
That didn’t happen. Atalanta had never given him children, and over time it became apparent that Father had no intention of handing the presidency to Nedry. In the years that followed Atalanta had shut herself away in their private manor, rarely venturing out. Nedry couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually seen the woman. It was probably a few months ago. Probably.
Nedry shook his head and carried on his search for Dimentio. A matter of fact, Roscoe and Rozlyn were the only ones of his siblings who had children of their own. Roscoe was married to another scion of a Great Family, whilst Rozlyn’s husband was a man of lesser note. Yet each had their own set of twins, something which Nedry doubted was natural. Likely they had engaged in genetic altering. Such a thing was commonplace among those of high wealth and status, both of which his siblings had in great supply. 
Nedry reached the end of the ballroom, but Dimentio was still nowhere to be seen. Aurilee, however, was present. The tiny blonde woman was sitting at a triangular table seated at the very tip of one the platforms, deep in conversation with a stern man who wore a multitude of rings upon his fingers.
Nedry paused, frowning at the sight. That man was familiar, wasn’t he? It took him a moment, but he eventually identified the man as Basilus Ring, the father of Remus Ring, the current male tribute of the Capitol and one of Aurilee’s Champions. 
The foolish slip of a girl was no doubt making further plans for when her Champion won and granted her the Presidency. Well, unfortunately for her, that day would never come. One of Nedry’s own Champions were guaranteed to win and give him the Presidency. 
Nedry wiped his head with a handkerchief, chortling to himself as he turned and went back the way he came. Yes, winning the competition and finally upstaging his siblings would be the sweetest prize of all. Sweeter even then becoming President. 
Thunderstorms and rain continued to rage in the arena. Nedry stopped beside one of the large holographic screens to watch as Briar and her allies fled through the darkened woods, desperately searching for any semblance of a shelter. Situations in the arena could change at any moment. This sudden storm was a great example of that. One couldn’t just pick the strongest tribute and expect them to emerge Victorious. No, you needed cunning and technique to truly survive the Games.
“I must say that this newest surprise has quite shaken up the Games!” A voice grabbed Nedry’s attention and he found himself drifting closer to a small group of men positioned underneath the screen. 
He recognized most of them. Two were prominent members of a Great Family, while a third was the Head Gamemaker, Vitas Tarquinius, himself. The fourth, however, was unknown to him. A tall, balding man who wore glasses that sat upon a long, aquiline nose, the man’s expression seemed to be one of eternal disappointment. 
“Good evening, gentlemen!” Nedry exchanged pleasantries with the men, aware of the knowledge that, while they may not wish for him to be included in their conversations, he was of a high enough rank that they couldn’t simply turn him away. 
“It is rare to see you at events such as these,” One of the men, Silas Melville, gave Nedry a cold stare. 
“He could say the same of you, Silas!” The other, Raul Mendelssohn, said with a laugh. “You don’t often attend events such as these!”
Silas acceded the point with a nod. “True enough. However, I have a…vested interest in these particular Games.”
Nedry listened in silence as they continued their conversation. He was ignored, just like that. It wasn’t surprising, really. It’d happened to him often enough that he began to expect it.
”The arena has been a spectacular success, Vitas!” Raul complimented the Gamemaker. “Truly one of the more unique choices.”
Vitas smiled slightly. “As much as I’d love to take all the credit, I’d be remiss if I didn’t say that Mr. Schindler here was instrumental in our creation of the arena.” He gestured at the balding man standing beside him and everything suddenly clicked for Nedry. 
Brandon Schindler! He was the General Manager of the Stryker Resort! Nedry had actually held meetings with the man, back when he served as Father’s liaison to the resort. That hadn’t lasted long. Father had been…less than pleased with Nedry’s efforts, and had taken the job away from him after a little more than a month.
“Designing the arena to resemble the resort is simply good business,” Schindler said quietly. He wasn’t a man who craved the limelight, Nedry remembered. “Our estimated ticket sales are through the roof. These Games will bring in more money than we ever could have hoped.”
Money. Is that all these little cretins cared for? Nedry had more money than he knew what to do with. He could literally burn money if he wanted! What a boring conversation! Yet Nedry stuck around, if only to hear the others ask Vitas questions about the Games.
Father had forbade his successors from asking the Gamemakers anything pertaining to the 333rd Games, but he had not forbidden listening to someone else ask the questions.
So Nedry sat idly by and listened as Silas and Raul questioned Vitas. He actually learned a decent amount of information. There was going to be a Feast later on, for example. And today, the fourth day, was not only going to remain dark and stormy throughout its entire duration, but would also supposedly feature mutts quite heavily. Speaking of the mutts…apparently there was not one, but two S-Class mutts in the arena. One of them was certainly that horrid moose which kept terrorizing the tributes, but the other was…?
A hand laid itself upon his shoulder.
Nedry yelped and have a start of surprise, drawing stares from the other men. Raul hid a chuckle behind the rim of his glass, but the others merely gave him looks of exasperation. 
Fool! Nedry made a complete fool of himself again!
Redfaced and ashamed of his behavior, Nedry spun around, eager to chew out the culprit who dared laid a hand on him. Yet the words died on his lips when he saw who it was.
Dimentio.
”Hello, big brother!” The blond man smiled cheerfully, giving a polite bow. “Are you having fun socializing with these wonderful gentlemen?”
Nedry stood silently, at a loss for words, as the others made their introductions. He spent all these hours searching for Dimentio to no avail, only for the lad to appear on his own at the most inopportune time? 
Dimentio laughed at something Vitas said, then bowed once more. “Unfortunately, I will have to decline that generous offer. You see, my brother and I need to attend to our Father. Fare thee well!”
Nedry stood in stupefied silence as Dimentio once more laid a hand upon him and steered him away from the group. The two of them made their way to the outskirts of the party, bypassing a gaggle of people which contained Austin Aitken as they exited out into one of the corridors which surrounded the ballroom.
It was then when Nedry finally found his voice. “Dimentio! Where have you been? I’ve been searching for you all night!”
Dimentio laughed lightly, continuing to steer him down the hall. A pair of Avoxes made room for them, bowing deeply as they passed. “My apologies for any inconvenience. I was caught up in important matters, you see, and couldn’t spare a moment for myself.”
Nedry wiped a handkerchief along his head. “Important matters? I dare say they can’t be more important than what I have to tell you! I’ve been looking into Erevan, you know, and what I found was startlingly—”
”Shush, brother. What you’re about to say should be said in less…conspicuous places.”
Nedry fell silent. He wasn’t accustomed to following other people’s orders, yet Dimentio’s words made sense. Erevan Newcastle was a rich man. Perhaps even rich enough to have eyes and ears inside the Presidential Manor itself. Best to wait for a more private area. 
The location Dimentio brought him turned out to be a small balcony that overlooked one of the Manor’s gardens. Not the main garden, mind you, but one of the smaller ones. Dimentio leaned against the railing, staring down into the courtyard below, and Nedry joined him.
A series of cobblestone paths ran between the flowers which grew from planters and…other things which grew plants. They bloomed magnificently, a wild cacophony of color that ran the gamut from purple to yellow and everything in between. Nedry often wished that he knew the names of the flowers, so that he could regale guests with his detailed knowledge of the plants. Alas! He could barely tell the difference between a daisy and a tulip. 
“Is this place secure?” Nedry whispered. The night was bright and clear, with a soft wind that whistled through the garden below. A handful of other balconies looked out into the courtyard, but each one was empty. Everyone else in the Manor was either asleep or at the party.
Dimentio laughed. The lad did that a lot, even when there wasn’t anything to laugh at. “I would like to say so, yes, but after what I learned, I very much doubt there is anywhere inside the Manor which is completely secure.”
Now that sent a shiver down Nedry’s spine. “What do you mean?” He demanded. The Presidential Manor was the safest place in Panem. If here of all places had been compromised…
Dimentio went silent, staring out into the garden. For once there were no hint of mirth in his eyes or expression. “I did some digging into Erevan,” He finally said, voice low enough that Nedry had to strain to hear him. “And what I found…well, it was quite troubling. More than enough evidence to have him arrested for being the leader of the Red Hand of Ra.”
A twinge of excitement mixed with the fear which had begun to crawl down Nedry’s back. Proof! Proof that Erevan was corrupt! Once he presented this to Father, he’d finally have the respect he deserved! 
“We must show Father at once!”
“Slow down, Nedry,” Dimentio raised a cautious hand. “Don’t you think you should look over this information yourself first?”
“Oh, right.” Perhaps he had been too hasty. Better to review the information and know exactly what he was trying to present before blundering into yet another embarrassing meeting with Father. After all, Nedry wasn’t stupid. He learned from his mistakes! “Do you have the information on you?”
”I do not. I have, however, taken the liberty to place it inside your quarters for you to view at your leisure.”
Nedry nodded. Smart. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. Soon Erevan would be dealt with, leaving him with one less competitor! He didn’t concern himself with Uncle Escortius—Nedry doubted he’d live too much longer, and he had no heir of his own—so his only real competition left would be his siblings, Roscoe chief among them. Was there, perhaps, some way to indict him as well?
“There was one extremely troubling bit of information on that packet I secured,” Dimentio spoke, interrupting his thoughts. “Apparently, the Red Hand…well, they have infiltrated the Manor and plan to strike tonight.”
”What!”
Nedry stiffened, sudden fear freezing him to the spot. Now? Here? He had to run! He couldn’t allow them to—
“They intend to eliminate someone close to Father,” Dimentio continued. “One of his children, perhaps. They mean to send him a message.”
Nedry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He needed to calm himself. They weren’t likely to look for him here, were they? Him and Dimentio were probably in the safest place they could be. The Red Hand would most likely strike at the party, killing one of his siblings. Well, that would hardly be a loss. In fact, one of their deaths would actually favor him!
He opened his eyes and smiled. “Well, that is unfortunate, isn’t it?”
Dimentio nodded in acquiescence, then leaned over the railing and pointed. “Do you see that?”
Nedry squinted, trying to see what the younger man had indicated. He couldn’t quite see anything out of place, but he wasn’t about to admit that and make himself look foolish. “Yes. It seems…strange.” He was fishing for more information. Maybe Dimentio would say something that let him know exactly what he was meant to be looking at.
“Look closer. It’s just over there, see?”
Nedry leaned forward, squinting so hard that his eyes felt like they were going to pop out of his head. He didn’t want to admit he saw nothing and disappoint Dimentio. His younger brother was the only one who didn’t mock and constantly belittle him. The only one of his family who seemed to actually care for Nedry. So Nedry leaned his portly body as far as he could, desperately searching for whatever it was that had gotten his brother so excited.
“It’s such a shame.”
“What was that?” Nedry barely heard the boy. He was too busy looking. Yes. He thought he saw it. A flash of red in the garden below, hidden amongst the flowers. 
“I said, it is such a shame that Erevan had the Red Hand assassinate my eldest brother.”
A warning bell went off in Nedry’s head right as a pair of hands reached out and shoved him.
Nedry flipped over the railing. He didn’t scream as he fell. Didn’t shout. He was too shocked to so much as make a sound. Dimentio had pushed him? No! That couldn’t have happened. Dimentio would never have done that. The young lad was the only one who cared. The only one—
The ground rushed up to meet Nedry and he thought no more.
===Valor Forge (District 1)===
“The Careers never lose because they are weaker or less prepared,” Austin spoke calmly as he walked up and down the line of assembled teenagers. Though he walked parallel to us, he kept his head sideways so that he’d always be looking us in the eye. “They lose because they don’t protect the bounty of the cornucopia, or because they tear themselves apart from within.”
I stood quietly, listening in rapt attention. Learn everything. Know what your enemy is thinking before they know it themselves. Austin was the best teacher I’ve had. That is why now, when everything around me seems to be falling apart at the seams, I dredge up his words and run them through my head.
Because they tear themselves apart.
I stare at the bedraggled tributes before me. Shivering and drenched with rain, they look nothing like the mighty Careers they entered the arena as. Weak. Ill-prepared. They aren’t what I wanted to have by my side at this point in the Games. If I am not careful, their ineptitude will drag me down with them.
The four of us are inside the waterpark closest to the cornucopia parking lot, Klondike. Unlike every other time I’ve been here, the park is tomb silent. Not a single sound beyond the breathing of my allies and the dripping of their clothes. The power is out. The radio has gone silent. The water features turned off. Even that blasted ringing bell on the kiddie pool is gone.
Though it is completely dark, the night-vision glasses I wear grant me sight. I take the opportunity to survey my surroundings.
We are by an entrance that sits close to an eatery and a bar of some sort. Behind us lies a kiosk full of towels seated next to a hot tub. I walk over and grab a few, tossing them to Mako. “Here, pass these out. They should help dry you.”
“Right.” Mako is uncharacteristically somber as he hands a towel to Opal and Alcmene. All these deaths must be weighing on him. 
Thunder rumbles overhead. The sound is faint, muted by the fact we’re so far indoors, but a flash of lightning visible through the overhead windows briefly illuminates the park. Then the light is gone and we're in darkness once more. "This will make hunting the other tributes a hassle," Opal says.
True. Though I can see through the darkness, the others cannot. Attempting to even do something as simple as travelling through the arena could prove perilous. What if we walked straight into another tribute's trap? Or worse; what if we walked into a mutt's den? We haven't seen a single one yet, but I know that there are some out there. Mutts are almost always in the Games. I was taught in the Academy to beware mutts. They are the one thing you cannot prepare for. 
"We should find a way to turn the power back on."
I turn, surprised, to find Alcmene stepping forward. My District partner has been her typical quiet self since we left the cornucopia. I know she’s troubled by the fact that she fell asleep while on watch, something she promised was not possible. It definitely irked me. My plans were waylaid because I was given faulty information. Had I known she would fall asleep...I would have made a different plan to stop further assassinations. 
Opal arches an eyebrow at her. "Oh? And how do you suppose to do that?"
"I don't know, which is why I said we should find a way," With my night-vision glasses, I am the only one who can see the look of distaste on Alcmene's face. She does not like the District 5 girl. Unsurprising, considering she has previously accused her of working alongside Marina to bring our alliance down. "I propose that Valor and I leave to go attempt and do so."
Opal stiffens. Looks to me, then to Alcmene, and back to me again. Then she runs a hand along her wound, the one she claimed Marina gave her after the girl killed Yewan. She's taken steps to bandage and disinfect it, so it hardly looks like it slows her. Still, I know the truth. Any sort of wound is a danger in the arena. "You wish to split us up? Now? When we know Marina is prowling the arena?"
"Yes. Marina poses no threat to us, unless you believe the girl can singlehandedly kill both you and Mako."
Opal scowls, though I am the only one to see it. "Very well. Go gallivant off on your own. Just make sure not to get yourselves killed."
”Hold up!” Mako steps forward, one hand raised. “How about I come with? The more the merrier, right?”
“No.” Alcmene shakes her head. “It’s best if we split up for this. You should stick with Opal and let us handle fixing the power.”
Mako steps back, crestfallen. I find this interaction quite interesting. Why did he wish to come with? Because he doesn’t trust Opal? Or because he doesn’t trust us? Either way, it has given me something to think on.
Seeing that there will be no further protest, Alcmene nods, then taps me on the shoulder and heads off towards the doors exiting the waterpark. She almost walks straight into them, but manages to grab the handle and open it first. This darkness presents minor dangers as well as greater ones. 
I follow her outside and, when we're halfway down the hall and well out of earshot of the others, turn and give her a frown. "So, what's the real reason we're leaving?"
It’s not to find a way to turn the power back on. Alcmene is smart enough to know that the Gamemakers purposely turned it off, and thus wouldn’t give us an easy avenue to turn it back on. No, she has a different plan in mind.
“I didn’t want the others to hear what I have to say,” She answers, crossing her arms. 
“They don’t like you,” I say. It’s a fact, not an opinion. Neither Opal nor Mako hold any sort of fond feelings for Alcmene. They both, in all probability, actively hate her. 
“I am aware. That is fine, however, because I do not intend…” She trails off. The two of us are standing in the hall, near one of the many smaller entrances that lead back out into the parking lot, which is visible through the glass doors.
Wind whips the rain around in a tempest outside, creating a swirling eddy of water that makes it difficult to see more than a few feet. But there is something out there. Something which creates a slight fragment in my night-vision.
A pulsing red light.
”What is that?” I ask, hefting my shield into a defensive position. I could see better without the night-vision glasses, but I am not about to take them off. 
“A sponsor gift,” Alcmene responds.
I haven't seen one of those all Games. Maybe I shouldn't be surprised. What did any of us Careers need prior to this moment, when we had the entire bounty of the cornucopia in our hands? "It's been dropped in that rainstorm," I point out the obvious. It must be difficult to airdrop any items to tributes inside a building. "I'll go get it. You should stay put and—"
Alcmene is rushing out the door before I even finish. I shake my head and frown, watching as she dips out into the rain-soaked night. A flash of lightning illuminates the sky, followed by a thunderous boom as the door swings open. The roaring wind nips at her side as she sprints to the light and the promised items. Only now do I consider the possibility that this is a trap. What if some other tribute made that light in an effort to draw someone to them?
But it turns out that I was merely overthinking things for, within a few moments, a dripping wet Alcmene is rushing back inside the hotel. "What'd you get?" I ask her, avoiding droplets of water as she shakes herself off. 
She holds up pair of night-vision glasses, which she slips on her face. "Just these and a blowgun." 
I stare at the small, stick-like object with distaste. A blowgun is hardly a real weapon at all. At least its presence is proof that the drop wasn’t meant for me. I can hardly fathom anyone ever deciding to sponsor me such a useless thing.
“These glasses really give you a huge advantage, don’t they?” Alcmene sounds awed as she stands in place, swiveling her head. “Didn’t realize just how blind we were until now.”
”Yes. These glasses are quite beneficial as long you don’t look in the light.” Depending on the strength of the light, it’ll either fragment or distort your glasses’ vision. I go momentarily blind every time I watch the lightning flash through the door. Still, it’s better than not being able to see ninety percent of the time.
I politely wait until Alcmene finishes rearranging her items before asking the pertinent question. “Now, why exactly did you bring me out here?”
“Because Opal killed Zekel and Yewan.”
I raise an eyebrow at the confidence in her voice. “Bold claim.”
”It’s the only thing that makes sense. Besides, she slipped sleep syrup into my drink.”
I nod. She did say something to that affect earlier, too. And it’s not difficult to imagine when it could have happened; Opal is the one who made the fruit drink after all. Tampering with it would have been too simple, which is exactly why I had refused the offer. Too many Career leaders have died from poison in past Games for me to accept any beverage from an ally. 
“Opal isn’t what she’s led us to believe, either,” Alcmene continues, her voice adopting a passion which has long been absent from her. “Her fighting style? The one she showed off in training? I recognize it from past Games. It’s a Capitol one, famously used by tributes from the Melville family.”
“She could have learnt it from watching past Games,” I point out. I have done similar things with my own style of combat. It always behooves you to be constantly improving.
“She could have, yes, but I don’t think she did. Her holier-than-thou attitude and haughty demeanor are too similar to Capitol citizens to be a coincidence.”
This is beginning to sound like a conspiracy theory, but that doesn’t negate her main point. The fact that she believes Opal killed Zekel and Yewan. Did the girl actually do it? Debatable. I honestly believe that Marina is still a likelier candidate, but it hardly matters at this juncture. With our alliance weakening and fractures opening, I can all too easily imagine her seeing an opportunity to turn on us. Thus…
Opal is too dangerous to keep around and must be cut loose.
“We shall kill her, then.” 
Alcmene gives a small smile, but it’s gone almost immediately. “Then we should head back and do it. She might be trying to kill Mako as we speak.”
“Unlikely.” Lightning flashes through the window, bright enough to fragment my vision. “Mako is bound to be on high alert after what just happened, so an attack on him is guaranteed to fail. Opal undoubtedly knows this.”
“Then we can explain everything to him and see if he believes us. He should. I doubt he’ll want to stick with Opal—”
”No.”
Alcmene pauses, caught off guard. She gives me a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”
“We don’t need Mako. He’s just a liability at this point. Do you honestly think he’d trust being alone with the two of us?” He would probably suspect that we were planning his demise at any moment. Perhaps rightly so. “Mako can only bring us down. The Careers have gone as far together into the Games as possible. It is time to end this alliance. In short, Mako and Opal both must die.”
Alcmene mulls my words over. I have no doubt she will see the sense in them. Mako and Opal are untrustworthy wildcards who need be dealt with. It is unfortunate that I have to kill Mako, one of the few people in these arena worthy of the Victor’s Crown, but it needs to be done regardless. Only one person can win, after all, and that person will be myself.
“Okay.” Alcmene nods. Her face has a far-off expression, as if planning her future moves. “Since we’re killing both, we should attack from behind and—”
“We will fight them head-on.” I have no intention of skulking in the shadows like a rat. If we mean to kill our allies, then we shall do so in open combat. “I will not strike them down from behind. I refuse to let them die thinking I was a coward.”
Alcmene doesn’t respond right away. I know that she’d have preferred to do this stealthily, but that isn’t the Career way. When one of your own goes bad, you don’t take them out in silence. No. You call them out and let the whole world know of their failure.
Then you kill them.
“Very well,” She shakes her head, wet blonde hair throwing off water, and hefts her club. “We shall do this your way.”
I smile and raise my sword. The Careers have served me well so far, but their usefulness has come to an end. Now they are only a weight tied to my ankles, destined to drag down if I don’t cut them loose. So cut them loose I shall.
”Come, Alcmene. Let us bring this to an end!”
===Mako Melanesia (District 4)===
The first few moments after Valor and Alcmene’s exit is spent in silence. I stand apart from Opal, ensuring that there is sufficient space between us, as I try to wrap my head around this rapidly changing situation.
It wasn’t that long ago when I had a pair of trustworthy, dependable guys at my side and an alliance that seemed poised to run roughshod over the rest of the arena. But now…
Who can I even trust?
Valor and Alcmene are people who I want to trust, but the two of them seem keen on making themselves as suspicious as possible. Why did they wander off to go find a “way to turn the power on”? And why did they refuse to let me come along? I don’t know. I have no idea what’s running through their heads, but I don’t think they are playing this game very well.
Still, I don’t think either one killed Zekel or Yewan. A flat out betrayal like that would go against every thing Valor stands for. That guy has a lot of problems, but I know if he was going to kill me, he’d at least have the grace to tell me why first. As for Alcmene…
Yeah, she’s a weirdo with some sort of brother complex, but I don’t think she’s our culprit. As I’ve thought before, she’s appeared too guilty this entire time. The actual killer would have hidden their tracks a lot better. Meaning the killer has to be either Marina…
…or Opal.
A flash of lightning shines through the ceiling windows, illuminating the park for a brief moment. The boom of thunder follows shortly. I hate that lightning. Every time my eyes begin to adjust to the dark, it sends a bright flash down onto us, disrupting my vision and leaving me in total darkness is once more. That’s dangerous. What if Opal tries to go for a trifecta? 
Keeping an eye on the girl—she hasn’t so much as moved since Valor and Alcmene have left—I stick a hand into the bag on my back and fish around in search of something I’ve had stuffed in their for days now. When my fingers clamp around a thick, tube-like object, I pull it out with a grin.
Opal shifts towards me. I cringe, expecting an attack, but she only speaks softly. “Valor and Alcmene cannot be trusted.”
“True enough,” I place one hand on the top of the tube, twisting it off. The other settles on the pull string in the back. Have to keep my tone normal. Can’t let her suspect that I don’t trust her. 
“The two of them will stick together,” She continues as lightning flashes overhead once more. “And will undoubtedly turn on the both of us sooner than later.”
Well, nothing she’s said is wrong. I’ve had those very same thoughts running through my head since Yewan died. At what point does District 1 decide they’re better off without us? Because, let’s be real, if neither one of them is the killer, that means they have to suspect that either myself or Opal are. Would they really want to risk having a traitor at their side? 
I pull the string and the flare in my hand comes to life. Red sparks shoot out the cap, a bright red light suddenly being cast around us. My eyes slowly adjust to the new light source, and everything begins to snap into focus. 
Opal shields her face and steps away. “What the hell? How long have you had that?”
“Since the bloodbath,” I say. I found three of these handheld flares in a box on a shelf in the cornucopia. I stuffed ‘em in my bag and have pretty much forgotten about them until now. “This sucker should last for an hour or so.”
Opal goes silent, watching me with expressive eyes. The flare casts a wide circle of steady light, but does not extend too far into the park. Still, being able to see at all is way better than being at the mercy of the lightning. 
“We should explore and search for useful items,” Opal breaks her silence. She turns and walks towards a nearby bar, seemingly thinking my acceptance is a sure thing.
“What about the others?” I trail after her, careful to keep her inside the light. The last thing I want is for her to slip into the dark and take me by surprise. 
Opal slides over the bar’s counter and turns to me give me a scoff. “You really think they’re coming back? The two of them might have just abandoned us. They’re definitely not searching for a way to turn the lights on, at any rate.”
Once again, though I hate to admit it, she’s right. How do I know that Valor and Alcmene will return? I either wait here and hope they come back—while leaving myself exposed to a sneak attack from Opal or anyone else—or I follow Opal and keep a careful eye on her. Neither option is appealing, but only one of them leaves me open to being ambushed. 
I sigh. “Okay, I’m coming.”
I approach the counter, careful to keep my flare pointed up and away from my head, and watch as Opal rummages through the bar, snatching up any empty bottles she finds. I have no idea what she is doing, but I am not about to ask. Not like she’d tell me the truth anyway. 
I yawn and stretch my arms. Haven’t had much sleep tonight. Probably won’t get any in the near future either. Damn. That won’t be—
I freeze. 
A faint scuffling noise echoes from somewhere behind me. I spin, flare whirling in one hand as I fumble with my trident in the other. The circle of light spreads in a radius around me, illuminating the area nearby but not extending any further than the towel kiosk. What was that sound?
I spend a few moments gazing into the dark, searching for any sign of movement. I see nothing, but eventually I hear a noise that is all too familiar to someone who has spent so much time on the ocean. A soft splash of water.
I grit my teeth and glance over my shoulder at Opal. The blasted girl is still behind the counter, but now she’s stuffing bits of cloth into her pockets. “I think there’s something in the dark,” I tell her. I try my best to be quiet, but the waterpark is so cavernous that a faint echo is unavoidable. “Pretty sure it’s a mutt, unless some tribute decided to take a dip in the lazy river.” 
“I don”t doubt that it is,” Opal is unconcerned as she continues to ransack the bar. “The Gamemakers wouldn’t have shut the power off if they didn’t have mutts fixed prowl around in the darkness.”
Yeah, that is not reassuring at all. I edge closer to the bar. It’s hard to hold the flare and my trident at the same time. Well, no. It’s easy to hold them, just not as easy to actually fight. So, when I reach the counter, I leapfrog it and cross into the eatery. The last thing I want is to get rushed by a pack of mutts and be unable to defend myself.
Opal drifts further into the eatery, heading back to the kitchen area. I follow along, my flare still throwing up sparks and light. Smoke too, but the ceiling is high enough that it doesn’t cause us much problems.
There’s a large grill in the kitchen, situated between a giant ice machine and an industrial sized sink. Several cabinets and draws fill out the room, and Opal wastes no time in throwing them open. Whatever she’s doing, she clearly isn’t worried about me betraying her. I could’ve killed her several times over by now. 
What’s her angle? Is she truly worried that Valor and Alcmene will turn on us? Or is she merely pretending so that I will lower my guard? What if she is working with Marina? That splashing sound could have been her. If anyone in this arena is willing to swim through water in the pitch dark, it would be her. 
A pair of double wide doors rest in the far corner of the kitchen. Opal finishes sticking some rags into her bottles and heads up for them. I move to follow when her actions finally click.
Rags…in bottles…
“You’re going to make Molotovs!”
Opal turns to stare at me. The red light of the flare gives her angular features a harsh cast. “Yes, I am. These will prove invaluable when Alcmene and her goon inevitably turn on us.”
“You really think that will happen, huh?” It’s not out of the realm of possibility. As much as I’d like to go the distance with the District 1 pair, I doubt they’d willingly take me along that far. Opal may be right. The two of them could be planning our demise right this second.
That said, I trust Opal even less than them.
“I know it will happen,” Opal continues making her Molotovs. She has around half a dozen of the things stashed around her person. “The two of them will turn on us and they will kill us. We need to be gone before that happens.”
I stay silent. A rock and a hard place. That’s what I’m caught between right now. Leaving with Opal sounds reasonable on paper, but I know that the moment we’re clear of Valor and the others she’ll stick a knife in my back. Similarly, staying with Valor and Alcmene might last me a day or two more, but then they’ll stick a knife in my back. 
I have no good options here.
Opal seems to take my silence for agreement, so she finishes with her bottles and exits out the kitchen’s back door. I hastily follow. Don’t want her slipping away into the dark. Opal isn’t threatening as long as I have eyes on her. Well, not too threatening.
We emerge back into the hallway that crosses the main entrance to Klondike. A pair of doors sit across from the entrance, leading out into the parking lot and the stormy night. I watch as the rain pounds against the cement in a certifiable deluge. Wouldn’t want to be caught out in that with no shelter.
“Mako. Opal.”
The two of us spin at the sound of our names. Who was…There! Two people emerge from the end of the hall, stepping into my flares red light. Alcmene and Valor.
“I suppose you didn’t find a way to turn the power on,” I say conversationally. Can’t help but notice that Alcmene is wearing a pair of those night-vision glasses Valor found at the cornucopia. Where’d she get them? 
The two District 1 tributes remain strangely silent as they continue forward. There’s a hard cast to their faces. A sternness in the way they walk. This is wrong. Very wrong.
I casually drop my flare to the ground, allowing me to place both hands on my trident. The flare sputters slightly but continues to produce both light and smoke. The latter gathers in the ceiling, becoming a billowy cloud that hangs above our heads.
“Opal Crane!” Valor speaks in his loud, booming voice. The one he typically uses for important speeches and grand announcements. “You are hereby accused of murdering both Zekel and Yewan. What do you say in your defense?”
Aw, shit. It’s happening! It’s happening right now!
Opal gives me a sidelong glance. I don’t appreciate the smugness in that expression. “You accuse me? That’s rich, considering that your little friend there is the one who conspired with Marina to murder them both!”
“You have no proof of that!” Alcmene says flippantly. I’ve noticed that both her and Valor have removed their glasses. The flares light must be interfering with them. Interesting.
“And what proof do you have that I am the culprit? None!” Opal has one of those Molotovs in her right hand. In the other she holds a match. When did she get that? Doesn’t matter. Things are about to get ugly and I want no part of this. I begin to slowly move backwards. Maybe if I reach the edge of the flares light I can slip into the darkness and—
“Stay where you are, Mako!”
Valor raises his spear and aims it straight for me. I freeze. What other choice do I have? Become a pincushion? I’ve seen him in training. I saw him throw spear after spear after spear. He doesn’t miss. Not at this close of a range.
“C’mon man, be reasonable!” I try to keep my voice light but on the inside I’m panicking. I am almost completely at his mercy here. And “mercy” isn’t one of Valor’s notable traits. “What purpose would killing us serve? Think about it! There’s still fourteen other tributes out there.”
Valor doesn’t respond. I wish that the light was better so I could see his face. Is he listening to me? Or is he so dead set on killing me that he won’t even let logic sway his actions?
“Save your breath, Mako!” Opal gives a scornful laugh. Behind her back I watch as she lights up one of the bottles. “These two have no intention of sparing you. They never did. Their sole goal is to see us dead.”
“I am sorry, but you’re too much of a hindrance at this point,” Valor says. He hasn’t so much as twitched from his position. “Both of you will serve me better dead than alive. Goodbye, Mako. I am sure you have made Panem proud.”
His muscles flex as he prepares to throw, but Opal moves before he can.
She hurls the lit bottle through the air, straight for Valor. His eyes widen as he spots its approach, but it is far too late to stop it. The glass bottle shatters on impact with his body and then Valor is screaming as fire engulfs him.
The spear drops from his hands as they flail in the air. His tortured screams echo through the hallway as he turns and runs, a living ball of fire. We all watch in stunned silence as Valor slams open the doors and goes sprinting into the rainy night, leaving behind nothing but his fallen spear and the sound of his screams. 
Then everything happens at once.
Opal grabs another bottle and lights it with a match, pulling her arm back for another throw. Alcmene lifts up a small, stick-like object to her lips and blows. Through the red light of the flare I can just barely make out the form of a dart before it slams into Opal’s forearm. 
Opal cries out in pain, her throw disrupted. The Molotov lands short, crashing into the carpet between Alcmene and us. Shattered glass explodes everywhere as a roaring fire comes alive, flames crackling as they consume the carpet and reach hungry tendrils up to the walls. 
Through all the chaos I hear Opal curse as she grips another bottle, chucking it over the sudden inferno and at the fleeing form of Alcmene. It misses the girl and shatters against the far wall. More flames pop into existence. More reason to get the hell out of here.
I turn and run.
I hear Opal’s startled gasp, her yell for me to wait, her urging me to come back. I ignore it all. Opal is not my ally. She never was. I run and run, powerful legs taking me down the darkened hallway, away from the blaze of light that is the raging fire. I run and don’t look back.
The Careers are finished.
===Briar Destry (District 10)===
Thunder booms overhead.
The three of us sprint through the pouring rain, running as the roaring wind sends it whipping at us in sheets, drenching our clothes and chilling us to the bone.
Shelter. We need shelter!
The ground is muddy and soft. Hard to find good footing. I nearly slip with every footfall, but I dare not stop moving. Lighting falls from the sky in jagged streaks. Every now and then one of the bolts, like a bar of white light, will strike nearby, smashing the ground and throwing up a spray of mud and dirt. 
We’re covered in the stuff. It clogs my nose, sticks to my hair, and covers my night-vision goggles. I have to keep wiping it away, lest I lose all sight and run straight off a cliff. 
The glasses were a sponsor gift. A trio of parachutes had found us right after the Anthem had ended, gifting us with items we never expected to have. Aiko and I both received night-vision goggles. When the storm first hit, we thought that would those would be a huge benefit. They would allow us to see in the dark, after all. But the lightning strikes…
Another bolt slams into the ground to the right of us, sending up a spray of wet mud. We shrink back, nearly tripping over one another in the process. As usual, my vision fluctuates as the lightning lights up the world. The brightness of the lightning bolts is enough to disrupt my night-vision, momentarily blinding me every time they strike.
And they strike a lot. 
Something tugs on the rope around my waist and I turn to see Aiko lying on the ground, sinking into the mud as she tries to pull herself back up. The rope was Talia’s idea. When the storm first began and before we started running for shelter, she suggested that we all tie a rope to one another and create a slack line, so that none of us would get lost. It was a good plan. Without that rope I fear we’d have separated many times over.
Talia appears at Aiko’s side, helping the smaller girl up while hugging the bow she received from the sponsor close to her chest. I was shocked to see that bow wrapped in the silver parachute which came for her. I’d never thought Talia of all people would be sponsored a weapon. Yet…
What good is a weapon against this storm?
My original plan for the day was for us to remain outside. Nature was my friend. I knew how to find food and water. Could probably provide a fire and warmth. What need did we have for buildings? But I hadn’t expected this storm. This all-encompassing, never ending storm.
When Aiko regains her feet, we continue to run. Whatever choice do we have? The trees around us begin to thin. At first I fear that heading this way was a mistake, that without the small shelter provided by the the trees and their boughs we’ll all be blown away or worse. But then I see the building up ahead, across an open plain of manicured grass and picnic tables.
A building!
I can no longer afford to shun the safety of the buildings. I know that the other tributes are likely to be in there, that death might find one of us inside those cramped confines, but I have no choice. If we stay out here our deaths are guaranteed. 
Better to take the possibility of death over the certainty.
I keep running, unable to hear because of the constant lightning. Barely able to see. The building itself is an indistinct shape that only sometimes is visible. But it’s a target. Something I can focus on and push myself towards. Reach the building. Reach the building and we’re safe!
Talia stumbles and falls, the sudden weight of her straining against the rope yanking the rest of us to a halt. I slip to my knees and set my hands in the mud, pushing myself back up. Cold. The mud is almost as cold as the rain. 
Talia regains her footing and points ahead, mouth moving as she shouts something. But of course I can’t hear her. I can’t hear anything. I could scream loud as I can and I doubt I’d even hear the sound vibrating in my head. But I can read her lips, and as I do I learn that she has finally spotted the building I’ve been dragging us toward.
I wave them on and push forward. We can’t stop. Can’t waste a single second. Any moment now one of those bolts of lightning could strike one of us. We’re about hallway across the clearing when a searing bar of light races down from the sky and slams into the ground before me.
I can’t hear my own scream as I’m thrown backward. I hit the ground hard, breath knocked from my chest as a spray of mud and dirt rains down atop me. Can’t breathe. Can’t think. Vision fluctuates. Then I am staring up at a darkened sky full of zigzagging bars of light. I roll onto my side and cough, air finally flowing through my chest again. Rain pelts my face. Where are the others?
The rope that was tied around my waist is frayed. Broken. I stare helplessly at the coil of burnt rope in my hand before regaining my senses and clambering backwards, casting a desperate gaze around the darkened night. I nearly lose my footing as I step on the edge of a crater, the dirt and mud sliding down into the pit as I displace it. I pull back in time to avoid meeting a similar fate. That crater is deep enough and the mud slick enough that I know there would be no climbing out from there.
Lightning flashes over heard and I am left blind for several long seconds. When my vision finally returns, I see two shapes stumbling towards me. Talia and Aiko!
I can’t see any wounds. Don’t have time to stop and check. So I just wave them on, pointing frantically at the building. We’re close enough that I can finally make out some detail. It looks very similar to the part of the hotel around the cornucopia plaza, but has definite differences. Not a place I’ve seen before. 
The three of us sprint towards the looming doorway, hoping that whatever we find inside isn’t worse than this hellish storm. 
===Damian Gonzalez (District 10)===
Lightning flashes through the window, briefly illuminating the large office as the three of us shuffle inside. A series of wide desks make up most the room, with the occasional potted plant and cabinet to fill the corners. A mini-fridge rests in a small kitchenette at the very back of the room.
The power outage is concerning, but it hasn’t effected us as much as I first thought it would. That is because of the sponsors. Not more than a few minutes after the power went out a pair of parachutes descended onto our position. Literally onto us. We only had to open the window and reach out to grab them.
I flick my flashlight on, casting its beam of light through the office to make sure there are no nasty surprises waiting for us. This flashlight, alongside Faren’s night-vision goggles, were inside those parachutes. A flashlight isn’t much, but the mere fact I received a sponsor item at all is enough to lift my spirits. Why would someone sponsor me? I’m just a loser from District 10. But someone out there disagrees. Someone believes in me.
Maybe I can win these Games after all.
“We going to loot this place, yeah?” Chrome leans against the door frame, arms crossed as he watches me scope the office out. He alone among us didn’t receive a sponsor gift. He’s acted like it didn’t bother him, but…
I saw the anger in his eyes when we opened our gifts. He did not like being passed over.
”Yes.” Faren keeps it brief as he pushes past me and heads for the nearest desk, dropping onto the chair and pulling the computer close to him. He has been talking about trying to find technology all Game, so he’s probably ecstatic that we found this place.
I cross over to the other side of the office, stopping beside a cork board set up on the far wall. Several sets of keys dangle from hooks set into the board. A handful of flyers are plastered around these, and some silly little decorations are pinned to it as well. I frown. Nothing of value. 
Honestly, searching for supplies is the least of my worries right now. I’d rather we spend this time regrouping with Briar and the others. There are only eighteen tributes left in the arena, and my alliance contains six of them. That’s a quarter of the competition! With those kind of numbers we actually stand a chance of surviving this place!
But the numbers are meaningless if we’re not together.
Where is Briar? We haven’t seen the girl since the morning of the arena’s second day. My best guess is that she fled into the wilderness and has been deriving sustenance from nature. Briar is a country girl, and has told me several times that she is more comfortable outdoors than being cooped up inside. 
I sigh, running a hand along a nearby desk. A picture atop it features an image of a rather goofy looking man with a big head and ridiculous hairstyle. The name underneath the plate reads Chase Vernezze, Aquatics Manager. 
Earlier I had absently suggested that we go into the woods and search for Briar, but both Faren and Chrome immediately shot that suggestion down. Neither of them were keen on the idea of venturing out into the storm on the mere chance that Briar might be in the forest.
To be fair, I’m not really big on the idea either. That storm outside is massive, even larger than the one which tore through District 10 last year. That storm knocked the entire District’s power as well. 
“That guy looks like a pervert,” Chrome sidles up alongside me and points at the picture on the desk.
”What does a pervert even look like?” I ask, mind still on Briar. How can we find her? 
“It looks like that man, I’m telling ya!” 
I can’t tell if this is Chrome’s brand of humor or if he just really doesn’t like the way that man looks, but I don’t particularly care either way. We have more important things to be doing. “Grab anything important,” I tell him as I skirt around the desk. “I want to finish up here and continue our search for Briar.”
Chrome flashes a wide smile. “Sure, sure. But man, I’m telling ya, it ain’t going to be easy finding her. Not without the lights on.”
“We’ll manage.” 
I walk away, more troubled by his words than I’d care to admit. Finding Briar won’t be easy. And if we do, whose to say that Talia and Aiko are even with her? For all we know they could still be separated!
I join Faren as he pries open the computer and begins to poke around inside it. He wears a pair of thick rubber gloves, something he found in a supply closet we checked on our way here. Watching him as he begins to fish through the wires and other stuff that apparently resides in a computer makes me realize just how wide the differences between our District’s really are. 
Something as advanced as this computer is a rarity in District 10. Only the richest citizens and District officials even own such a thing. To the rest of us this computer is as alien as the Capitol’s majestic skyscrapers. Until I was Reaped and brought to the Capitol, I’d never seen anything like it. 
But to Faren the whole thing is completely normal. Commonplace enough that he knows how to not only take it apart, but how to salvage pieces of it and transform them into something else entirely. It is mind boggling.
I spend a few moments just gawking as he works, then I snap myself out of it and ask if he needs help. Faren does his best to explain what he’s doing, but a lot of it just goes over my head. All I know for sure is that he’s searching for “components” and “actuators” to help him assemble some sort of electrical device. 
I decide to let him be and focus my attention elsewhere.
I try find anything of value, but the office is mostly full of basic items and silly trinkets. Nothing that would prove useful in the Games. So I only search for a few minutes before returning to the doorway and leaning back against the wall as I wait for Faren to finish. 
Chrome, who has spent most of his time studying the cork board, saunters over with a wide smile. “We all good here?”
I nod. “Almost. Just waiting for Faren.”
“Why’re you so upset?”
I frown. Hadn’t realized I was showing my emotions so visibly. “I…it’s just…do you ever feel worthless? Like, I don’t know how to explain. I just feel like everyone around me has some grand skill or ability that sets them apart while I…I don’t have anything special or useful. I’m just…average.”
Chrome falls silent. It’s only now do I realize who I’m speaking to, and I’m worried he’s about to laugh or make fun of me. But when he speaks, it’s in a surprisingly soft tone. 
“I know what you mean, man. Me? I ain’t got no special skills either. I’m just some guy from the slums who never got a real chance at life. But…you know what? I found a way to succeed.”
I watch Faren as he rises from the chair, tucking something small into his pockets. Seems like he’s found whatever he was searching for. “How?” I ask Chrome quietly. 
“It weren’t nothing impressive. I found all the special people, the ones who can do things no one else can, and gathered them around me. I just told ‘em what they wanted to hear, praised ‘em, and offered them a place at my side. Soon enough they all looked at me as some kinda leader.”
I listen in silence as Faren begins to approach, fiddling with some small black box in his hands. What Chrome is saying…it seems to make sense.
”When you’re leader of the special people,” he continues. “They all begin to look at you for guidance. They begin to use their special gifts in the ways you want. And that, my friend, makes you the most special one of all.”
I don’t have any unique abilities or skills. I can’t fight like Valor, or make traps like Faren. I can’t even sketch like Talia can. But maybe…maybe I could just draw people around me. Maybe I could do what Chrome said and make myself a leader. A friend. Is that the best way to succeed?
“I found the parts I needed,” Faren adjusts his goggles as he joins us in the doorway. “But I’m not finished yet. Still have some tinkering to do.”
Chrome offers him praise and a clap on the shoulder as I stand silent, lost in thought. Despite everything that has happened, we still need to find Briar. That is the most important thing. So I lead the two of them back out into the hallway, trying to think where we should search next.
When I think of the woods and Briar, I can’t help but remember that alliance we encountered in the cabin yesterday. Killen, Maximo, and Discordia. Are they still out there? I would imagine so. I doubt they left before midnight, and the storm would have gave them even less reason to leave. I should be able to use that information to my advantage. But how?
”Do you hear that?” Faren’s nervous whisper pull us to a halt. We stand in the middle of a long hallway, nothing but doors to each side of us. I send my flashlights beam down the hall, shining it on a small alcove just ahead of us. I’ve been in the hotel long enough to recognize it as one of the hotel side doors. Probably one that leads outside. 
“I don’t hear a thing,” Chrome answers. He sticks close behind Faren. Without a flashlight or night-vision of his own, he’s reliant upon us to see.
“I think I do,” I say softly. A faint thumping noise, getting closer. Almost as if…
Three figures come rushing out of the alcove, nearly tripping over one another in their haste to enter the hall. As one of them rises to their feet, shaking water and mud off their shoulders, I can’t resist a shout of excitement.
“Briar!”
She turns towards us, one hand shielding her face from the beam of my flashlight. “Damian?” She hesitantly steps forward, waving the others back. “Is that you?”
“Yes!” A broad smile breaks out across my face. It’s her! Briar! I am giddy with excitement. Almost delusional. She’s here! We won’t have to venture into the storm! 
The three of them cautiously approach. When they get closer I finally notice how wet they are. All three are soaking, water dripping from their clothes as bodies shiver uncontrollably. Somehow this makes them all seem even smaller than usual. 
“You guys got caught out in the storm?” I ask, then feel stupid for doing so. Of course they did. Why else would they be soaking wet?
Briar gives the affirmative then steps forward to wrap me in a hug. It’s a cold and wet hug, but I don’t mind too much. Having my allies back at my side is worth a little discomfort. “I was worried about you guys,” She sniffs. 
“Yeah, so were we.” All three of them are wearing rain jackets, but it doesn’t appear to have been much help against that relentless rain. “I’m just glad to see you’re alive.”
“Kia isn’t,” Aiko mutters from somewhere in the back.
Yeah. Yeah, she isn’t. It’s been something I’ve been trying not to think about all day. Kia died yesterday. Somewhere, sometime, she was slain. By another tribute? A mutt? We didn’t know, and guessing was pointless. But now we’ll find out.
Briar explains what happened with Kia, and what they’ve been up to the last few days. It hasn’t been all sunshines and rainbows for them, unsurprisingly, but Briar and Talia have definitely run into fewer dangers then we have. They didn’t even know about Monty Moose until it’s my turn to explain our situation.
Talia gives a sudden yelp of surprise when she spots Chrome. 
Briar turns in alarm at the sound but relaxes when she sees the reason. “Oh. You guys actually found him.”
Chrome flashes another one of those smiles of his. “Yup. And I, ever so gracefully, decided to join the group. You’re welcome!”
I get the feeling that neither Briar nor Chrome are particularly fond of one another. I haven’t the faintest reason why, but I’ll puzzle it out later when I have time.
“We’re finally all together again,” Faren is the first to speak once both tales are finished. “W-we can begin to plan our next move now!”
“It’s all thanks to Kia’s sacrifice,” Briar says. Aiko shifts at these words. Half her face is concealed in the darkness outside my flashlights beam, but it’s hard to miss the anger in her posture. She’s not happy about Kia’s death, and understandably so. 
“Kia will be missed,” I say quietly. All the others, even Chrome, nod their heads in agreement. “She managed to take out a huge threat and further our own chances. If any of us win, it’ll be thanks to her.”
Silence befalls our group. Lightning flashes through the doorway, followed by the sound of thunder crashing overhead. The rain continues to come down relentlessly, an endless beat to unseen music. Our group slowly begins to break into pairs. Aiko and Talia sit by the door, speaking quietly. Faren waves his little box around in one hand, apparently explaining to Chrome what it does. Briar stands by my side, watching me with inquisitive eyes. 
“You seem contemplative,” She finally says.
“I am.” A plan has been bubbling in my head from the moment I heard Aiko mention that the Careers claimed Kia’s radio. “I’ve been learning a lot about myself since these Games began.”
She nods and sits down on the carpet, her back pressed against the wall. “I think we all are.”
I settle down beside her and stretch my legs out before me. My flashlight is pointed up, reflecting off the ceiling and giving a small circle of light for our group to sit in. This darkness combined with the sound of rain is actually kinda soothing. “I am glad you’re back, Briar. You’re a good friend.”
She smiles. “Thanks. I…just wish we were all together somewhere more peaceful.”
I wish the same. Everything in life would be so much better if there were more people like Briar and Talia, and less like my Father and the Careers. “You’re one of the few people I feel like I can actually be myself around,” I say, aware of how awkwardly phrased that was. But I have never been good with conversation. “It just…I feel like I’m faking when I’m around everyone else, even Faren.”
Briar nods, pulling her knees up and wrapping her skinny arms around them. “I understand that feeling. Personally, I think that everyone is faking, just a little. You can’t always be your true self. Sometimes…sometimes you just have to wear a mask, you know?”
”You’ve always been true to yourself,” I say. “You’ve never wavered in your beliefs. Not once.”
“Sometimes I think life would be easier if I did.” 
I don’t know what to say to that. That’s been a problem my whole life. Conversations and social interactions…I always just make a sarcastic quip or crack a joke at my own expense. How am I supposed to know what I say? How to respond? Everyone else makes it look so easy. 
Briar falls silent and the both of us just sit here and watch the others. Aiko is braiding Talia’s hair as the girl sketches something out in a small notebook. Have they always been such close friends? I can’t remember. Faren, meanwhile, is laughing and patting Chrome on the back. Undoubtedly the guy has told another one of his outlandish tales. Chrome does that a lot. I grew bored of it quickly, but Faren seems to find them entertaining.
“I don’t trust him,” Briar says quietly. I glance at her, surprised. She’s apparently been my following my gaze.
“Chrome? What has he done wrong?”
”Nothing. It’s just…the way he looks…”
“Briar!” I’m shocked. I wouldn’t have thought that she of all people would be so close minded. “His appearance doesn’t matter! So what if he’s different? He didn’t choose to look that way! You and me are darker than most of the others and—”
“I meant his eyes, Damian!” Briar gives me a gentle shove. “I wasn’t talking about his skin color!”
“Oh.” An awkward pause. “I knew that.”
She laughs, but it doesn’t last long. “I’m serious, though. I’ve always considered myself a good judge of character and…I just get a bad feeling whenever I look at Chrome. Don’t trust him.”
The levity of the situation has gone, and a creeping seriousness has begun to press in on us. I’ve done all I can to build Briar up for this moment, so now is the time to reveal my hand. “Briar…we need to whittle down the other tributes.”
She gives me a sharp look. “I don’t want to put us in danger. Attacking the others is—”
“We won’t be attacking anyone,” I say quickly. “My plan is more…creative than that. You remember how I told you we ran into that alliance yesterday?”
”The one in the cabin, right?”
“Yes. Well, I think we should take Aiko’s radio and…we should talk to the Careers.”
Briar goes very still. The look she gives me is one of incredulity and disbelief. “Talk…to the Careers? Why?”
I take a deep breath. There won’t be any suger coating this. What I am about to suggest probably goes against everything she stands for, but it will give us a leg up in these Games. “I want to tell the Careers where Killen and his allies are.”
Briar’s gives a shuddering sigh. Lowers her head and raises it again. Runs a hand through her hair. The conflicting emotions she feels is plain on her face. “You think it’ll work?” She finally asks.
I shrug. “No way to tell for sure, but…yeah, I think it will.”
“I-I think it’s a great idea!”
I turn in surprise to see Faren and the others standing around us. When did they get here? How much have they heard? 
“We need the other tributes dead,” Faren continues. “And this plan makes that possible while keeping us out of harms way. It’s a win-win!”
The others all voice their support for the plan, even Aiko, which surprises me. I’d anticipated that she would resist it the most, considering it involves cooperating with the Careers. I thought her hate for them would cloud her reason.
Briar sees their reaction and knows that there is no point resisting. She stands, nods to Aiko, and pats me on the shoulder. “Go ahead, Damian. Try your plan.” Her smile seems forced.
Aiko hands me the radio and I stare at it, feeling cold. This could be it. This plan could kill a handful of tributes. Finding the talk button, I hover a finger over it. “Everyone else should stay silent. We don’t want them to know we’re all together again.”
They nod and I press the button.
”Hello? Are the Careers there? This is Damian from District 10. I have information for you.”
Silence. The distant boom of thunder is the only sound. I glance at my allies, suddenly worried that the Careers will just ignore my call. How stupid would that make me look? 
The radio crackles alive.
“This is the Careers. Go ahead.”
A male voice. I don’t know who he is. I didn’t spend enough time around them to recognize their voices. 
“There is an alliance staying inside one of the cabins located in the picnic area to the east of the skywalks northern entrance. It’s Killen and his allies, the male from six and the female from nine.”
Another pause. There’s a lull in the thunder, so the only noise is the breathing of my allies and the patter of rain. We sit in silence as the pauses drags on even longer than last time. Then…
“Why are you telling us this?”
“That’s Mako!” I glance over my shoulder at Aiko’s whisper. Her eyes are cold orbs. “He’s the one who killed Kia!”
I press the talk button. “Honestly? I want you to kill the alliance and take my competition out for me.”
“Or you’re luring me into a trap,” There’s no pause this time. 
“Feel free to observe the cabin from a distance if you don’t believe me,” I begin to pace up and down the hall, nervous jitters running through me. I suspected them to be suspicious. It’s only natural. Yet still…
“That would be the perfect time for you to spring your trap, no?” There’s a faint sound of laughter. “But I’m not worried about that. I don’t think you guys have it in you to face us head on.”
“Attack the cabin or not, I don’t care. I’m just offering you some free information.” Need to sound strong. The Careers only respect strength. 
“You know what? Fine. I’ll do it. I’ll kill that alliance for you, but first you have to promise me something.”
I nearly drop the radio. This is not something I expected. What kind of promise would the Careers need from us? Nothing good. I can tell from my friends expression that all of them feel the same way. “Promise you what?”
”I want you to promise that, once those kids are dead, you’ll do something for me in return.” 
My mouth goes dry. I glance back at my the others. Briar is shaking her head. Faren is nodding. Aiko only stares at me with those cold, expressionless eyes. What do I do? 
“Deal.”
“No!” Briar lets put a hiss of breath and I have to push back a wave of guilt. Giving the Careers information was one thing, but promising to help them…she must be furious.
“Great. One dead alliance coming up. Where was that cabin, again?”
I give him more detailed instructions and then he thanks me and says he’ll be in touch. The radio clicks off and I take a deep breath. It’s done.
”So now we’re helping Kia’s killer?” Aiko is the first to speak. She does not sound happy.
I shake my head. “No. We don’t actually have to do a favor for him. That was…I just said that so they’ll attack the cabin.”
Aiko doesn’t respond. She only shakes her head, stepping out of the flashlights beam and into the dark. Talia gives me a concerned look and goes after her. I feel guilty, but there’s reason for it. I am not killing anyone, and we don’t actually have to help the Careers either.
“This plan makes me uncomfortable,” Briar admits. Water still drips from her clothing, making a puddle on the carpet. “It almost feels like we’re allying with the Careers.”
“We’re not,” I say firmly. “This plan doesn’t totally benefit them. It’s possible some of them will die in the attack.”
“Man, are they really going to attack the cabin in this weather?” Chrome waves his hand at the ceiling. A thunderous boom punctuates his statement.
“Valor won’t back down from any challenge,” Faren says with a shake of his head. “Not unless he believes winning is impossible.”
“Right. Well, it doesn’t matter anymore.” I close my eyes and take another deep breath. Hopefully this will lower the amount of tributes and bring me one step closer to home and Preston. “We should just go about our own business and…”
I trail off. Something is wrong. I do a quick head count and curse as I realize what I should’ve noticed from the start. 
“Where’s Aiko?”
We all spin around, searching the hallway for any sign of the girl. She’s not here, and neither is Talia. Both girls are gone. Disappeared. Faren, with the help of his night-vision goggles, spots a trail of water leading down the hall and towards the door which exits out into the night. We all crowd around the entrance. There, highly visible on the linoleum floor, we spot a pair of footprints leading outside.
“Bro, did they just betray us?” Chrome scratches his head. 
“No.” I feel cold. I should have seen this from the beginning. Aiko was furious at the Careers. Hated them for killing Kia. Didn’t Briar mention how she wanted to attack them? And then I spoke with them and gave them a location… “They didn’t abandon us. Aiko is going to the cabin so she can kill the Careers.”
A jagged bolt of lightning strikes down just outside the doorway. An eruption of earth rains down as a thunderous boom roars across the sky. Aiko left to kill the Careers, and Talia…she followed her. 
“We have to go after them!” Briar reaches for the door handle. 
“No!” Faren grabs her wrist, pulling her back. “That’s suicide! Don’t you see that storm? Those lightning bolts will fry us!”
“I’m not going to abandon my friends!” Briar tries to shake free, but Faren’s grip is stronger than either of us thought. He pulls her further from the door. 
“I can’t risk my life out there! Joule is too important!”
Briar wrenches her shoulder to the side and breaks free of Faren’s grasp. She turns on him with a glare. “So you’re just going to let your friends die?”
“I-no!” He backs off, both hands pressed to his head. He seems to be hyperventilating. I watch him with a nervous eye. This situation is rapidly spiraling out of control. 
“We can’t split up,” I force the words out, ignoring the pointed look Briar gives me. “We worked too hard to reunite to just throw it away. Our numbers mean nothing if we’re not together.”
“I ain’t going out into that storm!” Chrome shakes his head and backs off into the hallway. “Nuh-uh! No way! No how!”
I find myself stuck in the middle, literally and figuratively. Chrome and Faren stand on one end, inside the hallway. Briar on the other, nearest the door. One path is dry and dark, the other is wet and full of danger. Neither one is appealing. “Guys, come on. We can talk this out!”
”That storm is suicide!” Chrome continues to retreat further into the hallway, towing Faren along. The shaggy haired guy is crying, saying something about how he can’t make the wrong decision. I follow after, my flashlight putting a spotlight on them. 
I am helpless in this situation. I don’t know what to say or how to react. I can’t help but feel that the right set of words would fix everything, but I just don’t have those words. I never have and I never will. 
“I am going after Aiko!” Briar stands in the doorway, hands on her hips as she faces the rest of us down. “I couldn’t live with myself if one of them died because I left them alone!”
“Yeah?” Chrome shoves Faren behind him and points a finger at her. “Well, they’s the ones who chose to enter that storm! If they die it’s their own fault!”
I open my mouth, ready to tell everyone to calm down, when a different sound echoes through the hall. One that chills me to my bones.
A growl.
I slowly turn, facing down the hall opposite Chrome and Faren. My flashlights beam shines on the carpet. A set of pale white feet are visible. Something hisses in the dark and the feet retreat out of the light. Against my better judgment, I raise the flashlights beam.
A small humanoid creature stares back at me. The thing has a rounded head with beady eyes and knobbed ears. A mouth full of sharp teeth stretches open as it hisses, scuttling further down the hall and out of sight. 
“What the hell…?”
Another creature drops from the ceiling. Followed by a third. Frantically I turn the beam of the flashlight onto them, but they don’t fully retreat, only hiss and recoil to the edge, their skin rippling like jelly. Soon the first mutt comes creeping back into the light, growling loudly. Behind it I can just make out the forms of more. I nearly scream.
There’s an entire horde of them!
Faren screams. The sound is loud and piercing, driving straight into my brain. I stumble backwards and nearly lose my footing as Chrome turns and takes off sprinting down the hall, closely followed by Faren. 
My body itches to join them. To turn and flee from this horrid sight. But I remain rooted to the spot. The mutts don’t close the distance. My flashlight is somehow keeping them back. I’m sure I could figure out why if my brain was working properly, but I’m too terrified for thoughts. 
Something tugs on my sleeve. Briar. “Damian,” Her voice is soft and pleading. “I need you to come with me. I can’t save Aiko and Talia by myself.”
I am not special. Not unique. I don’t have any skills or abilities that set me apart from anyone else. I am just a disappointment. Haven’t I been told that so many times? Disappointment. 
I don’t want to disappoint people anymore!
“I’m with you.” I give Briar a sharp nod and she smiles. Such a cheerful smile. How can anyone be cheerful at a time like this? “When I turn, sprint through the door. Don’t look back. I don’t know why, but the mutts are afraid of my flashlight.”
“Okay.”
“On the count of three.” The mutts prowl closer. There seems to be some of them crawling along the walls. “One…two…three!”
We turn and run. The mutts snarl and immediately rush forward, their spindly arms dragging them along the wall. Briar shoots out the door and into the dark, rainy night. Lightning flashes overhead. Bright enough to keep the mutts at bay? 
I pass the threshold and emerge into the night. Cold rain hits me like a punch. I nearly stumble but stay on my feet, following Briar as she sprints for the forest. Only one thought runs through my head. 
I’m tired of being a disappointment.
===Solomon Eudia (District 13)===
Thunder crackles overhead, a faint booming noise that is only tangentially audible through the thick ceiling of the lobby. I pace up and down the length of it, trident in my hand as thoughts run through me like a train.
Remus sits on the lip of a fountain set up before the front desk. He stares forlornly into the ceiling, his staff tapping against the smooth floor.
Tap…tap…tap…
That sound is the beat to my thoughts. Teal’s death has had a profound effect on my lone remaining ally. It has torn him apart. Afflicted him with with a darkness which is evident in his eyes and posture. He is not in a good place. I wish to help him, but…
I reach the far end of the lobby and turn back, pacing towards Remus and the fountain. Despite the blackout everything is sharp and clear to my eyes. A sponsor parachute arrived earlier, coming down the lobby’s large chimney of all places, and granted me gifts. A pair of night-vision goggles and a tube of antidote. 
The presence of the antidote had made me think it was all for Remus, but the large stylized “13” printed on the box proved otherwise. Both items had been sent to me. I gave him my antidote regardless, for clearly that was its intended purpose. But…
Why? Who out there has the money to send me a sponsor gift? Who’d want to? I cannot imagine there are many who wish to see the Kin-Killer win these Games. So then who…?
I banish the thought from my head. It’s irrelevant. Pointless to wonder. All that matters is it happened. A gift was sent to me, so the only thing to do is make use of it.
I bypass Remus as he sits on the fountain. His staff continues to tap against the floor. He, too, wears a pair of goggles upon his brow. Another parachute arrived not long after mine, sent down the chimney just the same. This time it was emblazoned with a “C”. So Remus wasn’t forgotten after all.
Tap…tap…tap…
I reach the end of the lobby and turn back. I realize that I’m procrastinating. Wasting time thinking about unimportant things so I don’t have to face the worries ahead of me. I haven’t slept since the second night in the arena. My mind has been abuzz with activity. A plan. I have begun to formulate a plan that could see not only Alci, but myself and Remus all survive the arena.
Dangerous. And stupid. If the Gamemakers catch wind of what I’m planning they’d kill me straight off. Or would they? Roscoe has named me his Champion, after all. Will that fact protect me from repercussions?
No. Not if he learned the truth as well. If anyone finds out…
I return to the fountain and stand before Remus. He pauses his tapping, looks up at me with a frown. “Solomon? Is something amiss?”
I nod curtly. “I need to talk with you.” Can’t say too much. Not here. The cameras are watching. 
Remus’ frown deepens but he doesn’t say anything else as he stands, following me as I lead him to the edge of the lobby, to a small corner tucked away near the entrance to a nearby hallway. One good thing about being inside a building is that it’s harder to hide the cameras. They’re easy to spot if you know what you’re looking for, as I do. 
Once we’re safely in the camera's blind spot, I turn and face Remus. “I have a plan,” I say slowly. I don’t know how he will react to this. Could just laugh me off and call me crazy. “It’s…risky. One that could backfire horribly.”
His only response is a raised eyebrow.
“I want to ensure both Alci and I escape the arena.”
Remus stares blankly at me. I was expecting this reaction. Why would anyone believe this was possible? It’s never happened before. But the Games never had me in them before. “Solomon, are you okay? Did you hit your head or something?”
“I’m fine!” I wave his concerns away. “Alci and I are going to fake our deaths, so that way you can win the Games. All of us will live, and everyone will get what they want.”
“And you’re going to accomplish this…how?” 
“We’ll rip our trackers out and inject ourselves with poison. For all extents and purposes we’ll appear to be dead and, when they forget about us, that’s when we’ll escape.”
Remus runs a hand over his face. For the first time I notice just how exhausted he looks. “Solomon, you’re not thinking straight. You do remember that Alcmene hates you, yes? How will you ever get her to go along with this plan?”
That’s the hardest part. Convincing my sister that I’m not the monster everyone has built me up to be. A murderer, yes. But not a monster. I don't know whether I will be able to sway her mind or not. It is not easy to change someone's thoughts when they've held them for almost a lifetime. Alcmene may refuse to believe me, may shun my very effort to try and let her know the truth. My plan may be completely pointless.
But I still have to try.
"I am going to speak with her. Once she learns the truth she will be willing to work with us."
Remus shakes his head. "I doubt it will be so simple. Besides, her believing you is only one of many complications. The three of us would still have to outlast every other tribute and fool the Gamemakers. The chance of success is...minimal, to say the least."
"I know that. But Remus, this plan is the only way for all three of us to survive," I told him the plan was risky. That the possibility of it backfiring was astronomical. "The only way. Every other outcome, even the ones that involve one of us winning, still leaves the other two dead. This plan is the only chance for us all to survive."
Remus slowly nods. I can tell from the look in his eyes that he doesn't believe this plan will succeed, that he thinks I am insane, but he is willing to go along with me anyway. And why wouldn't he? While it's true the plan is far from a guarantee, it still provides a slim possibility for success. 
"We have some other obstacles to tackle first," I say, turning to gaze at the ceiling as another lightning bolt strikes somewhere outside. The lobby itself seems to shake with the sound of the ensuing thunder. 
"Mercia." 
I nod. "Yes, Mercia needs to be taken care of. The other Careers as well." I won't be able to have a conversation with Alcmene if they aren't dealt with. They'd interfere, or poison her thoughts against me. So I must remove them from the picture beforehand. I open my mouth, ready to begin formulating a plan, when Remus' eyes widen and he spins around.
Something thumps behind us.
A small, lithe form drops from the ceiling, neatly landing upon all fours and lifting its rounded head to face us. Dark beady eyes focus on me as it chitters softly. Remus takes a step back, instinctively dropping into a defensive form. "Solomon, what is that thing?"
"A mutt." Not a type I've seen before. My trident is already at the ready, pointed towards the creature. “Watch out. I don’t think it’s alone.”
Two more mutts thump down from the ceiling, proving me right. Remus curses. I understand why. Fighting one mutt is hard enough, but several of them? That’s bordering on…
More mutts drop from the ceiling. A loud chattering noise causes me to glance to the side, where I spot several of the creatures prowling forward, cutting off that route. Panic begins to rise inside me but I shove it down. This is not where I die.
“We’ll have to run backwards,” I say quietly. Loud noise might alarm the mutts, cause them to charge prematurely. “They have all other paths blocked.”
Remus nods. He is smart enough to understand the situation. Not surprising. It’s almost identical to the one we found ourselves in yesterday. I try not to think about how that led to Teal’s death. “Be careful. I don’t know how fast these things are.”
”I won’t let them catch me.”
“Good. Now, follow me!”
I turn and sprint down the hallway behind us. Remus follows, and so do the mutts. I can hear their frenzied screeches and snarling voices as they scamper after us. I keep my eyes focused on the hall before us, alert for any traps or obstacles, but I can tell from sound alone that the mutts aren’t very fast. We’re putting distance between us and them. Not much, but some is better than none.
“What is that?” Remus’ voice is a harried puff. His long strides have caught him up to me. A single finger points ahead.
I curse.
Just around the bend of the hall is a bright illumination that fractures our night-vision. A flickering, unstable light which produces heat as well as smoke.
A fire!
Tendrils of flame lick at the walls, tearing at the carpet as they advance towards us. I pull to a halt, vision unfocused, as the snarls of the mutts grow ever closer. Caught between an inferno and a pack of mutts. Where…?
Remus turns to face the mutts, staff whirling in his hands, eyes cold as ice. I grab his shoulder. “Wait. Up the staircase!”
A lone set of stairs lie to our right. Our only hope. We hurtle up, taking them two at a time. The mutts have closed the distance. I stumble onto the second floor, slamming into the far wall. We’re in another hallway that is almost identical to the one below. 
Crack!
I spin around in alarm to see one of the mutt’s collapsing to the floor, its skull crushed by Remus’ staff. 
He gives me a curt nod. “Keep moving!”
I turn to the right, intending to run the opposite way of the fire, when a trio of mutts emerge from the darkness. One leaps forward, snarling jaws aiming for my neck.
Remus snaps his staff downward, striking it across the face and sending it sprawling to the floor. I don’t waste anymore time. “Go, go!” I grip Remus by the shoulder and drag him after me as the rest of the mutts clamber up the staircase and pour into the hall.
Our path takes us over the burning hallway. Flames lick at the ground, warping the wood and melting the plaster. The floorboards creak beneath us with each step. Smoke rises around us. It’s hard to breathe. Even harder to see. I rip my goggles off and stuff them in my pocket while I run. 
My foot breaks through the floor.
I slam into the ground, head bouncing off the floor. The trident slips free from my grasp as I dig fingers into the carpet, desperately trying to keep ahold of anything as my body begins to slip downwards. I can feel the heat from the fire below. 
“Solomon!”
Hands grip me by the shoulders and haul me upwards. Remus’ soot stained face meets mine as he bends down to pick up my trident, thrusting it into my arms. “The mutts aren’t chasing us anymore. I think they’re afraid of the fire.”
I glance backwards. He’s right. The hallway behind us is empty, though I cannot see too far into the dark without my goggles. But the fire I can see. Flames creep up the walls, reach for us. Sweat builds on my brow. This hall feels like an oven. 
“The fire will kill us quicker than the mutts,” I say, waving Remus onward. Can’t stop and rest. This floor is too unstable. The entire thing could come down at any minute! 
As if on cue, a piece of the ceiling collapses as we turn to move. It slams down ahead of us, floor buckling underneath the sudden weight. I throw up a hand to shield myself from a wave of sparks as the wreckage breaks through the floor, revealing the hallway below.
It is a sea of flames.
I stare ahead, dismayed. Retreat is impossible. The flames have continued to extend, cutting off any possible route. And the only way forward is over that gap, one too big to step over. It will require a jump. 
I exchange a look with Remus. “Can you make it?”
He nods, face grim. “I have no other choice.”
Good answer. I back up to get more space, then sprint forward as fast as I can, legs bracing as I reach the edge. I jump at the last moment and sail over the gap, landing awkwardly on the other side. A tendril of flame whips against my arm and I recoil with a hiss.
Remus replicates my jump, using his staff as a pole vault to get him extra height. He executes it more gracefully then I did, barely stumbling as he lands. “Keep moving!” He doesn’t hesitate before he runs down the hall. 
The two of us continue our flight through the halls as everything around us burns.
===Discordia Achlys (District 9)===
I sit curled up on the couch, a pillow hugged close to my chest, as the storm continues to rage outside the cabin. Wailing winds shake the windowpanes. Rain beats against the roof. Thunderous bolts of lightning strike outside, sending flashes of brilliant light through the cabins square windows.
I don’t know how long this storm has lasted, but it feels like forever.
I am surprised it hasn’t destroyed the cabin. That feels like the kind of thing the Gamemakers would do. Have a storm wreck our cabin and send us running out into forest, at the mercy of the elements. They love death and pain, after all.
My thoughts have been running dark as of late. I nearly died yesterday. That boy, Chrome, slammed me into the wall with so much force I was knocked unconscious on impact. Had Killen and Maximo not won the battle and fought those boys off…
I would be dead like Harmon.
Killen sits on a rug before the fireplace, tending to a small fire which he has going. It casts a soft, warm light upon his delicate features. I protected him in the tunnels, then he protected me yesterday. Is that a trend? Must we continually protect one another or face a horrendous death? I hope not. I don’t know if I can do it again.
I’m so weak and useless… 
Another bolt of lightning strikes. I don’t jump anymore. They don’t frighten me. Not like when the storm first began. Back then, I was worried they’d hit the house, break through the roof, and kill me. But Killen told me that was impossible, so now I feel better.
At least a little.
Maximo sits tucked away in the corner of the cabin. He hasn’t said much since I woke up. Just sits there rubbing his flare gun and glaring at the ceiling. I don’t think he likes the storm.
“Maybe this is a good thing,” Killen’s soft voice breaks the silence that has long held us in its grasp. “I doubt many of the other tributes will brave this storm to come out here. We should be safe for another day, at least.”
We can only hope. Despite our victory against those boys yesterday, I don’t think we are the strongest people in this arena. Too many of the others would kill us so quickly. Even with Maximo’s flare gun and Killen’s newly sponsored axe. 
He has the thing laid out beside him on the rug, the sharp blade glinting in the firelight. I don’t know when he received it; he already had it in his possession by the time I woke up. Still, the fact sponsors are sending us things gives me a small amount of hope. Not for myself, of course. Hazel’s curse will see me dead no matter what happens. But…maybe Killen or Maximo can win. I think that’d be nice.
I close my eyes and snuggle deeper into the couch cushions. That thrumming rain and distant thunder is actually kinda soothing. Makes me feel…sleepy. 
The sound of shattering glass bolts me awake.
Something dark and heavy slams through the window beside the fireplace. Killen screams and scrambles to his feet, grabbing at his axe as the thing turns to stare at him with cold eyes. Its long, narrow snout opens as it growls, saliva dripping from its mouth. 
A wolf.
The mutt throws itself forward, barreling into Killen with enough force to knock him over. The creature pins him to the ground, jaws snapping for his throat. Somehow Killen gets his axe between himself and the wolf, the mutt’s teeth sinking into the haft of his weapon.
“No!” My scream is almost lost to the whipping wind as it sails in through the shattered window. “Killen!”
Killen struggles to throw the wolf off, his face purpling from the strain. The mutt pushes against his axe, dripping jaws getting closer and closer to his throat. Soon Killen will weaken and…
No!
I snatch up my knife and dash forward. The wolf doesn’t even see me before I slam into its side, the tip of my knife sinking into its ribs. My momentum knocks it off Killen, takes both me and it to the floor. The wolf’s limbs scramble for purchase on the wooden floor as I rip my knife out and stab it in again and again. And again. 
I can’t hear anything. Can’t see. Everything is a blur as I stab at the mutt. Stab at its filthy, stinking fur. I scream as I stab. I know this. But even my screams are inaudible to my ears. There’s nothing but the wolf and my knife. 
Then I’m being pulled away. I thrash about as someone’s hands grab me by the waist and haul me off the wolf. The coppery scent of blood fills the air. Mine or the wolfs? I go slack, breathing heavily, as Maximo deposits me on the couch. 
“It’s already dead,” He says gently. 
I blink. The cabin slowly comes back into focus. Killen sits with his back against the wall, one hand rubbing at his throat. A puddle of water has formed at the foot of the broken window. And the wolf…it lies on the rug before the fireplace, so bloodied and broken that it looks like it has been savaged by an animal. Did…
Did I do that?
Suddenly I’m shaking uncontrollably. It happened again. I saved him. I saved Killen! A small sounds escapes my lips as he slowly rises to his feet and peers down at the dead wolf. It’ll be his turn next. He’ll have to save me soon enough. 
“I don’t think that was accidental,” He says, nudging the wolf with his foot. 
“That spirit is trying to get me killed,” Maximo sounds grim. 
Killen gives him a measured look. “I was referring to the Gamemakers. I think they intentionally—”
Crash!
A second window, the one set above the sink, shatters as a wolf lunges through it. The mutt gets halfway onto the sink, snarling menacingly, before Killen sends one of his axes flying. 
The axe slams into the wolf’s face, splitting it in two. The limp body slumps to the ground, unmoving. 
Maximo swears loudly. “That’s not the last one! There’s more coming—”
A third wolf lunges in through the first window, followed by a fourth. Terrified, unable to think, I scamper across the room and bolt for the front door. Too many! We can’t fight this many! 
“Follow Discordia!” Killen’s panicked scream fills my ears as I swing the door open and rush outside. Almost immediately I am swallowed by pounding rain. Everything is a hazy blur. I nearly trip down the porch as I descend into the clearing ahead. I run over the waterlogged grass, feet sinking into the cold mud. 
Two shapes follow after me. I can only barely make out the form of Killen as he races beside me, one hand gripping my elbow, the other holding tightly to his throwing axe. The other hangs from a loop on his belt. 
Searing white light detonates ahead of me. I’m thrown through the air, scream lost in the wind, and land with a jarring thump. I groan and roll over onto my side, feeling like every joint in my body has been ripped loose. I ignore the pain and push myself up, hands sinking into the mud, and look around dazedly. Everything is dark and blurry, purplish dots dancing across my vision. Afterimages?
The form of a person coalesces as I stagger onwards. Killen. He’s waving his axe in the air, pointing at me and shouting. I don’t know what he is saying. Can’t hear anything. But, as I get closer, I spot something else. The form of another person, smaller and slighter, as they creep out of the bushes behind Killen. 
They have a knife in their hand. 
I scream and point at the ground. Killen understands immediately. He throws himself down just as the person chucks the knife. It sails through the empty air where Killen was standing and whips past me, close enough to ruffle my hair. 
Who else is out here? Why are they out here? Killen pops back up to his feet and turns to face his assailant. They really are quite small. I find myself marveling at that fact as Killen winds back his arm and heaves his axe forward. 
Someone runs onto the scene, tackling Killen’s assailant to the ground right before his axe can land. The two tributes go rolling in the dark, then a bolt of lightning strikes, blinding me. I cry out and shield my eyes. 
Someone grabs my hand. 
I nearly stab them until I see that it’s Killen. He’s motioning with his other hand, pointing towards a large tree, where I spot Maximo waiting. The two of us sprint through the muck and mire to reach him, then all three of us are off, rushing through the woods and way from the mutts and mystery attackers. 
===Notcher Stott (District 8)===
I sit quietly in the darkness. Nothing moves. The only sound is distant thunder. It almost feels like I am locked away in a tomb far beneath the earth, cut off from any and all human contact.
I could only wish to be so lucky. 
This blackout has left me in a terrible position. The security cameras were my biggest asset, the one thing that gave me an edge over the other tributes, but they have been effectively dismantled by the power outage. Now I have no idea where the others are. For all I know they could be advancing on me this very second!
A stupid thought. Why would they come here? There’s no reason for them to even so much as suspect I am holed up in the security station, yet…
The other tributes aren’t the only thing to worry about. 
Those mutts from yesterday, the damn pale things that crawl along the walls, detest light. It is their biggest weakness, the one thing which kept them confined to darkened rooms. But now the entire arena is dark, and they’re free to roam around as they see fit.
This is not an idle fear. I can hear them out in the halls. Chittering to one another as they scamper along the walls. It won’t be long before they try to force their way into here, driven by either the Gamemakers behest or their own curiosity. And the security station has only one exit. If they begin to assault the door…
I’ll be trapped like a rat. 
I can’t let that happen. Won’t allow it. But how to avoid it? Trying to run through the hotel in the dark is a fools errand. At best I’d last a few minutes before those mutts tore me apart. And yet staying here is not an option. Though it is too dark to see it, I am fairly certain there is a vent in the wall to my left. The mutts won’t have to force the door open if they can just crawl through that. 
So I need light. Something to fight back against the creatures. 
I rise from my chair and feel my way along the room, following the wall until I reach the desk which holds the computer and the security cameras. They’ll be of no use to me, of course, but they’re not what I’m trying to find. Drawers. Didn’t the desk have drawers? I never checked them, a foolish oversight. What if something important was hidden inside?
I fumble around in the dark until my hands find the drawer handle. I yank the thing open and fish around inside, feeling at the items within. Surely there must be…
My fingers touch a familiar object. 
A flashlight!
I waste no time in flicking it on. A short beam of yellow light blinks into existence, momentarily blinding me. How long has it been since the power first went out? How long since I last saw light? 
Far too long.
I feel a sense of misplaced comfort as the flashlight faintly illuminates the room. I can’t get complacent. Having a light source is great, but it is not an instant win button against the mutts. They hate light, even seem pained by it, but the presence of light alone does not completely deter them. You’d need a large amount to fully drive them off and…my flashlight is not enough for that.
I hold the hammer I found yesterday in my left hand. It will be necessary against the mutts. The needles I have stashed around my person are great emergency weapons, but they will be of little value against those creatures. Something bigger will be required for that.
Such as the hammer.
And yet…the flashlight is held in a loose grip. My right hand is missing both the thumb and the index finger, casualties of an incident which happened long ago. As always, I feel an intense hatred at the sight of my deformity. Once again that memory has clawed its way up from the depths of my mind to torment me again.
I can’t hold both the flashlight and the hammer. Not with any degree of reliability, anyway. One solid hit and I’d drop whatever I was holding in my right hand. Problem is I need to hold two things. The flashlight lets me see while the hammer allows me to defend myself. Both are absolutely necessary. So then…?
I check the drawer again and curse before moving onto the next. This time I find what I’m looking for. A roll of duct tape.
Shame and embarrassment flood through me as I set my hammer down and grab the roll. This is stupid! No other tribute has to go through such ridiculous lengths to accomplish something so simple! With teeth gritted and hatred flowing within me, I begin to wrap the duct tape around my hand and the flashlight, effectively tying the two together.
When I’m finished, I pick my hammer back up and step away from the desk, breathing hard. Stupid. I hate that damn injury! Everyone watching probably thinks it makes me weak. Well, let them! Won’t they be surprised when I cut their favorite tributes throat with one good hand!
I do a final check to make sure I have everything, then cross over to the door. I press an ear against it, listening for any noise on the other side. There’s nothing. So either the mutts aren’t out there yet, or they’re waiting silently for me. 
What a lovely thought.
In any case, I crack the door open and stick my flashlight hand through it. I don’t hear any shrieks of pain or surprise, so I shove the entire thing open and step out into the hall. 
Nothing but emptiness. 
“Happy birthday,” I mutter to myself. Pretty sure that today is the day I turn sixteen. The best present I could ask for is not having to see those damned mutts at all, but I’m thinking that won’t be happening. 
I set off down the hall at a brisk trot. I haven’t really gone anywhere since the first day of the Game, so this is a somewhat new feeling for me. Definitely not a fun one. 
I only get a few paces before I hear the scuttling.
I pause and drop into a crouch, throwing myself behind a nearby crate of beer. The beam of my flashlight shines down the hall, illuminating it for a good ten feet. There, crawling along the wall on the outskirts of the lights beam, I spot a pair of those mutts. 
I clench my teeth so hard that I’m sure the cameras can hear it. Those damn mutts! Are they waiting for me? Why are they just sitting there blocking the hall? There’s no other exit. This hallway is a dead end. I either confront them or…
A nearby door leads into one of the many laundry rooms which dot the resort. I don’t know if there’s anything in there, but it has to be better than waiting here for the mutts to find me. 
I slip inside and use my flashlight to look around. Several large washing machines and driers line the far wall, surrounded by a handful of cabinets. Blue bins stacked full of towels and linens are assembled in the corner, close to an elevator.
An elevator!
I cross over and scan the nearby wall. The elevator won’t work, obviously, but if there’s an elevator nearby then it’s only logical to assume that there’s a staircase as well. 
I shove a few of the bins out of the way and find it hidden behind them. A narrow doorway which, when opened, reveals the object of my search. A staircase.
I am about to step forward when the towels in one of the bins explode outward and a snarling mutt comes flying straight at me.
I have no time to react. The creature hits me directly in the chest, driving me back into the ground. My head cracks against the linoleum floor and literal stars pop into my vision.
A snarling face shoves itself through the stars, teeth reaching for my throat. Panicked I slam my right hand forward, sticking the flashlight into its gaping maw. The mutt gags and I bunch my legs underneath me, driving them into the mutts belly. The creature goes flying off me and I scramble to my feet, hammer in hand.
The air is alive with the sound of growls and skittering nails. A trio of mutts have come rushing into the room, basically skidding across the floor in their haste to reach me. I waste no time in turning tail and running up the staircase, the stairs pounding beneath the my feet as I go. 
Damn, damn, damn! Too many! Way too many to fight! Where did they all come from?
I hit the switchback on the stairs and take the corner at a sprint, practically leaping up the stairs. Breathing is hard. Panic nips at my sides. Feels like my chest is burning. But I don’t slow down. Can’t stop. I’ve worked too hard for everything I have in life to lose it at the hands of some inhuman freaks!
I reach the stop of the staircase. A hallway extends in an either direction, but I ignore both and rush through the doorway straight ahead of me. The roaring sound of thunder greets me as I stumble down some steps and slide across concrete flooring.
I am in a loading dock. Two garage doors sit open, revealing the pounding rain outside. Though it has to be the afternoon by now, the sky is still pitch dark. I ignore those doors and go around a pile of kegs, slipping between a forklift and a handcart on my way to a small door tucked away in the corner. 
I reach it just as the first mutt arrives. It slams through the door, snarling as it leaps onto the forklift and peers down at me. Two more come scampering along the walls, the click-clack of their nails echoing through the large room. 
What the hell! Don’t these things ever give up? 
The mutt jumps down from the forklift and I shove the handcart into it. The creature disappears underneath its wheels, snarling and flailing its pale, thin limbs. I don’t stop to gawk and am already into the next room. This time I check the door when I slam it shut behind me. 
It has a lock!
 
I flick the latch into place and take off sprinting down the hall. My flashlight reveals the carpet as I go. It looks familiar. Pretty sure I saw it on the cameras back in the security station. Where was this? Somewhere near the outdoor waterpark called Lost World, I think. 
The hallway turns up ahead. I don’t slow down as I round the corner, legs pumping as fast as they’ll go. I don’t know how long that door will hold those mutts. I need to make sure I put enough distance between me and—
I only have enough time to see the shape of a long, thin object before it crashes into my head and everything goes black.
===Maximo Gallardo (District 6)===
I sit huddled against the wall, exhausted and sore, as I wait for my hearing to come back. What had once been a complete throb of silence has weakened its pressure, and the ringing in my ears has faded. 
To my left, Killen says something to Discordia. Huh. His voice…it isn’t just a dull vibration in my head. I actually heard a trace of it! And, now that I’m paying attention, I think I can hear the steady drumming of rain. Good. That means I’m not permanently deaf. 
The faint light of Discordia’s flashlight does little to fight off the cold darkness which surrounds us. All it does is give me enough light to see by. 
We’re in some sort of hallway, one which is indistinguishable from any of the other halls I’ve seen throughout the resort. Killen is on his feet, saying something that sounds vaguely comforting to Discordia as she lies curled up on the carpet, barely moving. For once I can’t blame her for being so tired. That storm…
I thought it would be the death of me.
I rise to my feet, body aching in protest. All my limbs feel stiff and unresponsive. My jacket still drips with water. Ears pop as my hearing fully returns. That steady thrumming of rain now sounds like the pounding deluge it truly is. 
“We can’t stay here,” I tell Killen. 
The auburn-haired guy turns to face me. Looks way worse than usual. His face is marred with cuts and bruises, and one of his arms hangs limp at his side. “I know. But we can wait a few more moments,” His voice is raw and croaky, like someone had punched him in the throat. “I don’t think those other tributes will follow us in here.”
I nod in agreement, though it’s not the tributes who concern me. We’re back in the hotel itself and that’s where the Crawlers live. The blasted things are probably running wild and having the time of their lives right now. 
I don’t like that line of thinking, so I try to distract myself. “Why the hell were those guys even out in that storm anyways?”
Killen shrugs. “Don’t know. I don’t even know who they were. Didn’t get a good look at them.”
“One was very small,” Discordia says from her spot curled up on the floor. She doesn’t so much as raise her head as she speaks. “And the other wasn’t much bigger. Both were girls, I think.”
A small tribute…only one person seems to fit that description. I swear under my breath. Aiko! Of course that little brat would be out in the storm! She probably thought it was all some fun “game”!
I lean against my maul, using it to prop myself up. I’m lucky I kept ahold of the thing. With the way that wind was blowing and those lightning bolts were landing, keeping track of my possessions was the last thing on my mind. 
Discordia suddenly sits up, her long hair hanging past her shoulders in one big wet mess. “Everything has gone wrong,” She says softly. “It’s almost like the Gamemakers are conspiring against us.”
“It’s all just bad luck,” Killen tells her gently. He holds out a hand and helps Discordia to her feet. “There’s no conspiracy.”
It’s not the Gamemakers, nor is it bad luck. It’s the spirit that has been haunting the Paranormal Action Squad ever since our foray into the 327th arena. Whoever it is, they want me dead and they want it badly. Those mutts attacking was one thing, but that storm and those tributes…it basically threw everything but the kitchen sink at us. 
So far its failed at every attempt, but there’s still a long way to go.
“We should try to find out where we are,” Killen says. “Just sitting around in the dark isn’t going to do us any good.”
The three of us gather up and head down the hall. Discordia leads us, because she’s the only one with a source of light. The glow of her flashlight seems pitiful against the darkness which presses down on us from all sides, but it is still better than nothing. 
Killen lags behind as we walk, still heavily favoring that wounded arm of his. I slow my pace so I walk beside him. Now that I’m up close, I can spot the dried blood on his jacket sleeve. “You okay, buddy?” I keep my voice low. Don’t want to scare Discordia. “That doesn’t look too good.”
He grunts. “I’m fine. Just took a shuriken to the arm while running. Would’ve been worse if Discordia didn’t warn me earlier.” He taps his forearm, just above the elbow. It’s hard to see it through the dark, dried blood, and fabric of his jacket, but there’s definitely a shuriken embedded in his arm. “Don’t wanna pull it out until we’re so somewhere safe,” he says softly. 
I nod. That’s sound medical knowledge. Never pull a weapon out of you until you know the severity of the damage, because that weapon just might be the only thing preventing you from bleeding out. 
We lapse into silence as Discordia leads the way down the hall. Eventually we come to a small three-way intersection, and I step up to read the sign hanging overhead. “That way leads to Lost World,” I say, motioning to the left. “And the other direction is a skywalk to the New Frontier region. Whatever that is.”
Killen frowns at the sign. “Doesn’t give us much information.”
“The skywalk at least sounds interesting,” I say with a shrug. “Maybe we can see something from one of the windows, yeah?”
Killen responds, but I’m no longer listening. During all my years spent ghost hunting I’ve become accustomed to the dark, to noticing the smallest of movements and softest of sounds. And right now I hear something approaching from behind. My eyes flit over Killen’s shoulders. A humanoid shape moves in the dark. Not a mutt. A tribute. 
I open my mouth and scream out a warning.
Too late. Killen’s head swivels to me, concern filling his eyes just as the figure steps out of the dark and thrusts a small, thin sword straight through his neck. 
The blade is pulled out just smoothly as it went in, and Killen drops to his knees, gagging on the blood which pours from his mangled throat. 
Discordia screams. “No! I was supposed to protect him! No!”
She charges the tribute, waving a knife overhead. The person casually sidesteps her swing and then steps up to drive a knife into Discordia’s neck. 
The flashlight drops from her hand and lands on the carpet with a muted thump. The knife is ripped back out and Discordia sways in place, making a soft gurgling sound, before tipping over and hitting the carpet with a slightly louder thump.
The figure turns to me. “Well! That was a tad easier than expected.”
I recognize that voice. I heard it during training, when I was searching for an ally. I passed over her because she looked so vain and snobbish. 
“Mercia!”
“Hmm? You’ve discerned my identity, have you?” The girl flickers her rapier, sending droplets of Killen’s blood flying. “Bravo! I hadn’t expected you to pick up on it merely from the sound of my voice!”
Killen and Discordia lie on the floor. Their movements have slowed, but they still choke and gurgle, dying slowly. I can only watch in stupefied silence. I lost both of my allies, just like that. 
“I’m going to kill you.” My voice is oddly quiet. Anger and fear have reached a tipping point inside me, bubbling over into a cold fury. How did that just happen…?
Mercia shakes her head. I still don’t understand her outfit. Completely black and oddly shaped. A pair of goggles rest over her eyes, the only part of her face not covered in black cloth. She takes a step closer. “I don’t need to kill you…but I will anyway. Killing is just…so enjoyable.”
I stare at her in disbelief. The way she talks about killing, the sound of her voice, it’s almost like the thought of death and killing arouses her. 
What kind of twisted freak is she?
Killen and Discordia go silent. I stare at them in dismay. Could I have helped? If I hadn’t wasted so much time, could I have somehow saved them? No…no, there was nothing to be done. Not with those kinds of wounds. I can’t hear any cannons, but I know the truth regardless.
They’re dead.
Mercia steps forward and I pull up my flare gun and level it at her chest. “Take another step and you’re dead!”
She pauses. I can’t see the girl’s face, but her body language oozes confidence. She isn’t afraid of my threat. “Now that’s an interesting weapon. Wherever did you find it?”
My arms are trembling so badly that it’s hard to keep the gun straight. “I’m going to turn you into a human fireball!”
She waves a flippant hand. “Unlikely. At this close of a distance you’d get caught in the back draft and fry yourself as well.”
I don’t respond. Is that true? I have no practical knowledge of flare guns or the like. Mercia could be bluffing for all I know. Why would she tell me the truth? It’s most likely a lie. But if it’s not…
I back off, retreating further down the skywalk. Mercia laughs and follows me, keeping close. “You can’t really think that’ll work, do you?” 
She taps her rapier against the floor as she walks. There is no concern in her voice or posture. No fear. She truly doesn’t believe that I will pull the trigger. She is just buying time, trying to get me to lower my guard so that she can spring an attack. I can’t let that happen. I’ll need to actually shoot her, consequences be damned. I can’t—
Shapes move in the darkness behind Mercia. At first I think my eyes are playing tricks on me, but when I look closer I spot an all too familiar form. 
A handful of Crawlers prowl closer, their footsteps silent upon the carpet. I can’t make out any details, but I’d never forget the shape of those pale buggers. Mercia hasn’t noticed them. Her face is intent on me, muscles of her arm flexing as she lifts her rapier. Soon she will attack.
The Crawlers beat her to it.
The mutts come lunging out of the shadows in a frenzy of hisses and shrieks. One leaps straight for Mercia, thin arms outstretched as it reaches for her with long, clawed hands. 
Mercia spins on the spot and drives her rapier through its chest. She shoves a shoulder against it, sending the mutt careening backwards into one of its fellows, then dances to the side and uses a dagger to slice the throat of a third. Two more sprint towards her, but their enraged snarls cut off abruptly as Mercia fires two darts from a hidden gun underneath her wrist, the projectiles striking each mutt in the eye. 
I stand in slack-jawed silence as Mercia casually strolls over to the mutt she stabbed with her rapier and grabs the sword by its hilt. She rips it free and, in one fluid motion, plunges it into the face of the fifth Crawler as it attempts to regain its feet. 
She turns to me. “Did you really believe that a handful of Crawlers would be enough to defeat me?”
I open my mouth and close it several times. Did she just call them… “Crawlers?”
”Yes, that’s what the Gamemakers named these horrid things. Such a stupid name. I wouldn’t—” 
I begin to laugh. It makes no sense. This situation is so dark and grim that I should be crying tears of frustration, but instead I find myself laughing uproariously. I am aware that it isn’t natural. That something inside of me has probably broken, but I can’t help myself. Crawlers! The name I gave them was right! What are the odds?
Mercia stares at me in bewilderment. She doesn’t see the humor. Of course she doesn’t. I continue to laugh, unable and unwilling to explain. It’s not until a loud growl emanates from the darkness do I fall silent.
Another Crawler has emerged. But not just one. A myriad of shapes linger in the dark, slowly approaching Mercia and myself. One…two…I try to count them, but it’s too dark to see properly. Not that counting would have mattered. There’s an entire horde of the things!
”You must shoot them with your flare gun!” Mercia finally takes her eyes off me to stare at the mutts as they ever so slowly approach.
“And have you kill me? No way!” Does she think I’m an idiot? Maybe she believes my laughter meant I lost my mind. 
“Fool! The Crawlers weakness is light!” For the first time since she popped out and slaughtered my friends, Mercia shows signs of uncertainty. She may not be fazed by a handful of Crawlers, but that horde? That frightens her. “You must shoot them!”
Mercia has fully turned her back on me now. She watches the Crawlers with a apprehensive stance. Clearly she thinks they’re a bigger threat than I am. My fingers itch to pull the trigger and light her up while she’s distracted. Killen didn’t deserve to die like that. Yet…
What if that’s what she wants me to do?
Conflicted, mind torn between vengeance and indecision, I decide to do the one thing that I know makes sense.
I turn and run.
I hear Mercia’s startled gasp and the frenzied snarls of the Crawlers. I sprint ahead down the skywalk at full speed, uncaring to the fact I’m running completely blind in this darkness. The sound of frantic footsteps tell me that I am not alone. That Mercia has also fled and is running somewhere behind me. 
And, chasing after the both of us, is a pack of vicious mutts. 
===Solomon Eudia (District 13)===
Remus and I run through the darkness. The pounding of our feet echoes like thunder in my ears. Lightning flashes outside, visible through the wide windows which surround us on both sides. 
A faint orange glow trails after us. The fire. It seems to be consuming everything in its path, hungrily devouring the halls as it sweeps through the hotel, tendrils of flame following as if in pursuit. A multitude of burns crisscross my arms and legs. It wasn’t easy to avoid those flames. 
We’re past the worst of it. The fire seems to be mostly confined to the floors surrounding the cornucopia, and the path we’re on is a skywalk leading away from there. Soon we should be safe from the flames and—
Someone is running straight towards us. Visible thanks to my night-vision goggles, I hold out a hand signaling for Remus to stop, but he doesn’t see it in time. 
Remus and the oncoming tribute run straight into each other.
Cries of pain and confusion fill the air as both fall the the ground. Remus bounds back to his feet almost immediately, adopting a defensive stance as he whirls on the other boy. 
“Ohh…my head!” The guy stays on the ground, hands blindly patting the ground around him. “What the hell did I run into?”
I find his behavior to be strange until I realize that he doesn’t have a pair of night-vision goggles like Remus and I do. He likely can’t see a thing through this darkness.
So he should be an easy kill.
I heft my trident into position, ready to skewer him through the neck. I feel uncomfortable at the prospect, but it is necessary. For my plan to work everyone except myself, Alci, and Remus must die. If I have to be the one who kills them, then so be it. 
“Wait.” Remus puts a hand on my shoulder and forces the trident down. “That’s Maximo.”
“So?” Killing him would have been easier if I didn’t know his name. Now I can’t help notice how similar it is to Marcus, my brother. I killed him with a sword…
“We made a truce with him,” Remus says. “Teal made a truce with him.”
Right. That brings back memories from training, when the guy had tried to enter our alliance. He’d been the one to reveal Remus’ heritage, I believe. Still, is that enough to spare him? I can’t imagine…of course. Teal made the truce. Remus must think upholding it will honor her memory. 
“Whose there?” Maximo finally pulls himself to his feet. He spins in place, able to hear our voices but not see us. He has a small object in his hands. That’s not…is that a gun? “Show yourself!”
“It’s Remus and Solomon,” I say quietly. He jumps at the sound. “We won’t harm you. Our…truce still stands.”
I thought that knowledge would make him relax, but it is not the case. He jumps up and down, frantically waving his gun in the air. “Thank God! Dudes, we’re in trouble! That girl just slaughtered my allies in like two seconds and now she’s chasing me, and she’s being chased by a literal army of mutts!”
I exchange a look with Remus. Maximo’s words come in a flurry so quick that it’s hard to understand him. But the part about the mutts ring uncomfortably close. Could they be the same kind which chased us into the fire?
“What girl?” Remus’ thoughts run on a different track. “What did she look like? Which District was she from?”
“No time to explain! We have to keep moving!” He tries to blunder forward through the dark, but I grab him by the collar and haul him back. 
“You can’t go that way. The entire place is on fire.”
Maximo swears loudly just as the footsteps become audible. I thrust him aside and turn to stare down the hall. A tribute approaches, walking at a brisk trot, weapons held tight in her hands. Even though I’ve never seen her inside the arena, I still recognize her by Remus’ description alone.
“Mercia.”
The girl pauses a few feet away. She also wears a pair of goggles on her head, which is unfortunate. Remus and I will hold no advantage over her in the dark. Mercia twirls a knife in one hand, the other is curled tight around a rapier. She seems to be in no hurry. “My, this is inconvenient. I had hoped to postpone this showdown until later in the Games, but I suppose now will have to do.”
Remus starts forward but I hold him back. “Don’t let her bait you,” I say softly. “And do not allow your emotions to control you. Anger leads to mistakes.”
He nods stiffly, face contorted in rage. “I know that! I’m no novice!”
Screams and growls echo down the hall, a cacophony of noise that drowns out even the thunder. Mercia glances over her shoulder and I follow her gaze, alarmed to see a metaphorical swarm of mutts flooding down the corridors. 
They rush through the hall. Some crawl along the walls and ceilings, moving across them like spiders. Others run forward with an awkward gait, occasionally shoving one of their brethren aside as they try to push ahead. One unlucky mutt trips and disappears underneath the wave of mutts as they heedlessly charge forward.
I feel a faint sense of fear. This…this is not something you can fight. “Remus, we need to fall back!” I keep my eyes forward, watching Mercia. Can’t let my guard down. “We can’t stay here!”
“Fall back where?” Remus is more angry than frightened. “The floor behind us is burning! It’s probably collapsed by now!”
That’s…true. With the way that fire was spreading, the entire second floor would have most likely fallen in on itself. But that means…
The swarm of mutts draw ever closer.
I had not expected to go out this way. I knew it was a possibility—the Gamemakers can’t be keen on the idea of the Kin-Killer winning, no matter what Roscoe says—but I had never truly expected that an army of mutts would be my undoing. “I’m sorry,” I find myself whispering an apology, but I don’t know who to. Alcmene? My family? Leilani? Maybe District 13. They’d believed in me when no one else had. 
“I was hoping to save this,” Mercia says conversationally. She alone among us has not shown any fear or trepidation at the sight of the mutts. “But I suppose it cannot be helped.”
She reaches into her pocket and draws out a small round object. Pulling a pin atop it, she turns and rolls it towards the mutts.
“A flashbang!” Remus screams a warning. “Cover your eyes!”
I do as he says, squeezing my eyes shut tight and throwing a forearm over them. Even with all that, I still see a bar of pure light flash in my vision. 
Shrieks of pain rise from the mutts. Howling and screeching, there’s the sound of frantic footsteps followed by yet more pained shrieks. Then there’s silence.
I move my arm, blinking to adjust my vision. The night-vision goggles are still on my face, so I can see the unmoving forms of mutts as they lie on the carpet, dead. What? Did the flashbang kill them?
“Solomon, watch out!”
I spin at the sound of Remus’ warning and slap away Mercia’s rapier as she thrusts it towards my face. The girl spins with the deflection, keeping her momentum, and ends up behind me. Out of options, I throw myself to the ground and skid across the carpet before clambering back to my feet and turning to face the girl.
Remus wasn’t wrong. She’s skilled. Perhaps more so than anyone I’ve seen in a long time. Still, we have her outnumbered. As long as we’re careful and use our skills to the fullest, she shouldn’t be able to beat us. 
“Flank her!” I bark an order and Remus nods, stepping around Mercia. She stays motionless, face obscured by her mask. What is she thinking? She doesn’t seem very concerned.
”I’m with you guys!” Maximo joins us in forming a triangle around Mercia. He holds a wooden maul in both hands. “This bitch is going to die!”
“Such vulgarity!” Mercia shakes her head. “Very well. I shall deal with you first.”
She takes a knife and heaves it straight towards Maximo. The knife strikes him in the forehead handle first and Maximo drops to the floor with a cry of pain. “Well! It truly is my unlucky day!” She shakes her head. “It’s been quite some time since that happened to me.”
It’s a possibility every time you throw a knife. Typically they’ll land blade first, but if they don’t…
”Remus, now!”
I step forward and stab my trident at Mercia. She dances aside, as I expected, but Remus is waiting for that. His staff swings out and connects solidly with her ribs. Mercia grunts and absorbs the blow, swinging a knife at Remus. With her distracted, I close the distance between us and punch her in the liver.
My fist hits some sort of padded armor. Mercia isn’t even slowed down and whirls around to slash a knife towards my face. I pull back at the last moment. “Remus!”
Mercia curses and tries to turn. Too slow. Remus’ staff smacks her across the face. Hard. She stumbles then falls to her knees, both hands cradling her face. One of the lenses of her goggles has cracked, revealing the green eye beneath. She is glaring at us. 
“Teal!” Remus roars, stabbing his staff out like a spear. 
Mercia leaps to her feet and slams a knife into his forearm as his jab lands against her padded chest. Remus recoils with a hiss, the knife staying embedded in his arm. But he successfully distracted her. 
The tip of my trident digs into Mercia’s back.
The girl lets out a gasp of pain and staggers. I can tell from the impact alone that my trident has punched through her armor, though not very deeply. No time to waste. I have to follow up on this advantage and finish—
A small round ball drops between Mercia’s feet. 
My eyes widen. I recognize that! It’s another flashbang!
There is no time to cover my eyes. The ball explodes with a bright, searing light that seems to burn itself into my eye sockets. I fall back with a scream, trident yanked out of my hands as I stumble back. Can’t see. Barely can hear. Where is Mercia? This is dangerous. I can’t protect myself if I don’t know where she—
Something slams into my chest and drives me to the floor. My head bounces off the carpet. Pain. Vision slowly comes back into focus. First thing I notice is Remus. He’s slumped against the wall across from me. The knife Mercia stabbed into his forearm has been joined by one in his shoulder. The boy is beginning to look like a pincushion.
A foot stomps onto my chest, driving all my breath out. Hurts so much. Can’t scream. I stare up into the darkened ceiling and see Mercia glaring down at me. “I am not one for pointless talking,” She says as she lifts a rapier, spinning the sword until its tip is aimed at my throat. “But I’ve been instructed to tell you that Aamon sends his regards.”
Aamon…? No! How could he have…I feel cold. Empty. I thought Aamon was finished. Unable to harm me or anyone else ever again. Yet now, at the moment of my death, I hear his name once more. Aamon. The mastermind behind the Tragedy of the Eudia. The man who abused me and manipulated me into killing my family. The man who wanted my family’s fortune more than anything in the world. I had thought I defeated him, but…
He has not given up.
Mercia moves for the finishing blow. Her last ditch trick with the flashbang was enough to disable both myself and Remus. She thinks that victory is assured.
But she forgot about Maximo. 
 
The boy rises to his feet behind her, an expression of pure rage on his face. In his hands rests the wooden maul. Without a word or even a sound, he swings. The hefty wooden head of the maul slams into Mercia’s right knee with a sickening crunch. 
Mercia cries out in pain and falls to a single knee. Her rapier drops to the floor, bouncing off the carpet near my head. Now unarmed and helpless, Remus sees his opportunity. The boy leaps to his feet and swings his staff straight for the girl’s face. 
She goes out like a light. 
Silence. For the first time in what feels like forever there is no ambient sound. No thunder. No screeching mutts. Nothing but the quiet breathing of myself, Maximo, and Remus as he stands over the unconscious body of Mercia. 
We…we did it. Mercia is defeated. I slowly push myself back to my feet. While she was undoubtedly a strong opponent, that was a bit simpler than I anticipated. Of course, that had a lot to do with—
Remus stands over Mercia and places his staff against her throat, muscles flexing as he readies to stab her.
Aamon sends his regards.
“Wait!” I grab his staff and yank it away. Remus whirls to face me with a glare.
“No! She murdered Teal, Solomon!” He attempts to pull his staff back, but I keep a tight hold of it. Still, I am surprised by how close he comes to ripping it away. Remus is freakishly strong. He presses a finger against my chest. “She’s a cold-hearted killer! Why wouldn’t we finish her?”
“She mentioned Aamon’s name,” I say quietly. My eyes meet his. See the hatred that lingers there. It’ll burn him up if he’s not careful. 
“So? Why should…” He trails off, the implication finally settling in. “Aamon? You mean the man who…”
”Yes.” A cold rage not too different from the one Remus must be feeling stirs in my chest. Aamon is responsible for everything that went wrong in my life. He was the one who started my descent into the murderer I became. 
Remus looks down at Mercia’s prone body. She hasn’t so much as twitched since he knocked her out. “Are you sure? Why would someone like her know about Aamon?”
“That’s what I mean to find out.” Aamon sends his regards. Why that phrase? Did he send her after me? How? And what about Alcmene? If he wanted to finish me off, then wouldn’t he still be seeking the Eudia fortune? He would need her dead for that. Maybe he could just wait for the Games to finish her off, but could he take that risk? Somehow I don’t think he would.
Remus shakes his head. “How? Do you intend to interrogate her? That’s a bit much, don’t you think?” 
I let go of his staff. I no longer think he’ll murder her outright, the moment has passed. I put on my trademark grin. The Kin-Killer must make an appearance. “That’s exactly what I intend to do. I will drag every piece of information out of her head and learn everything she knows. Then you can kill her, I promise.”
Remus watches me silently. He has realized that the act is on now. Bending over, he grabs one of Mercia’s knives and cuts some of her clothing into bits of cloth, which he then uses to tie her hands and feet. This done, he searches her pockets and confiscates any item he finds. And he finds a lot.
“Where’d she get all these wondrous toys?” I say aloud as the pile continues to grow. So many knives and vials of liquid. Poison? And that handheld dart gun. Two rapiers? There’s even some kind of sticky paper that I don’t recognize. 
“Aamon?” Remus looks at me in question.
I shake my head. Aamon wouldn’t have had the money for all this. If he did, then he’d never have needed my family’s fortune. “I am sure she’ll tell us when she wakes.”
It’s only then, when Remus pulls the unconscious girl to her feet and begins to lift her over his shoulder, do I notice that Maximo is gone. I look around, goggles granting me vision to see through the darkened halls. He is not here. “Where did that boy go?”
Remus glances at me. “He ran after I knocked Mercia out. I think he was worried we’d kill him too.”
Not a completely meritless concern. I certainly have no place for the boy in my plan for the Games. Perhaps it’s better that he runs off on his own. After the way he helped us I’d hate for either Remus or myself to be the one who has to kill him. 
Remus stares at the hallway we’d come running down what feels so long ago. “I assume we head the other way? The entire second floor is probably collapsed by now.”
“Yes. And Mercia has dealt with the mutt horde for us.” We didn’t find any more of the flashbangs on her. Evidently she only had two. A shame. One of those would have been supremely helpful if we ever ran into the mutts again. I begin to move when a new thought gives me pause.
“Are you sure you’re fine?” I gesture at the knives which are tucked into his belt. Two of them had been stuck inside his flesh not that long ago. 
“I am fine. Neither blade went that deep.”
I don’t think that’s entirely truthful, but I can’t press the matter. The Kin-killer wouldn’t care about his ally’s injuries. So I just begin to walk down the hall, waving for Remus to follow. 
“What’s the plan?” He asks. If holding Mercia on his shoulders like that is tiring, he’s not showing any sign of it. 
“We will find somewhere to spend the rest of the day,” I say quietly. “Then we wait for Mercia to wake up. When she does…well, that’s when the interrogation begins.”
===Marina Mattel (District 4)===
I stare through the open doorway and into the night, watching as the thrumming rain pours steadily down. It has lessened up somewhat in the last few hours, and the thunder has slowed as well. There are several minutes between each lightning strike, a far cry from earlier today. 
A soft breeze brings with it a chill in the air. Strange. Up until now this arena has been overwhelmingly warm, but the storm has changed everything. Even the air itself feels different. Fresher. Cleaner. Like the rains have washed away all the dirt and blood and made everything anew. 
I am technically outdoors, in the waterpark called Lost World, but I have found a small supply shed and have set up camp inside. Right now I sit on a overturned bucket a foot away from the doorway, watching the rain fall. The shed is full of shelves stacked with bags of chips and bottles of soda. A pair of blue bins containing folded towels rest in the back of the room. There, lying at the foot of the bins, is the lynchpin to my newest strategy.
Notcher.
It was a risk to venture out into the arena, considering the storm which was raging, but it was necessary. Finding an ally was crucial to my success. Winning these Games on my own is possible, but fraught with danger. Too many things could do wrong. Better to have someone at my back. And yet…
“You can quit pretending,” I say casually, one hand atop my trident. “I know you’re awake.”
For a long time nothing happens. Notcher doesn’t so much as stir. But then one of his eyes flicks open and glares at me. “Why haven’t you killed me?”
“Straight to the point, huh?” I chuckle softly. “I like it. Beats all that subterfuge and lying the Careers did.”
Notcher twists around on the floor, struggling into a sitting position. His arms and legs have been tied with some electrical cord I found in a crate. Even though I intend for him to become an ally, I am not dumb enough to put myself in undue danger. “Answer the damn question!” Notcher can’t quite get himself up. The best he can manage is leaning halfway on one of the bins.
“Very well.” No point in antagonizing the boy. Not when my goal is ultimately to get him to willingly align with me. So I explain the situation with the Careers. I stick to the truth this time, not adding any embellishments like I did with Solomon. If it didn’t work then I doubt it’d work now.
“The both of us will need an ally if we want to win,” I say once I’m finished. “Despite what it may seem, very few Victors go the whole way without any sort of alliance.”
Notcher doesn’t immediately respond. During my explanation he kept struggling to get into a sitting position and somehow managed to actually achieve this. Now he sits with his back against the bin, watching me with narrowed eyes. He’s not the type of person to trust easily. I know this just from the few times I saw him during training. And he was exceedingly close-lipped during his interview, refusing to reveal anything of his life prior to being Reaped. 
It will not be easy to sway him to my side.
“Knocking someone unconscious and tying them up is a funny way to make allies,” He grunts. 
I shrug. “I had to ensure you’d actually hear me out.”
He goes silent. For a long time the only sound is the drumming rain and occasional thunder. Eventually he gives another grunt. “Rhys did it.”
“What?” I blink. That was not what I had expected him to say. 
“You said Victors don’t win without allies, but Rhys did.”
Rhys the Lazy? He’s using Rhys the Lazy as a template for Victory? “That’s only because he hid in a tree the entire Games!” I point out. 
“Yeah, so? He avoided all the other tributes. Not a bad strategy.” Notcher is still struggling against his binds. I would be worried about a hidden weapon if I hadn’t already checked him for any. The only thing he had on him was a hammer. 
“That strategy won’t work for you,” I say flatly. “You’ve already been caught by another tribute. If I didn’t want your help you’d already be dead. Hell, you will be dead if you don’t help me.” If he’s not my ally then he’s useless to me. Better off dead. 
“Think threats will make me trust you?” Why is he so stubborn? This arrangement can only benefit him! 
“You want to use Victors as an analogy? Fine! Think of us as Kulver Tarros and Quintana. Neither one had a chance while separated, but together they were stronger than anyone else!”
He finally goes still. His struggling paused. He stares at me with cold blue eyes. “Madman Tarros? You seek to emulate his example?”
I shrug. “He was successful, wasn’t he? That’s all what matters in the end. Did you survive the arena or not? That’s my only goal. To hell with glory and honor or anything else like it! The only thing I want, the only thing I need, is to become Victor and finally get what has been denied to me for so long!”
“Kulver ended up killing her, you know,” Notcher is still glaring at me and his voice hasn’t changed in tone, but somehow I feel like he’s watching me differently. Judging me. Analyzing. Why? Was it something I said?
“I fully expect you to try the same,” I admit. Even if he accepts my proposal Notcher won’t be at my side forever. Eventually he will see his opportunity and try to strike me down. That is fine, because I am expecting it. “We don’t need to trust or even like one another. We only need to work together.”
He snorts and leans back against the bin. He seems a lot more poised and in control now. “I am not going to be a stooge for you to order around. You’re not going to make grand plans and send me into danger while keeping yourself safe. Understand?”
I open my mouth to respond when the implications of what he said finally hit me. He’s accepting my offer! “I understand. I won’t ask you to do anything I wouldn’t do.”
His only response is a grunt.
“I should probably untie you,” I rise from the bucket. “I am sorry for having done so, but that was a necessary precaution—”
Notcher stands up and the electrical cords fall off him. He is unbound. How…? I stare at him in shock. I’d taken all his weapons! 
“First rule of living on the streets,” Notcher flexes his fingers and I see a small, metallic object flip between his knuckles before it disappears into his sleeve. “Never get caught unarmed. Second rule; always assume your enemy has a hidden weapon.”
That weapon was so small and thin…he could have hidden it anywhere and I never would’ve noticed. Disappointment and anger rise in me. I hate being shown up like this, but this is exactly why I wanted him as an ally. Because he’s so resourceful and clever. My anger fades, replaced by grudging respect. “Those wouldn’t have helped you in an actual fight,” I can’t help but say. The needles may work at undoing bonds, but he’d be hard pressed to kill an armed combatant with them. 
“You’d be surprised.” He crosses over to the side of the room and begins to sweep the bags and bottles off the shelf, peering behind it. I can only stare in confusion. What the hell is he doing?
“Is there any particular reason you’re ransacking the place?”
“I’m looking for vents,” He finishes with the shelf and goes to the other one, repeating his previous action of making a mess. “Those damn mutts use them to travel. Can’t be safe if one is here.”
“We’re in a shed,” I say. “There won’t be any vents.” 
“Taking assumptions as fact is how you wind up dead.” He steps away from the shelf, apparently satisfied that there are no hidden passageways. He peers out the doorway and into the rain. “We’re in Lost World?”
“You been here before?” 
“No.” He shakes his head and leans against the doorframe. “I just recognized it from what I saw on the security cameras.”
His relaxed posture is feigned. I can tell from the look in his eyes and the way he fidgets. He is still uncomfortable, probably concerned that I will attack him at any moment. It’s somewhat understandable, but also very stupid. If I had any intention of killing him I would’ve done so while he was unconscious. 
“Cameras?” Those sounds useful. “Could you show me?”
“No point. Not while the power is out.”
Notcher never makes eye contact, and anytime I do his eyes flit away. I begin to understand that it’s not just the fear of me betraying him that’s making him so jittery; he’s just not very good at socializing. 
I watch him as he stares out into the rain. His right hand absently rubs at his left, the one that’d been taped to a flashlight when I found him. I had to cut the thing free. Not because I needed it—sponsors sent me night-vision goggles first thing this morning—but because I was concerned he might’ve been hiding a weapon in the tape. 
My worry was unwarranted. He’d apparently just been using the tape to keep the flashlight in his left hand, where two fingers are missing. For a moment I thought he might’ve been wounded in the arena, but then I remembered he was already like that in training. 
Notcher continues to rub at his missing fingers, seemingly unaware he is even doing so. I would ask him what happened, but I saw his interview and how he stormed out when asked that same question. Better to let sleeping dogs lie. 
“What’s your plan?” Notcher finally breaks the long silence. His eyes are still focused outside, but I notice the covert glances he keeps throwing my way. 
“For today?” I lean back and stretch my arms. “Nothing. I intend to just rest here and let the others kill each other off.” 
He nods slowly but offers no words. Seems like I’m going to get used that. I join him in looking at the rain. The thunder has made it impossible to hear any cannons today, but I know several tributes must have died, and that the day isn’t even over. More deaths are yet to come. I wouldn’t be surprised if Notcher and myself are one of the strongest alliances left come day five.
Assuming we don’t kill one another first. 
===Aurilee Stryker (The Capitol)===
Aurilee entered the ballroom at a careful walk, approaching the long table set in the center. The Map Room was the second-largest ballroom in the Manor, and spacious, with four red-streaked marble fireplaces where small fires burned beneath the carved mantels, a domed ceiling worked with gilt and supported by widely spaced columns two spans from white marble walls that had been stripped of tapestries, and sufficient mirrored stand-lamps to light the room as well as if it had windows. The greatest part of its tile floor was a detailed mosaic map of the Capitol.
Aurilee stepped over the map, wondering just why her Father had called this meeting. Nedry’s death was worrisome, true, but to have all his heirs summoned before him…something was amiss.
She was the first to arrive. The Map Room was empty and silent as a tomb. Aurilee took up a chair at the far end of the table, carefully tucking her dress beneath her as she sat. It was all black. A color fit for mourning her dear brother Nedry. 
Not that she actually mourned him of course. Nedry had been a complete fool who couldn’t think his way out of a paper bag, and the man was twenty years older than her, practically from a different generation. There was precious little the two had in common, yet it was only proper that she appear to mourn him. Appearances were everything in the Capitol and, despite all his flaws, Nedry was a Stryker. That had to count for something. 
Still, it irked her that she had to wear the black dress. She’d had a brand new one picked out for today. One which was fluffy and full of lace, in the colors of the Ring Family. After her talk with Basilius, she felt very comfortable in openly flaunting her support for Remus. He was her Champion, after all. Of course, she hadn’t told Remus’ Father everything she was planning for his son. Some secrets were best kept between Remus and herself. 
The door at the far end of the room opened and admitted Roscoe and Rozlyn. Their faces were twin masks of cold anger as they walked directly to their chairs and took a seat without even a word of greeting. Aurilee thought it odd how furious the two were over Nedry’s death, considering they’d absolutely hated the man. 
She supposed it must have been the fact someone had dared lay hands on a Styker that upset them so greatly. 
Aurilee understood the sentiment behind that, but Nedry’s death troubled her for a different reason. Nedry had been killed inside the Presidential Manor. Pushed off a balcony and shattered on the cobblestones in the garden below. When a groundskeeper discovered him earlier this morning, he had also found a red glove lying atop Nedry’s chest.
The Red Hand of Ra had struck again.
The doors opened once more, this time revealing Uncle Escortius and Erevan as they walked side by side, holding a quiet conversation. What did the two of them have to discuss? They were the most polar opposite of people Aurilee had ever seen. 
“I am surprised to see you join us, Erevan!” Aurilee said to the man as he took his seat at the table. “I’d have thought this meeting would be for Stryker’s only.”
A lie, of course. She knew perfectly well that Father had summoned all the heirs for this meeting. 
Erevan flashed her a smile full of white teeth. “While I am sorry for your loss and understand you must be grieving quite profusely, your Father has requested my presence, dear lady. Even one such as I am in no position to refuse him!”
Aurilee nodded and said some more simpering, silly things. All a disguise to hide her true intelligence, of course. Better for everyone to believe her to be a girlish nitwit than know the truth. Still, she doubted her act fooled anyone at this table. They all knew she had fangs. 
The doors swung open one more time and Aurilee felt her body tense at the sight of the man who entered.
“I am glad we can all be together in our time of mourning!” Dimentio walked at a slow, careful pace. His feathery blond hair had been brushed back and his suit was one of the deepest black. “Dear Nedry had been beloved by us all. He will be sorely missed.”
There was sadness in his tone of voice. Regret in his body motion as he took his place beside Uncle Escortius. To the average observer, Dimentio truly seemed to be a man in mourning.
But if you looked in his eyes, all you’d see was wry amusement.
Aurilee kept her eyes on Dimentio as he struck up a conversation with Erevan. Everyone seated at this table was a threat, people who could waylay all of Aurilee’s carefully cultivated plans and ruin everything she strove for, but Dimentio was the most dangerous bar none. He was the type of man who, when denied something, would destroy it just so no one else could have it. 
He’d burn Panem to the ground just to see if he could. 
“You were with Nedry shortly before his death, were you not?” Uncle Escortius asked Dimentio.
Her brother nodded. “Oh, yes. The two of us had stepped out into the halls to discuss some business deals, then Nedry told me he wanted some fresh air. He made his way to the garden alone. I…didn’t try to join him. Maybe I should’ve. Then he wouldn’t…they wouldn’t have…” 
Dimentio was a solid actor. Aurilee wasn’t surprised by that fact; the man had been acting his entire life. So she watched him wipe away his tears and felt nothing but anger and curiosity. What was his angle? Why play up sorrow for Nedry? What did he stand to gain? 
Wait…
Dimentio had been with Nedry before he was murdered?
The door swung open for a final time. All conversation ceased as they saw who it was that had entered. Tiberius Stryker, the President of Panem. 
Father was a broad-shouldered man with a square beard and close-cropped hair that had gone gray with age. Regal, dignified, and dressed in an all black suit, he was the very image of what Panem’s President should be. Yet his eyes…there was a tightness there. A somber bearing in the way he walked. Father…he was saddened.
Not many things could shock Aurilee, but this was one of them. Father, sad? It was almost impossible to imagine. The only time she’d ever seen him sad was when Mother had passed. But now…
“My son was murdered,” Father stood at the end of the table with his arms clasped behind him. He didn’t sit. “Killed by a rebel group which aims to unseat me and steal my country. What have you all to say about that?”
No one spoke. Heads swiveled to stare at each other, everyone uncertain on how to respond. Aurilee felt supremely uncomfortable and, for once, had nothing to say.
“We will find and destroy this rebel group, brother,” Uncle Escortius broke the silence. “Do not worry. They will be completely and utterly annihilated!”
Father nodded slowly and set both his hands down atop the table. He looked each of them in the eye, his gaze seemingly burning into them. “You are correct, brother. We will destroy the Red Hand. Starting with its leadership.”
Aurilee felt a flutter of surprise. Destroy the leadership? How would Father do that? The whole problem with the Red Hand was that no one knew who ran the group. Somehow they had both Peacekeepers working for them and detailed information on secrets which were kept strictly confidential, but no one knew who was responsible. Of course, it had to be someone of high prestige. Someone with access to information that no one else would have. Someone…
Aurilee’s stomach did a somersault as she realized something which she should have seen immediately.
The leader of the Red Hand was seated at this table.
Father snapped his fingers and a servant stepped out from the corner of the room and set a small briefcase on the table. Father undid the latches and flipped the case open, revealing a mess of papers and folders. “What I have here,” He spoke calmly, voice cold as ice. “Is a series of documents and correspondence which implicates someone in the crime of not only working with the Red Hand, but of being a central figure in their leadership.”
Aurilee stared at the people around her. Uncle Escortius and Erevan seemed perplexed by Father’s words, but the others all watched him with knowing expressions. Amusement twinkled in Dimentio’s eyes as he leaned back in his chair, one hand tapping his wrist. Roscoe and Rozlyn’s face were stern. Hard as rock. They knew…what?
“Do you wish to know where this evidence was found?” Father spun the briefcase so that it was pointed toward them all. Aurilee was too far away to make out any of the words. Father scoffed. “No guesses? Very well. It was found inside Nedry’s bedchambers.”
“Nedry was leading the Red Hand?” Uncle Escortius sounded confused. “Impossible! That simpleton could never—”
“Silence, Uncle!” Roscoe cut him off with a glare. “Allow the President to explain!”
Father nodded curtly. “No, brother, Nedry was not the leader of the Red Hand. Rather, he was investigating the terrorists and seeking to bring them to justice.”
To Aurilee that sounded as impossible as Nedry leading the Red Hand. How could someone like Nedry, a dimwitted, lazy fool, ever manage to collect evidence of anything? Yet it had to be true. Roscoe, Rozlyn, and Dimentio were all nodding in agreement. But of course that just brought up even more questions. How did any of them know about it?
Father grabbed one of the papers and held it in a tight fist. His cold eyes gazed at all of them. “Do you wish to learn who it is that has been financing our enemies? The name of the person who sought to bring an end to our dynasty? The one who murdered Nedry?”
Aurilee knew. She’d already put everything together. His mannerisms and facial expressions had made it all clear. The man who’d killed Nedry was inside this very room.
And it wasn’t whoever Father was about to name.
Father threw the paper down. It slid across the table, coming to a halt right in front of Erevan. “It was you, Erevan Newcastle. You are the leader of the Red Hand of Ra!”
For a long moment the man just sat there, gaping. Then he leaped to his feet. “Preposterous! Why would I ever…? How could you even…!” Erevan was at a loss for words. He gazed around at the people at the table, perhaps looking for someone to back him up. “What reason would I have to do such a thing? Where is your proof!”
“The proof is inside this briefcase,” Father never took his eyes off the man. So cold. Aurilee had rarely seen him this angry. “Detailed information on the shipments which were attacked by the Red Hand. Correspondence with their squadrons. Even a document describing how you requisitioned Peacekeepers for your own purposes.”
“Forgery!” Erevan slammed a fist onto the table. “None of that is mine! It’s all fake! Why would I need a group of terrorists to assist me? This country will be mine once I win the competition!”
Aurilee pursed her lips. Uncle Escortius seemed astounded at this turn of events, but none of the others showed any signs of shock or dismay. Dimentio was even smiling! That sight left her cold. Something was wrong here. Very, very wrong.
”Father, perhaps you are mistaken?” Aurilee spoke up, drawing looks from all the others. Dimentio frowned at her, a sure fire sign that she was in the right. “Surely Erevan wouldn’t try to—”
“There is no mistake!” Father smacked another hand onto the table. “It’s all here in black and white, clear as crystal! Erevan Newcastle conspired to steal my country and has murdered my son! He. Is. The. Enemy!”
The doors swung open and a cadre of armed men poured into the room. Not Peacekeepers. These were men from Father’s personal guard. Erevan went pale as they approached him, weapons drawn. “Tiberius, you must believe me! Whatever you think I’ve done, whatever those documents say, know that it’s a lie! I am your loyal servant and always have been!”
“More lies, Erevan?” Father shook his head. “A shame. I’d hoped you’d confess once presented with insurmountable proof of your actions.” 
Aurilee sat in silence as the men surrounded Erevan and hauled him to his feet. The man didn’t try to resist. He knew it was pointless. Instead he just stared at Father. Watched him with wide, alarmed eyes. He was innocent. That much Aurilee knew was true. Much of this situation eluded her, but that fact did not. 
Yet she was not willing to defend Erevan any longer. Father’s mind was made up, and there was no changing it.
“You will have a trial, Erevan,” Father said as the men dragged Erevan away. “Though with all this evidence against you, I suspect that it shall be a short one.”
”You are making a mistake, Tiberius!” Erevan shouted as the guards ushered him out of the room. “A grave mistake! You’re playing straight into the Red Hand’s plan! You’re—”
The door slammed shut and everything went quiet.
“Nedry tried to warn me,” Father spoke softly, eyes downcast. “He came to Roscoe and myself with his suspicions, but we laughed him off. And yet…he was right in the end. My poor boy. I thought he was a fool, but perhaps…” Father shook his head and looked up, seemingly surprised to see the others gathered around him. 
“It wasn’t your fault,” Uncle Escortius told him. “Whoever would have thought Erevan capable of such a treachery?” 
Father did not respond. He merely shook his head and walked off, disappearing into a door set at the far end of the room. Aurilee had never seen him so dejected. How could this have happened…?
Dimentio rose to his feet. “Please excuse me, everyone. I have matters which I must attend to.”
Aurilee watched him depart. Questions burned inside her. Dimentio had played Father like a drum. He’d set Erevan up and let him take the fall. That had to be the truth. 
Aurilee stood and curtsied to her remaining family members. “You must excuse me as well. I have…things which I must see to.” 
She didn’t wait for a response, simply turning and hurrying out of the room, following Dimentio. She exited out into the hall and spotted the man as he was making his way down the hall. 
“You!” She rushed forward and grabbed Dimentio by the shoulder, spinning him around. He gave an exclamation of surprise as she thrust a finger against his chest. “What have you done?”
“I have done many things, dear sister, so you’ll have to be more precise.” Dimentio laughed lightly and brushed her hand away. He didn’t look the slightest bit concerned.
“Nedry! You murdered him, didn’t you?”
The smile slipped off his face but the amusement did not leave his eyes. “Accusations, dear sister? Oh! You wound me, truly.”
“We both know this is no mere accusation.” The way he reacted was proof enough. Aurilee knew her brother and his mannerisms by heart. He had practically admitted his guilt. 
Dimentio glanced around, searching the cavernous hall for any sign of someone nearby. Evidently the empty corridors were not to his liking. “We should discuss this somewhere more private. I would hate for anyone to overhear your wild claims.”
“You wish to murder me somewhere quiet, you mean?” Aurilee wasn’t about to go anywhere he suggested. That was undoubtedly how he’d gotten Nedry alone. “No. We will have this conversation here and now or I will tell everyone about your actions!”
Dimentio smiled. “We both know you’d never do that, dear sister, but I digress. This hallway is empty enough, I suppose.” 
Aurilee took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. Dimentio was the only one who could get under her skin like this. But she couldn’t afford to lose control. Not here. Not for something so important. Controlling your emotions was the most crucial skill to master. “Why did you kill Nedry?” She asked quietly.
“Nedry? Oh, I didn’t particularly have any interest in killing him. I merely used him as a means to an end.”
That admission did not come as a surprise for Aurilee. She'd long known that Dimentio didn't care for people like others did. Humans were just things to him, indistinguishable from any random object. If he had to kill one, so what? It was no different than throwing away a broken chair.
"You wanted Erevan out of the way, didn't you?" If Nedry was unimportant, then that was the only logical answer.
"Correct. He was a nuisance, so I had him removed in the simplest way possible," Dimentio gave off another laugh. “You should thank me, really. He truly had no buisness in trying to become Preaident."
A dreadful thought suddenly seized Aurilee. "The Red Hand of Ra. Are you...did you..."
"No. I am not their leader." He let out another one of his laughs. "I faked all the evidence and planted it inside Nedry's chambers. Though I must admit that someone is clearly feeding them inside information. I thought it might have been you."
"I have no dealings with those horrid rebels." The Red Hand was a travesty. A bunch of motley fools who thought violence and monologues were key to wresting away control of a country. All the imbeciles were doing was uniting everyone against them. 
"Ah. Well then. I suppose that means either Escortius or Roscoe must be their leader." Dimentio laughed yet again. "I have answered your question, so if you'll excuse me..."
He attempted to walk away, but she reached out and pulled him back.
"That was a just a pretense. Why did you really have Erevan removed?" There would have been no point in taking such a risky action to get rid of Erevan when it was all too possible he'd lose the competition. The man had chosen the weakest possible tributes, and the odds one of them would win was the lowest of all the heirs. 
Dimentio hummed to himself and looked over his shoulder. There was nothing to see, of course. "Erevan owned so many businesses in the Capitol. He practically ran our supply lines. Now that he's been arrested on grounds of treason...who do you think will inherit his companies?"
Aurilee stiffened. An icy wave of coldness ran through her. Of course! It was so obvious! How had she not seen it sooner? “You will take control of all his businesses.”
Her brother's smile widened. "Ah, such a clever girl! I won't personally inherit any of them, of course, but the men who will all answer to me. I won't own the companies, but I will own the men who do. Own them...heart and soul." He paused, chuckling to himself. "And if you add my already rather sizable control of the financial markets...well, I am sure you can work it out yourself."
"You don't need to become President," Aurilee whispered, shock coursing through her veins. "You'll own half the Capitol itself!"
Dimentio nodded cheerfully. "That's the idea! Though I do intend on winning the competition as well."
His Champions were Aiko, Opal, and Alcmene. All three had proven themselves to be formidable contenders with little regard for empathy or any hesitance to kill. The three had a distinct wrongness about them. As if something inside was broken. They...they were quite like Dimentio himself in that regard.
Aurilee's heart skipped a beat. Dimentio had chosen the three people who most resembled himself for his Champions. It was quite possibly rhe most human thing her brother had ever done. 
“You wish to become President that badly?” Aurilee couldn't allow that. Anything but that. Even Roscoe as President would be a better situation. 
"Heavens no!" Dimentio laughed loudly though, as usual, the laughter did not touch his eyes. "I certainly won't enjoy being President. All that busywork sounds quite tedious, does it not?"
"Then why try at all? Why not bow out of the competition and support someone else's claim?" 
For once Dimentio's laughter died. He went silent. One thin hand absently tapped at his chin, his eyes blank and impassive. This was his true self. The one he hid from the others. The one he kept locked away, shown only to Aurilee. "Why?" He spoke quietly. Voice almost inaudible. His eyes were empty pools devoid of emotion. Of anything. "It's the same reason I killed Nedry. Why I framed Erevan. Because I can. That's why."
This man could never be allowed to hold the Presidency. His destructive whims and cunning intellect would...they would..."I am going to report you to Father," She kept her voice level, without a single hitch or quaver. "He will investigate all your dealings and find irrefutable proof of your guilt. You will be arrested and locked away, never to see the light of day again."
Dimentio smiled. "Will you now? You'd report your dear brother? But what of everything I've done for you?"
Aurilee didn't respond. She was staring at her feet, unable to meet his eyes any longer. Dimentio was...
"Do you remember how you felt when Father forbade you from seeing Remus?" He kept speaking, voice calm and cheerful. "You cried and cried until I came to you with a gift. What was it again? Ah, yes. A pet cat. You loved that cat. Princess, I think you named her."
Aurilee clenched her fists. She felt her arms begin to tremble. Princess was her best and most loyal friend.
"When Princess escaped the manor during the winter, who was it that braved the snows to find and bring her back to you?"
Aurilee remembered that day. She'd been stricken with grief and fear, unable to cope with the thought of losing her friend. When Dimentio staggered through the front door, clothing encrusted with snow and Princess in his arms, she'd never been happier.
"When Mother died," Dimentio continued on, heedless to the tears which had begun to stream down Aurilee's face. "Who was it that stayed up all night with you?" Father had locked himself away from the world, unable to cope with his sorrow. Nedry was off visiting the District’s and neither Roscoe nor Rozlyn had cared for Mother. She still hadn't forgiven Roscoe for his cruel japes after her death. Aurilee had been alone in her grief until... "It was me, wasn't it? I stuck by your side and mourned Mother with you. In the most difficult moment of your life I was the only one who cared for you, dear sister. The only one."
Aurilee couldn't form any words. Dimentio...he was her beloved brother. He'd shown her kindness when others had ignored her. But he was broken. Unfit for rule. He'd once cut a puppy open just because he wanted to see what was inside. He had feigned grief and remorse, but Aurilee had seen the truth. Dimentio didn't truly care. He never did.
"You won't report me to Father," Dimentio's voice was airy and cheerful. "I have done too much for you. I am your beloved brother. How could you ever turn your back on me?" 
He was right. Aurilee could never condemn him. Not even now, when he admitted that everything he'd ever done for her, every act of kindness, had just been an act designed to draw her sympathy. She just couldn't bring herself to hate him.
And that is why he terrified her.
"Don't worry, sister. When I become President I won't kill you. It'll be far more amusing to see how you plot against me!" He turned and strolled away, whistling a merry tune.
Aurilee watched the carpet. Watched as his feet disappeared and the whistling faded. Fear and resentment boiled inside her, mixed with shame and embarassament. Dimentio had to be stopped. He couldn't be allowed to become President. Remus had to win. Or any of the other's Champions. It no longer mattered if Roscoe gained the Presidency as long as it meant Dimentio was denied it. He had to be stopped.
At any cost.
===Alcmene Eudia (District 1)===
The rain has slowed until its become nothing but a gentle plodding. I sit underneath a large veranda in the New Frontier outdoor waterpark, watching as the raindrops hit the pool's surface. Today has not gone well. It's almost completely wrecked my enitre strategy and ruined any chance I might have had to gain vengeance on Solomon. 
A chill wind blows past, ruffling my hair and sending a stray lock across my nose. The scent of ash comes with the wind. Straight ahead of me, on the other end of a green fence which marks the boundry of the waterpark, lies the smoldering ruins of the hotel's southernmost wing. 
Opal's fire had done its job well. Though it is now nothing but a few heated coals, the flames have claimed the building and brought it to collapse in several areas. 
It's not entirely destroyed; blackened timbers still stand in some corners, holding up remnants of the second floor which haven't fallen inwards. The storm had prevented the fire from turning the place into ash and dust, but the ruins which have been spared can hardly be considered proper shelter. I personally wouldn't risk even approaching the place, let alone spending any amount of time inside. 
“Opal has ruined me!” My whisper is lost to the wind. Valor is gone, probably a charred husk. Mako is missing too, but he will no longer hold any sort of camaraderie with me, so I will not waste time searching for him. As for Opal...
She'll be on her own for the rest of the Games. Who would ally with her? She has quite literally burnt all her bridges with the surviving Careers, and the other tributes aren't likely to take in a Career castoff. No. If Opal hopes to become Victor then she must do it alone.
Much like myself. 
“You must kill Solomon!" Father's stern voice thunders in my head. “He mustn't be allowed to escape punishment for his crimes!"
“I am trying!" How much effort have I put in? I was lying low, playing the long game, but that is no longer a viable strategy. Solomon lost one of his allies yesterday, true, but he still has another. I cannot take them alone. 
And yet...
Movement catches my eye. I stiffen and squint out into the rain. Wind tosses umbrellas across the concrete of the park. Lifts sprays of water off from the pools. It is hard to see anything out there. But I know I saw—
The form of a person materializes in the distance. Walking slowly as they approach my veranda and the shelter it offers. Who is it? They're tall, at least a foot taller than myself, and rather broad. 
Confusing. There weren't many tributes of that size in the arena to begin with, and most of them have already died. So who is...?
The person staggers closer. I stifle a gasp as I finally recognize him. He looks nothing like he did before, but it's still very much him.
Valor.
His clothing is burnt rags that barely cover skin which is red and blotchy, absolutely covered in burns. Half of him seems to be nothing but scar tissue. His face is the worst. One side is just exposed flesh and burnt skin. His left eye is a sightless milky-white orb.
Valor takes a few more steps, swaying slightly in the wind. One of his hands still clutches tight to his sword. “Alcemene...?” His good eye swivels to face me. “Is that you?”
I stare at him in awe. “How are you even still alive?”
He stumbles underneath the veranda and slumps against the wall, slowly sliding down into a sitting postion. The wall is left with red smears. "Don't know."
I take a shuddering breath. Valor isn't dead. All of my allies haven't yet been lost. Perhaps my Game isn't over. Still...I try not to look at Valor too closely. He is not a pleasant sight. 
“Can...can you still fight?” He's useless to me if he can't. 
"Don't know. Everything is...pain." He turns his head, giving me the unfortunate sight of seeing the burnt half of his face. The inside of his mouth is visible through a hole in his cheek. "I cannot describe the pain. You wouldn't believe me if I could.”
I am no stranger to pain. Physcial pain like the kind Valor is experiencing has so far eluded me, but mental pain...that I have felt every day of my life since the Tragedy. Since Solomon stole my life from me. Anger and resolve floods me at that thought. I still have a task to perform. 
"I need you to help me kill Solomon," I say quietly. "So rest and recover. You cannot die yet."
His eye flits to me. "Why so...obsessed? He will die...eventually. The Capitol...won't let him...win."
"I have to kill him. That is why I volunteered." I stare out at the rain as the wind whips it around. Solomon's death isn't the goal. He can't just die. I need to kill him. Me. 
"You'll never win...being so...consumed with...hatred." Valor's rasping breaths disturb me. Why is he being so contrarian? He had no onjections to my plan before!
"I don't want to win!" I snap at him. "Killing Solomon is all that matters!"
"Someone worthy...must win the Victor's Crown. Only ones left...are you, me, and Mako."
That stupid crown! Is it the only thing he can think of? Doesn't he understand that there are more important things in life than this dumb game? 
"You don't understand! You have no idea what it's like to lose your entire family!" I watch the raindrops splash into the pool and find myself filled with an unexplainable rage. "I see their deaths in my dreams. Every night. And whenever I close my eyes, their faces come into focus. I can't go more than a few moments without a reminder of their horrid fate. Their voices speak to me. Whisper about Solomon's death and how I must avenge them. I will have no peace until that bastard is dead."
I push myself into a standing postion and cross my trembling arms, holding them tight to me. For some reason I'm shaking. It's not because of the cold. 
Valor doesn't respond. 
I glance over my shoulder, ready to berate him for ignoring me, when I notice that his head is slumped to the side and his eyes are closed. For one terrible moment I think he is dead, but then I see the see the rise and fall of his chest and realize he is just sleeping.
I sigh and return to my spot against the far wall. I don't care what Valor thinks. Solomon must die by my hand. But...how will I ever be able to defeat him? Valor is weakened and I was never as good a fighter as my brother was. How will I finally stop the nightmares? 
I continue to stare out into the rain, feeling utterly lost.
===Remus Ring (The Capitol)===
The scent of coffee fills the air. It reminds me of long mornings spent with my tutors in the hours after I returned from the fighting arena. My eyes would struggle to stay open as my tutor droned on and on about a dry subject that would never be of practical use. All the while my body would throb with pain and soreness from my most recent bout. But the pain was nothing. Excitement filled my mind at the prospect of another fight. It was all I wanted. Battles every night, a true test of skill against the strongest of opponents. It was a dream come true. 
That dream has turned into a nightmare.
I sit at a small oval table set in the far corner of the Jurassic Java Shop. Solomon paces the length of the room, muttering to himself and throwing glances at Mercia, who is duct-taped to a chair set in the exact center of the little cafe. Her head lolls to one side, eyes closed as she sits limply in her bonds. She still hasn't awoken since I knocked her out.
We should kill her immediately. If the fact that she murdered Teal wasn't enough, the pulsing pain of my wounds would be more than ample motivation in itself. That girl is dangerous. Beyond dangerous. Rabid. She needs to be put down before anyone else gets hurt.
But Solomon disagrees.
Thunder rumbles somewhere outside. The first time in a long time. I'd begun to think the storm was over. A foolish, naive hope. This storm won't end until Mercia is dead. 
"When will she awaken?"
Solomon turns at the sound of my voice. His cold grey eyes bore into me like drills. He's been acting like the Kin-Killer ever since we captured Mercia, and yet...I do not know how much of his anger is an act. He's been different ever since he heard Aamon's name. Harder. More dangerous. I am afraid that he will do something rash if I don't reel him in.
"She'll wake up eventually," Solomon says softly. "Don't worry; you'll still be able to kill her when my questioning is done."
I nod even though his answer isn't helpful in the slightest. I glance back at Mercia. She still hasn't moved, but that does nothing to assuage my worry. You don't chain a dangerous predator and ask it questions; you just kill it immediately. 
Solomon has reached the opposite end of the room, where the counter for serving patrons is. He reaches out and grabs a coffee pot off the table. 
Then he turns and smashes it on the ground.
I duck away with a yelp as a glass shard flies past. What was that for? Furious, I open my mouth to tell Solomon what an idiot he is, but I never get the chance. 
“I knew it!” Solomon rounds on the unconcious form of Mercia. "You can stop pretending now. I saw you flinch at the sound!"
The girl's eyes flicker open and I gasp. How long has she been awake? Was she just sitting there listening to us? Why would—
"Please! You must let me go!" The girl gives a gasping sob. "I didn't mean it! I am just a simple Capitol girl who—”
Solomon strikes her across the face. "Shut up!" He growls. "It's too late for that innocent socialite act. You've already killed our ally!"
Mercia spits out blood. Her face has turned red from where his fist struck her. She grimaces. "I had to try. You'd be surprised how often it works, even after I've been caught red-handed."
Her eyes are a startling green color. Wide and lucid as they swivel around, taking in her surroundings. I can't figure out why the sight of them surprises me so much until I remember that she always had them concealed beneath sunglasses before now.
"Has your whole life been an act?" I can't help but ask. I'd seen her at the occasional party back in the Capitol and she just seemed like a normal person. Where did this persona come from...?
"You should have killed me," She ignores the question, eyes fixed firmly on Solomon. He meets her gaze without blinking. "Because I will not be beaten twice."
"You're tied to a chair," He says, crouching until he's eye level with her. "I'm not. I hardly think I'd need to best you twice."
"I am going to kill you."
"Oh, really? With what weapon?" Solomon pulls a knife from his pocket and twirls it along his fingers. I don't know if Mercia can even see it. She doesn't have her night-vision goggles anymore. "In the postion you're in, I'd say you couldn't kill a fly."
Mercia spits in his face.
Solomon rises to his feet with a sigh. "I hoped you would be cooperative. I have some questions for you."
A slow smile creeps its way across Mercia's face. It is an unnerving sight. What does she have to smile about? "Ask away, then."
"Aamon. How do you know him?"
"I have no idea who Aamon is."
"Lies!" Solomon slams a fist onto a nearby table. It rattles ominously. "You told me that Aamon sends his regards! Why? What have you been told? How much has he paid you?" 
I watch him warily. All this talk of Aamon has truly sent Solomon straight into the deep end. If he somehow accidentally frees Mercia...I do not like our chances of recapturing her. 
Mercia does her best approximation of a shrug while tied to a chair. "I truly do not know what you're speaking about. I have never heard about this Aamon character."
She has no motivation to tell us the truth. Once we learn what we want, we'll just kill her. She knows this and so is going to string this interrogation out for as long as possible. The more time we spend talking to her is just more time for her to plan an escape. 
Solomon gives a guttural growl and picks up his trident. At first I think he's just going to kill Mercia, but then he turns it upside down and swings it into her knee, the same one that Maximo struck with his maul. 
An ear-splitting scream fills the room.
I wince as Mercia struggles against her bonds, pained shrieks escaping her lips. That knee got busted up pretty badly. Striking it like that...I shudder. Not the type of pain I am eager to experience. 
"Tell me about Aamon." Solomon crouches beside her chair. There is no pity or sympathy in his eyes. Just cold fury. "Tell me what you know and the pain will stop."
She killed Teal. I have to remind myself of this as I watch Mercia slump forward, bullets of sweat beading off her head. I do not like hurting woman or girls, but this is a special case. Mercia is a cold-hearted killer who deserves no remorse. She certainly wouldn't show any for us. 
"I am going to kill you painfully," Mercia slowly raises her head. A tight smile is etched on her face. "You will die screaming."
Solomon does not react. His face remains impassive as he steps away from the chair and sets his trident atop a nearby table. Hands folded behind his back, he sighs. "Will I now? Well, how about I make that a little...harder for you?" 
He slips a knife from his pocket and returns to the chair, kneeling down beside Mercia's bound arm. Her face doesn't so much as twitch as he sets the blade against her hand. Something about her stoicism and skills are...familar. It calls to mind a story my tutors talked sbout. What was it again? An...assassin? I shake my head. No time to dwell on that. I need to watch and—
Solomon cuts her thumb off.
Mercia gasps with pain but does not scream. Blood pours from the wound, dripping onto the tiled floor. Solomon backs off, thumb in hand, and waves it at the girl. "It is quite difficult to hold a weapon without a thumb, isn't it?" He gives a ghastly chuckle. "Still think you'll be able to kill me? Fine. I suppose I must take the other one as well. Maybe I should take all your fingers. You won't—”
"Solomon!"
He blinks at me. "What? We need information and this is the best way to get it. She killed Teal, you know. Just flat out—”
I swat the knife and thumb out of his hand. They both clatter against the floor as I jab a finger into his chest. "Do not bring Teal into this! I know what she did! I know what she is! But torture? You've gone too far!"
Solomon stares me in the eyes. There is no emotion reflected inisde. Nothing to let me know that the old him is still lying in wait. Every other time he has adopted the Kin-Killer persona, I could at least detect a trace of the real him. But now...Now there is nothing but rage and fury. "You don't understand what Aamon has done to me," His voice is soft and low, with a dangerous undertone. "What he has taken from me. The abuse I suffered at his hands. I told you and Teal only the least of it. You know nothing, Remus! Nothing!"
"So he's truly turned you into the Kin-Killer, has he?"
"What? No." He shakes his head and glares at me. When he continues, his voice is even quieter than before. "This is just an act. I need the Capitol to believe I am truly heartless and...I need that information from Mercia. It is important."
"I do not believe that this is an act," I sweep my hand around the room, encompassing Mercia and the chair she is tied to. "I believe that it is merely another part of you. One that you keep hidden away in the deepest recess of your being. One that takes over whenever Aamon is mentioned. Teal thought that you were a good man, but I never did. I have always known the truth."
Solomon's hands curl into fists. Is he listening to me? Or is he just shrugging it off? "I thought you hated Mercia. Now you're defending her?"
"No." I shake my head. "I still want her to die. But torturing her achieves noting. If she refuses to tell us anything, then we kill her. Doing anything else...it's wrong. You must know this."
Solomon clenches his teeth and turns his head way. One hand touches his forehead. It is covered in blood. Mercia's blood. "I need to know what Aamon is planning, Remus. What if he has sent someone after Alcmene as well?"
"You already have a plan for that. Even if he has targeted her, nothing changes. We stick to the plan and work together."
Solomon is conflicted. I can see it in his face. The old him has finally surfaced, brought up by my words. He is not the Kin-Killer. Not completely. Not yet. "You have two paths before you," I tell him. "One that leads you into becoming the Kin-Killer in truth...and one that will have you become the man Teal always believed you were."
He doesn't respond. I didn't expect him to. The question before him isn't one that can be answered with rapidity. It's one you have to look deep into your soul for. What kind of person does Solomon want to be? What does he want in life and what is he willing to do to accomplish it? I have my answers to those questions, he must find his own.
"You're right, you know," Mercia's voice drifts over to us. She's still tied to the chair, face gone pale from bloodloss. "I do know Aamon. He sent me to kill you."
Solomon whips around to face her and I place a hand on his shoulder. "Steady," I warn him. "She's trying to provoke you." 
"Aamon hasn't forgiven you," Mercia continues, heedless to the hatred in Solomon's eyes. "He wants his vengeance for what you did to him."
"What I did to him?" Solomon is incredulous. "That bastard! I'll gut him!"
"He wants your pretty little sister dead too," Mercia doesn't show any sign of weakness or nervousness, despite her missing thumb. "And don't think killing me will save her. Aamon has many agents and I am but one of them. Poor Alcmene will be dead before much longer."
Solomon has gone rigid. He stares at the girl with an expressionless face. I cannot tell what he is thinking. Do not know what he is plotting. And Mercia...what is her angle? Why is she goading him so? It's almost if she wants him to charge her and...wait.
I look at the floor, where I had knocked the knife and thumb out from Solomon's grasp. The thumb is still there, lying near Mercia's chair, but the knife is missing. Gone. Alarms begin to ring in my head. Mercia! "Solomon, be careful! I think Mercia has—”
“Monty Moose is lonely!”
Everyone falls silent. The warning dies on my lips. Thunderous footsteps thump in the distance. The floor itself seems to shake with each one. What in the world...?
"Where are my friends? Monty wants to play!" 
A bizarre voice calls out. Light and cloying, as if it is some sort of character from a childrens show. I exchange a silent look with Solomon. He looks just as confused as I feel. The footsteps continue to pound. Whatever it is, it's getting closer. 
Mercia begins to scream.
"Help me! Monty, please help me! Monty!"
I am too shocked fo react. My mind cannot register what is happening. The floor trembles as the footsteps pick up the pace, and then, before I can even shout a warning, the wall explodes inwards.
Dust and debris rains down as a massive creature smashes through the wall. It pulls itself past the torn plaster with long, muscled arms. Wide legs stride over the collapsed door, tiles crunching beneath its hooved feet. The monstrosity is so tall that the pair of antlers atop its head brush against the ceiling. 
"Friend! Where are you? Monty has come to help!"
My mouth falls open. It talked! The creature talked! And it's wearing clothes...A bright red shirt and and yellow shorts adorn the creatures brown, bristly fur. A tiny propeller hat sits on its head, between the antlers. A pair of dark eyes swivel around as it scans the room. For some reason it is smiling.
I am too terrified to scream.
"Monty, help me!" Mercia shouts at the mutt. "These awful men kidnapped me! They were hurting me!"
"No! Monty hates violence!" The moose bellows and steps forward. Solomon is the first to react, snatching up his trident and charging the beast, but it just casually swings an arm and backhands him across the face. 
Solomon is sent flying through the air. He lands several feet away, trident slipping from his hand as he rolls to a stop at the far side of the room. He does not get back up.
I stand in petrified terror as the moose turns to face me. It's so big! The banded muscles on those elongated arms look strong enough to rip me limb from limb. How am I supposed to fight something like this? 
"Thank you, Monty!" Mercia rises from her chair, bonds undone and falling loose. She holds a knife in her left hand. The same one I knocked away from Solomon. Somehow she must have grabbed it. "You are a true friend indeed."
That moose's horrid smile widens. "Monty will always help a friend!"
I don't understand. My mind isn't working properly. Friend? How is that...thing her friend? That can't be...Why? 
"I did warn you," Mercia looks down at her right hand and the missing thumb. Blood continues to flow from the wound. "You should have killed me when you had the chance. Now...now you'll die."
A warning bell goes off in the far reaches of my mind. Mercia is going to throw that knife. Can't block it. My staff is out of reach, lying atop a table in the corner. But I can dodge it. I've done such things before. But which way? What part of me will she aim for? If I guess wrong I die. Yet even if I do dodge...what then? That moose will tear me apart. 
I remain frozen in place. 
Mercia gives a wan smile. "I do hope thst Solomon is still alive. He owes me a debt I intend to collect."
She's going to try and kill me quickly. It's Solomon who she means to torture. So she'll aim somewhere lethal...the chest? No. She is theatrical. Mercia will want to show that her missing thumb hasn't weakened her. She'll want to hit me somewhere lethal but painful. A flashy kill. 
She'll aim for my throat.
Mercia throws the knife and I step to the side. Not quite fast enough, the blade flashes beside my face, tip slicing into my cheek as it slips past and slams into the wall behind me. The knife quivers as it sticks between two panels in the wall. 
"NO!"
An ear-piercing bellow shakes the room. I stagger to my knees, one hand cupped against my cheek, and blink away tears of pain as the moose, Monty, turns to face Mercia. The look on its face can only be described as aghast. "Why friend? Why do violence?"
Mercia looks as unsure of herself as I've ever seem her. "They were bad, Monty. They hurt me!"
"No! No, no, NO, NO!" Monty stomps his feet and the entire room trembles. His hooves smash the tiles beneath him. "You not Monty's friend! You betrayed him! Monty hates violence!"
"I am your friend!" Mercia throws up her hands in a placating manner. "I gave you celery sticks, remember? I...these boys are bad! They don't like you! They hate you!"
She points an accusing finger at me. I can only stare back silently. Whatever is happening has gone far over my head. 
"No friend of Monty's would ever do violence!" The moose steps forward, closing the distance between himself and Mercia in one stride. The girl tries to retreat but there is nowhere for her to go in such a confined space. "You a liar! You not Monty's friend!"
"No! I am! I am!" Mercia's voice is panicked and screechy. This is the first time I've ever seen her truly lose her composure. "I am your loyal friend, Monty! I wouldn't—I didn't do any violence! It was just a joke! We were playing!"
"Stop lying!" The moose reaches out with both of its long arms and grabs Mercia by the head. 
Then squishes it like a grape.
Blood and brain matter splatter across the room as Mercia's head is pulverized beneath Monty's iron grip. I choke on my gasp as hot blood sprays against my chest and clothes, sticking to my face. Monty grips Mercia's corpse by the shoulder and turns to hurl it against the wall with a sickeningly wet splat. Her ruined body slowly slides down to the floor, leaving behind large red streaks. 
I can't think. All thoughts have been driven out of me. Droplets of Mercia's blood drip off of me. Monty glances at me and smiles. It's such a ghastly looking thing. "Hello, friend! Do you want to play?"
It ignores Mercia and the violence it caused just like that. I stare into those dark eyes and find myself unable to speak. Words die in my throat. If it just killed Mercia, who'd called it friend, what will it do to me? 
"Let's play!" Monty's booming voice reverberates throughout the room. He takes a step closer, halving the distance between us in one stride. "Monty is bored! Let's play a game!"
It finally clicks. Friend. Game. Violence. Monty never saw me do anything violent. He has no reason to harm me. Thoughts race through my mind as I stare back at the monstrosity. It still has a wide grin etched on its face. "Y-yes...l-let's play a game!"
"Oh, goody!" Monty claps his massive hands together, sending out a spray of blood and brain matter. My stomach roils at the sight. "What game? What game will we play?"
I do some quick thinking. "Hide-and-seek! You can hide and...I'll seek."
"Yay!" Monty stomps his feet in excitement, shaking the entire room. Dust and plaster rain down from the ceiling. "Monty is good at this game! You'll never find me!"
I can only nod weakly. That's the plan. If this horrid thing goes and hides itself somewhere in the arena, maybe I won't have to see it ever again. I still cannot stop looking at the remains of Mercia's body. She was such a huge threat...yet Monty killed her with barely any effort. 
"Start counting!" Monty turns and walks back to the hole he blasted in the wall. The rubble crunches beneath his feet as he walks. "And remember, no peeking!"
I remain in place, kneeling on the floor, until the mutt disappears from sight and the sound of his footsteps fade away. I take a shaky breath. However did I survive that? I push myself up and feel at my cheek. The wound doesn't seem very serious, more superfical than anything else, so that's one less worry. The two on my left arm are more concerning; they're painful and make my arm stiff and hard to move. I am glad Solomon—
Solomon!
I scramble to the far wall, where Solomon lies in a unsightly heap. His eyes are closed and he lies motionless, black jacket spread over him, ripped in several places. I drop to his side and feel for a pulse, sighing with relief when I find it.
He is still alive.
I sit back against the wall and bury my head into my hands. Had I lost Solomon...Well, I don't know what I would have done. Don't know what I'll do with him either. Now that Mercia is dead, will that darkness inside him go dormant? Or is it too late for that? And what about that plan of his? Does he truly intend to escape from the arena and crown me Victor? 
I close my eyes and try to regulate my breathing. Panic solves nothing. I must remain calm and level-headed. Must not allow emotions to lead me into mistakes. I fall back into old training routines, trying to find some solace in my memories.
I have never felt further from home.
===Talia Migonette (District 3)===
The rain falls lightly around us. It is dark. And cold. My fingers feel numb and are hard to move. I couldn't use my bow even if I wanted to. I wipe at my eyes, careful not to disturb the camoflauge I've adorned both myself and Aiko with. The two of us are hidden in the hollow of a large oak tree, seeking shelter from the storm. We've been here for hours, ever since our disastrous attack on the cabin alliance.
I knew Aiko would go and attack the Careers. She's held a hatred for them ever since Kia died. Gaining vengeance on them was all she could talk about. So when Damian made the agreement with Mako to attack the cabin...I knew she would go and try to kill him herself.
So I followed her out into the storm. It was stupid, I know, but I couldn't just let her face the Careers by herself. I knew Aiko didn't want me following, so I hid myself from her. It wasn't too hard. The wind and rain made it difficult to see, and the one skill I possess is the ability to camouflage myself, so I stayed unseen until we reached the cabin.
And yet...while the cabin and the alliance ended up being attacked, it wasn't by the Careers.
It was wolves.
I was frozen with panic. Unable to move as the tributes rushed past, chased by the bloodthirsty mutts. I thought I would die. That I would be torn apart by those wolves. But then...
Aiko squirms beside me. Her dark hair is plastered to her scalp and being wet and cold has somehow made her seem even smaller. Yet small size or no, Aiko wasn't terrified of the wolves like I was. She stepped out of cover and attacked the alliance, but she missed with her knife. And then...
I see the flash of the District 7 boy's axe in my mind. The speed it was moving at as it sailed towards Aiko. I was terrified of the wolves and the danger...but I was more terrified of losing Aiko.
I can barely remember tackling Aiko to the ground. It still feels unreal. Like it happened in a movie or a dream. I saved her. I prevented that axe from striking home. I...Aiko is alive because of me.
Rain continues to gently tap against the tree which shelters us. We're in the riddens of the storm now, the final phase before it vanishes completely. It is also close to midnight and I know that is no coincidence. The Gamemakers purposely triggered the storm to last for an entire day. 
"I messed up," Aiko's quiet voice breaks the monotone of rainfall. "I shouldn't have ran off on my own. I...I'm sorry."
"You only wanted to avenge Kia," I say softy. She can hardly be blamed for that. Working with the Careers...even I felt uneasy about Damian's plan. "I am sure the others won't be angry with you."
"Maybe..." She shivers and presses hersef closer to me. Her rain jacket has done a better job of keeping the rain off than my sweatshirt, but it provides less warmth now that we're relatively dry. Not that I feel any real warmth..."The Careers never showed up. Did they lie to Damian?"
They probably did. It seems like the kind of thing they'd do. Those kids aren't like normal people. They all willingly joined this Game. All the killing and death...it's fun to them. 
I shiver once more as I remember how close they came to catching me and Briar on day two. 
Aiko falls silent. Her hands play with the small silvery star she's kept close to her since the attack. In some ways Aiko isn't too different from the Careers. She was so eager to play this Game at the beginning, but ever since Kia's death...
She's changed.
A bird whistles somewhere in the distance and Aiko shoots up so quickly that her elbow nearly slams into my nose. "That's Briar!" Excitement fills her voice as she throws all the camouflage off, scrambling out of the tree. "She's here!"
"H-how do you know?" I scamper after her, heart thundering in my chest. I haven't forgotten about those wolves or how they chased us deeper into forest. 
"That whistle!" The rain patters against our heads as we trek across the muddy ground. Aiko bounds down a slope, nearly losing her balance as she slides to the bottom. "Briar taught me it in training! It's a song all the birds sing in District 10!"
I descend the incline more carefully. My clothing is already wet and uncomfortable. The last thing I want is to make it muddy too. "A-Are you sure?"
"Yes! It's too dark and cold for any birds to be out!"
That's true. The weather being what it is, I can't imagine any actual birds whistling to one another. But what about the Gamemakers? They could be trying to lure us out so those wolves can finish the job. 
"Briar!" Aiko hops up and down, waving her arms. "It's us! We're here, Briar!"
"Aiko, be careful!" I can't see anything around us. Tall pine trees reach for the sky, their nettles collecting the rain as it falls. Smaller oak trees fill out the forest, with spreading boughs that help block out the sky. Thick foliage grow around the roots, concealing anything that may be lurking nearby. 
Aiko glances at me, but before she can say anything a new sound pierces the sky. 
"Aiko! Where are you?"
My mouth falls open. I recognize that voice! Briar! Aiko was right after all! Aiko gives a gleeful squeal and runs off. I follow after more slowly, careful not to trip over anything. The forest is still dark and perilous. One wrong step and I could twist my ankle or worse. So I soon lose sight of Aiko as I pick my way through the foliage, trying not to get too excited. This could still be some kind of awful trick...
I push past one final bush and stumble to a halt. Three people stand before me. "Briar!" My voice is more of a squeak as I stare at them. "And Damian!"
"I'm so happy we found you!" Briar wraps me in a hug. Her skinny arms hold me tight. "We were so worried!"
I hold back tears as I bury my face in her shoulder. Even though I'd only been seperated from her for less than a day, I'd begun to fear that I would never see her again. 
"You two shouldn't have ran off like that," Damian's voice causes me to look up. The tall, lanky guy has his hood up against the rain and is shaking his head. "We were forced to go looking for you and...Faren and Chrome wouldn't risk entering the storm, so..."
They're not here. Briar goes on to explain that both boys had decided to stay behind in the safety of the hotel rather than face fhe storm. My heart feels like it's being squeezed in a vise when I learn that the last time they'd seen the two, they were being chased by a pack of mutts. Faren is so nice. And he promised to help my Mothsr. If he dies...
"You should have stayed with them," I say bitterly. 
"No. You needed our help," Briar shakes her head. "Those two made their choice, just like I did. I will never abandon a friend."
I remain silent. Briar may never abandon a friend, but she did leave Faren on his own. I don't know if that means she doesn't consider him a friend, or if she just hasn't thought this completely through.
"What happened with you guys anyway?" Damian asks. 
I let Aiko explain, content to just sit and listen. Neither Briar nor Damian show much reaction, though Damian seems disappoined to learn that the Careers didn't show up. "You didn't see anyone die?" He asks when Aiko finishes. 
She shakes her head. "No. They all ran away."
Damian's only response is to bite his lip and stare into the forest. I understand his disappointment, even if I don't share it. He made this grand plan to eliminate tributes and it just sorta...fizzled out. 
"We should just be happy we're all together!" Briar smiles and pats me on the shoulder. It doesn't do much to improve my mood. "The fact we found you two at all is remarkable! There's no point in—”
The Panemian Seal appears in the sky overhead, followed by the blaring of the Anthem.
The four of us fall silent and wait for the first face to appear. With all that thunder today, it was almost impossible to keep track of the amount of cannons, so we don't actually know how many tributes died. This will be our first opportunity to find out.
The first face to show up is that of the Capitol girl, the one with green hair. I don't remember much about the girl; she was a loner who didn't interact much with the other tributes during training. The pair from District 7 follow her, and the face of Discordia appears after them. Then the Seal is back in place. 
Four. Four tributes died during the storm. Somehow I thought there'd be more than that.
"Killen and Discordia are both dead," Damian says when the Seal disappears and we're left in darkness. "So something must have happened to them after the wolves attacked."
"It would have been easy to die in the storm," Briar says quietly. 
"I don't think it was the wolves," Aiko chimes in. "They definitely got away from those."
So either the storm did kill them, or something else later in the day did. I can't help but feel awful for them, even though I know that their deaths are a good thing. It brings me closer to winning and getting to go home, but...I don't like seeing people die. 
"There is only fifteen tributes left," Damian has begun to pace back and forth. There's an excited undertone to his voice. "And six of them are in this alliance! That means there is only nine other tributes!"
"Five of them are Careers," Aiko says. She's close enough for me to see the feverish light in her eyes. She hasn't lost the fervor to avenge Kia. 
"Who are the other four?" Briar asks. "I know one is Maximo, but what about the others?"
"The Kin-Killer and his ally," I say immediately. I've been frightened of the two ever since training. They're big, strong, and one of them is an infamous criminal. With the exception of the Careers, they must be the favorites to win these Games.
"And the last one is Notchy," Aiko pipes in. "He's my District partner! We shouldn't trust him, though, because he said he'd slit my throat and dump my body in a gutter."
Briar gasps in horror but Aiko shrugs it off and says that he probably didn't mean it. I don't know about that. It sounded like a pretty clear threat to me...
"Yo. District 10, you there?"
We all fall silent as a strange voice cuts through the reveries. It is strangely diminutive and distant, as if they're at the end of a tunnel. The bizarreness of the situation is all that keeps me from running off in a blind panic. 
Damian fumbles around with his belt until he manages to pull the radio out. Ah. Everything snaps into focus. The Careers are trying to talk with us!
Damian speaks into the radio. "Yeah, I'm here."
"Just letting you know I held up my end of the bargain and killed two of those tributes you wanted dead."
Damian frowns and looks up to stare at me and Aiko. We both shake our heads. I know it was difficult to see anything through the rain and lightning, but the Careers were definitely not at the cabin with us. "So you managed to attack the cabin?" Damian keeps his voice casual, not letting any of the suspicion he must be feeling show. What are the Careers playing at? 
"Nope. Never even made it outside. I ran into them at the hotel."
Once more Damian turns a questoning look on me and Aiko. I can only shrug. The three of them escaped into the woods. I have no idea what happened to them after that. "You didn't kill Maximo?" Damian asks.
"Nah. The slippery dude got away. Still, two out of three ain't bad, right?"
It doesn't seem like any of us know what to make of the situation. Is he lying? Or did he really kill both Killen and Discordia? We have no way of finding the truth, so it all comes down to how much we can trust Mako.
The guy who murdered Kia.
"He's lying." Aiko whispers.
Damian glances at her but doesn't respond. He resumes pacing and speaks into the radio. "So you did what I asked. Thank you, but...What do you want from us?"
Right. I'd forgotten that Mako wanted a favor in return for the killings. But what could he need us for? Surely there's nothing we can do that he can't. 
"You sound a little wary there, pal." Mako's tone is jovial. He, at least, isn't concerned about this situation. "How about I give you some information that will help you learn to trust me?"
"I'm listening." 
"Yeah, so, remember the Careers? Well, they're kaput. We had a big blow up today and all went our seperate ways. I am sure this information is very valuble to you."
My eyes widen. The Careers are separated? But that means..."Our alliance has the numbers advantage on everyone," Briar says softly. That's huge. My biggest fear was being hunted down by a pack of vicious killers, but with them all on their own...
"What do you want us to do?" Damian keeps himself on track, though I can tell from his expression that he's just as amazed as we are. 
"Right now? Nothing. I just wanted to remind you of your promise. But tomorrow? Well..." He laughs. "I'll check in with you then. See ya."
The radio clicks off.
A large droplet of rainwater drips off a nearby branch and lands straight on my forehead. I shake my head, feeling like I've come out of a daze. "Winning actually seems possible now..."
"We need to regroup with Chrome and Faren," Damian is jittery with excitement. His hands can't keep still. "Once they're with us we'll be at six strong. That's more than enough to steamroll the others!"
I am not so certain. Yes, numbers are benefical, but they're not everything. Even if all six of us swarmed Valor, I don't think he's going down without a fight. How many of us would he take with him? 
"Are we really going to help Mako?" Aiko is the only one of us who isn't happy. Her narrow eyes are focused on Damian. "After everything he's done?"
"It depends on what he asks us," Damian shrugs. "It might be something we'd do anyway."
"Or this could all be a trick," Aiko crosses her arms. "What if he's lying? What if the Careers are still together and are trying to lure us into a trap?"
"We'll never get anywhere focusing only on negatives," Briar steps between the two of them with a placating smile. "Right now we should only care about finding Chrome and Faren. We can try to think things through once we're all together."
"It's possible all six of us make it to the end!" Damian adds.
"And then what?" I ask quietly. "Kill each other?"
My words bring a silence to the group. This is something I've been worried about for awhile, but always thought was impossible, so I could just brush it off. But now that the Games are getting closer and closer to the end...What happens if our alliance ends up being the only tributes left?
"We'd never kill each other!" Briar says immediately. 
"So you'd let me win?" I can't bring myself to meet her eyes. I hate having to squash her spirit like this, but we need to know the truth. "You would let yourself die?"
There is no response. Of course she wouldn't let herself die. No matter how much any of us cares for the others, we're not about to die for their sake. I take a deep breath and force myself to look up. Stare at my allies as they consider what winning these Games truly means. 
"I have to return home," Damian is the first to speak. He sounds...dejected. "There's...someone I need to get back to."
"I can't leave my parents and Tasha on their own," Briar admits. She avoids meeting my gaze. 
"And I need to save my mother," I say. Faren promised to save her if he won, but I can't help but think of how she'd feel seeing me die. I don't want her to go through that. But don't we all think the same? There's not one of us who thinks dying in the arena would be a better result than returning home. We all have someone who needs us.
I can feel tears begin to slide down my face. It doesn't matter if the Games play out perfectly and grants one of us Victory, because it still means all the others will die. I've known this since the Reaping. It's one of the reasons why I was so hesitant to join an alliance. Why I've held myself apart from the rest. Getting to know all the others...
It'll only make their future deaths harder for me. 
"We'll find a way to avoid that," Damian says. "We won't have to...it won't be necessary." 
None of us have any response to that. What is there to say? That I hope they all die before I am forced to kill them myself? I don't want that. I don't want to kill anyone. But that's not likely. Not if I want to win.
I find myself staring into the sky, aware that I have turned what should have been a joyful moment for our alliance into an introspective nightmare. But it needed to happen. We couldn't just bury our heads in the sand and ignore it. Sooner or later our alliance will have to turn on one another...
...unless we all die first.
==Day 5/ Reflection==
===Solomon Eudia (District 13)===
My dreams are full of death and blood. Knives flash toward my face as Mercia advances, laughing cruelly about how she’ll kill Alcmene. I lash out in a rage, striking her down and cutting into her flesh with my own blades. Her torture is slow. Mercia loses more blood than a human body could possibly contain. Her screams permeate the air until a human in the shape of a snake comes slithering into the room.
Aamon.
His grotesque body slithers across the floor and he wraps his slender snake form around my legs, slowly pulling himself up to my shoulders. I can only stand in petrified silence as his mouth presses itself against my ear. “I’m proud of you, Solomon,” He hisses softly. “I have raised you well.”
My eyes snap open and I find myself staring at a blank ceiling.
Where…? I blink several times in an effort to clear my eyes. My body is sore and stiff. The gentle scent of coffee fills the air. Right. The Jurassic Java Shop. This is where Remus and I…where we took Mercia.
Memories of last night come flooding back into me. The anger I felt as Mercia taunted me. The despair that swallowed me when I envisioned Alci’s death. I lost control. I…that is not who I am. Not who I am meant to be. The Kin-Killer was only supposed to be a mask. Something I wore like a shroud to hide the truth. I wasn’t meant to become him. Not truly. 
Setting my hands beneath me, I try to pull myself up into a sitting position. The world lurches. Everything seems to spin, so I lie my head back down and groan. So much pain. What happened to me?
“You’re awake.”
A voice drifts from somewhere in the corner of the room. Remus. I have to roll onto my side to see him. He sits on a small chair with his boots up on the table, a steaming mug in his hands. The expression in his eyes seems…wary. 
“I’m sorry,” I say, lying my head back down. There’s a cushion beneath me. Remus’ work, no doubt. “I lost control. It won’t happen again, I promise.” 
There is no response. Dismay grows within me. Have I alienated Remus? I cannot afford that. Alcmene and I need to escape and…no. Remus must win. Not just for myself and Alci, but because he deserves it. Probably the only person in this arena who does. 
I sigh and force myself into a sitting position. Once more it feels like the room is spinning and a stab of pain pulsates in the back of my head, but I ignore it all and turn to face Remus. “I really am sorry. I should have listened to you. Hopefully you won’t hold it against me. I…still need your help.”
He takes a sip of his mug and raises his eyebrows at me. “Of course I forgive you,” He says, setting the mug aside. “I am just shocked you haven’t yet asked about what happened to Mercia.”
What happened to…? Suddenly a swarm of memories come rushing back. Mercia tied to the chair. Her thumb falling to the floor. A monstrous moose as it crashed through the wall. 
My head spins to the side and I stare at the massive hole in the wall. Torn plaster and ripped wallpaper litter the floor around it. A handful of bricks lie scattered across the cafe. The far wall is covered in a large red streak. Blood. 
“She’s dead?” There’s too much of that blood for it to belong to Remus or myself. “The moose killed her?” 
“Yes.” Remus pulls himself and approaches me. He offers a hand which I gladly accept, allowing him to help me to my feet. I ignore the wave of nausea that washes over me. “Monty killed her.”
”Why did he spare us?”
”Well…” Remus launches into the full explanation of the story, which is both heartening and terrifying. I knew that mutt had to be ridiculously strong, but for it to dispatch Mercia so easily…I shake my head to dispel those thoughts. What matters right now is that Mercia is dead. She won’t be harming anyone ever again. 
“So the mutt thinks it’s your friend?” I hadn’t anticipated that outcome. I’ve tamed many mutts before, but never saw one that willingly chose a human to befriend. 
Remus shrugs. “More or less. Though I would hate to encounter it again. I doubt it’ll stay friendly for long.”
He’s more composed than when I last saw him. His eyes are devoid of that darkness I saw when he spoke of Mercia. He holds an easy demeanor now and doesn’t keep looking over his shoulder. He’s even taken the time to rearrange his clothes and style his hair.
That’s…good. Remus deserves a sense of normalcy. He doesn’t need Teal’s death to be an albatross tied around his neck. He should move on with his life and find new purpose. I shift in place, uncomfortably aware of how well those words could apply to me. But we’re different. Remus didn’t kill his family. He didn’t slaughter them mercilessly while in a haze of doubt and fear. He hasn’t been a burden on everyone he’s ever met, constantly dragging them down to his level and making their lives unmistakably worse. Mercia made it clear that she only ever targeted our alliance because of me.
Teal died because she aligned with me.
“The act is over,” I say softly. Remus turns to me with a frown. “The Kin-Killer is dead. From now on I am only myself. No one else.”
Roscoe and the Gamemakers can all go twist in the wind. I owe them nothing. The only people I can afford to care about are myself, Alci, and Remus. The three of us are going to survive these Games and escape the arena. 
Remus hesitantly touches his hair. “You mean…you still intend to carry out your plan?”
“Yes.” There is no alternative. 
“We don’t have poison,” Remus points out quietly. He occasionally glances at the ceiling, perhaps worried about cameras. I am not. They can’t hear us at this volume. “And I used most of our antidote on myself. What if the amount left is ineffective?”
Alci will have poison. She’s always been obsessed with the stuff. As for the antidote…I look at my calloused hands and realize that we won’t have enough for two people. Unless we find some more, either Alcmene or myself will not be able to escape. But where would we even begin to find more? I can’t imagine sponsors will send us any and the cornucopia will have been picked clean, if it’s not actively defended by a horde of Careers. No. There is no magic antidote coming to save me. My plan…
My plan has failed.
I feel a deep sense of despair. Everything had been riding on this. All our lives. 
The three of us can’t win the Games, so two of us will have to die. We—
My eyes settle on the bloodied wall and it suddenly clicks. “Remus!” I turn around so fast that he jumps and looks over his shoulder, apparently concerned we’re about to be attacked. “Did you take Mercia’s stuff, or was it destroyed in the attack?”
“We still have it.” He gives me a quizzical look. “Though I had to clean many things off in the sink. They were quite…messy.”
He points at a backpack tucked away in the corner of the room and I dart towards it, ignoring how the floor swims beneath my feet. The bag is large and dotted with many pockets. I ignore the side pouches for now and open up the main zipper, reaching inside. 
The first thing I pull out is a rapier.
A sword.
My mind blanks. I forget to breathe. I stare at the blade and see their faces reflected back at me. Marcus. Claude. Citria and Hyacinth. Father. Their blood coats my hands. Screams echo in my head, growing louder by the second. I hack away with the sword, doing a butchers work, and fall to the floor, exhausted. That’s where Alcemene finds me. Huddled up with vacant, dead eyes.
“Solomon?”
Everything slowly comes into focus. I am not in the Eudia Manor. I haven’t just finished murdering my family. I am in the arena with Remus, tucked away in a small cafe. 
I drop the rapier to the ground. “You can use that, Remus,” I tell him. “It’s useless to me.”
I don’t need to see his face to know that he is confused. He doesn’t understand. Hopefully he never does. Taking a deep breath, I try to collect myself as I continue searching the bag. I find four knives, which I divide equally between the two of us, and a wrist mounted dart gun. I pass the thing off to Remus, since the design is baffling to me. He says that his Father’s bodyguards use similar devices, so he should be able to get it to work. 
There’s also a mechanical crossbow inside, the same make and model as the type I used when I was in District 13. The sight of it brings back memories of my time there. Leilani and the others…they helped me so much. Gave me love and assistance when I needed it most. I doubt I’d be alive right now if it weren’t for them. 
And just like that I’m feeling melancholic. My time in District 13 was the happiest of my life, except perhaps for when I was very young. Everyone there knew who Aamon was and what he’d put me through. They all had suffered at his hands too. They understood. I wish I could just see them again. Perhaps that is where Alci and I will go. We can go to District 13 and carve out a simple, peaceful life for ourselves. 
“Remus, have you ever thought of what your life will be like when you win the Games?” I zip the bag shut and stare at the side pouch. My last hope. “What you’d do? Where you would go?”
”Hmm?” Remus is over by the sink and the mirror, rearranging his jacket. He really is very conscientious about his appearance. “Oh, yes. I have a good idea what my life post-Games will be.”
Maybe we could settle down somewhere near a lake. I could spend my time fishing while Alci tends to a garden. She’d enjoy that. She loves flowers so much. But first…
I slide open the side pouch and let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Yes!”
Remus hurries over. “What is it?”
”The answer to our problems!” I snatch up the objects and turn to show him. “Several vials of poison and their antidotes!”
I’d hoped to find such things in Mercia’s supplies—she’d poisoned Remus, after all—but I couldn’t be sure. Yet now that I have it in my possession I feel better than I ever have while in the arena. My plan is still possible. My dream, while perhaps not more than a fanciful thought, is not out of reach. 
Grinning to myself, I stand up and tuck the vials away. Remus’ face is hard to read. Almost looks like he’s disappointed. “So now you can just track Alcmene down and leave,” he says quietly.
“No.” I shake my head. “Things won’t be that simple, unfortunately.” 
“Why not?”
“Because Alcmene is still with the Careers. Approaching her head on is out of the question. Besides, if we left now, who’d help you win?”
“You…you’re going to stick around until I win?” He sounds incredulous. “That’s suicide! The odds that all three of us make it to the end are, well, not in our favor. And besides, Alcmene hates you! How can you be sure she won’t kill you straight off?”
“I’m not.” Alci won’t understand even after I explain everything. She’ll still be angry, and rightfully so. Yet I can poison her and try to explain more throughly after we’ve escaped the arena. “But I have to take this risk. It’s the only way all three of us survive.”
“This is impossible. There’s too many moving parts!” Remus clearly doesn’t have any faith that this plan will succeed. But he doesn’t need to. Not when I believe in it so firmly. “Solomon, you’re practically guaranteeing your own death!”
“There’s no other choice,” I tell him. “I refuse to just sit back and watch both you and Alci die. Especially not when I have so little to lose.” There’s nothing left for me, really. I knew that much when I volunteered. Reconnecting with Alci and getting the truth out is all what matters. 
Remus has no further response. He simply walks away and begins to collect his things. At first a small part of me fears that he has decided to abandon me, but then he tosses me my bag and motions his staff at the gaping hole in the wall. “We need to get moving. This place is about as unsecured as you can get.”
Right. That broken wall is very unsubtle. Anyone who saw it would undoubtedly come to investigate. “You have a plan?” I ask, throwing the backpack’s straps over my shoulder. 
“No. But we should try to find somewhere safe and wait out the day. I do not know about you, but personally I think we could do with a little breather after what just transpired.”
It’s hard to argue with that. Yesterday was chaotic to the extreme. The best thing to do would be to sit and wait for the other tributes to kill each other off, bringing my plan one step closer to fruition. And yet…
What if Alci dies before I get to speak with her? 
It’s the ultimate variable. I have no control over her actions or what her alliance does. She could get killed by something as simple as a stray arrow. These thoughts churn in my head as I follow Remus out into the hallway. It is quiet as we walk. An even fluorescent light hangs overhead. Evidently the power has returned. Good. That, at least, means those Crawlers won’t kill Alci.
But there are still hundreds of other things that can.
===Alcmene Eudia (District 1)===
I started my work at sunrise.
The faint yellow sun was enough light for me to see by as I ventured out from underneath our veranda, leaving behind a sleeping Valor as I went in search of something that I knew existed in every waterpark. 
A first-aid station.
I found it tucked away in a corner near the entrance of the indoor waterpark. It was a small, square cabin filled with chairs, a computer, and a series of cabinets. Those cabinets held the objective of my search; medical supplies. 
Bandages, gauze pads, gloves, and many other items were tucked away inside the cabinets. More than enough for me to help Valor’s wounds. Not fix, no, that would be impossible for anyone but a medical professional. But doing anything at all is better than just sitting and watching him slowly rot away.
So I tucked all the supplies away inside my bag and made my way into the indoor waterpark. I knew that the place had an eatery inside, and it stood to reason that the eatery had a sink. Leaving Valor on his own was a risk, but it’s not like I had any other choice. 
So found a pot inside the eatery’s cupboard and filled it water before proceeding to boil it on the stove. Then I took it and all my other supplies back to the veranda, where I waited for the water to cool before beginning my work on Valor.
Only now, more than an hour later, have I finally accomplished my task. I lean against the wall, body sore with exhaustion as I watch Valor slowly flex his muscles. The bandages cover him almost completely, but I know that it hasn’t eased his pain. All I did was postpone the inevitable, perhaps stave off infection. The type of wounds he received aren’t something that can be fixed inside the arena. 
“Thank you,” Valor says softly. Though half his face is swaddled in gauze, his left eye is still exposed. It stares out sightlessly at the world. “I feel…better now.”
I shrug. It was something to do. Something to occupy my mind so that it wouldn’t be endlessly fixated upon Solomon. I still cannot get over the despair I feel whenever I think of him. He will be impossible to kill at this point, even with Valor at my side. “The medicine you already had will be more useful than anything I did.”
Valor was smart enough to grab anti-infection from the cornucopia and carry it with him. It was real high-grade stuff, the kind of thing they cook up in those fancy Capitol labs, and it’ll do more to stop a potential infection than any amount of me cleaning and bandaging his wounds. So everything I did was pointless. Useless busywork that just killed time.
Kinda like what the past four days have been.
“The fact that you tried is more than enough to make me grateful,” Valor says. He still sits in his spot against the wall, breaths slow and raspy, but he seems to have gained some semblance of strength back. His one good eye is alert as it swivels around to take in his surroundings. 
“I suppose.” I stare out at the burnt shell of the hotel. Opal’s handiwork. It still smolders, but the fire and rain are long gone. Morning light shines down from the sky, reflecting off the puddles of leftover rainwater and the calm surfaces of the nearby pools. The air has a sense of warmth to it, though it is nowhere near the heat of the first two days. 
“What would you do if you won the Games?”
Valor’s question takes me by surprise. I turn to stare at him and find myself without an answer. What would I do? I’ve never put too much thought into it. Killing Solomon was about the extent of my future plans. Didn’t really think about what would happen after that. “What would you do?” I throw the question back at him instead of answering. 
Valor makes a small sound that might have been a laugh. “Me? I’d become a trainer. Like Austin. He…he’s always been a hero of mine, in some aspects.”
“Really?” Didn’t see that coming. I hadn’t thought Valor to be the type of guy who looked up to anything. 
“Yes. I was twelve when he won his Games. I’d already decided to enroll in the Academy, of course, but I became even more certain of my future once I saw him win. He was everything a Victor should be. Strong. Resilient. Honorable and brave.” Valor’s voice takes another tone. A softer, more revenant one. He truly does idolize the man. “I decided that I would be just like him. Become someone for District 1 and Panem to look up to. A role model. I would be a light shining in the darkness, the perfect Panemian hero!”
I watch his face as he speaks. One half hidden behind bandages while the other lights up with a sense of joy. Valor views the Games with a patriotic fervor that is unmatched. He sincerely believes that becoming Victor is the greatest thing one can accomplish in life. 
“I wanted to be a florist,” I say quietly.
Valor falls silent. His eye flickers towards me. For some reason I can’t bring myself to meet his gaze, so I look away. “You like flowers, then?”
”Yes.” I love them. They’re one of the only things that have brought me peace in the years since the Tragedy. Something that could bring me joy no matter how awful I was feeling. “But that will never happen. Not with Solomon still breathing.”
“Why?”
”Because…” I can’t focus on anything but Solomon. Everything I do comes back to him. “He murdered my entire family!”
”Why?”
”What?” I turn my gaze back on Valor in disbelief. 
“Why did he kill your family? The tale of the Tragedy is known throughout the District, but no one seems to know why he did it.”
Why? I find myself unable to answer. Why did Solomon kill them? I didn’t ask. The only time I saw him was immediately afterwards, and I was too shocked to ask him anything. He was just sitting there with those blank, dead eyes…
Why did Solomon kill them? I never questioned his reasoning. Never thought it was worth thinking about. What was the point? He’d taken my family away from me, did it really matter why? Yes. It did. It does. I should have tried to find out. Solomon wasn’t always so aloof and distraught. Once I considered him my best friend in the entire world. But then he went to District 2 and…
He was never the same after that.
“I don’t know.” 
Valor stares at me for a moment. Maybe he thinks a longer answer is coming. It’s not. I am deeply troubled by this situation. Why did Solomon perpetuate the Tragedy? Why did he spare me? It wasn’t blind luck that the Tragedy happened when I was away from the mansion. It was planned. Intentional. Solomon killed the rest of our family but left me alive. Why? I don’t know.
But I intend to find out.
“Alcmene? Where are you going?”
I blink and look down at my feet, surprised to see that I am standing. I don’t remember getting up. “I…don’t know.” So many things no longer make sense. Life used to be simple, didn’t it? When did things get so complicated? 
When Solomon killed my family. 
“I suppose we should begin hunting down the others anyway,” Valor slowly climbs to his own feet. Seeing him struggle to do something so simple is…unsettling. 
“Hunting?” His word’s finally click in my head. “What do you mean?”
Valor picks his sword up from the floor and lifts it up, letting the hilt rest on his bandaged shoulder. “We need to find and kill the other tributes, of course. What did you think we would spend the day doing?”
It’s my turn to be confused. “I had assumed we’d spend it resting and recuperating.”
“I do not have the time for that,” Valor’s voice is low, quiet and somber. “You know as well as I do that these wounds will not heal. I…my time is numbered. If these Games do not end soon, suffice to say that my Victory will not be possible.”
Valor has never been the one to sugarcoat anything, not even his own mortality. Still, his bluntness surprises me. “We won’t be at our strongest,” I warn him. The remaining Careers are probably split up and alone, but Briar still has almost her entire alliance at her beck and call. “If we’re outnumbered the odds of us winning the fight is—”
“I have no other choice,” Valor cuts me off. He looks grim. “If tributes do not die soon and in high numbers, then I will die. I refuse to just sit here and wait for death.”
There is no adequate response to that. Valor has been my staunchest ally throughout my time in the arena. Just letting him wander off on his own is out of the question. District 1 must stick together. “Okay,” I grab my backpack and gather my weapons. “Where are we going?”
Valor gives me a half-smile. It doesn’t reach his eye. He knows as well as I do that he’s in no condition to fight. “I thought it’d be best to make our way somewhere we haven’t been yet, so I suggest we head north.”
I nod. The New Frontier waterpark where we’re currently located is not too far from a large bridge that crosses the canyon separating the northern end of the resort from the southern one. Us Careers haven’t really explored the Glacier Canyon region very much, so it makes sense to check that area out. “Okay. Lead the way.”
Valor heads off at a slow, careful walk. He circles around the lazy river that meanders through the waterpark, the surface of the water filmy from the ash of the still smoldering ruins of the resort’s southern wing. I haven’t forgotten about Opal. Solomon may be my current focus, but if I see that foppish twit again I will not hesitate to cut her down. 
The edge of the park is bordered by a green chain-link fence with a wide gate set in the middle. Solomon drifts back into my thoughts as we pass through. Why did he do it? What were his reasons? I can hear my sisters’ voice in my head telling me that it doesn’t matter, that he has to die, but for once in my life I manage to shove them aside. I need to know what Solomon hoped to accomplish. Why he did the worst thing a person can do. Solomon doesn’t need to die. Not yet. No. He has to do something else first.
He must answer my questions.
===Faren Gomery (District 5)===
The return of the power startled me. Before it came back on the arcade was deathly silent, a dark place full of ghostly machines and empty ticket booths. But a few hours ago everything came back on. The colorful lights flickered into existence and the machines began to unleash their stream of noise. 
Now everything is one big distraction.
Chrome wanders through the room, pausing to examine every little object that draws his interest. I stick to the corner of the room, examining the cables which I harvested from the shell of a broken crane game. A seed of a plan is growing in my mind. A possible trap.
“Bro, look at this!” Chrome grabs something off the prize counter and raises it in the air. I can’t tell what it is, but it appears to be some sort of black box. It makes me think of the radios we found on day one, and that in turn makes me thing of the rest of our alliance. The…
The people we abandoned.
I feel awful about not going with them, but at the same time I know I made the right decision. That storm was deadly, rife with so many possibilities of death that venturing out into it was a fools errand of the highest order. Yet even that knowledge doesn’t erase the guilt I feel. Briar was counting on me. She thought I would have her back no matter what, but when the chips were down I didn’t. I ran away. 
A shiver passes through my body as I think of those mutts from yesterday. They got so close to catching me…if Chrome hadn’t shut those fire doors and locked the mutts on the other side, I am sure that they would have torn me apart.
And that would have been the end of Joule.
These Game have gone on for so long. Today will be their fifth day. Has it been too long? Is Joule even still alive? She only has so much time. Nausea builds in my gut at the thought of me being too late. Everything I’ve done, everything I will do, would be pointless if I return to find out Joule has already passed away. 
I suppress a scream and the urge to rip at my hair. Why can’t these Games end? Why won’t those other tributes hurry up and die? I thought the storm would take a bunch of them out, but only four actually died yesterday. There’s still fourteen other people left before these Games can end. A part of me—a small, twisted part buried deep inside—thought that maybe it would have been better if Briar and the others had died in that storm. That way there would be four less people alive right now. Four less obstacles between me and Joule’s salvation. 
But another part of me, the larger more human part, is glad they didn’t. I don’t want them dead. Not really. They’re all good people who don’t deserve to be in this situation they’re in.
But the same is true for Joule. 
Chrome makes a small laughing noise and I glance over my shoulder at him. He’s still playing with his little box. He’ll have to die too. I like the guy, but it’s a simple fact that for me to win he’ll have to die. As will Briar. Damian and Talia. They all must die so I can save Joule. 
That thought makes me feel a little dead inside. Why can’t there be a way to save everyone? Why must there be a sacrifice? Why must I be the one to make it? Mind numb, I feel at the breast pocket of my jacket, finding the familiar shape stored there. 
Joule’s music box.
I have kept it stored away safely for most of these Games, too afraid of breaking it. But now I need a reminder. Something which keeps me close to Joule and lets me know exactly why I keep fighting. Why I can’t afford to lose. 
I pull the box out and carefully turn the key. Sweet melodious notes begin to play and suddenly I find myself holding back tears. Joule is my everything. Nothing in the world even comes close to being as important as she is. I think of her now, lying in bed as she watches me on a screen, growing weaker every day…Death approaches. Reaches for her with a long hand. But I can’t let it grab her. I’ll stop it. I will save her. I…
There’s no limit to what I’ll do to save her.
“Bro, you okay?”
I blink away my tears, lifting my glasses and wiping a sleeve against my eyes before turning to face Chrome. “Y-yeah, I’m fine. J-just thinking.” 
There’s some doubt in his eyes, but thankfully he doesn’t question me any further. Instead he just proffers that little box at me. “You gotta check this out, man!”
“Wh-what is it?” I tuck Joule’s music box back into my jacket and peer down at Chrome’s. 
“Check it!” He presses a small button on the side.
“Bro, you okay?” Chrome’s voice echoes from the box, surprising me. I look up at him to make sure he’s not actually speaking. He’s not. He just smiles and waggles his eyebrows at me as the box continues. 
“Y-yeah, I’m fine. J-just thinking.” That’s my own voice. For one moment I find myself thoroughly confused, but then the obvious hits me. 
“It’s a recorder,” I say, taking the box and turning it over in my hands. I’ve seen plenty of these things back in District 5, though from what some of my allies have said I suspect that technology like this is a rarity in a few of the other Districts. 
“Pretty awesome, yeah?” I examine the few buttons on the box, taking careful note of the pause and play buttons before handing it back to him. 
“Yeah. For sure.”
Chrome frowns. Evidently my response isn’t what he was hoping for. He steps over the mass of cables at my feet and sits on a small stool propped against the wall. “Somethin’ troubling you, man?”
Didn’t realize my despair was so obvious. I sigh and rub a hand against my head. “It’s just…we’re separated from the others and…things don’t look too good.” The Games won’t end today. There’s too many people left for that. So Joule will be forced to hang on for at least one more day. Probably two or three more, if tributes keep dropping at the rate they’re going. Can she last that long?
”It’ll be fine, man!” Chrome pats me on the back. “The others know what they’re doing. None of them died, after all.”
Yes, that’s partly what worries me. The others all want to win as badly as I do. What will happen when we make it closer to the end? Will they kill me? Kulver’s words haunt me. Linger in my head. Sooner or later I will have to kill someone. Possibly even…
“You concerned about that girlfriend of yours?” Chrome asks.
Right. I forgot that everyone knew about Joule. She was a pretty big part of my interview, so it makes sense, but it’s still startling to have someone else mention her. “Yes.”
Chrome falls silent. For a moment I think that this will be the end of our conversation, but then he slaps me on the back again. “Bro, I just want to let you know that, if something goes wrong and you don’t make it out of the arena, I will try and help your girlfriend in whatever way I can.”
My mouth works but no words come out. Help Joule. Chrome just offered to help Joule! The first person to ever make that offer on their own. I had to tell Talia I’d save her mother before she made her own offer, but Chrome just flat out told he would try and help! 
“Th-thank you!” I stammer the words out. Can’t believe it took so long for someone to do the simple, human thing. Including myself. I only ever pledged to help Talia because I wanted her promise in return. Even I was selfish. 
But Chrome wasn’t.
He laughs and sets a hand on my shoulder. “No worries, bro. Friends gotta help each other, ya know?” 
My knees are weak. My chest tightens. Friends. Is Chrome my friend? I don’t know anything about his life prior to the arena. Does he have someone he needs to get back to as well? “You have a family?” I ask quietly, playing with the cables in my hand. 
The smile slips from his face. “Nah. They…I lost them some years back.”
”Oh.” I feel awful now. “Do you have…friends back home?”
Until this moment I’ve only ever seen Chrome jovial and carefree. Always with a playful glint in his eyes. But my innocuous question seems to have punched a hole through his armor. He looks down at his hands, face stern, and when he speaks there is an edge to his voice. “I did, once. They were my very best friends. Thought we’d always be close, but then…” He looks up and motions his hands like a scale. “They betrayed me. In the worst possible way. I…ain’t got no one now.”
“Oh.” I know what that’s like. To be betrayed by someone you trusted wholeheartedly. Someone you thought was your closest friend. Rotor and his actions still weigh heavily in my mind. Joule‘s suffering was increased by his behavior. Yet he never apologized to her. Only me.
Rotor…Wonder if he’s watching these Games right now. Does he want me to win? Or does he want to see me die, because I never forgave him? The mere thought of that hurts like a stab in the gut. 
Neither Chrome nor myself say anything for a long while. We just sit in companionable silence, each of us thinking about the life we’ve been dealt. The bitterness and the sweet. Success and failure. I can’t afford anymore failure. I need to win these Games. And if that means everyone else, Chrome included, has to die…
“Help me set up this trap,” I rise to my feet and shove those dark thoughts away. Chrome mimics my action, watching me with curious eyes. I gesture at the nearby entrance. “I wanna create a deadfall to catch anyone who tries to enter through here.”
We get to work. I am glad for Chrome’s assistance, because I don’t think that I alone could have tilted the arcade machine onto its side so that the connecting cables can attach to the top and serve to pull it over. It’s a simple trap and doesn’t take us long to get everything in order. When we’re finished, I step back and survey our handiwork.
A small tripwire stretches from one end of the entrance to the other, serving as the catalyst for the trap. Once someone triggers it, the entire arcade machine will come tumbling down atop them. 
“That’ll hurt,” Chrome says, poking at the machine. “Might not be immediately lethal, though. They could have their limbs crushed and just lie there in pain or something.”
I hadn’t thought of that. It’s…not a happy image. If someone got stuck underneath that they would probably slowly die of starvation or dehydration. Such a death would be worse than being crushed instantly. Still, I can’t go back now. The trap is set. Whether someone gets stuck or not is out of my hands now. 
We’ll need to leave this arcade soon. It was never meant to be a permanent campsite. Our best bet would be to head back to Wild West, because that’s where all my previous traps are, and it’s the most likely place for Briar and the others to come looking for us. Though I have misgivings about them eventually betraying me, I know that I still need their help. Winning on my own is…it will be hard.
”Chrome, we should head back—”
“Watch out!”
Chrome lunges forward and shoves me. I fall flat on my back, elbows slamming into the floor, and hear him cry out in pain. Frantic with worry, I push myself back up and see him clutching his left arm, blood spreading from a gash just above his elbow. His assailant stands across from him.
Opal.
My District partner holds a large axe in her hands, eyes narrowed as she watches Chrome back away. Her dark hair, normally styled in elaborate bobs, is swept back in a long braid which she’s tucked into her orange jacket. Opal has always been a stoic and serious girl, but the expression on her face is a step above her typical sternness. Opal means to kill us. 
My mind buzzes with panic. Opal joined the Careers. Most of them were still alive. Are they here? Have they finally found us? No. I do a quick scan of the arcade and spot no one else besides for us and Opal. But if she’s alone then why—
Chrome lunges forward with a yell, sickle flashing for Opal’s face. The girl steps back, dodging the strikes with an agile swiftness. I am frozen with fear. I know that, logically, I should be assisting Chrome, but I just can’t force my body to move. All I can do is watch in horror as Opal deflects Chrome’s slash and then punches him in the gut with her offhand. As he reels in pain, she grips him by his dreadlocks and swings to the side. Chrome thumps against the ticket counter and goes to the floor.
Opal steps forward, axe raised.
She’s going to kill Chrome. The one guy who willingly offered to help Joule. The guy who pushed me out of the way and took the blow from Opal’s axe in my place. Without thinking, without so much as considering the ramifications of failure, I find myself jolted into movement. I can’t let her kill him! 
I leap forward and throw myself atop Opal’s back, arms wrapping around her neck. I don’t know what I’m doing. Trying to choke her, maybe. Opal staggers but amazingly stays on her feet. She swings an elbow into my side and then wrenches herself at an angle, sending me flipping over her head and landing hard on my back.
The impact knocks the wind out of me. I lie flat on my back, barely able to breathe, as Opal glares down at me. Dead. I’m dead. This is how it ends…Thoughts of Joule spring in my head and I begin to pull myself up. No! I can’t die here! I refuse!
Opal kicks me in the gut and I fall back to the floor. My eyes blur with tears. I’ve never really been hit before. Not like this. My mind is so shocked that it doesn’t know how to respond. I find myself curled into a ball, head swimming and unable to concentrate.
“Just stay down!” Opal screams and kicks me again. “If you want to live then stay down!”
The kicks stop and the pain fades. My mind is still whirling but her words manage to break through the confusion. Staying down will keep me alive? What? That makes no sense. Why would she…I begin to move, arms trembling as I set them beneath me and raise myself into a sitting position so I can better survey the arcade.
Opal has her back to me, facing down Chrome. The lanky guy has adopted a defensive stance and is watching Opal with wide, worried eyes. Chrome is a good fighter, probably better than anyone in our alliance who isn’t Aiko, but he’s facing one of the deadlier tributes in the arena. I knew Opal would be a formidable opponent from the moment I saw her, but then she went and joined the Careers, proving herself to be even more dangerous than I thought. If left alone she will kill Chrome.
I can’t allow that. 
I reach into my jacket for the electric baton I made yesterday. It’s not my best work and won’t be lethal, but the shock from it alone will incapacitate anyone struck by it. I—
My hand swivels around in an empty pocket. Panic swells in my chest. Where is it? I begin to frantically pat at my jacket, unsure of where I placed the baton, pulling my pockets inside out. 
Opal advances on Chrome. He swings the sickle for her head but she ducks underneath it and then kicks him straight in the chest. Chrome falls backwards, crashing into the door behind him. It swings open to reveal a bathroom as he hits the floor and slides across the tiled floor. 
I remain frozen in place, unable to find the baton, as Opal pulls back her axe and readies to throw. Chrome climbs to his knees, an unsteady look in his eyes, and then suddenly leaps forward and slams the door shut the moment Opal lets the axe fly.
The crescent blade of the axe sinks into the thick wood of the door and sticks there, quivering from impact. “Bother,” Opal mutters to herself and stalks over to the door, carefully prying the axe loose. She puts a hand on the doorknob and tries to open the door, but it remains shut. Growling angrily, she slams her shoulder against it. The door doesn’t so much as budge. “Bother!”
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Chrome is safe! Unless Opal somehow manages to break down a door, that is. 
My relief turns to terror when Opal turns around and stares at me.
“Well, I suppose I’ll just have to settle with taking you,” She says lightly. 
I turn and run. Sprint past the ticket booth and whip around a nearby corner, nearly colliding with a racing game. The exit appears ahead. Just over a dozen feet away. Once I escape into the hallways I can try and lose her. She won’t be—
Something crashes into my back and drives me to the floor. I throw out my hands to prevent my head from hitting and roll over o to my back, groaning softly. What happened?
A boot settles on my chest. Opal looks over me, a cold smile on her face. “Hello, Faren. You didn’t really think you could outrun me, did you?”
A terrible weight that has nothing to do with Opal’s boot has begun to press in on me. Dead. If I die, then Joule will be dead. “Please!” Tears have begun to stream down my face. An inconsolable grief threatens to devour my soul. “Don’t kill me! I…Joule needs me! Please!”
Opal presses her foot down harder. “You needn’t worry about that. I have no desire to harm you. At least, not if you’re willing to do what I ask.”
“Anything! I’ll do anything!” Joule can’t die. I won’t let her. 
Opal’s smile widens. She knew all along that I couldn’t refuse. “Good. Very good. Now, let’s take a little trip to the cornucopia, shall we?”
===Notcher Stott (District 8)===
I yawn and stretch my arms out, back popping from the effort as I rub a hand against my eyes. My body is sore and stiff, a byproduct of last night’s awkward sleeping position. E waited until Marina fell asleep, then crawled into the blue bin full of towels and buried myself beneath them. There, safely hidden from sight, is where I fell asleep.
Some people would probably say that I was being overly suspicious, that hiding myself from even Marina is overkill, but those same people would wind up dead on the streets of District 8. You can never be too careful, either inside the arena or outside of it.
It’s not that I don’t trust Marina—though I do have many misgivings about the girl—it was merely the sensible thing to do. If someone were to enter the shed during the night, they’d only see Marina. They’d probably kill her, take her stuff, and then leave. They’d never think to look inside the bin for another person. Thus, I would survive. 
Marina, for her part, clearly wasn’t worried that I’d kill her while she slept. The girl went to sleep without taking even the slightest of precautions.
Marina isn’t present in the little storage shed. I note this as I take a cursory look around. Everything is still as it was when I went to sleep—meaning no one broke in and moved anything—but Marina herself is gone. I am not concerned about her betraying me or anything like that. She was the one who went out of her way to get me as an ally, so it’d make no sense for her to abandon me so soon after. Still, her absence troubles me. Just what is she planning?
I step out of the shed and into the waterpark, blinking in the bright sunlight. There’s a warmth to the air. Much different from yesterday’s storm. Still, it’s obvious that the storm did a number on the park. Umbrellas and chairs are strewn about everywhere, loose cushions litter the ground, and an entire table has somehow wound up inside the lazy river. 
I walk up to its edge and shake my head. I knew that the storm had massive wind gales, but…this is something else. I turn away and survey my surroundings. Our little shed is tucked away underneath the large slide tower which looks over the entire park. Seriously, the tower is massive. It has to be at least several stories taller than the surrounding hotel buildings, and the drop slide which extends from it does some kind of looping circle before sending the rider out in a long runout which lengthens away from the shed. 
A strain of music plays from the speaker’s overhead. I don’t know the song. Some kind of stupid hip hop music that’s popular in the Capitol, no doubt. Scowling to myself, I use a hand to shade my eyes and peer across the lazy river. Where did Marina go?
”Looking for me?”
I do not flinch at the sound of her voice. I remain still and keep my expression blank as I turn and look behind me. There, leaning against the side of the shed, Marina casually flicks a lighter open and close. “Where have you been?” I ask quietly. 
“Looking for this,” She tosses me the lighter and I catch it with my good hand. I frown at the thing. Seems to be the typical lighter that’s all too common in District 8. Only difference is that this one is bright yellow. “And some of these.”
She straightens out and taps a foot against the small bag which rests at her feet. It makes a clinking sound. Glass? “Going off on your own was risky,” I say.
She shrugs and tosses back her long black hair. “I couldn’t find you. Thought maybe you left.”
No. Leaving was never an option. Despite my serious misgivings about Marina’s trustworthiness, I recognize the points she made yesterday. People like me, guys who are physically weak and ill-suited for combat, rarely win the Games without an ally. They usually peter out in the last third of the Games, when the other alliances begin coalescing their forces. The best way for me to win was to go unnoticed. Since that failed, my next best option would be to attach myself to a stronger tribute who will draw all the attention away from myself. 
AKA Marina.
“I’m still here,” I say when the silence stretches too long. “Nowhere else for me to go, anyway.”
Marina’s eyes narrow slightly at that. They’re wide, distrustful things. She may spew all platitudes about ally’s and teamwork, but she clearly doesn’t fully trust me. Understandable. Only idiots fully trust anyone in the Games. “I am glad to see that you see the benefit to this alliance,” She eventually dips her head to me. “I do have a plan for today, if you want to hear it.”
”Sure. Beats anything I’d come up with.” Staying out of the other tributes way has been my plan so far, but I realize that the longer the Games go on, the harder that’ll become. Damn Gamemakers love driving us all together. 
I sit on the edge of the river and watch the water flow as Marina explains her plan. Apparently she wants to find sone tribute who’s hidden away and burn their hiding spot to the ground. It’s not exactly subtle or original, but fires do tend to bring results. “We’ll need to start getting kills,” She says, pacing back and forth. “No one has ever won the Games without making a kill.”
“We don’t need to force the kills. There’s still thirteen other people.”
She pauses near me, frowning. “Who’s left, again?”
“Four of your Career pals,” I know this list my heart. Back when I had the security cameras I spent every waking moment tracking the other’s movements. “Briar and her alliance, plus Chrome, who seems to have joined them. Then there’s the Kin-Killer and his goon.”
“That makes fourteen.” Marina has been counting along as I read the name. “Who is the last?”
“Last and least is Maximo,” I respond. “Both his allies died yesterday.” Which, considering Marina and myself have joined together, means he’s probably the only person left on his own—unless Marina’s theory about the other Careers turning on each other is true. 
“So he’ll be the one we want to target,” Marina resumes her pacing, occasionally tapping the end of her trident against the concrete. “Shouldn’t be too difficult to dispatch him.”
”Finding him will be the real pain,” I say. “We could look forever and—”
The music playing from the overhead speakers suddenly grabs my full attention. I fall silent, ignoring the questioning look Marina gives me, and focus entirely on that. The speakers. A song is playing, a different one from before. Speakers require power. Power means that—
“I love this song,” Marina comments and begins humming along. 
“The power is back on!” This is the closest I have ever felt to excitement in the arena. “That means the cameras should be working again!” 
Marina’s eyes widen. “Finding Maximo will be a cinch with those!”
And, more importantly, we will be able to keep a close eye on all the other tributes. No one will be able to catch me unawares ever again. Not like Marina. I watch her closely as she begins laying out her plan to entrap Maximo, unable to dispel the anger I feel when I think of how she bested me. The only reason I am not dead is because she thought it was more useful to keep me alive. I only lived because she wanted me to.
It’s a galling thought.
“How do we even reach the security station from here?” Marina is surveying the waterpark, hands on her hips, trident nestled in the crook of her arm. “To be honest, I don’t have a very good recollection of the arena’s layout.”
That sounds like a lie. I’m willing to bet that Marina knows exactly where everything in this arena is located. In the short time I’ve known her she’s been nothing but prepared for every occurrence. “I know the way there,” I tell her and stand up, stretching my arms. “I practically know this arena like the back of my hand.” I should. I’ve spent far too many hours staring at those cameras for me not to remember every little nook and cranny. 
I begin to explain the path as we gather our supplies. Marina has more than I do. I watch her carefully as I pretend to organize my medpack, keeping note of every item I spot. She’s loaded on weaponry, with a trident, baton, and a blowgun for range. And though I can only see the handles, I’m pretty sure she has two knives tucked into her belt. 
My irritation grows as I realize just how easily this girl could have killed me. I’ve always known that the Careers held an insurmountable advantage in the physical realm—those pukes have trained their whole lives learning how to kill—but it’s never been more apparent just how far out of my league they are. Marina was right when she said I couldn’t win these Games alone. Unless I snuck up on them, I’d have no shot against the likes of Mako and Valor on my own. But with Marina at my side…
My Victory is not only possible, but plausible. 
The both of us finish our packing and begin to head up towards the northernmost section of the waterpark, ascending a staircase that sits near the bottom of the mat racers. If we take the exit on the upper river we should come out near the same garage area where I fled from those mutts yesterday. There’s a chance we’ll run into some of those things as we approach the security station, but I think it’s a slim one. The lights being on should be enough to deter the slimy things, and if it’s not, then the combined might of Marina and myself will be capable of fending them off. 
Recently everything has gone my way. Things are beginning to look up, and yet…unease lingers in my head. I will need Marina at my side for longer than she’ll need me. Eventually I will become more of a liability to her than an asset. When that happens she’ll undoubtedly try to kill me. This alliance of ours already has an expiration date. 
Hopefully someone else takes Marina out before that date comes, because I do not like my chances against her in a fair fight.
Of course, since when have I ever fought fair?
===Damian Gonzalez (District 10)===
Our group moves in silence as make our way through the muddied and twisted forest. The storm had not been kind to the trees, and many branches lie littered across the floor, sometimes accompanied by the entire trunk of a tree. I find myself grateful that none of the trees dropped onto us last night. That would have been awful, to say the least. 
Though I am used to nature and the outdoors, this forest looks nothing like my home. District 10 is a flat and arid place, with many fields and open land. This forest is narrow and suffocating, set on uneven flooring and covered in a thick layer of mud which grabs at our shoes. The simple act of moving around is made difficult by such conditions. 
“I hate this forest!” Talia mutters to herself from somewhere behind me. Her and Aiko are trailing a bit behind, obviously having a harder time getting through the mud than me and Briar are. 
“Hang in there!” Briar turns to flash her a sympathetic smile. My friend has been mostly quiet all day. Something must be troubling her, but I don’t know what. Maybe it’s what Talia said last night. The fact that, sooner or later, all but one of us must die.
I would be lying if I said that thought didn’t worry me, but I honestly don’t think it’s our biggest problem right now. If we ever get to the point where turning on one another becomes necessary, then that’s a good thing. It means the other tributes didn’t kill us first. 
“Damian, we should pause for a bit,” Briar taps my shoulder and I turn to see Talia bent over and panting, Aiko patting her on the shoulder. 
“Oh, right.” We have been moving at a pretty frantic pace, but that’s because I want to meet up with Faren and Chrome before anything else crazy happens. When they’re back with us our alliance will be sitting at six strong. That’s almost equal to the amount of other remaining tributes combined!
Briar tells the two younger girls that we’ll be taking a short break, then walks back over to me. I am standing on a large flat stone, peering up through the trees at the blue sky. Warmth has begun to flood back into the arena, and a gentle sunlight bathes my skin. Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I can almost imagine that I am somewhere else. Somewhere safe. 
“Damian, I have some concerns about our current strategy,” Briar’s quiet voice has me opening my eyes. She stands next to me, one hand folded across her chest and holding the other by the elbow. “Faren and Chrome…I don’t think they can be trusted.”
For a moment I am unable to speak, too confused by this abrupt worry. It’s not what I thought she’d say. Didn’t we have this conversation yesterday? “They won’t do anything to harm us,” I say slowly. “Both of them are loyal.”
“So loyal that they ran off on their own instead of helping us look for Aiko and Talia.”
Ah, right. So that’s what bothered her. I can’t say that their choice upset me too greatly—I myself was pretty tempted to run—but I know that Briar isn’t going to think the same way. In her mind the two of them ran out on her when she needed them most. “It’s better to have them at our side,” I tell her. “I don’t think either of them want to harm us, so it makes sense for us to find them.”
Briar sighs. “They will turn on us, Damian. Maybe not right away, but they will do it eventually. Faren is dedicated to saving his girlfriend, and that means we’re just obstacles in his way. As for Chrome…you already know my thoughts on him.”
This isn’t what I wanted. Briar is my closest friend in the arena, my only real confidant. Having her be so against Faren and Chrome…it puts doubt in my mind. I firmly believe we need the both of them at our side to fend off the other tributes, but at the same time I don’t want to alienate Briar. What’s the correct choice here? 
“If we keep Faren and Chrome with us, then we’ll be able to keep an eye on them,” I say. “But if we just let them go off on their own, then we’ll have no idea what they’re doing. They could begin plotting against us and we’d never know. Is that what you want?”
“Of course not!” Briar shake her head, then looks over her shoulder at the two girls behind us. Aiko is cooing over a sketch Talia is showing off. “But, well, it’s just…how long will our alliance last? Talia brought up a good point last night. Sooner or later we will have to…to go our separate ways.”
I feel a small pit form in my stomach. Is Briar going to suggest we disband the alliance? That would wreck my entire strategy! I need everyone on my side. The best way to win is to gather everyone around me and use their skills to bring us to the end. If we begin to separate…
“We need to stick together,” I stare at my feet, unable to meet her gaze. Briar is worried about having to eventually fight her allies, while I’m only concerned about how much they can help me. Does that make me a bad person? “Separating too early will lead to all our deaths.”
“I know, but…” She sighs again and runs a hand through her dusky brown hair. “I don’t want to fight any of you. We should…we should all agree to go our own ways once we reach the final eight.”
The final eight. If everything goes the way I want it to, then six of the final eight tributes will be in our alliance. Going our separate ways at that point would be moot. But I find myself agreeing with Briar, if only to appease her. “Final eight. Agreed.”
Talia and Aiko join us before I can say much else. Neither one looks particularly cheerful, but that’s to be expected considering the circumstances. Yet when Briar turns and tells them about our final eight agreement, their faces darken. “That’s fine, I suppose,” Talia says slowly. “I don’t think too many of us will make it that far anyway.”
“I’m never going to harm you guys,” Aiko says with a bob off her head. “Not unless you attack first!”
That’s somewhat reassuring. Though Briar has been concerned with the trustworthiness of Faren and Chrome, I’ve recently found Aiko to be the most unsettling of our allies. Something about the girl is unnerving. Her desire to fight the Careers not least among it. 
“Yo, District 10, you there?” The radio crackles alive and Talia jumps in surprise.
Speak of the devil! I pull the radio free from my belt but don’t press the talk button. There’s something I need to discuss first. I turn to the others. “We’re going to go along with whatever he says, yeah?” That’s what we all agreed to do earlier this morning. It make sense for us to at least humor the guy. 
Briar nods. “Yeah.”
Talia and Aiko both chime in with their agreements, so I give them a forced smile and hold down the talk button. “I’m here. What do you want?”
“Brr! You sound a little frosty there, pal!” That’s definitely Mako’s voice, so he hasn’t passed the radio off to someone else. “Maybe I should call you back when you’re feeling a little better.”
“Uh, no. I-I’m fine.” The last thing we need is for Mako to draw this out longer. “Just didn’t get much sleep last night. Storm made things pretty uncomfortable.”
Laugher crackles from the radio. “Can’t really emphasize with you there, man. I slept in a bed with a roof over my head.”
So that means he’s inside the hotel somewhere. Unless he’s trying to mislead us, which is a real possibility. “So, you have a task for us?” I try to get this conversation back on track. 
“Yep! And it’s actually going to be a walk in the park compared to what you had me do.” I exchange a look with the girls. They all have expressionless faces. Well, I know that Briar was worried Mako would make us attack an alliance, so maybe this will reassure her. “You know that part of the hotel outside the waterpark called Klondike?”
“Yes.” It’s the part of the resort nearest the cornucopia. 
“Well, it got set on fire yesterday so I want you guys to do a little reconnaissance. Make sure the fire is truly out and not spreading, yeah?”
That does indeed sound very simple. Perhaps too simple. “What’s the catch? Are there some tributes lurking about or something?”
“Nah. Least I don’t think so. The last guy I saw in the area was Valor, and he was running around screaming while on fire. Not sure how he’s still alive, to be honest.”
I can’t decide if that’s reassuring or terrifying. Either way, it doesn’t really matter. Mako is unlikely to be personally surveying the area, so we don’t even need to actually go there, just tell him that we will. “Understood. We’ll check it out.”
“Great! Well, that’s it for now. Laters!”
I lower the radio and turn to the others. “That doesn’t sound too bad,” I say with a shrug. “I doubt he even—”
“Yo, you done with that yet?” I pause as Mako’s voice comes out of the radio again. I stare down at the radio, wondering what else he has to say, when I realize that he’s not talking to me. His voice is too distant for that. But then who is he… “Awesome! Great job, Faren! That’ll definitely be a huge..”
Faren?
His voice cuts off and the radio falls silent. Heart thumping in my chest, I look up to see the others watching me with wide, worried eyes. “D-did he say Faren’s name?” Briar looks around as if she thinks the guy is about to appear at any time. “Why would he…”
“Is Faren working with the Careers?” Aiko asks. 
“N-no! He…it’s just…” I don’t know what to say or how to respond. This situation has shattered my confidence and shaken my resolve. I thought I knew everything, that I had a grand plan that would send me home, but now…was Briar right all along? Is Faren working with the Careers?
No.
No, that would be stupid. Why would he do that? What would he stand to gain? I can’t believe he would forsake us for them. 
“Faren’s District partner joined the Careers,” Briar speaks slowly, as if putting together a puzzle. “She would have been able to get him inside the alliance easily.”
“He’s always been concerned about the Games not ending fast enough,” Aiko agrees. “Joining the Careers would be an easy way to help make that happen.”
“But Mako said the Careers disbanded!” Talia protests.
“He could have lied about that,” Briar points out. “In fact, he could have been lying about everything he told us. What if he’s trying to lure us into a trap right now?”
I stand in silence as my allies continue to argue over the matter. I don’t know what to say or how to phrase it. I don’t believe Faren has betrayed us, but I can’t find the words to get my point across. I could set everything right if only I knew what to say. I know I could! 
“But what if Mako is trying to trick us into thinking Faren is working with him?” Talia is still defending our ally. 
“How would Mako know Faren wasn’t with us unless he joined the Careers?” Briar has kept her voice gentle but firm. She hasn’t let this situation throw her emotions out of wack. Not like me. “He wouldn’t know we were separated from Faren otherwise.”
“Unless he saw Faren and Chrome by themselves,” I say quietly. They all turn to look at me. Talia hopefully, Briar and Aiko with doubt. Suddenly nervous, I swallow and try to speak louder. “Mako could have spotted Faren and Chrome somewhere and decided to try and trick us. It’s not out of the realm of possibility.”
“It’s possible,” Briar admits. “But I find that unlikely. Besides, I already had my doubts about Faren’s dependability, so I don’t think it matters if he’s working with Mako or not. The end result should stay the same; we don’t search for them.”
”I say we should do the opposite. After all, what better way to find out the truth than by finding Faren himself? If we find him and Chrome are by themselves, then they’re obviously not working with Mako. But if we spot the District 4 boy with them…” I trail off and let my silence imply the rest. That if we see Mako with the two, then they truly have betrayed us. 
Thankfully, and rather surprisingly, all three of them wind up agreeing with me. Even Briar thinks that’s a fair idea. I guess that, despite her doubt, she’d still rather believe in an ally and give them a chance. This decided, I take charge and begin to lead our group further into the forest. Or, well, not further into the forest, but towards the edge of the forest. I’ve been here before, when I was fleeing Monty Moose, so I know the path back to the resort.
Faren and Chrome wouldn’t have left the safety of the buildings. The pair of them must still be inside the hotel, though the real question will be where exactly they are hiding. My best guess, and the reason why I am leading us this way, is that the two of them have returned to the Wild West region. It’d make sense, because that’s where we’ve spent majority of our time in the arena. A familiar location would be the perfect fallback point.
Our group doesn’t speak as we make our way through the woods. The surrounding trees begin to thin out, filtering in more sunlight as the day stretches on. The ground, already slippery with mud, begins to slant upwards and makes every step treacherous. Eventually it becomes a real struggle to advance and we begin to search for another avenue. 
That’s how we find a staircase somewhere to the east. It’s a long, wooden thing that has been battered in the storm, with a few missing steps and an appearance that is generally decrepit. “Feels like it’s going to collapse at any moment,” Briar says as I take the first step. 
I shrug. “It’s the only path forward. Besides, it’s not that long of a fall.” I hope I sound more confident than I feel. Right now I’m conflicted and unsure of my actions. What if Faren has been captured by Mako? The Careers could be using him as a ploy in some sort of plot. If so…
No. Best not to dwell on negative thoughts. I channel all my focus into ascending the staircase and when I reach the top I turn around to examine my surroundings. An outdoor waterpark sits nearby, on the other side of a green chain-link fence. A large slide tower looms overhead, taller than the hotel side entrance which sits across from the park. A narrow strip of concrete runs between them, forming a small path.
“This is the park outside Wild West,” Briar says, joining me at the top. Talia and Aiko follow after her. “We ran through this park when…when the Careers chased us on day two.”
I’ve also been here before. Faren, Chrome, and myself came past when we fled from Monty Moose the first time. A small garden area lies at the end of that narrow path, leading to an entrance to the arcade. 
“This is where Valor’s sword struck,” Talia runs a hand along the fence. A portion at the top is chipped. “He was so close to killing us…”
“Things have changed,” I tell her gently. “We’re the stronger alliance now.” Assuming Mako wasn’t lying about the Careers dissolving. God, I hope he wasn’t lying. We actually stand a chance with them all separated. But together…
I wave the others on and continue down the path. Searching the arcade will be my first priority. While I doubt Faren and Chrome have hidden there, it’s close enough to Wild West that it bears checking. The rambunctious noise and colorful lights are noticeable through the glass door as I near. Huh. So the power is back on. 
I pull the door open and step inside. 
“Damian, no!”
Talia shoots forward and grabs me by the hand before I get more than a foot into the room. I stumble back, nearly losing my footing, and the second I do a nearby machine tips over and smashes into the floor with a tremendous impact. 
“What the hell?” I shield my eyes and stare at the debris. Briar and Aiko slide into the room, Briar checking me for wounds as Aiko twirls two shurikens in her hands. 
“Th-that was one of Faren’s traps!” Talia crouches beside the door. “I r-recognized the tripwire from training!”
So I was right. Faren really did return to the arcade. “Do you think he’s still here?” I ask, stepping around the fallen machine. I’m hesitant to go too far into the room, because Faren likely has more than one trap set. 
“P-probably!” Talia pokes a foot against the machine. “I…it’s hard to tell. He could have returned to—” 
She breaks off with a yelp and ducks behind me, arms gripping my shoulders. I try to spin around and face whatever’s startled her, but the way she is clutching me makes that difficult. “Talia, get off! I need to—“
“You guys!” A familiar form emerges from a nearby doorway and stops to gawk at us. His dark dreadlocks frame a long, oval face. Chrome. “Good timing! She’s gots Faren!”
I finally shake Talia off and look around, confused. “She? What’re you talking about, Chrome?”
Chrome begins to explain. Apparently he and Faren had spent all their time in the arcade since separating with us, but that they were attacked earlier today by Opal. While Chrome managed to escape by locking himself inside a bathroom, Faren wasn’t so lucky. 
“She kidnapped him!” There’s genuine concern in Chrome’s eyes as he waves his hands in the air for emphasis. 
“She…kidnapped him?” Briar sounds doubtful, and it’s not hard to imagine why. She’s still thinking about how Mako mentioned Faren’s name over the radio. She probably thinks this is all some sort of trap which…
…isn’t so far-fetched. Mako name dropping Faren was one thing, but for him to be ‘kidnapped’ by Opal—someone who was up until yesterday aligned with Mako himself—begins to stretch my border of disbelief. I don’t want to doubt Faren, but all the facts of the matter seem poised against him. Who’s to say Opal and Mako aren’t still together? The only reason we think the Careers separated is because Mako himself told us, who I’ve come to suspect is most definitely not a reliable source. 
“Are you sure he didn’t go with her willingly?” Aiko dispenses with all subtly and goes straight to the heart of the matter. 
“What the hell you talking bout?” Chrome glares at the small girl. “Why would he ever go with that bitch?” 
No one rushes to explain. They’ve probably come to the same conclusion that I have. If Faren has joined with the Careers, then it’s likely so has Chrome. In fact, I can tell from both Briar and Aiko’s expressions that they both distrust Chrome. They’ve already decided that him and Faren are working alongside the Careers. 
But I don’t think they are. It just doesn’t add up. Yeah, maybe Chrome would want to join the stronger side and team with the Careers, but that doesn’t explain Faren. Why would he do that? Yes, he’s always been adamant about wanting to end these Games early, but he also wants to win. Joining the Careers would actually make that harder for him. Maybe he’d last a few days longer, but then what? He’d be the lowest guy on the totem pole and the first killed when their alliance dissolves. 
“Was anyone else with Opal?” I ask Chrome, ignoring Briar’s pointed look. “Like Mako or someone?”
”Nah. She was all alone.”
“How did you know she kidnapped him if you were hiding in the bathroom?” Briar demands.
”’Cuz I peeked out and saw her towing him away. She said something about heading to the cornucopia.”
That’s bad. Not only is the cornucopia the Careers main base, but I had planned for us to go there ourselves, thinking that it would’ve been abandoned during the storm. Our alliance is big but we don’t exactly have the best weapons. I thought that maybe we could arm ourselves with the cornucopia leftovers. Yet now…
“We need to for rescue him!” Chrome tells us. “Opal won’t stand a chance against all five of us! We can easily overpower her!”
“Assuming she’s alone,” Briar says quietly. 
“I just told you she was!”
“Opal was a Career,” She reminds him. “The others are probably helping her.”
“No. Mako told us they split up, remember?” Everyone turns to Talia as she speaks for the first time since finding Chrome. She seems oddly confident, not at all like the shy and nervous girl I’ve come to know. “That means Opal is likely working on her own, and we can save Faren. We must.”
“The Careers split up?” Chrome raises an eyebrow. “How’d you learn that?”
The fact he didn’t know Mako told us about the split convinces me that he isn’t working with Opal. That everything he’s told us has been genuine. Which means Faren truly is in trouble.
And he needs our help.
“Briar, please,” I turn my gaze on my friend. There’s hesitance in her eyes. Uncertainty. She doesn’t know what to believe anymore. “Having all six of us together will give our alliance a huge advantage over the others. Plus, if we take over the cornucopia we’ll have all the supplies for ourselves.”
This is what I’ve been hoping for. Something that, until now, I’ve only dreamt of. Who would’ve thought that our group would ever be the largest and best supplied alliance in the Games? If we take that cornucopia…
The Victor’s Crown is so tantalizingly close. 
Briar sighs. “Very well, Damian. We will try to help Faren. I…we can’t abandon a friend, can we?”
The elation which I feel is tempered by the risks which now face us. Opal is a strong, crafty opponent. She won’t go down without a fight, even outnumbered five to one. We’ll need a plan.
“C-can we stop by the ropes course and gym first?” Talia asks. “I think I could make some traps if we…got enough resources.”
“Faren doesn’t have that time! He might—”
“Faren should be alright for now,” I speak and cut Chrome off before he can get his argument off. “If Opal wanted him dead she’d have already killed him.” Why does she need him? The obvious answer is that she wants him to make traps for her. They’re from the same District, so it wouldn’t be a stretch for her to know how skillful he is. Still, that in itself is troubling. What if she’s made him set up traps around the cornucopia?”
Briar sends Talia and Aiko off to loot the places she mentioned while the rest of us stay in the arcade. I think it’s a strange decision until I realize that she wants to keep an eye on Chrome. She really doesn’t trust the guy at all. 
“I hope you’re right about this, Damian,” She tells me as we watch Chrome wrap a linen cloth around his wounded arm. “We’re putting a lot of faith in Chrome and Faren. If things go wrong…”
“They won’t,” I say firmly. “We’re going to rescue Faren, defeat Opal, then take over the cornucopia. By nightfall we’ll be the strongest alliance left in the arena.”
Briar murmurs an unintelligible response. She doesn’t look reassured. If anything, she looks even more nervous. I would never admit this to her, but I feel just as nervous. What if something goes wrong? If my faith in Faren is misplaced? What if this is all a trap?
My decision may cause the death of us all.
===Opal Crane (District 5)===
The sun shines overhead as I search through the scattered remains of the cornucopia’s bounty. Yesterday’s storm has wrecked havoc on Valor’s neat little piles and now everything is either strewn about in a haphazard way or simply missing. Most of the food has been completely ruined by the rain or blown away. Not a big loss, considering food is far from my list of concerns. 
I glance over my shoulder at the mouth of the cornucopia, where Faren currently kneels with both his hands placed atop his head. I’ve already frisked him and taken away his possessions, so he should be no threat to me. Not that he was ever a threat. The only weapon I found on him was a shoddy looking baton. What could he do with that? Beat me to death? Absurd!
I continue my search. Looking inside the horn itself is probably my best option, because it was where we kept our most valuable objects and the walls protected it from the wind. In the far back of the cornucopia, nestled in a corner, sits a small cabinet full of vials and beakers. It has, fortuitously, remained untouched by the storm.
Our poison cabinet.
None of the Careers ever used the thing, mostly because of the unfortunate implications surrounding poison and its uses in the Games. If any of us had ever suddenly dropped dead, whoever touched the cabinet would immediately be the first suspect. But now that all my “allies” are dead or gone, I am free to use it as I see fit.
I grab one of the vials and use an old rag to spread the clear, oily substance onto my weapons’ blades, then stick a few more into my bag for later application. Unfortunately I can’t find anything that would serve as body armor, so I give up the search and step back outside. 
Faren is still there, kneeling. “P-please don’t kill me!” Tears stream down his face. “I will do whatever you ask!”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. I know that already! It was the first assurance I got from him after his capture! What a weak-willed, worthless fool! I’ve known the truth of Faren from the moment I saw him at the Reaping. He will die in the arena like the meritless maggot he is!
And yet, despite his weakness, I need his assistance. No one else in this arena is as technologically gifted as him, and that is one area where I myself am severely lacking. For my plan to succeed I will need his acquiescence…for a brief time. 
Faren is still blubbering. He’ll never be of any use in this state. I am going to have and try to calm him down, which is unfortunate. “I will not kill you,” I try to modulate my voice and make it sound like the other tributes when they’re dealing with emotional people. “All you have to do is accomplish a simple task and I will let you go.”
“Anything! I’ll do anything!”
“You needn’t look so worried,” I tell him. “I have no intention of harming my District partner.”
Faren wipes his eyes and swallows audibly. “Th-that’s not how you acted during the train ride.”
He remembers that, does he? Bother. “Look, you must understand that the Games are a frightening thing. I was nervous and afraid at the time, and very much not thinking rationally.”
Faren doesn’t respond. He watches me with careful eyes. He’s doubtful, but hopes what I say is true. Good. That’ll make him more pliable. “All you must do is get one of those vehicles to start,” I gesture a hand at the parking lot behind us. Though plenty of the cars were wrecked in the storm, there are still many which are relatively untouched. “It should be simple for one of your talents.”
I lead him over to the nearest car which will suit my purposes, a blue sedan. Faren stares at it with wide eyes. “You…want me to get it working?”
“Yes. I want it to be drivable.”
”Oh-okay.”
He steps forward and cranes his head to the side, peering at the car. I can’t tell if he’s truly focused on the task or simply searching for a way to escape. Probably both. “I’ll need to check on the engine first,” He says.
We make our way to the hood of the car, where Faren props it open and begins to look at the mess of wires and other mechanical things inside. None of it makes the first bit of sense to me, which is why I needed Faren’s help. “Do you know how to drive a car?” He asks, fiddling with a device. 
I keep a close eye on his movements. “Yes.”
“Oh. Good. Then I won’t have to teach you.” He can’t disguise the disappointment in his voice. Most likely he was hoping that I wouldn’t know how, so that way he could get away with doing practically anything without me realizing what he’s up to. 
“You have an accent,” Faren prods at another piece of metal. “It…kinda sounds like the type people in the Capitol have.”
“Does it now.” Of course. I was born and raised in the Capitol, and even though I have spent much time in District 5, I did not spend it socializing, so my accent was largely unaffected by it. 
“Y-yeah.” He falls silent for a moment. “You…you have something you want, right? Th-that’s why you volunteered?”
He’s stalling. I recognize his tactic even as my mind is drawn back home. My Father is assuredly watching these Games. Getting more anxious by the day, no doubt. He has seen the other Careers get weakened and removed. He knows that there is precious little between me and him now. These Games are mine to win. Soon Silas Melville will reap what he has sown. 
“O-Opal?” Faren speaks and interrupts my thoughts. I find myself sitting in a desolate parking lot and speaking to a weak, confused boy. “Are you…alright?”
“I’m fine!” I snap at him and back off. Mustn’t get complacent. Though the Careers are the only threats to beat me in this arena, I cannot allow myself to become careless. They may be separated and disorganized, but they are not dead yet. My vengeance, my destined place as champion of Dimentio, will not come if I make foolish mistakes. 
Faren stares at me. He has made practically zero progress on the car. I will need to find a way to motivate him to work faster. “You have a sick girlfriend, yes?”
Faren’s mouth opens and closes. What a fool. “Yeah, I…she’s why I volunteered. It’s the only way to afford her medical care.”
There’s my opening. A way to endear myself to him as well as get his work productivity up. “Very well. Once I win these Games I will save your girlfriend’s life.”
Faren has no words. He sits there staring at me like a gaping fish. Clearly he never expected me to make such an overture. “Y-you would—you’d do that?”
I shrug. “Whyever not? We’re District partners, yes? Oughtn’t we stick together in matters such as these”?”
“Thank you!” Faren bows and scrapes, debasing himself just because I made a simple offer. The fool. Does he think I’ll actually stick to it? What purpose would saving his idiotic girlfriend serve? If she thinks this easily fooled simpleton is a good boyfriend then she must have poor taste indeed. Her death would only make the world a better place. 
“You’re welcome. Though it would behoove you to get this car in working condition…”
Faren returns to work with a renewed vigor. He seems to actually be making progress now. Eventually he closes the hood and moves to the drivers seat of the vehicle. I stand by his side, the front door open, and watch as he fiddles with the devices before him. “This part should be simple,” He says, unscrewing some sort of cap off the steering wheel. “Just going to need to hotwire it. Will probably need some tape, so if you…” 
I offer him a role of tape and he trails off. “I came prepared,” I say when he raises an eyebrow. 
I watch calmly as he resumes his work. It involves taking some wires out and cutting them, then tying them together. I make careful note of which wires he used. The last thing I want is to get those wrong when I try this myself. As he works, I realize that he seems to genuinely believe that I will let him live. 
Doing so wouldn’t hurt me, considering how weak Faren is, but it also wouldn’t benefit me in any way. Why let another opponent loose into the arena instead of just killing them outright? Once Faren is finished with his tasks I can safely kill him and move on with my day.
There’s a small burst of noise and then the engine comes roaring to life. “Aha!” Faren slaps the steering wheel with glee. “I knew I could do it!”
“So you did.” A cursory look at the dashboard and the familiar hum of the engine lets me know that this isn’t some kind of trick. Faren really did get the car working. “Good job.”
Faren grins at me. The boy looks so excited. He truly doesn’t know how soon he will die. “What are you planning to do with this anyway?” He flicks the speedometer. “I don’t really see how this—”
His words die and I look up to see what’s startled him. Directly across from where our car is parked lies one of the side roads that bend around the resort. There, turning the corner and emerging into the parking lot, is a pack of tributes.
I recognize Chrome and Briar as they stop and point at the cornucopia. Damn! They’re Faren’s allies! Of everyone who had to wander over here! I glance at Faren. He’s staring at his friends, a dazed expression on his face. I can’t take five people in a fight. Not by myself. He probably realizes this. If they catch me…
“Get out of the car!” I grip Faren by the collar and drag him out, heaving him to the ground. Then I slide into the drivers seat and put it into gear. 
The five tributes are advancing on the cornucopia. One of them, the smallest, notices Faren as he scrambles to his feet and begins to wave his arms in the air. Fool. I hit the gas and the car lurches into motion, rumbling down the road and straight towards the alliance. 
Most of them scatter immediately, ducking behind nearby cars or sprinting towards a doorway. But one of them stays in place. She stands in the center of the road, nocking an arrow as she points her bow straight at me and my advancing car. 
“Just try it, bitch!” I press down on the pedal and the car picks up speed. The engine roars. The girl stays put, bow swaying, and then throws herself aside at the last moment. My car whips past her and I spin the wheel and take a wide turn onto the side road, seat bumping as I straighten the vehicle out.
I don’t bother looking in my rear view mirror as I slow down and follow the road. They won’t chase after me, and attacking them now would be futile. Better to find a place to lay back and wait. Besides, I already got what I wanted. I have a car and, more importantly, the ability and knowledge on how to get more. 
So despite that little bump in the road, things are going splendidly.
===Marina Mattel (District 4)===
The halls are eerily empty as Notcher and I make our way towards the security station. True to his word, Notcher remembered the path. We entered a loading dock that led straight to a staircase which we took down to a lower floor, entering the hall where the station is located. 
I keep my guard up as we pass by a laundry room. Notcher said he was attacked by mutts here yesterday, and I believe him. The linoleum floor is marred with scratches that could only have been made by some sort of animal. While I don’t know much about the mutts—Notcher was characteristically light on details when he spoke of them—I can already tell that they are not the kind of thing I wish to encounter.
I roll a lighter between my fingers as the door to the security station comes into view. The bottles of alcohol jangle at my waist, tucked inside the bag I found at the souvenir shop. My plan for today is simple; find Maximo and kill him. He’s weak and alone, easy prey. Especially with Notcher by my side. 
I watch the skinny boy as he stops beside the door and frowns at it. One of his hands keeps rubbing at the stubs on the other. How far can he be trusted? When will he decide that our partnership has reached its zenith? I hope he wouldn’t try anything until the final eight at least, but what if he acts sooner? I need to get him to trust me. Open up. Surely we have some common ground.
“What was your life like back in District 8?” I ask as I step pass him and swing the door open. An empty room greets us. A lone desk sits at the far end, with a series of screen and monitors set up atop it. “I don’t actually know anything about your District.”
“Why the hell do you care?” Notcher edges past and begins to search the room, checking the corners, the vent, and even the waste bin in the corner. He is very…peculiar about certain things. 
I approach the computer, unsure on how best to respond to him. There’s a trio of screens hanging up over the desk. Two of them seem to be showing live footage of random hotel hallways, but the third is a rather clear image of the cornucopia parking lot. Currently a large group of tributes are picking through a mass of items assembled before the golden horn.
I step forward to get a closer look. “That’s not the Careers.”
Notcher drops into the office chair and pulls himself up to the computer. He squints at the screen. “No, it’s not. Looks like Briar and her allies.”
I do a quick headcount and frown. “There’s six of them. When did Chrome join their group?”
“He met with Damian and Faren on day two,” Notcher says, tapping on the keyboard and making a few quick movements with the mouse. The images on the other screens begin to change as he flicks through them. “Dunno when they rejoined with the others, since the cameras were out all of yesterday.”
“They’ll be a pain to fight.” Six tributes together are a threat to anyone, even someone like me who’s trained their entire life. The instructors back at the Academy continually stressed how important it is to never find yourself outnumbered in the arena. 
“That’s you and your Career buddies fault,” Notcher doesn’t take his eyes off the cameras as he searches through them with a practiced hand. “You should’ve taken them out earlier in the Games.”
I can’t really dispute that. Briar’s group was the only other alliance to have more than three members, so we should have put more effort into culling their numbers. Instead we sort of just sat around and…imploded. 
“Here’s two of your pals,” Notcher taps a button and pauses one of the cameras. It’s an outside image showing a small concrete path which travels between the outskirts of Lost World and the nearby hotel. Two tributes walk along the path. One of them is swaddled in what looks like bandages while the other wears a trademark red jacket of District 1. 
“Alcmene and Valor,” I say quietly. Though those bandages make it hard to identify him, no other tribute left in the arena is as big as Valor. But if they’re alone… “Where are Mako and Opal?”
Notcher flips through a few more cameras. “No clue. Neither one is showing up.”
Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter too much. Our goal is to find Maximo, so that should be our focus. Yet I cannot help but wonder what happened with the Careers. Did they split down the middle? Or are Opal and Mako each on their own now? 
“Damn. That’s not good.”
“What?” I lean in over Notcher’s shoulder as he stares at the rightmost cameras. It shows one of the many hallways in the resort. At first it’s empty, so I don’t know what the deal is, but then Solomon and Remus come sprinting past. “What are they running from?”
Notcher clicks a button. “This.”
The image flickers to show a new hallway. It’s almost identical to the previous one, but this time there’s a wall of flames advancing down the hall. My heart skips a beat. “Oh. That’s…not good.” 
“Yep. Especially considering it’s bringing those two straight towards us.”
Oh. That’s even worse. Instincts kick in and I check my weapons, making sure that each one is in place. Neither Remus nor Solomon are Careers, but they’re both among the strongest tributes left in the arena. If we get into a fight with them… 
Notcher flips through a few more cameras before pausing on one which shows the hallway me and him just traversed, the one which brought us to the security station and would ostensibly take us way from Solomon and Remus. 
It is also on fire. 
“What the hell?” I stare at the screen in disbelief. “Whose starting all these fires?”
“This guy.” Notcher changes the screen once more. This time it showcases the path just outside the hotel. A figure in a deep purple jacket, hood drawn up, stands amid the grass as he chucks flaming bottles through the hotel windows. I let out a swear when I recognize him. 
Maximo!
“Looks like he beat us to the punch,” Notcher says lightly. “What’re the odds we both wanted to start a fire?”
I fail to find the humor in this situation. Maximo has just lit this entire area of the hotel aflame. If we don’t escape quickly our odds of survival will begin to plummet. “We need to go,” I stand and approach the door, pausing when I notice Notcher hasn’t moved. “What are you waiting for?”
“Go where?” Notcher gestures at the cameras. “The path we took to get here is completely blocked, and the other direction leads straight to that murderer and his pal. What do you expect us to do?”
“I expect us to live!” There has to be someway out of this situation. Some other path. Even if there’s not, I’ll risk facing Solomon. Death is not an option. “Can’t we take the staircase into the basement?”
Notcher snorts disdainfully. “You want to head into those mutts’ den? Besides, the ceiling would collapse on us!”
“You have a better idea?” 
“Yes.” He points a thin finger at the cameras. “We exit out into the hallway where Solomon and Remus are approaching from, then duck into one of the hotel rooms. We’ll wait for the two to pass us by then slip out behind them.”
I can’t think of any other option. I check my weapons one more time then tighten my backpacks strap. “Get your stuff. We gotta go!”
Notcher gives the cameras a final glance and bounces to his feet. All of his items are already on him, so we rush out into the hall and take off sprinting. We need to reach the guest area of the hotel before those two guys get here. I can’t see any fire, but the smell of smoke is already in the air. That means it is spreading fast. 
We whip past empty laundry rooms and other various amenities as we make a beeline for the exit. I try not to think about what’ll happen if we run into Solomon and Remus. I’d probably be fine, but Notcher…he’s not cut out for a straight up fight. 
A door appears ahead. The sign posted on it tells me it’s the one we’re looking for. We blast through and find ourselves back in the main hallways of the resort. The maroon carpet is decorated with little images of bears and elk. The walls are paneled with wooden logs. No fire. Not yet. 
“In here!” Notcher darts towards the nearest guest room and swings the door open. We both hurry inside and Notcher pulls the door shut. I press myself against the frame and peer through the peephole. No sign of Remus or Solomon. 
Notcher shifts his weight behind me and his footsteps are unnaturally heavy. Must be nerves. Still, wish he didn’t make so much noise. I find myself getting antsy as I wait for the Kin-Killer to run past. What if the fire gets here first? 
Notcher’s footsteps thump again. Louder this time. “Stop moving!” I hiss. “You’re going to give us away!”
“Hello, friend! Are you hiding too?”
I freeze. Heart pounds in my chest. That voice wasn’t Notcher’s. It was too loud. Too…I slowly turn around and find myself face to face with a monstrosity.
A ginormous moose stares back at me, a ridiculous little propeller hat perched precariously on its head as it crouches down to be head level with me. Its large, broad lips stretch into a grin. “Hide-and-seek is so fun!”
Notcher stands beside it in petrified silence. I open my mouth but no words come. The moose shifts his weight and reaches out a hand for me.
I scream.
Notcher screams.
Then, inexplicably, the moose screams as well.
Panic takes over. I turn and throw the door open, running outside, heedless of the danger. Notcher comes sprinting behind me, and then the entire wall explodes as the moose comes stomping after him. “Ahh!” It lets out another scream. “This game is so much fun! Monty loves his new friends!”
Frantic, I whip around the corner at full speed and then pull myself to a sudden stop as two people emerge ahead of me.
Remus and Solomon.
Notcher slams into my back. “Why the hell have you stop—” His words die as he spots the two tributes standing across from us. 
The pair of them seem as surprised to see us as we are to see them. Solomon wears a black jacket, the hood thrown over his head, and he carries a crossbow. Remus holds a long wooden staff and has some kind of device strapped to his wrist. It looks vaguely familiar, but I don’t exactly have the time to study it right now. 
Solomon raises his crossbow.
“Oh no!” Monty’s booming voice shakes the hall as the moose stomps onto the scene. He comes to a halt just behind Notcher and me. I resist the urge to run. The moose hasn’t attacked yet, so maybe it won’t. But running? That will definitely force Solomon into action. “You found me! Monty lost at hide-and-seek? Impossible!”
He seems to be addressing Remus. The guy has gone pale as he stares at the moose with a mix of shock and fear. “Y-yes. I found you,” There’s a tremor in his voice. “H-how fun. Let’s play something else.”
What? I don’t understand anything that’s happening. Remus wants to play with that monster? 
Movement catches my eye. At first I think Solomon is about to attack, but he only tugs his hood lower, partially concealing his face. Is he…hiding from Monty? 
Notcher pulls a needle from his belt, drawing Remus’ attention. “Don’t do anything violent!” He hisses the words at us. “Monty hates violence!”
Is this a trick? Is he trying to make us let our guard down so he can kill us easier? What if that moose is somehow working for them? I can’t just sit back and let them get away with—
“Fire? No!” Monty lets out a yell which practically shakes the hallway. Ahead of us, behind Remus and Solomon, the first flames of the inferno have arrived. Smoke billows down the hall, tendrils of fire reaching after it. Flames lick at the walls. “Why? Who would want to burn Monty’s home? This is terrible!”
The moose sounds genuinely upset, which is surprising. Unfortunately there’s more pressing concerns than trying to decipher a mutt’s emotion. When that fire reaches us all hell will break loose.
“It was Maximo!” Notcher speaks and draws everyone’s attention, even Monty’s. The moose stares at him with wide eyes. “Maximo is burning your home down!”
“No! That’s evil!” The moose stomps his feet and makes a trilling noise. “How dare he! Monty lives here! Monty hates Maximo!”
The fire continues to spread. The flames are lapping at the ceiling. The scent of burnt carpet stings my nostrils. Sweat builds on my forehead. We’re running out of time. 
“Maximo is just outside,” I say, pointing at the wall across from me. If my estimations are right, then the path we saw Maximo on should be right behind that wall. “He’s throwing bottles of fire at your home!”
“He’s wearing a purple jacket,” Notcher adds.
Monty roars. His thunderous, ear-piercing voice shakes the entire building. Down the hallway, amidst the flames, a portion of the ceiling collapses. “NO! Monty will not let his home burn! Monty is going to stop him!”
Monty turns and slams straight through the wall. Dust and plaster shoot out in a cloud. I cough and bury my face into my jacket, waving a hand to dispel the dust. There’s a second crash as Monty slams through another wall, probably the exterior one separating the guest room from the outdoors. When the dust clears, I find myself alone in the hallway with Notcher, Solomon, and Remus. 
None of us react. Flames continue to race towards us, devouring everything they touch. A gaping hole sits in the wall where Monty left, debris and rubble strewn across the floor. Through the gap I can see sunlight as it spills through the second hole. I cautiously take a step forward.
Solomon pulls up the crossbow.
I turn and shove Notcher out of the way. His arrow hits the wall behind us with a quivering impact, then Remus is charging. I slap away his thrust with my trident and use the momentum to transfer it into a swing. One of the barbed tines connects with his shoulder and Remus backs off with a curse, blood dripping onto the carpet. 
Notcher scampers across the hall and throws open the nearest door, one that is directly across from Monty’s hole, and disappears into it. I hurry after him, slamming it shut once I’m inside. A moment later there’s a loud thunk as Solomon’s second arrow connects. 
I slide the bolt in place and lock the door.“We have to go!” 
Notcher hurries across the room to a sliding glass door on the other side. He tugs on it but the door doesn’t budge. “Locked. Damn.”
I glance around the room. It contains all the basic amenities, a single bed, a small desk, a coffee table laid out before a long couch. A small statue of a bear rests on the table. I walk up and grab the statue. It’s heavy. Good.
“Move out of the way!” I order. Notcher darts to the side and I heave the bear straight through the glass. It shatters with a piercing crack and then Notcher is jumping through, adroitly landing on the other side as he scampers onto the surrounding path. I follow moments later.
“Keep moving!” There’s no time to sit around and be idle. Solomon could still be chasing us, or the fire could cause the buildings to collapse. The last thing we need is to be crushed by a stray timber. “Follow the path!” 
The two of us run along the small strip of concrete as it takes us into the forest, weaving between trees. I don’t look back. While my plan to burn down Maximo’s hiding spot never came to fruition, the fire came nonetheless. And as long as I’m not the one who gets burnt, I couldn’t care less what happens now.
===Maximo Gallardo (District 6)===
I send my last bottle flying through the hotel window and watch with grim satisfaction as flames slowly come alive, crackling and popping as they begin to hungrily consume everything they come in contact with.
The entire wing of the nearby hotel has been set aflame. Early this morning I gathered as many bits of cloth I could and set off to find a hotel bar, proceeding to stuff all my cloth into bottles of alcohol I found inside. Then I went on to find all of the key chokepoints of the hotel and started my plan. 
Burn everything.
I was surprised by the rage I felt when I woke up this morning. Killen and Discordia are dead. My allies. My friends. They were brutally murdered and no one cared. I never thought I’d feel so lost without them. Thought they were tools to me. Didn’t realize how much I relied on them. Killen…
He didn’t deserve to die like that. 
There’s a small pop and a portion of the hotel comes sliding down, landing on the grass with an explosion of sparks. If Killen died, then so will everyone else. No more Mr. Nice Guy. I will do whatever it takes to make it out of this arena.
The path I am on makes a circuit around the entire Glacier Canyon region of the resort. I stand at the crest of a hill, the Lost World park behind me, as I gaze upon the burning hotel. Hopefully there’s still many tributes inside and the fire leads them into conflict with one another. That’s my actual plan here. To force the others to fight and kill so I don’t have to. Those bastards deserve it!
I watch the flames grow, hands in my pockets and shoulders hunched. A strong wave of heat exudes from the building but I still feel cold. Yesterday I found myself completely outmatched by everything I faced. The wolves, Mercia, Solomon and Remus. I don’t stand a chance against any of it. 
That’s probably exactly how the spirit wants it.
I cannot escape it. That spirit has been haunting my every move. I’ve just been a piece on its chessboard, shoved in whatever direction it wants. I can feel it watching me. Waiting. When will it attempt to claim my life? Sometime soon, I think. It won’t be much—
The hotel wall across from me explodes in a wave of sparks and fire.
I’m thrown to the ground as flaming pieces of timber shoot over my head. Disoriented and unsteady, I climb to my feet and stare at the newly created hole in the side of the building as Monty Moose comes storming out from it.
“YOU!” His voice is loud enough to shake the heavens as he stomps up to me, his broad features contorted in rage. “YOU SET MONTY’s HOME ON FIRE!”
Well, damn. Of all the possible repercussions to my actions I never stopped to think this could be one. “Let me explain!” I reach a hand into my jacket pocket, fishing for the item I found earlier today while gathering my bottles. “It was an accident! I didn’t intentionally—”
“LIES!”
I snap my mouth shut as Monty stomps his feet. The earth itself seems to tremble from the impact. My hand has finally closed in on the item I was searching for and I pull it out with a flourish. 
A plastic bag containing celery sticks.
”Ta-Da! I found your favorite snack!” I hold the bag out to Monty, shaking it a little to make it more enticing. “You love these things, right?”
At least that’s what the packaging on them said. I am going to look very stupid and very dead if that was wrong. 
Monty goes silent. His large eyes travel from my face to the bag and then back. “You set Monty’s home on fire,” He finally speaks, voice lower and less shouty than before. “And you think giving Monty celery sticks will make everything better?”
“Uh, yeah?”
“No!” Monty’s nostrils flare as he takes a thunderous step forward. “Monty doesn’t want your snacks! Monty hates you! You make Monty steaming mad!”
Well, double damn. Really thought that would work. I stick my hand back into my jacket and fish for a very different kind of item. “Hold up, hold up!” I take a step back as Monty closes the distance. His long legs make doing so very easy. “I have something else to give you!”
“Monty no care! Monty doesn’t want your gifts!”
“Aw, really? But this one is bound to burn you up!” My hand closes around the flare gun and I pull it out with little fanfare. “In fact, it might just make you burning mad!”
“Monty no appreciate your jokes! You not funny!”
Ouch. That almost hurt as much as Killen’s death. “Last chance, buddy!” I wave the flare gun in the air. “You take another step and you’re toast!”
I don’t want to shoot Monty. Not because I care about the stupid moose or anything, but because I’d rather not spend my one and only shot on him. This is my great equalizer. The one thing I could use to take out any tribute, no matter their size or skill. Spending it on Monty would be a waste. 
But not shooting Monty would be worse. That moose can literally tear me apart. 
Monty continues to approach me, a low growl building in his throat. He will not be swayed or bargained with. So be it.
“Sorry, pal. You made your choice!”
I squeeze the trigger and launch the flare.
It smashes straight into Monty’s chest, erupting into fire the moment it comes in contact with his bristly fur. The moose lets out a shrill, ear-piercing scream as flames envelop him. For a moment he just stands there, waving his arms in the air and screaming, but then he takes off running. 
I watch in stupefied awe as Monty Moose runs away from me, disappearing into the distance. That fire spread across him quicker than I would have thought. Maybe it was his weakness? If so, that would explain why he was so angry I set his home on fire. I begin to laugh, even though there’s not anything humorous about this situation. Maybe I’ve finally begun to lose it.
I spend a lot of time sitting there laughing as I watch the hotel burn. I defeated Monty Moose! That has to be worth something! But, as time drags on, I realize that there has been no cannons. My fire may have angered Monty and destroyed a portion of the hotel, but it has not led to any deaths. 
“Major suckage,” I mutter under my breath. I’m all out of bottles, so I can’t try again somewhere else. I turn and approach the hill, wondering if I can find another bar to ransack. 
“Hello, Maximo!” A voice whispers in my ear.
I freeze. A cold tingling sensation makes its way up my spine. I know that voice! I recognize it from watching his Games! And I’ve felt his presence in the world, suffered from it. The way his curse has claimed the life of Gavin. 
The spirit. 
I find myself unable to move. Frozen with panic and worry. The spirit is here! I stand on the precipice of the hill, atop the steep path which descends down to a lower portion of the hotel. What do I do? I’ve long sought a way to end this spirit’s reign of terror, but I never figured out how. Maybe I could try speaking with it. “What do you want?” I ask quietly.
“Nothing.”
Two hands press against my back and shove. I barely have time to scream before I am falling down the hill, landing awkwardly on my right arm before I begin to roll, head smacking against the cement path with each rotation. When I finally come to a stop, each and every joint in my body aches with pain.
But I am alive.
I climb to my knees, head swimming and mind foggy. Hard to think. I am at the base of the hill, near the entrance to Lost World. The hotel which lies across from it is aflame. That’s where I started my fiery crusade. I get to my feet and glance to the right. 
Two tributes are standing there.
One of them is a tall, heavily muscled boy wrapped in a mess of bandages. Angry red welts peeks out from the exposed skin. A burn victim? 
“I didn’t burn you,” I say, still disoriented from that roll. Why did the spirit—
The boy thrusts a sword through my chest. I look down and stagger in place. It has pierced my heart. “Just like Gavin…” Blood burbles from my lips and drips onto the blade. Stabbed in the chest just like Gavin. The spirit…it made this happen. Pushed me to my death. It…it got everything it wanted after all. 
The bandaged boy rips the blade back out and I topple to the ground. I barely feel the impact. Everything is getting dark. Can’t see anything. Why is…
“Goodbye, Maximo!” The spirits laughter rings in my ears as I finally lose consciousness.
===Remus Ring (The Capitol)===
Smoke clouds the hallway, stinging my eyes and burning my throat as I stumble away from the door Marina has fled behind. “It’s locked!” I yell to Solomon as he reloads his crossbow. “They’ve gotten away!”
Solomon nods and slings the crossbow over his shoulder. “We don’t have much time,” He says, glancing behind him. The fire is spreading quickly, tendrils of flame grasping at the walls. “We need to get out of here.”
What is with all the fire? Why has seemingly every tribute decided to burn down the arena? This situation is all too similar to the one we found ourselves in yesterday. 
I turn away from the door and look at the gaping hole Monty created before he ran off. I still don’t know what happened. Why was he with Marina and Notcher? Why were they together? 
“Let’s go!” Solomon pulls open one of the guest room doors and throws himself through it. I follow without question. The second I get inside there’s a loud Pop! and a beam from the ceiling comes crashing down. “Watch out!”
Solomon lunges forward and shoves me out of the way. I hit the ground as a wave of sparks wash over me, stinging my arms and legs. “There’s no going back now,” I say as I regain my footing. A pile of flaming wreckage lies at the foot of the doorway. I shiver. That could very well have crushed me if not for Solomon. 
“Only way out is forward,” Solomon points at the sliding glass door behind us. He approaches and gives it a savage kick. The glass trembles but does not break. “Give me a hand!”
I nod and hurry over. “One, two, three!” We kick in unison and it shatters on impact. I use my staff to knock out all the protruding shards of glass and then hop through. Solomon follows me a moment later.
We’re in a little patio area. A pair of wicker chairs rest on smooth cement overlooking a small strip of grass. A nearby hedge marks the boundary of the patio, beyond which lies a narrow path which seems to circumnavigate the Lost World waterpark. “That was too close,” I say, wiping my forehead. After these past few days I am beginning to harbor an intense dislike of fire. 
“Agreed,” Solomon steps away from the hotel, peering over the hedge and down the path. “Next time I think we should head inside one of the waterparks. Those should be a lot harder to burn down.”
I am quickly learning that there is never a dull moment in the Games. And now that we’re nearing the end game, I can imagine that things are only going to get even more intense from here on out. Solomon’s plan to get him, Alcmene, and myself out of the arena is looking less and less likely.
Solomon and I continue moving. We follow the hedge, using it as cover as we travel alongside the burning hotel. From what I can see the fire extends all the way to the skywalk which connects the Glacier Canyon region to the New Frontier one. Eventually the ground begins to slope and a hill appears ahead of us. 
Boom!
A cannon sounds overhead. I pause and look up at the cloudy sky, contemplative. “That’s the first death of the day. Wonder who it was.”
“It was Maximo.” Solomon is staring down the hill, eyes narrowed. I sidle up alongside him and follow his gaze. There, at the bottom of the slope, lies a prone body with two tributes standing over it. 
“Oh.” That is definitely Maximo’s body. Though it is hard to see any detail from the way the body is positioned, the purple of his jacket is unmistakable. A pool of blood spreads out from beneath him. The same blood stains the sword of one the tributes. My chest tightens when I recognize them.
Valor and Alcmene.
”It’s your sister!”
“I know.” Solomon’s voice is dispassionate. Empty. What is he thinking? “She helped kill Maximo.”
I should feel some sort of regret at the boys death, but I find it hard to muster any sort of strong emotion. Maximo practically saved our lives yesterday, but…one less tribute means one less obstacle in
my way. That’s a cold, pragmatic way to think, but I cannot help it. There are only so many people I can afford to care about, and Maximo is not one of them. 
Valor and Alcmene appear to be in the midst of a conversation. They have their backs to us, so we are not visible to them as Valor waves his bloodied sword around, seemingly gesticulating something to Alcmene. As I watch, Solomon drops to one knee and takes aim with his crossbow.
I crouch beside him. “Valor is her only ally left,” I whisper so that the wind will not carry my words. “If he dies, then she’ll be alone. You will be able to speak to her without fear of interruption.”
He nods but doesn’t seem to really hear me. There’s a distant look in his eyes. Below us, Alcmene laughs at something Valor said. 
Solomon fidgets. “He’s her friend.”
”So? Maximo was our friend, but Valor killed him!”
“I’ve already taken so much from her. How can I take more?”
His sudden display of empathy has thrown me off. He hardly hesitated to torture Mercia, but now killing Valor is a step too far? “Valor is a threat,” I tell him. “He will ruin your plan if left alone.” Though he appears to be heavily wounded, I know that won’t last for long. He undoubtedly has dozens, if not hundreds, of sponsors lined up to send him Gifts. Valor is one of the few tributes left in the arena who poses a physical threat to me. If he were to die…
The two Careers have stepped away from Maximo’s body and are watching as a hovercraft comes to claim it. Soon they will leave and the opportunity will be gone. “Solomon, please. Valor has to die!” 
His finger rests on the trigger. It twitches and then… “I can’t!” Solomon sets the crossbow aside and buries his face in the grass. “I can’t take anything more from her!”
The Kin-Killer is truly dead and buried. Gone is the man who could so coldly torture Mercia. In his place is a man too weak to kill someone who has just murdered the boy who saved his life. I reach out and pick up the crossbow, coldness spreading through me as my Father‘s words resound inside my head. 
A Ring does what weak men cannot.
I place the crossbow and take aim. I have never used one before, but I am a quick learner. I thought that a more empathetic Solomon would be a better Solomon. I was wrong. There is a difference between cold-blooded torture and putting down a threat. He should be able to see that.
I squeeze the trigger and send the arrow flying.
Valor is mid-sentence when the arrow strikes him in the back of the neck. He staggers forward, then drops to his knees, hands feeling at the steel arrowhead which has punched through his throat. A moment later he tips over sideways. 
Boom!
“What have you done?” Solomon stares at me, aghast. I calmly hand him back the crossbow.
“I did what you should have done.”
Below us, Alcmene has done the smart thing and ducked for cover. She leapt behind a nearby sign the moment Valor was struck, rightfully fearing that the archer would attack her next. I doubt she will risk exposing herself again. Still, I carefully crawl backwards until I am out of sight, then rise to my feet and dust off my legs. The grass has stained my knees.
“Alcmene will hate me if she learns what happened!” Solomon follows my lead, face contorted with fear and anger. “You may have just ruined everything!”
“Why should she hate you?” There’s a coldness in my chest. One that frightens me. Killing Atticus was harder than this, and that was accidental. “You did nothing. I was the one who slew Valor.”
Solomon just shakes his head. I don’t understand his concern. Now that Alcmene is alone, he can continue on with his plan. Isn’t that what he wanted? 
“We should go,” He says quietly. “I…we don’t want Alcmene to find us here.”
I have no qualms with that. We retreat from the path and head the opposite direction before cutting sideways and entering into Lost World. The place is practically a maze of pools, being much larger than any of the other parks I’ve seen. A gigantic slide tower looks over the entire place. 
I lose myself in thought as we walk. Valor was the odds-on favorite to win these Games, and now he is dead at my hands. I have slain the males from both District 1 and 2. That alone will undoubtedly vault me into the favorites status. What does that mean for my future? 
More sponsors, most likely. And with more sponsors come more Gifts. Betters odds of survival. The only Careers left are Alcmene and the pair from District 4. Dangerous though they may be, I know that Solomon and myself can take them. Victory has never felt closer.
And yet…
Some of the thoughts I’ve been having recently trouble me. When did I get so cold? So pragmatic? Didn’t I use to care about protecting people? I feel like I’ve lost the plot. Gone astray. Father’s influence hangs over me like a shadow. All my life I’ve fought to escape his yoke, yet now I begin to become him. 
As the two of us slip further into the waterpark, I cannot shake the fear that I have chosen the wrong path.
===Mako Melanesia (District 4)===
As I lie on a king-sized bed, eating a candy bar and watching television, I come to the realization that the destruction of the Careers was the best thing to ever happen to me.
Today has been pretty flippin’ amazing. It started off with me finding out that the televisions inside this resort actually work. They have multiple channels, showcasing several real shows and even sporting events! Unfortunately there was no channel showing a live feed of the Games, but hey, you can’t win ‘em all. 
Anyway, after that little discovery I came up with my brilliant plan to waylay Damian and his pals, so I called them up on my walkie and asked them to scout out the burnt shell of the hotel. Sending them on a meaningless task was funny enough, but the real kicker was when I pretended that I forgot to turn the walkie off and began speaking to ‘Faren’ about the construction of some trap. 
Did my little ruse work? Not sure, but it definitely was entertaining as hell. After that fiasco, I focused on finding some food and drinks. Honestly, that was a lot easier than I would’ve thought. There was a little cubby full of vending machines not too far from my hotel room, so I just grabbed what I could and brought it back here. From that point on I just spent the day sitting in bed, eating snacks, and listening to cannons as they sounded off in the sky. 
Pretty sweet, huh? 
I scarf down the rest of my candy bar and toss the wrapper aside as the television show I was watching goes to commercial. Sighing in disappointment, I roll out of bed and grab my trident before crossing over to the window and peering out. 
My room is located on the second floor of the Wild West region, just across from the outside waterpark that borders the canyon forest. My window actually gives me a pretty good view of both places, so I’ve made it a priority to check it out every ten minutes or so. So far I haven’t seen anything, but you never know when something surprising will happen. 
As I expected, there’s nothing to see out there. Just some trees swaying in the wind and the geysers from the waterpark. “Wonder where the other Careers are…” I murmur to myself as I return to my bed. Valor has to be one of those cannons I heard earlier today. No way did that guy survive being set on fire like that. Sheesh. I mean, I hope he didn’t survive. That crap looked painful.
At any rate, being able to do my own thing is infinitely better than having to listen to Valor’s orders and worrying about someone trying to kill me in my sleep. Okay, technically I still have to worry about that second thing, but at least now I don’t have to worry about my supposed ally killing me in my sleep, only strangers I don’t know. 
Huh. That’s actually not that reassuring. Bummer.
“Attention all employees!”
I sit up straight as the television flickers to a black screen with flashing white words. What the hell? That’s never happened before! 
“Attention all employees!” A female voice drones as the words continue to flash. “Starting tomorrow, our General Manager Mr. Schindler will be patrolling the resort! Remember to be on your best behavior and always wear your proper uniform! Mr. Schindler is very easily irritated, and the last thing we want is to disappoint him! I repeat; Starting tomorrow, our General Manager Mr. Schindler will be patrolling the resort…”
The television goes on like that for a few minutes before the broadcast ends and returns to the normally scheduled program. I stare at the screen in confusion. What the hell did any of that even mean? Who the frick is Mr. Schindler? 
Well, whatever. I twist open a bottle of soda and take a long drink. I’m not too worried about that. Sure, it’s probably nothing good and is going to get some people killed, but what am I supposed do? Sit around and fuss like an old lady! Nah, that ain’t my style. I’m cool, calm, and collected. 
These Games are mine for the taking, because I’m Mako Melanesia Bay-Bay! 
===Briar Destry (District 10)===
The sky has gone dark and the lampposts overhead have turned on, bathing the parking lot in a sickly white glow. I shiver and cross my arms as a cool breeze ruffles the night, bringing with it the scent of ash and dust.
My alliance, all six of us, have gathered at the cornucopia and taken it for ourselves. Finding and saving Faren wound up being much easier than I had ever anticipated. Who’d have thought that Opal would flee like that? Unfortunately it has only increased my fears. What if this was all planned? What if Faren is truly working with Opal and the Careers?
Have we fallen straight into their trap?
I pace alongside the golden cornucopia, trying desperately to combat the nervousness which pervades my entire being. I don’t like doubting Faren, but the boy has given me little reason to trust him. According to Faren, Opal only kidnapped him in order for her to get a working vehicle, and promised that she wouldn’t harm him if he did so. That…doesn’t sound like something the girl would actually do. Maybe I’m just being paranoid, but everything which has transpired seems too orchestrated to be coincidence.
I bypass the mouth of the cornucopia and grimace as I spot Chrome inside, digging through a crate of supplies. I trust him even less than Faren. Though everything he has done is perfectly innocuous, my skin still crawls at the mere sight of him. He cannot be trusted. 
“You okay, Briar?” Damian calls from where he has finished organizing a line of items. He has been very assiduous in his efforts to comb the wreckage of the cornucopia for useful items, and he now carries several blades and knives upon his person. 
“I’m fine,” I pause beside the pillar of a lamppost and stare into the parking lot. Talia and Faren are setting traps out there, with Aiko standing guard. I didn’t like the idea of splitting up, but they’ve never gotten out of sight, so I suppose it’s alright. “Just a bit nervous.”
Damian tucks something in his pocket and rises. He makes his way over to me, running a thin hand through his hair. “You still don’t trust them,” He says quietly.
I shake my head. “Doesn’t this seem too convenient? Opal kidnapping Faren and leaving him unharmed? Chrome knowing exactly where they’d be? And what about the things Mako said?”
“We shouldn’t discuss this here,” Damian glances to the side, where Chrome has just emerged from the cornucopia. He has claimed a spear from the leftover weapons, along with a whip which dangles from his belt. He glances around the clearing before his eyes settle on me and Damian. 
“These Games are ours for the taking!” The boy flashes us a grin full of white teeth as he walks up, setting one hand atop the lamppost. I shy away from it. “We got a huge numbers advantage and lotsa great loot! Who could possibly beat us now?”
“The Careers,” I say instantly. 
Chrome laughs. “You told me they was finished.”
“Mako could have been lying,” I say, ignoring the look Damian gives me. “He doesn’t exactly have much to gain from telling us the truth.”
”If he was lying, then how come Opal was on her own?”
I don’t have an answer for that. At least not one I’d be willing to tell Chrome. So I just shrug and say he’s probably right, hoping it’s enough to make him leave. 
It is. Chrome waves and then says he’s going to check on the others, sauntering off with his distinctive swagger. I frown at his back. “I hope him and Faren don’t try to kill Talia and Aiko.”
“They won’t,” Damian gives me a troubled look. “Besides, neither of them are a match for Aiko.”
Well, that’s true at least. And Aiko trusts the two of them as little as I do, so she will be on extra alert around the pair. 
“You have a lot of faith in two boys who left us for dead,” I tell Damian, eyeing the lamppost‘s base. For some reason Chrome stuck a little black box on it. Why?
“We still need their help,” Damian says with a shrug. “There were two cannons today, so that means there is only seven other tributes left besides for us six. We nearly have a numerical advantage over the entire field!”
”Numbers won’t mean anything if they stab us in the back,” I point out. 
He sighs. “If either one makes a move to harm us, we’ll kill them, alright?”
I bite my lip. I don’t like the idea of killing, but my time in the arena has taught me that it’s the only way to make it home to my parents and Tasha. The other tributes aren’t going to suddenly make a vow of nonviolence and work with me to end the Games. The only way these Games will end is when the others are dead. “We should do it at the final eight.”
Damian raises an eyebrow. “Kill them?”
I nod. It was something that Aiko came up with. She thought that, since our alliance is dissolving at the final eight, it wouldn’t make any sense for us to let them go off on their own. That they would only cause further trouble for us. So she suggested that we…we take them out before then. The thought hurts me like a knife in the chest, but I know that it makes the most sense. 
“Faren and Chrome cannot be trusted,” I say. “Both of them are working with Mako. I’m certain of it.”
Damian doesn’t respond. I can tell from his expression that he is mulling over my words, debating their merit. He doesn’t see the danger that Faren represents. Aiko told me he wouldn’t, but I had hoped he’d understand my reasoning. 
A long moment passes and then Damian rubs a hand across his face, looking lost. “Fine. We’ll…that’s reasonable enough.”
A strain of music suddenly cuts through the air and I look up as the Anthem appears in the cloudy sky. I expect the faces of the Fallen to appear, but nothing shows. Instead a voice comes booming from above. 
“Greetings, tributes of the 333rd Hunger Games!” The voice of the announcer, whose name I’ve forgotten if I ever knew it, thunders down. “Though there is a little less than an hour left in the day, we have decided that now is a good time to make an announcement!”
I exchange a look with Damian. An announcement at this point of the Games? It can only be one thing. 
“Tomorrow, sometime between noon and sundown, there will be a Feast held at the cornucopia! That storm has devastated the arena, alongside your crop of supplies, so we thought it only fitting to give you a refresher!”
It’ll take place right here. Tomorrow every single tribute in the arena will be drawn to the cornucopia like bees to honey. My stomach feels queasy. So much death…
“Alongside the usual assortment of food and goodies, there will also be a special bag for each and every surviving tribute! I’d recommend you get there early, because you definitely don’t want someone else taking your bag! Goodbye, tributes, and remember to stick around for the Anthem later tonight!” 
The announcement fades and everything goes silent. In the distance I can see the others returning from the parking lot. No doubt they are discussing the Feast and its significance. Special bags…things just got that much more dangerous. No way will the surviving Careers pass up the opportunity to claim theirs. Tomorrow is shaping up to be a truly frightening thing. We’ll be lucky to survive it unscathed…
Assuming Chrome and Faren do not kill us beforehand. 
===Faren Gomery (District 5)===
I put the finishing touches on
my trap and lean back on the balls of my feet, observing it with a critical eye. It is the same type and model as the one I created back in Wild West, the pressure activated explosion that launches a spray of nails in a radius, except this time it’s in a more open area, increasing the width of the radius. 
“Is this your last one?” Talia asks as she comes walking over, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Most of the traps we’ve set up are only possible thanks to her; she had the alliance scavenge for extra resources while I was…kidnapped by Opal. 
Try as I might, I still cannot understand what she truly wanted from me. Was it really only to get her hands on a working car? What need does she have for that? Surely she doesn’t intend to simply run over the rest of us. And as for her promise…
I do not think I can trust her. Opal would have said anything to get me to help, and I know that I can’t rely on her to save Joule in my absence. No. The only way Joule survives is if I win. 
“This is my last one,” I rise and dust my hands off. Despite my efforts, they’re still covered in grit from the scrap metal. “We should get back to the others.” Damian was actually the one who pushed for us to set traps up in both the parking lot and in front of the hotel entrances, saying he wanted every possible entry point covered. We didn’t have enough material for that, even with Talia’s extra resources, but we managed to set a trap in most places. 
“You’re finished?” Aiko sits on the top of a nearby truck, legs hanging off the side as she keeps watch. Unlike last time she’s shown zero interest in my traps and has spent most of her time staring forlornly at the parking lot.
”Y-yeah.” I don’t like the way she looks at me. Everyone has treated me differently since my rescue, but I haven’t the faintest reason why. Maybe it’s because Chrome and I ran off on our own yesterday. That doesn’t seem fair, but what can I do about it now? “Aiko, are you…okay?”
She avoids my gaze. “I’m fine. It’s just…this is where Kia died. Where Mako killed her.”
“What do you know about Mako, Faren?” Talia pipes in. 
“Mako?” I can’t help but notice how saying his name brings Aiko back to staring at me. “Not much. Probably the same amount as you do.”
The two girls exchange a look and I squirm, suddenly uncomfortable. What am I missing here? Mako has the other radio and was the one to tell them about the Career split, but what does he have to do with me? 
Talia walks up and uses a piece of chalk she found at the cornucopia to mark the side of a nearby car with a white ‘6’. It’s part of the system she designed to prevent one of us from accidentally stumbling into our own traps. I don’t have to worry about doing something as dumb as that, but I suppose it’s possible one of the others would. 
“Yo, guys! How’s it going?” Chrome’s loud, boisterous voice echoes through the parking lot as he comes jaunting over to us, a wide smile plastered on his face. 
“We just finished with the traps,” I tell him, conscious of the scowl on Aiko’s face. She’s never liked Chrome for some reason I haven’t been able to discern. 
“Nice!” He high-fives me and then peers down at the small canister which houses the nail bomb. I don’t think he has any idea what it does, but his smile widens at it all the same. “I’d hate to be the poor sap who activates that!”
Music blares in the sky before I can answer him. Aiko looks up sharply, expecting an attack, but the only thing that happens is a loud voice cuts through the air. I recognize it as belonging to Reginald Vettel, the Games announcer. 
“Greetings, tributes of the 333rd Hunger Games! Though there is a little less than an hour left in the day, we have decided that now is a good time to make an announcement!”
“It’s going to be a Feast,” Aiko says matter-of-factly. I glance at her but don’t say anything. She’s probably right.
“Tomorrow, sometime between noon and sundown, there will be a Feast held at the cornucopia! That storm has devastated the arena, alongside your crop of supplies, so we thought it only fitting to give you a refresher! Alongside the usual assortment of food and goodies, there will also be a special bag for each and every surviving tribute! I’d recommend you get there early, because you definitely don’t want someone else taking your bag! Goodbye, tributes, and remember to stick around for the Anthem later tonight!”
The announcement clicks off and sends the arena back into silence. I take a deep breath, mind already whirling with possibilities. I need my bag. Anytime a special bag is included at the Feast, something game-changing is put inside. I can’t risk allowing the other tributes to get an advantage over me. Not when they already hold so many. 
“The Feast is going to change everything,” Talia says quietly. She’s staring at her shoes as she plays with a lock of her hair. “Whoever gets those bags is going to have a huge advantage over everyone else.”
“We control the cornucopia,” Chrome points out. “That means we have the advantage.”
“Assuming all the others don’t kill us when they attack,” I say. It’s a deeply depressing thought, but after witnessing firsthand how easily Opal dispatched both me and Chrome, I think it’s more than possible. 
The four of us slowly begin to migrate back towards the cornucopia, where Briar and Damian are waiting for us. No doubt our leaders will have some sort of plan for dealing with the Feast. But who will that plan benefit? All of us? Or only them?
When we reach the golden horn Aiko and Briar head straight for the pair, but Chrome brushes past them and makes his way towards a lamppost in the background. I just stand awkwardly in place, hands in my pocket. I don’t miss the look Briar gives me. She, like the others, has been acting strange all day. 
“Everyone should prepare for tomorrow,” Damian is talking to the others, probably starting his plan for the Feast. “It’s going to be a big day and it’ll be best if we all…”
“Yo, Faren!” Chrome taps me on the shoulder and I turn in surprise. “Ya gotta hear this!”
He proffers a small black rectangle at me. I frown and accept it, rotating the thing in my hands. “This is that voice recorder you found in the arcade,” I say. Behind me Damian continues his speech. “What do you want me to do with it?”
“Just listen to it, man. It’s…kinda disturbing.” Chrome sounds uncharacteristically worried, and that’s concerning. I glance over my shoulder at the others, notice that they’re not paying attention, and back up a little before pressing the play button. 
“I hope him and Faren don’t try to kill Talia and Aiko.” Briar’s voice plays from the box. A little tinny and distant, but unmistakably hers. 
“What is this?” I demand. It sounds like Briar is saying we will betray her or something. “Who is she talking to?”
“Just keep listening, man.”
“They won’t,” That’s Damian’s voice. I’d recognize it anywhere. “Besides, neither of them are a match for Aiko.”
“You have a lot of faith in two boys who left us for dead.” My stomach twists itself into knots at those words. I was right. The others haven’t forgiven us for leaving them yesterday. A flood of guilt begins to build in me. What have I done?
“Numbers won’t mean anything if they stab us in the back.”
“If either one makes a move to harm us, we’ll kill them, alright?”
I listen in quiet horror as the recording continues. Briar, evidently, wants to kill Chrome and me once we hit the final eight. I find it hard to breath when I hear those words. How could our kind-hearted leader be so cruel…?
“Fine. We’ll…that’s reasonable enough.”
Nausea builds in my gut. Feels like I’m going to vomit. Damian and Briar are planning to kill us? That’s…My body is trembling so badly that I can barely stand. Our own allies are plotting…no. I can’t believe this!
”Is this some kind of trick?” I ask hoarsely. “Is…is this an awful joke?”
Chrome shakes his head, face hard. “Nah man. It’s all real. I thought they was acting suspicious so I recorded them and…” He waves a hand in the air. “I got this.”
“Damian would never agree to this,” I find myself shaking my head. I am in denial. Even though the truth is staring right at me, I refuse to believe it. 
“Are you on something, man? You just heard him say he does!”
“No. He could’ve been lying or…or just telling Briar what she wanted to hear.” He hasn’t been giving me strange looks all day. Not like the girls. It’s still possible that Damian isn’t fully on board with this plan. “We need to talk with him.”
“What? No!” Chrome shakes his head, dreadlocks swaying vigorously. “What we need to do is get the hell out of here before little miss kill-a-lot stabs us with her knives!”
“We can’t leave without speaking to Damian.” I refuse to act without knowing the full story. That’s what everyone did with Joule, and I will not be apart of anything like that. 
“If we talk with ‘em, he’ll warn the others. We’ll lose the element of surprise and be unable to leave!” Chrome sounds panicked. He truly thinks that the others mean to turn on and kill him at any moment. And maybe he’s right. The way Aiko and Briar have been watching me has left very little doubt as to their intentions. Even so…
“Let’s just talk with Damian. M-maybe he will be on our side.”
Chrome shakes his head but doesn’t protest. We turn back to the cornucopia and I look around at my allies. Damian’s speech must be over, because they’ve all seperated. Briar and Aiko sit by a pair of crates, whispering to one another and occasionally throwing a look in our direction. This causes Chrome to tense up, but I pat his shoulder. “They won’t do anything right now,” I whisper, hoping I sound more confident than I feel.
“Whatever you say, bro…” Chrome clutches his sickle so tight his knuckles turn white. 
Talia is off by the mouth of the cornucopia, quietly sketching in a notepad she found somewhere in the hotel. Damian is on the opposite side of the cornucopia, out of earshot of the others, near one of the Launch Platforms. He fiddles with a small object in his hand as he stares at the sky wistfully.
J
There are no stars in that sky, I realize this as we begin to approach him. Them and the moon are completely hidden behind a blanket of clouds, and the only source of light comes from the lampposts set up nearby. The storm has broken several of these, however, so the parking lot is only half illuminated, with long patches of darkness between each post.
“Hey, guys,” Damian turns and gives us a nod as we approach. “What’s up?”
I find myself at a loss for words. What do I ask? Are you plotting with Briar to kill us? That won’t work. “Do…are you…” I stumble over my words and Damian frowns. I should have thought about what I’d say beforehand! “Is…has Briar spoken to you?”
He tilts his head quizzically. “Briar has spoken to me many times and about many things. Anything in particular you’re asking about?”
“Has she said anything about k-killing us?”
He freezes. Eyes widen. For a moment I think he’s about to come clean and admit everything, but then he laughs and shakes his head. “Of course not! That’s such a–why would you ever ask that? Is this some kind of joke?” 
I wish it were. I wish everything about this was just one big, cruel joke. “Be honest, bro,” Chrome pats the end of his blade. “We don’t want no trouble, but we’ve heard bad things.”
“I…she hasn’t said anything of the sort,” Damian’s eyes flicker back and forth between us. I don’t believe him. His tone of voice, his mannerisms, they’re the same as Rotor’s when I confronted him about spreading those rumors of Joule. Damian knows what Briar said. But we already knew that, we have audio proof of it. The worse thing is that Damian is lying to me. And if he’s willing to lie about this, what else would he lie about?
“Are you sure?” I ask quietly, hand clenched around the recorder. 
“Of course! Why would Briar ever…” He trails off as I press the start button and the audio of him and Briar’s conversation begins to play. His face goes white as a sheet. “How…what is that? How could you possibly have…?”
“You lied, Damian,” My heart is breaking. I so badly wanted to believe him. To be able to trust him. I thought maybe our time together in the arena was worth something. Obviously not. 
“Okay, okay, I did!” He holds up his hands in a placating manner. “I just didn’t want to start any drama. I never seriously considered—”
His words break off into a burble as Chrome’s sickle slams into his neck. I gasp in horror as Damian slides forward, fingers grasping at the blade. Blood spurts out from the wound and spatters against my glasses, my shirt. I can’t form any words as Damian sinks to the ground, lips trembling but no words forming.
“Damn.” Chrome steps up and pries the sickle loose from his neck. He doesn’t react to the blood which soaks his hands as he does so. “Thought that would kill him instantly.”
“What did you do?” Damian’s blood covers my face. It drips from my chest. I can scarcely breathe. The smell is overbearing. 
Chrome gives me a sidelong glance. “You heard ‘em. He admitted to working with Briar to kill us. Why would we keep him alive?”
I should have ran when I could. Never did I think that this would be the result of trying to speak with Damian…The boy still gags and chokes as he lies on the ground, watching us with wide, disbelieving eyes. For some reason, watching him lie there brings back memories of training. When Valor accosted me and Damian turned his back when I plead for help. 
This time I turn my back on him.
“We should go,” I tell Chrome quietly. My heart feels like a jackhammer in my chest. Stomach is roiling as I try not to vomit. Half the world is red because of the blood which coats the lenses of my glasses. “Before anything else—”
“Hey guys, Briar wants us all to gather up.” Talia comes walking around the bend of the cornucopia, notebook in hand. “The Anthem is about to…”
She trails off as she sees Damian lying on the ground, bleeding out. Her mouth drops open as her eyes swivel to Chrome then to me and sees the blood which covers us both. She thinks we murdered him. What else could she believe? 
Chrome reacts before she can even scream. 
He lunges across the space between them and throws his whip around her throat, pulling it taut as she struggles against him. The notebook drops as Talia attempts to get her fingers between the whip and her throat, but Chrome has it pulled too right. Her face begins to turn blue as Chrome sighs. “In for a penny, in for a pound.” He twists the whip with savage strength, and a loud crack pierces the air.
When Chrome lets go, Talia slumps to the ground, neck broken. 
Boom! Boom!
Two cannons go off. Damian stopped moving sometime between Talia’s arrival and her death. Two people who were once my allies are dead. Killed by Chrome’s hand. I can’t think. Can barely breathe. How did this all happen? 
“We gotta go, man!” Chrome nudges Talia’s body with his foot, then turns to me. “Those cannons are going to draw attention.”
I find myself staring at him without a response. No words come. Overhead the first strain of the Anthem begins to play. Soon the faces will begin to show, including Damian and Talia’s. A familiar voice fills through my head. 
So tell me, boy. When you’re in the arena and find yourself face to face with a man like me, one who doesn’t give a rat’s ass about you or your pitiful story, will you be able to kill him? There’ll be no time for doubt. Hesitate for even a second and you and that pretty girlfriend of yours will both be nothing more than two corpses. So, let me ask you one more time… 
Kulver. His words from the train suddenly come rushing into me like a flood. Kill. I have to kill to win these Games. No one else is looking out for me. Nobody is trying their hardest to let me win. If I want to survive, if I want Joule to survive, then I will have to be brutal. Ruthless. Willing to do whatever it takes to whomever I need to. I can’t afford to be anything less.
Valor’s face has appeared in the sky. Soon it will be Talia’s. When Briar and Aiko see that, they’ll come looking for us with swords and knives. No amount of explanation will prevent Aiko from slaughtering me. 
“I-I’m ready!” I turn and follow Chrome as he sprints away from the cornucopia, heading towards the Wild West region. Tears sting my eyes as we run. This isn’t what I wanted to happen. I never thought things would spiral so out of control. 
I never wanted Damian and Talia to die. Just like I don’t want to see Briar or Aiko die. Or even Chrome. But they all must. They all will. Joule’s life depends on it. You can’t win the Games as a group, eventually you have to strike out on your own and do what you must. I’ll use Chrome for as long as I need to, maybe until after the Feast, but then I will cut him loose. I can’t afford weakness or doubt. If I hesitate for even a second then Joule will die. Everything I have done, everything I will do, has all been for her sake. For Joule.
Because I love her to death.
==Day 6/ Feast==
===Missy Randos (Mentor)=== 
The mentor’s lobby is unusually quiet as I make my way inside. Many of the mentors have returned home in recent days, as their tributes have died and left them with little treason to stay. Only a handful are situated inside as I arrive.
Austin and his apprentice Lux are here sitting, as usual, at the bar in the middle of the room and nursing mugs of hot chocolate. Both of them are much more subdued than is typical; probably a result of Valor’s death. 
My own stomach roils at the memories of last night. When Faren…when he betrayed his alliance. I shake my head. I’ve mentored tributes who’ve done worse things, but none of them were like Faren. They weren’t sweet boys thrust into an impossible situation. There’s so much pressure on his shoulders, is it any wonder he cracked? 
I bypass the table where Charce and Soot sit, giving them each a greeting as I do so. Neither one has opted to go home, despite the fact that both of their tributes are dead. I don’t blame them. Since they’re the only two mentors from District 12, this is the only time they get to interact with any Victor besides each other.
I order a drink from an Avox when I reach the counter, then lean back and watch the room as I wait. The only other group present is the trio of Mist, Amaranth, and Panama. The latter two seem to be in the midst of a heated conversation as Mist watches with a disappointed expression. He, like Soot and Charce, has decided to stay here despite no longer having any living tributes. That’s in sharp contrast to his fellow District 7 mentor, Edmund, who had departed the Capitol within an hour of Killen’s death. 
The Avox returns with my drink and I thank him before drifting back into the midst of the room. I don’t know where to sit. Normally I’d join Mist, Amaranth, and Panama, because I am friends with all three, but I’m pretty sure their argument is over how Chrome—Amaranth’s tribute—killed Panama’s—Damian. As Faren’s mentor I’d be expected to take Amaranth’s side, but…
I don’t really want to do that. 
That’s another thing I hate about being a mentor. We get so attached to our tributes, then have to watch them get killed by the tributes of our friends. More than a few friendships between mentors have been destroyed by the Games.
Eventually I simply decide to join Soot and Charce. As their own tributes are dead, there should be no complications here. “Hello, guys!” I smile warmly at them as I sit down at their table.
“Did you hear the news?” Charce asks with a wide grin. “Soot is going to be a father!”
“What? No way!” I knew that Soot had gotten married, of course, since I was at the wedding last summer. But I hadn’t expected this so soon! “Congratulations!”
Soot nods and thanks me. “I just heard from Marigold this morning, so it was pretty unexpected. I’ll be heading back home later today.”
I’ve always wanted children of my own, but the fear that the Capitol would force them into the Games has always looked over my head. Soot probably doesn’t have that problem, considering how unpopular he is in the Capitol. Why would they want to see his child compete? 
“I might go with him,” Charce says casually. “With my tributes out I don’t really have a reason to stay. Unlike you, Missy.”
“That bitch might even win,” Soot adds. 
I grimace. “Opal isn’t the most likable person, but…well, I still have to mentor her.”
”Oh, I’m not judging you.” Soot waves a hand and snags a muffin off his plate. “Just stating facts. Anyway, what’s the deal with that boy of yours? I mean, I get he’s suspicious of his allies, but why would he turn on them so early?”
“Faren is desperate to save his girlfriend,” I say quietly. It’s such a sad story that I feel terrible even thinking of it. “She’s very sick and winning is the only way to save her. He’s under a lot of stress.”
I wish he’d told me about her before the interviews, or even before he volunteered. I’m one of the richest people in District 5. I could have easily afforded the treatment to help Joule, but once his interview went on and the Capitol learned of it…They have forbidden anyone from helping Joule and her family. They want Faren to win and save her himself, so that it’ll make for a better storyline. They don’t care if Joule dies in the meantime. She’s just a pawn to them, a figure to use to prop up Faren. 
It makes me sick. 
The doors on the far end swing open and a handful of mentors file in. I frown when I notice that Hazel is not among them. I haven’t seen the girl since yesterday, when Erevan Newcastle was arrested for treason.
Oh, they haven’t officially announced it or anything. In fact, they’ve been keeping the whole thing under wraps and seem desperate to hide it from the media. The only reason I even know of it is because Hazel told me, and the only reason she knows is because they had to bring her in for questioning. Apparently they thought it was possible that she was working alongside Erevan to unseat the government. 
That was preposterous, of course, and they soon released her when they came to the same realization. Still, the fact that the man she’d been interested in turned out to be a traitor…it has shaken Hazel pretty badly, and that’s why I haven’t seen her since.
My thoughts trail off as I spot one of the mentors who’s just arrived. Kulver. The dark-haired man is ordering breakfast as he watches the television in the corner, drumming his hands along the table. Right now the cameras are focused on Chrome and Faren.
Kulver is not the monster everyone says he is, but neither is he a good man. He is hard and cruel, needlessly bullying Faren into trying to follow his footsteps. And where has that gotten the boy? Suddenly angry, I find myself walking over towards Kulver.
He looks up when I stop beside his table. “You here to lecture me again?” He grunts. 
“You should be happy,” I say bitterly. “Faren has been following your advice quite splendidly.”
“No, he hasn’t.” Kulver turns back to the television and ignores me. For several long moments I stand there awkwardly with my arms crossed, expecting another response, but he doesn’t speak. Eventually I just take a seat across from him and that draws his attention back to me. 
“That boy hasn’t done a thing in the arena,” He tells me. “He’s just letting Chrome drag him around by the ear.”
“That’s because he’s trying to be like you!” I saw the look in Faren’s whenever he saw Kulver after that story of his. The poor boy seemed to idolize the man! “He wouldn’t have listened to Chrome if it weren’t for you!”
“You sure about that?” Kulver snorts. “Chrome is a master manipulator. He’s manipulated every single tribute he’s come in contact with. I still don’t understand why that idiot from District 10 thought it was a good idea to bring him into the alliance.”
I’d be lying if I said that Chrome hadn’t been a major red flag for me since the start, but even I never thought that he would end up being such a bad influence on Faren. 
“Problem is, he can’t ditch Chrome now,” Kulver has gone back to watching the television. His eyes are focused solely on Faren. “No one else in the arena would be willing to take him at this point, and there’s no chance in hell that he wins on his own. So, for better or worse, he needs to ride with Chrome until the end.”
My chest feels heavy. This situation basically confirms that Faren will not be able to win, which means that both he and his girlfriend will die. I hate that! I hate all this death! Why can’t everyone just—
“May I have all your attention, please!”
A loud, sonorous voice booms throughout the room. Both Kulver and I turn around, puzzled as to who could be speaking. Why would someone want everyone’s attention? 
A group of men stand in the center of the room, near the fountain. One of them stands on the lip, towering over the rest. I don’t recognize any of them, so they’re not Victors. But they’re not wearing the uniforms of servants or guards either. 
Who are they?
“Are you clowns supposed to be in here?” Lux calls out before being hurriedly shushed by Austin. None of the men seem to pay him any attention. 
“I believe that you may already know us,” The man on the fountain speaks, reaching a hand into his pocket and pulling something out. He quickly slips it onto his hand. “But in case you don’t, allow us to introduce ourselves.” He raises his hand into the air, forming a red gloved fist. 
The Red Hand of Ra.
”Looks like things just got interesting,” Kulver mutters. I am too speechless to admonish him. The Red Hand? Here? But why? What reason would they have to come into the Mentor’s Lobby?
“What do you want with us?” Charce steps forward and speaks. His bearing is calm and quiet, showing no sign of the nervousness which I feel. Some of those men are holding guns. 
“Victors are well respected by the Capitol,” The man speaks, but doesn’t seem to be addressing Charce in particular. “And it has come to our attention that President Stryker’s “heirs” have been getting Victors to endorse their own Presidential ambitions.”
That’s true. In the past few days I’d been approached by many representatives of the heirs in a bid to get me to support their efforts. So far I’ve been telling them all that I’m still thinking it over, but I know that tactic can’t work forever. Eventually I’d have to make a choice. 
“Each of you in this room is…unique, in a way,” The man points a finger at Charce and swivels around the fountain, taking us all in. “None of you have endorsed a heir yet, and so we thought it best to ask you all to…let’s say, endorse a different method of choice.”
“You want us to support the Red Hand,” Charce says quietly.
“Bingo!” The man snaps his fingers and laughs. “You get a gold star! Good job, Charce!”
I feel a cold fear making its way up my spine. Endorse the Red Hand? That would be tantamount to suicide! The Capitol would never forgive us for such an action, even if it were forced at gunpoint! 
“You can’t possibly think this will work,” Mist still sits at his table, arms crossed as he stares at the man with cold eyes. “The Capitol isn’t going to hand over power just because you fools got some endorsements from leftover Victors.”
“Not to mention your leader has already been arrested,” Soot adds with a grunt.
The room goes silent. A gentle jangling noise begins as the man hops off the fountain and makes his way towards Soot. He’s still smiling, which is scarier than anything else. “Our leader has been arrested?” The man stops a few feet from Soot and begins to toss a small object between his hands. I can’t tell what it is. “Why, pray tell, do you think such a thing?”
Soot narrows his eyes. “Erevan Newcastle was arrested two days ago for bankrolling and plotting with the Red Hand. He’s your figurehead, and this is probably some sort of scheme designed to set him free!”
The man chuckles. “It’s nice you believe that, but Erevan Newcastle is not our leader. In fact, he has absolutely nothing to do with us. We are, and always have been, a group dedicated to changing the way the Capitol operates. Whyever would we work with a man who so embodies its ideals?”
“He was a scapegoat…” Soot’s voice is hushed, almost as if he’s putting together a puzzle in his head. 
“Soot, you are a Victor known for supporting rebels causes,” The man continues on, oblivious to Soot’s actions. “It would only make sense that you support us as well. After all, isn’t this what you want? Someone to overthrow the Capitol?”
No one speaks. The doors to the lobby remain shut. Whoever this man and his lackeys are, they’re competent enough to lock us all in here and prevent any kind of warning being sent. How? That kind of planning and forethought would require too much manpower and resources for a normal rebel group.
“How long do I have to decide?” Soot ask. Someone in the back of the room gasps. Apparently they thought he would deny the request out of hand, but I know better. Soot has always had too big of a rebellious streak inside him. 
The man grins. “You and all the others have the entire day to decide. You will be locked away inside here for the duration and, let me assure you, no one will be coming to save you. The only way out is by siding with us.”
“And if we refuse!” Lux demands. 
The man splays his hands. “Then you die. It really is that simple. Better get thinking!” 
I watch in petrified silence as the man walks back to his group, gesturing at them to keep an eye on us. They all have guns. They must have had them hidden amongst their person. How could they have gotten through the Peacekeepers?
“These idiots just made a big mistake.” Kulver growls from beside me and I turn to look at him. His cold blue eyes are focused squarely on the leader of the group. 
“I don’t see what it is,” I say quietly. They’ve managed to smuggle guns into the Capital and have taken an entire room hostage. 
“All their hostages are Victors,” Kulver responds. “And if there’s one thing every Victor knows…it’s how to kill.”
===Faren Gomery (District 5)===
I stare at my hands and wonder why there is no blood on them. There was so much yesterday. All over my hands and face. Blood soaked my jacket. Damian and Talia’s faces flash in my mind. They betrayed my trust, like Rotor, but I never wanted them to die. 
But when has what I wanted ever mattered?
I am in the Wild West waterpark, the same exact location where me and my allies sought shelter on our very first day in the arena. I sit on the edge of the hot tub, feet dangling in the water as I stare at my hands and the lack of blood. It’s all been washed away. Scrubbed clean. 
If only my conscious was cleansed so easily. 
And yet, despite all my regrets, I know that it was necessary. Damian would have worked alongside Briar and Aiko to kill me, and Talia would never have been brave enough to stop them. My own allies planned my death. 
A shuddering breath wracks my body and I look away from my hands. The giant kiddie structure looms behind me, a clangorous bell ringing as it signals the tipping of the large bucket set atop it. Chrome walks alongside it, spear in hand and whistling a merry tune. He has shown no guilt or anguish over what took place last night. He’s both stronger and more terrible than I ever could be. 
Another day. Another deadline. Joule gets one step closer to death, while the Feast looms like a monstrous entity poised to eat me. It feels like a rope is tied around my neck, gradually pulling tighter as I desperately crawl towards an ever receding finish line. And the announcement of Mr. Schindler’s arrival…
We all heard it broadcast over the radio yesterday, though we never discussed the implications of it. Who or what is Mr. Schindler? A mutt? Or something even worse? Can I even afford to spend time thinking about it when I have so many other pressing concerns? 
“So what’s our plan for the Feast?” Chrome comes wandering over to me, a wide grin on his face. No guilt whatsoever over what he did. 
“I…I am thinking about that.” Our weapon situation is better than it was yesterday, but still less than ideal. I have a knife and my electric baton, while Chrome has a spear, sickle, and a whip. Plenty of steel weaponry, yes, but not anything to rival the Careers or the Kin-Killer. “It’ll probably be better for us to not get too involved.”
He crouches down beside me, spear resting across his knees. “Sounds good to me. So long as we get our bags, at least.”
“We’ll get our bags.” I can’t risk the possibility of someone else getting mine. Considering my skills and knowledge, I know that whatever I’ve been supplied with will be a tremendous asset in the arena. And yet…
Briar and Aiko are stationed at the cornucopia. They know me and Chrome better than anyone else in the arena. What if they’re prepared to stop us? I know exactly where we set every trap, so it’s not likely for us to accidentally fall into one, but what if they anticipate me having that knowledge and move one of them? What if—
“Bro!” Chrome snaps his fingers and pulls me out of my thoughts. I blink at him, surprised. “Get it together! I can’t have ya zoning out on me!”
“S-sorry!” 
Chrome shakes his head and stands up straight. I don’t miss the annoyance in his eyes. He thinks I’m behaving irrationally over this. He believes what we did to Damian and Talia was a clear cut case of self-defense, and maybe it was, but I can’t simply shrug off my emotions so easily. Guilt has always been an anchor tied to my ankles. 
“I think we’re going to use a car,” I say softly.
Chrome turns and raises an eyebrow at me. “A car? To do what? Attend the Feast?”
I nod slowly. “I know how to start one and I don’t think anyone else will be expecting it. We could drive up, grab our bags, and get out of there before anyone else can even react.”
It’s risky. I know that there’s dozens of things that could go wrong, but it’s better than any of the other options we have. Attending on foot would put us at too much risk of encountering the others. I’m not stupid. Briar is probably the only person left in this arena who I could pose a physical threat to—and I’m not even sure of that.
I pull my feet out of the hot tub and begin to dry them off, thinking on my plan. We could easily enter one of the cars on the fringes of the parking lot, well out of sight from Briar and Aiko, and start it up without anyone noticing. Then we could drive it up and…presto! I pull my socks and shoes on, then turn to pick up my backpack. I leave my jacket as I walk away. Don’t think I could bear to wear that thing ever again. 
“We going somewhere?” Chrome asks as I walk alongside the kiddie pool. 
“Yeah. To the cornucopia. I…we need to get there early, before it becomes too crowded.” I don’t know when the Feast will start, so it’s better to be prepared well in advance. 
Briar and Aiko will be there. Probably will try to stop me. Well, let them. Though I feel tremendous guilt over Damian and Aiko, I have no such feeling for them. Those two blindly believed I was a threat to them for no good reason. They’re no different than the people who judged Joule based on a meritless rumor. They don’t deserve my sympathy. 
Chrome and I are halfway to the exit—the same entrance the Careers broke through all those days ago—when a giant figure suddenly appears in the doorway. 
The breath catches in my throat and I force down a scream as it lumbers into the waterpark with long, even steps. It’s a man. Or at least a large marble statue of one. It’s tall, standing somewhere over seven feet, and has long limbs that move with an elegant grace. Its carved face is remarkably detailed, with a pair of glasses resting on an aquiline nose, and downturned lips that make it look disappointed. A nameplate is pinned prominently across its chest, reading Mr. Schindler.
For a moment my mind blanks. Panic rushes through my mind and my body poises to run. But then I remember the announcement from yesterday, and the words that came with it. 
Remember to be on your best behavior and always wear your proper uniform! 
“H-hello, sir!” I force the words out through trembling lips and make a small salute. Chrome watches me with wide, disbelieving eyes. “H-hope you’re having a good day!”
The statue steps forwards, halving the distance between us. My body screams for me to run, to flee immediately, but I keep myself in place. That announcement was a hint. Something to help us combat this thing. To…
Schindler’s eyes make a grinding sound as they rotate in his head, observing the waterpark. Eventually he looks down at the shards of glass at his feet, debris from the door Monty shattered. 
“S-sorry about the mess!” I give another garbled salute. “W-we’re just about to clean it up! B-before we open the park for the day!”
Schindler turns to face me. His stone face holds no expression beyond that of slight disappointment. No sound is made. I fear he is about to reach out and strike me down.
Instead he turns and walks away.
A soft exhilaration of breath escapes me as I watch the statue continue on into the waterpark, apparently examining all the tables and chairs. I quietly step outside, tugging on Chrome’s sleeve to pull him along.
”What the hell was that?” He demands when we’re outside. The morning sky is cloudless and sunny. “And why did you speak with it?”
“We had to pretend to be employees,” I explain, skirting pass the entrance to the arcade and opening the doors that lead to the same corridor Briar took me and the others down on the first day of the Games. “I honestly didn’t think it would work.”
“So you gambled with our lives.” Chrome does not sound happy as he follows me into the hall. 
“I had no other choice,” I say. My mind is focused elsewhere. Heart is beating like a drum. What if Schindler doubles back and finds us again? A familiar door appears on my right. The maintenance room where Damian and I first found the radios. I peek inside and see that someone has triggered the trap, proving it has been accessed by other tributes. Only now do I wonder if any of my traps have caused fatalities.
“Why’d he think we were employees anyway?”
Chrome’s question takes me by surprise. “Huh? Oh. Our arena west is a uniform. It’s a lifeguard outfit.”
“It is?” Chrome sounds baffled. “I mean, I knew it was a swimsuit, but I hadn’t thought it was some kinda uniform or nothing. Didn’t even know this place had lifeguards.”
That’s another reminder that the world I’m from and the world my allies are from were very different. District 5 is very affluent, and I dealt with technology and frivolities on a daily basis. Most of my allies lived on farms and pulled weeds out of the dirt. How have our different experiences shaped us into who we are today?
“Where are we going, again?” Chrome continues to talk as we head down the hall, retracing my path from the first day. Straight down this corridor is a door which will lead us into the main parking lot. Where Briar and Aiko await…
“The cornucopia.” We won’t confront those two. Not if everything goes according to plan. I just want to sit in a car and wait for the Feast. That part should be simple. It’s what comes next which worries me. 
“This is a bit early for that, innit?” 
“No. We want to be there before anyone else, so no one sees us enter the car.” I can’t afford the risk someone tries to confront us before I get it working. That would ruin everything.
Chrome falls silent and there is no more conversation until we reach the end of the hall. Once there, I slowly edge the door open and peer outside. The usual sea of cars stare back at me, with the occasional lamppost rising above them. The golden horn shines in the distance, barely visible behind all the cars and Launch Platforms. There is no sign of either Briar or Aiko, but I’m not dumb enough to think that means they’re absent. 
I silently motion for Chrome to follow me and ignore the main path, tiptoeing to the side and onto the mulch which surrounds the building. Yesterday Talia and I set a trap on the path here. It’s only a simple leg snare, one I could easily disarm, but it’s better to keep it intact, just in case another tribute wanders into it during the Feast. 
As I approach a car set in the very back row of the parking lot, I finally spot Aiko and Briar. The two of them are gathered at the mouth of the cornucopia, seemingly in the middle of a conversation. My stomach roils at the sight of them. I thought of them as friends, but they were more than willing to plot my death behind my back. The two of them are just selfish jerks. No different than the Careers, really. 
I try not to think about what that would make me and Chrome.
The two of us enter into the car as quietly as possible, making sure to close the door with hardly any force. Briar would be no match for Chrome, but Aiko…I fear what she could do to us. 
“What now?” Chrome whispers from the backseat. 
I slide down to the floor, out of sight from any of the windows. “We wait for the Feast to begin,” I say, trying to find a comfortable position to sit in. “And then we kick things into high gear.”
===Briar Destry (District 10)===
I never wanted to be right.
I told Damian what would happen. I warned him against trusting Faren and Chrome, knew that something like this could happen, but I never wanted to be right. I wish that all my warnings were false. That I was overreacting. 
Unfortunately I was not.
A soft breeze stirs my hair as I stare into the blue sky and find myself missing home. Tasha and my parents are waiting for me. Just a few hours ago I thought that there was a real chance I could be returning to them. I had a strong alliance at my back and total control of the cornucopia. But now…
Aiko stands motionless beside me. My only remaining friend. Damian and Talia were murdered last night at the hands of either Chrome or Faren. Maybe both. Despite all my warnings, all my attempts to get Damian to listen, I still hadn’t expected those two to act so soon. 
“We’re in this together until the end,” I tell Aiko. She’s always had my back. Perhaps my lone ally who did. “No more final eight nonsense. You and me are going all the way.”
Aiko nods slowly. Usually she would be playing with her knives or juggling some kind of weapon, but today there is nothing but seriousness about her. Chrome and Faren’s betrayal has hit her hard. Almost as hard as Kia’s death. “I’m with you, Briar. The only person I’ll allow to win is you.”
There’s definite anger in her voice. I feel the same anger, but it’s not a burning fury, more of a cold, simmering rage. I don’t remember ever feeling such anger before in my life. I’ll use that. I must. Being nice and trying to avoid violence and killing hasn’t worked. All it’s done has led my friends to preventable deaths. From now on there is no more mercy. No more hesitancy.
From now on I play to win.
The parking lot is in the middle of a ‘U’ of surrounding buildings, with the cornucopia in the exact center. One direction, the Klondike side, is a burnt husk that looks more like rubble than an actual building, but the other two directions are still viable entry points. “The other tributes will be able to come from any direction,” I say, walking forward so that I stand directly in front of the cornucopia. “But the bags are going to be right here, so we’ll have the advantage.”
The flat, open space in front of the cornucopia’s mouth is the obvious location for the bags to spawn. It’s practically the only place with enough room. 
“We’re going to grab our bags and run?” Aiko asks.
I shake my head. We could. That would make sense. If we took only our bags and ran, no one would chase us for fear of losing their own bag. But that would be playing safe. Taking the easy option. Damian, Talia, and Kia didn’t die just so I could try and hide away until the finale. “No, Aiko. We’re not going to just grab our bags and run.”
“Then what?”
“We’re going to grab all the bags.”
I expect her to protest, to say it’s too risky, but Aiko only nods. I think I even see the faint semblance of a smile on her face. “That sounds good, Briar.” Her voice is flat, emotionless. 
“We won’t keep them all, of course,” I continue walking forward until I reach the line of cars which fill the parking lot. There’s not as many as before, since the storm destroyed a few and Opal stole one, but there’s still a veritable sea of them. “We’re only going to take them off the table and toss them onto our traps.”
Faren and Talia spent hours setting them up last night. I don’t even know how many they have out there, but Aiko should. She watched them the whole time.
“Faren knows everything about our traps,” She says with a frown. 
“He does.” I would suggest we try and move them to fool him, but I know neither of us possess the knowledge or skill for that. “But none of the other tributes do.”
My stomach rumbles at the end of my words. The Feast will be useful for reason beyond just the bags. We’ve recently run out of food and have no real way to procure more. The cornucopia lost most of its food during the storm and we dare not touch anything survived. Who knows if someone has tampered with it? The last thing I want is to eat some poisoned food. 
“What if Faren really is working with the Careers?”
Aiko draws me out of my thoughts. Her concern is a very real. If Faren truly did defect to the Careers that means they not only have total knowledge of every trap, but also outnumber us six to two. I can’t even begin to fathom how we’d overcome those odds. 
“If that’s the case then…” Then what? Is it even possible for Aiko and myself to defeat a group so large? “…then we have to hope some of them die during the Feast.” 
“Okay.” 
There is no tone to her voice, so I do not know what she is thinking. Is she overwhelmed by these odds? Or is Aiko so confident in her own skills that she believes she can defeat an entire alliance? I don’t know, and can’t be bothered to wonder. I’m too hurt and angry to really be reflective right now. 
“What’s that?”
I turn to follow Aiko’s gaze and spot a small parachute slowly fluttering down from the sky. It sways in the breeze, blown slightly off course as it lands atop a nearby car. “A sponsor gift!”
I double check the surrounding parking lot for any sign or danger before approaching the container. A small note is stuck to the lid. For District 10.
“Looks like our sponsors haven’t betrayed us,” Aiko says quietly. 
I flip the lid and reveal the contents of the package. An assortment of various fruit gaze back at me. I pick up an apple and roll it over my palm. “We won’t need any food from the Feast after all.”
Aiko doesn’t respond, but I am too absorbed with the apple to really care. I haven’t seen one of these since I left home. There was an apple tree on our farmland. An old, tall tree that produced the best tasting fruit I’ve ever had. Rotating the apple in my hand, I take a bite and frown. Not nearly as good as the apples back home. 
“Hey, Aiko, you should eat something. Fighting on an empty stomach isn’t—”
“There’s a tribute on the roof,” Aiko keeps her voice low as she bends down, seemingly tying her shoe, but I notice that her eyes are studying the building across from us. “Didn’t get a good look at them, but they’re wearing a red jacket.”
Red was the color of District 1, and since Valor is dead the process of elimination implies that it must be Alcmene. “So the Careers are keeping eyes on us,” I say grimly. It’s not a surprise. Considering our current position it’s likely that everyone in the arena will be keeping tabs on us and the cornucopia.
Aiko stiffens and I spin around, worried that we’re under attack. “Mako is also watching us,” She hisses. “He’s on the second floor, third window from the right.”
So my theory was correct and we do have multiple watchers. That is both reassuring and frightening. Though I look at the window she indicated, I see no sign of Mako. Doubtless Aiko’s eyes are sharper than mine, so I assume he must be lingering just out of signt. 
“We should stay away from the traps,” I say, collecting the rest of the fruit and stuffing it into my backpack. “We don’t want to draw attention to them.”
Aiko nods and we gather whatever items we think may be useful before retreating into the shelter of the cornucopia. Ranged weapons exist, and I’d rather not present an easy target for anyone who has one.
“They may outnumber us,” I say as we take positions behind a series of crates inside the horn. “But we do have an advantage over them. They think we’re weak and too afraid to kill. Little do they know we’re willing to do anything in order to win.”
“I’m not afraid to kill them,” Aiko whispers.
Though it hurts like a punch to the stomach, for the first time in my life I find myself agreeing with that sentiment. I am not afraid to kill the other tributes. Faren and and Chrome have opened my eyes to the reality of this situation. You can’t win by hiding away and wishing for peace.
Victory only comes with death and blood.
===Marina Mattel (District 4)===
We’ve been on the move since we awoke this morning. The forest was a safe, albeit uncomfortable location for us to spend the night, but it holds little strategical value. The moment I heard the announcement about the Feast a plan popped into my head. One that could only work with the knowledge Notcher possesses.
Our trip through the woods was largely uneventful. Other than for stumbling over some protruding roots, nothing of importance occurred in the short time it took us to reach the end and emerge onto the winding back roads behind the massive structure which is Waterdome. Bypassing a handful of cabins—which I recall was where I encountered Solomon and his goons on day three—we approached the closest door and finally came to a stop. 
“You sure this is the place?” I ask Notcher as he cracks the door open and peers inside. Our quarry is the room which controls the overhead radio which is prevalent throughout the arena. While thinking about possible plans for the Feast, it struck me that the hotel staff must have someway to access the radio to make announcements and the like. That thought sent the gears in my head spinning and it’s how I came up with the plan which brought us here. 
“Not really.” Notcher draws back and gives me a small nod, the signal that the room is clear. “But if I remember correctly, then the room should be somewhere in the halls behind the waterpark.”
When I first brought up the idea of finding the microphone room, Notcher was a bit hesitant. Said that though he spent a lot of time studying the cameras, he didn’t really pay attention to where something like the microphone would be stored. It wasn’t until I pressed him on the issue did he admit that he might have saw a room with similar equipment in one of the halls behind Waterdome. 
“It’s not too bad if we don’t find it,” I say with a shrug. Trying to tackle the Feast without finding the microphone would be problematic, but hardly the death knell of my Games strategy. “Just means we’d have to be a little more creative.”
Notcher only grunts in response, so I grab my trident and push the door open. Bright sunlight shines down from the overhead windows, and an almost overbearing scent of chlorine washes over me as I step inside and find myself on the far end of a giant pool. Crashing waves smash across the tall walls which surround it, and washing up on the beach which lies off to my right. 
“Careful,” Notcher sidles past me and begins to make his way down towards the beach. “There’s sharks in that pool.” 
Sharks? Well, I have experience with sharks from my time back in District 4. And as the normal kind is hardly something I would like to deal with, I am assuming these mutts would be twice as bad. So I take Notcher’s advice and keep myself well away from the pool’s edge as I follow him along the side. 
Cheerful music blares throughout the park as we reach the beach and cross over to the far side, where a small office is tucked away in an alcove in the wall. I glance at this room with quiet interest. I’ve been keeping an eye out for a pen and paper this whole trek, and this is the first time I found a place which might actually have some. 
Notcher pauses beside a pair of doors, studying them with a critical eye. Probably trying to remember which one is the correct path. Taking advantage of his distraction, I enter the office and make my way towards the large desk set up inside. Sure enough I find exactly what I’m looking for atop it. 
A pen and notepad.
I surreptitiously begin to write a message, then check to see if Notcher is looking. He isn’t, so I finish the note then tuck the notepad inside my jacket pocket. This is more of a safety precaution than anything else; something that will only take effect if Notcher and I both survive the Feast. But something I’ve learned from my studies and watching past Games is that you can never plan too far in advance.
Notcher suddenly comes darting into the room. “What’s up?” I ask before noticing the grave expression on his face. 
“Be quiet!” He hisses at me and ducks behind the desk, peeking out over the edge. I hoist my trident into a defensive position and follow suit. For him to be acting like this means one thing…an enemy.
“Who is it?” I keep my voice to a whisper. Many of the tributes left are physical threats, and there is no point in giving away our position. 
“It’s not a tribute,” Notcher replies, eyes still scanning the doorway. “It’s some kind of living statue, I think.”
My heart drops. A living statue? That sounds very formidable. Much worse than any tribute. I follow Notcher’s example and peer over the desk. Through the doorway I can partially see into the waterpark, most notably the beach lined with loungers and chairs. At first I don’t see anything out of the ordinary, but then the statue comes striding onto the scene. 
I can’t make out too much detail from this distance, but it is undoubtedly a statue made in the likeness of a man, standing somewhere close to seven feet and towering over the beach furniture as he stops to inspect it. 
Dread builds inside me as I observe the mutt. It’s not as big or monstrous as Monty Moose, but it is far more otherworldly. Monty at least was flesh and blood, and I know our weapons would be capable of killing him. But this statue? I doubt my trident would do much more than ping off it. 
Notcher and I both remain deathly quiet as we watch the statue continue to inspect the furniture, following a clear pattern as he makes his way down the beach and away from us. Eventually he fades from sight, but even then we remain crouching behind the desk for several long moments. 
“Do you think your plan will bring it to the Feast?” Notcher finally breaks the silence after at least ten minutes have passed. 
“I don’t know.” My plan was originally formed to lure Monty to the Feast, but I suppose it is entirely possible that this statue could show up as well. That would probably result in the deaths of many tributes, because I can’t imagine most of them having any way to damage the thing. 
“We should get moving.” I rise to my feet and slip out the doorway and back into the park. Cheery sunlight still streams down from the overhead skylights, with energetic pop music blaring from the speakers to further enrich the joyful atmosphere. 
Notcher follows behind me, his dark, scowling face at odds with his surroundings. He gives a grunt when I ask him if he remembers where the speakers are. “Through that door,” He says, pointing at one marked ‘Employees Only’. “There’s a laundry room behind it, but we can cut straight through and exit into the hall beyond. The door to the speaker room should be there.”
I nod and let him lead the way. I still don’t know how far I can trust Notcher—he might be planning my death for all I know—but he is undeniably useful. Without him and his knowledge of the arena I would never have been able to enact this plan. 
The laundry room we enter doesn’t look much different from any other I have seen in the resort, beyond for a locked cage filled with many crates of soda and chips. “Must be where they store the food,” I say idly as we pass by. 
Notcher’s only response is a grunt. Charming.
Once we exit out the door in the back we find ourselves in yet another hallway, but we only spend a few seconds here before entering the door straight across from us. The room looks more like a storage closet than anything else but it’s here, sitting in the far corner, where we find the monitor and microphone which broadcasts to the radios set up all over the resort.
“Good job, Notcher!” I tell him as I pull up a seat and begin to study the microphone. “You did brilliantly.”
“Whatever.” He remains standing, looming over me as I find the controls and familiarize myself with them. “You sure this is the best idea?”
I frown. This is the first time he’s shown any real doubt over this plan. “Do you have a different idea on how to tackle the Feast?”
“Not really. Was just wondering if showing up late after siccing a rampaging mutt on the others is a good idea.”
Well, that’s not how I would phrase it, but the description isn’t exactly wrong. My plan is to use the microphone in an effort to reach Monty Moose, telling him some sort of lie in order to get him to go towards the cornucopia during the Feast. I imagine his presence will cause all kinds of chaos, so Notcher and I will swoop in afterwards and take our bags with minimum effort. 
“We’re not exactly going to show up late,” I finally say. 
“Yes, we will.” Notcher smacks a hand against his palm. “This office is pretty far from the cornucopia, and we’ll have to wait a few minutes after the Feast has begun before we head out, lest we get there before Monty does.”
I’d thought of that, of course, but I don’t think it’s as much of a deal breaker as Notcher seems to. I doubt most of the others will be able to get away from the cornucopia that quickly, and Monty’s arrival will undoubtedly delay them even further. “It’ll be fine.”
Notcher snorts. “If you say so. But what if Monty is dead? For all we know he died in that fire yesterday.”
I turn around and give him a flat stare. “Do you really think that was enough to take out a mutt as strong as Monty?”
“No. But I prefer to think about everything that could go wrong in advance. That way you’re not surprised when it happens.”
Not a bad way of thinking. If you always expect the worst then you can never be disappointed. Still, I can’t stop to just dwell on the possibilities of failure. “We’ll operate under the assumption Monty is alive,” I tell him as I turn back to the microphone. “Right now I want you to head back into Waterdome so I can test to see if this works. The music should cut off if it does.”
Notcher nods and withdraws from the room. I wait a few moments for him to get into position before flicking the switch on and holding it for a handful of seconds. That should be more than enough time for Notcher to notice if it works. The bigger question is if he’ll even return. I am under no delusions about the stability of our partnership. Notcher will only hold true to this alliance for as long as it is beneficial for him. The same can be said for myself. Sooner or later one of us will bail on the other. The only question is when will it happen and if it’ll result in one of our deaths or not. 
The sound of footsteps has me adjust the grip on my trident. It’s probably just Notcher returning, but I will take no chances.
“The radio went off for a few seconds,” Notcher steps into the room and plops himself down on a chair without even a glance at me and my weapon. “I am assuming that was you?”
“Yes.” 
He nods and once again we find ourselves in that damnable silence. I want to say something to break it, but can’t think of anything that wouldn’t annoy Notcher. Perhaps it’s better to just sit and wait. Less chance of pissing off my lone ally that way. 
The clock overhead tells me that it just passed noon. According to yesterday’s announcement, that means the Feast could begin at any time. Best to be prepared. 
“Stay ready,” I tell Notcher. “There’s no telling when the Feast will start. It could be in just a few seconds.”
Notcher smiles. One of the few times I’ve ever seen that boy with an expression that isn’t disgust. “Don’t worry about me. I’m always ready.”
===Solomon Eudia (District 13)===
I pace along the beach of the kiddie pool, bypassing the multitude of tables and chairs which fill the small island that rests in the center of Klondike’s lazy river. After all the fire from the past few days, Remus and myself decided it was best to camp somewhere that would be almost impossible to burn down.
And it doesn’t get more impossible than an island in the middle of a waterpark. 
Despite the relative peace of our situation, doubt and fear plague my mind. These Games are rapidly winding down and it’s only a matter of time before I am forced to confront Alci. Even though I have spent years thinking about what I will say to her, I find myself unable to put together a sentence in my mind. This situation had always felt so far off. More of a what-if then a genuine possibility. But now that situation is rapidly approaching and I do not know if I am ready.
Though I have a plan for all three of us—myself, Remus, and Alcmene—to escape this arena alive, I know that it is fraught with perils. Just one slip up could ruin everything and bring on all our deaths. Since sunrise I’ve spent hours trying to figure out every permutation and plan for each and all eventuality, but I’ve hit a wall. There’s just too many things that could go wrong. If worse comes to worse…
I may have to fake mine and Alci’s death before Remus wins.
A glance over my shoulder shows my ally to be sitting on one of the chairs beside the kiddie pool. His staff lies across his knees as he attends to his wounded arm with some medical supplies we found in a first-aid room. Until now I’d never realized just how many injuries he’s suffered in the arena. 
I like Remus. I think he is trustworthy and a surprisingly good person for someone who came from the Capitol, but I have only known him for little more than a week. I am still committed to helping him win these Games, but if I am forced to leave him to his own devices so that Alcmene and I can escape…so be it. 
As I am watching him, Remus finishes with his wounds and rises to his feet. He stretches and then turns to me, nodding a greeting as he comes walking over. “I am ready. We should get prepared to approach the cornucopia.”
I was wondering when this conversation would happen. The Feast is today and will undoubtedly supply the remaining tributes with precious supplies, but I have no desire to attend. So much chaos will bring incalculable risks. Risks I am not willing to take. 
“I do not intend to partake in the Feast,” I tell him quietly. 
He frowns, one hand brushing back his perfectly coiffed hair. Funny how, despite all his time in the arena, he still takes expends the effort to style it. “You are joking, yes? Surely you do not intend to skip the Feast!”
“That is exactly what I intend.” I never expected him to understand this situation. He probably will think it’s a continuation of my weakness from yesterday, but I know that it is the right decision. “You may attend if you wish, but I will remain here and guard our supplies.”
Remus typically tries to remain stoic and detached, no doubt a by-brought of his upbringing, but now his face twitches with dismay in an uncharacteristic display of emotion. “Solomon, no! You must reconsider! The Feast is far too dangerous for us not to attend together!”
“That danger is why I am skipping it,” The last thing I want is to be killed by some random tribute at the Feast before I get to even attempt a reconciliation with Alcmene. “As you well know my only goal in this arena is to finish things with Alci.”
“The bags that will be left at the Feast are too important to leave behind,” Remus continues to argue. “The Gamemakers could have put something incredibly useful inside!”
That’s another worry of mine. “I do not know if the Gamemakers are willing to provide me with anything helpful.”
Remus pauses and stares at me unblinking. It probably never crossed his mind that the Gamemakers would have a grudge against me, though it should’ve. While Roscoe Stryker has said that he is protecting me as one of his ‘champions’ he also let it be known that the President and Gamemakers wanted me dead. Whose to say that they wouldn’t see the Feast as an opportune moment to eliminate me? I do not fully believe I can trust anything inside my bag. 
“I did not think about that,” Remus says after an extended pause. “I forgot about your…complicated history.”
“When you approach the Feast you can just leave mine behind.” There’s nothing inside that I will require, not since I collected Mercia’s leftover items. With the multitude of poisons and antidotes she left me, I can safely continue with my plot to fake mine and Alcmene’s deaths. One of Mercia’s poisons should be particularly useful for this, but…
I still have to convince Alcmene to go along with my plan. Failing that, I will have to forcibly inject the poison and remove her tracker myself. Doing either of those things will be difficult, to say the least. 
“I still don’t think we should split up,” Remus has not given up on trying to sway my mind. “We are stronger together and our encounter with Marina and Notcher yesterday has proven that the other tributes are not beyond making atypical alliances with each other. If I attend the Feast alone, I may find myself as the only person doing so.”
He makes some good points, but my mind is already made up. I can’t and won’t risk the danger of the Feast. And I can’t imagine Alcmene doing so either, not after Remus killed her last ally yesterday. So there would be very little point in my attendance, especially when I have Remus to go in my stead. 
I open my mouth to tell Remus this when trumpets suddenly blare from the overhead speakers, followed by a booming voice.
“Attention tributes of the 333rd Hunger Games! We would like to inform you that the Feast will start momentarily! That’s right, the Feast will begin in thirty minutes! You all have half an hour left to finish your preparations! Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favor!”
“You should get going.” I tell Remus quietly as the announcement fades and the usual music kicks back in. 
He grimaces. “Solomon, I really think that—”
I am in the middle of turning when I spot the movement behind him. Evidently while we were distracted with the announcement a tribute had snuck across the bridge to the island and hid their approach behind the tables and chairs, but now they reveal themselves. But it’s not just any tribute. It’s a blonde girl with striking grey eyes and a face contorted with rage. A girl I’d recognize anywhere and at any time. 
It’s Alcmene.
“Remus, watch out!”
My ally acts on pure instinct. He throws himself to the side just as Alcmene’s spiked club swings through the air he previously occupied, then pivots and launches himself into counterattacking. Alcmene stumbles, unsteady after her missed blow, and doesn’t have the time to defend herself. 
Dread builds inside my chest. I recognize the intent behind Remus’ movements. I saw him perform this attack several times in training. He is going to thrust his staff straight into Alci’s throat, breaking the trachea and killing her immediately.
My sister is going to die.
“Remus, no!”
Somehow Remus hears my warning and has enough awareness to alter his thrust mid-attack, so instead of taking Alcmene in the throat, his staff smashes into her shoulder. Alcmene stumbles back with a gasp of pain, injured arm dropping limply to her side. 
Remus throws me a harried glance. “Solomon, she attacked me! Surely—”
He cuts off with a grunt of surprise as Alcmene suddenly leaps forward, her spiked club swinging for his head. Despite having the perfect opportunity to counterattack, Remus does not so much as lift his staff as he circles around my sister, eyes occasionally darting towards me. 
I have enough awareness to realize that it’s my presence alone that is keeping Alci alive. While Alcmene is a trained fighter whose skill with the club is unmatched, she is clearly not thinking straight. Her anger has blinded her and she’s thrown strategy out the window, leaving her exposed to Remus’ attacks. 
“We don’t want to harm you, Alci!” I step forward, hand held out in a manner I hope is placating. “We only wish—”
“Shut up!”
Alcmene takes another swipe at Remus. He dips to the side, avoiding the attack but staying within range with his staff. “Back off, Remus!” I shout at him. “Don’t engage her!”
Remus is too busy dodging another swing of Alcmene’s club to respond. She’s gained tunnel vision, focused solely on eliminating Remus. Why? Has she found out that he killed Valor? No. How could she? This is something else. Strategy. What would I do if I wanted to isolate Alcmene? I’d take out all her allies first. 
“Leave him alone, Alci!” I throw myself forward with a scream, using my trident to intercept her latest swing. “Your fight is with me!”
Alcmene steps back, breathing hard. For the first time since her arrival her gaze is focused firmly on me. I see what I expected, anger and hate, but there’s also something else. Some emotion I can’t quite understand. Uncertainty? Doubt? 
“I finally found you!” She points her club at me. “There’s no escaping now!”
“I have zero intention of running away,” I say calmly. Over her shoulder I can spot Remus hanging back near the tables and chairs, watching warily. “I simply wish to speak with you.”
“Do you even realize what you took from me?” Alcmene speaks softly, voice barely audible over the din of the radio and bucket. “How much was stolen? Do you have any idea the amount of pain you put me through?”
I have no words. What could I say? An apology wouldn’t be enough, and I don’t deserve her forgiveness anyway. What I did was unforgivable. 
“I have no excuses,” Words finally come to mind. A chance to explain. That’s all I need. “What I have done is…it’s beyond horrible. One of the worst things anyone can do.”
“You killed my whole family. Our family.” Alcmene’s eyes glisten with unshed tears. “I lost everything.”
My throat closes up. Sorrow pulses through me like a stream. Understanding how much pain and suffering I put her through is one thing, but watching her deal with that pain…it’s almost more than I can take. “I never intended to hurt—”
“They want you dead, you know,” Alcmene speaks over me, stepping forward to close the distance. I don’t bother retreating, though I see Remus moving in the background. He mustn’t get involved! “Our family, I mean. I hear their voices in my head, did you know that? They want me to kill you.”
I choke back a gasp. This is worse than I feared. Never did I expect Alcmene to have had such a…break from reality. But shouldn’t I have? She had her whole family murdered while she was just a child. Is it any wonder she’s broken? 
“Except for Bijou,” Alcmene pauses a few feet away from me. “She wants me to spare you.”
“Bijou?” Bijou was our eldest sister who lost her life in the arena of the TBD Games, years before Alcmene was even born. “You never met Bijou.”
“I know. That’s why I am so confused. She’s never spoken before.”
This is taking too long. I need to launch my explanation before something else interferes with the situation and this spirals out of—
Alcmene swings her club for my head.
I throw myself aside at the last moment, wind from the passing club ruffling my ears. The moment I regain my footing Alcmene swings again and I am forced to backpedal to avoid the strike. “Alci, please listen to me!”
“I am done talking!” 
Two more swings come my way. Too fast to dodge, so I use my trident to deflect them. Each blow sends a shockwave of force up the trident, rattling my arms and numbing my grip. Sweat builds on my brow as I desperately try to fend her blows off. 
“Solomon!” Remus starts forward.
“Stay back!” I scream at him as another blow slams into my trident. Damn those strikes are strong! Can barely feel my arms at this point. “Get out of here! Head to the Feast!”
Alcmene pulls back and glances at Remus as if she just remembered his existence. I curse. He could ruin everything! What if she attacks him again? 
“Solomon, I don’t think I should—”
“Get out of here now, damn it!”
Remus hesitates for one more moment than nods and turns to run. I watch him as he crosses the bridge and throws one last look at me before continuing onwards. I watch until he disappears from sight. 
Then turn just in time to deflect another of Alci’s strikes. 
“Fight back!” She screams as she swings again and again. She rains blow after blow at me, barely pausing between each attack. “Fight back, you coward!”
She won’t listen to me while she’s in this rage. She’s venting every single emotion she’s kept pent up over the years. Every hardship and ounce of misery is reflected onto me. I deserve it. I deserve all the hatred and pain. I am a murderer. A cowardly fool who was duped by a truly evil man. 
But I refuse to let her kill me. 
Alcmene steps forward, launching into another attack, and I see my opportunity. The floor beneath us is slick with water from the geysers around the kiddie pool, and she’s overextended herself. One of the very first lessons they taught me in the Academy was to focus on my footwork. An unsteady combatant is a dead combatant. 
Alcmene hasn’t taken that lesson to heart.
I duck her swing and lash out with the handle of my trident, slamming the end into her left calf, sweeping her feet out from beneath her. She only has time to gasp in shock before falling straight onto her back. She hits the ground hard, club bouncing out of her grasp and rolling away as she takes in a gasping breath. 
I thrust my trident forward, the barbed tines hovering an inch over her throat. 
“Do it.” There’s no fear in her grey eyes. No anger or hatred. No anything. Just a vast blankness devoid of any emotion. “Kill me like you killed the rest of our family.”
”No.”
I pull the trident away and back off. A tremor make its way through my body. Chest tightens. Hard to breathe. It’s the moment of truth. I look down at my trident then toss it aside and hold my arms out stretched wide. 
“I won’t kill you.”
Alcmene pulls herself into a sitting position and stares at me with unblinking eyes. “You spared me back then,” She says softly. “And now you’re sparing me again.”
“I made a choice,” I tell her. “And now it’s time for you to make yours. You can either get up and kill me where I stand…or you can hear me out and learn why I killed our family. Why I became the Kin-Killer.”
Alcmene doesn’t respond. Just stares at me with those emotionless eyes. What is she thinking? Have I swayed her into hearing me out? Or have I simply dug my own grave? Does it even matter at this point? 
“The choice is yours, Alci. It’s time to choose.”
===Alcmene Eudia (District 1)===
Solomon stands over me, arms spread wide as he stares at me with those soulful grey eyes. Such familiar eyes. How many times did I see those eyes as a child? How many times did we play in the garden? I feel like crying. Like laughing. My big brother is back, but he’s a murderer who killed everyone I ever loved. 
Why?
The word resounds in my head. Echoes like I shouted it in a cavern. Why did Solomon commit the Tragedy? Why did he kill his own family? For years I have wondered this, debated it, and now the answer is standing right before me. 
I push myself to my feet and reach out to pick up my club. It lies only a few feet away. Solomon doesn’t so much as twitch as I heft it over my shoulder. The familiar weight brings me comfort. The Monster with the Club. My epithet from the Academy. Didn’t do me any good in my fight with Solomon. He could’ve killed me, would’ve except for…
Why?
I take a shaky breath. “Solomon I…I demand to know why you killed our family. Why you murdered them all in cold blood.”
There’s a flicker of emotion in his eyes. Regret? Sorrow? It’s too hard to tell. My brother has always been a good actor. “It’s a long story,” He finally speaks, voice soft and low. “And it begins with…with how Father wanted me to become a Peacekeeper and brought me to District 2 for training.”
That makes sense. Solomon was never the same after that. He was my beloved big brother before the trip, but after he returned…something happened to him in District 2. Something which changed him. 
“I never wanted to be a Peacekeeper,” Solomon continues. “I always resisted training and skipped out on my lessons. Father didn’t like that. He, with Claude and Marcus, heaped abuse and insults on me for it.”
“That’s your excuse?” I demand. “You killed our family because Father was demanding and our brothers were bullies?”
“No!” He shakes his head vehemently. “That wasn’t the reason. It’s just…information to help you process the whole story. Our family wasn’t without their sins.”
I stare at him silently. Sins? What can he speak of sins? The sins he has committed against our family far outweigh any that they have done. “Hurry up and continue, else I will kill you now!”
“It was in District 2 where I met Aamon,” Solomon ignores my threat. “At the time he seemed…friendly. A kind, thoughtful man who wished to assist me.”
“Aamon?” I do not recognize the name. 
Solomon falls silent. There is a far off look in his eyes, as if his mind is somewhere else. “Aamon is…he was the mastermind behind the Tragedy.”
I stiffen. Mastermind of the Tragedy? Someone beyond Solomon was involved? But of course. There had to be some kind of assistance behind Solomon. How else could he have pulled such a well-planned scheme? 
“Aamon was your friend?”
“No. He was…” He trails off and stares at his hands. “Aamon was very charismatic. A master manipulator who knew how to work his way into people’s good graces. He gaslit me into thinking he was on my side, but…”
I can tell where this story is headed. What Solomon will say. Aamon was evil, abusive. He manipulated him into thinking that his family were criminals and had Solomon kill them. Such a neat little explanation that will cleanse his hands of any wrongdoing or blame. 
“Aamon abused me in every way possible,” Solomon continues, proving my thoughts correct. “Physically, mentally, sexually, he did it all. I…wasn’t in the right frame of mind. My thoughts against our family were out of sorts and he used that to manipulate me. He wanted to gets his hand on our family fortune.”
Father’s voice rages inside my head, telling me to kill Solomon, but I ignore it. I’ve been getting better at that. “So you never truly sought to kill us all,” I say quietly. There’s still many questions here. Too many left unanswered.
“I…no. I didn’t want to do it but I felt trapped. Like I had no other option. But I am aware that is no excuse. There are no excuses for my actions.” 
“Then why the act?” This has been troubling me ever since he claimed to be resentful. “Why play up being a villain during the Reaping? The interviews? Why not come clean?”
He looks at his feet. For the first time since I attacked he actually looks embarrassed. Almost like my brother from all those years ago. “I needed a reason for the Capitol to keep me alive. Being the villain…it was the only thing I could think of.”
Solomon killed our family because Aamon, an evil man he met in District 2, wanted to get his hands on our family‘s fortune. It makes a twisted sort of sense, and yet… “Why did you spare me?”
Solomon looks up and meets my gaze. There is no subterfuge in those familiar eyes of his. No sense of falsehood or lies. Just a calm, even gaze that speaks of regret and fear. “I…didn’t want him to get his hands on the fortune, so I needed to keep someone alive. You were always leaving home, so you were the easiest one to spare.”
”Bullshit.”
Solomon blinks in shock. “What?”
“If the only reason you spared me was to keep Aamon’s hands off the fortune, then why not spare Citria and Hyacinth too? Neither of them abused you like Father or Marcus and Claude. Why did they have to die?”
For a moment Solomon doesn’t speak. Just stares at me with disbelieving eyes. “I…neither of them would have been old enough to inherit the fortune for years to come. Aamon could’ve tried to take it again—”
“That’s flimsy reasoning and you know it!” His refusal to face the truth while ostensibly revealing everything is infuriating! “You just couldn’t bring yourself to kill me, could you?” Any of my siblings would have worked as a safeguard against Aamon. It didn’t have to be me. The reason I was spared is the same reason why I took so long to seek out Solomon in the arena. Why I put less than full effort into our fight just now. 
Solomon couldn’t bring himself to kill me, just as I can’t bring myself to kill him.
I stare at Solomon, at my brother, and find it odd how I’d built him up as some sort of bogeyman all the years. Now that I’ve seen him up close, face to face, he isn’t fearsome or deadly in the slightest. No, he does not look like a deranged killer. 
He looks like a broken, pitiful man.
“What happened to Aamon? Is he dead?”
“No…” Solomon stares off into the distance, mind seemingly elsewhere. “I turned against him after the Tragedy and wounded him, but he managed to survive.”
Turned against him after the Tragedy. After he killed our entire family. How brave and heroic. “So he’s still alive.”
“Yes.”
That brings my rage boiling back to the surface. The man who orchestrated my family’s murder is still alive? Before, when I thought Solomon was solely responsible, I at least had solace in the fact he would undoubtedly die in the arena. But now I find out the true mastermind is still alive and breathing…
“I fled the District after I turned on Aamon,” Solomon is still speaking for some reason. “I wound up in District 4 where—”
“I don’t care.” 
Solomon blinks. “I was only trying to explain how—”
“I don’t care. You’re not the victim here, Solomon. Our family was. I am. Do you have any idea what happened to me after the Tragedy? What I had to endure? Do you even know that I’ve killed more people outside the arena than inside it?”
From the look on his face I can tell that he didn’t. I find myself laughing even though this situation is anything but funny. “It was such a cruel act to spare me, Solomon,” I tell him. “It would have been kinder to let me die. Then I wouldn’t have suffered so much.”
The anguish on his face is almost a match for the heartbreak and sorrow I’ve felt this past four years. Almost. Deep down inside I’ve always known Solomon wasn’t the maniac he claimed to me, it’s why I denied his involvement in the Tragedy for so long. My big brother wasn’t an unhinged maniac. 
He was simply a broken boy who was easily fooled.
“So this was your plan all along?” I lift my arms and gesture at the park which surrounds us. “To volunteer for the Games so you could confront me in the arena? To explain your actions? What then? Die here? Only one person comes out alive.”
“Not necessarily.” Solomon steps forward and I watch him warily. Is this some sort of trap? Is it possible he has been faking his remorse all along? Solomon pauses right in front of me. His grey eyes, so much like mine own, stare out with excitement. When he speaks, his voice is a whisper. “There’s another possibility here, Alci. One that has us both escape this arena alive.”
What the hell is he talking about? I don’t see any way for him and me to leave this arena unscathed. That’s not how these Games…
My thoughts die as I spot the figure crossing the bridge behind Solomon. Seeing my dismay, my brother spins around and we both watch as the massive statue descends the final few steps and arrives on the island. 
Mr. Schindler has come.
“Damn it!” Solomon lets out a litany of curses as he backs off from the statue, unslinging his crossbow. “I feared this might happen, but I didn’t think it would be so soon!” 
Everything clicks into place. “The Gamemakers sent it to kill you,” I say quietly. They would never allow the Kin-Killer to leave this arena alive. It’s why I so doubted Solomon’s proclamation that we could both survive.
He nods grimly. “Yes. They want me dead. I knew that going in, of course, but I hadn’t expected them to try so early. Why did…”
The statue continues to approach at a casual, almost leisurely pace. It seems to be in no hurry to reach us. The thing is made of solid stone. Fighting it will be hard, if not impossible. Solomon turns and gives me a grim nod. “Alci, you should run. This thing is only after me. If you go, it’ll leave you alone.”
“Like hell I will!” I didn’t go through all this effort to find Solomon just for a ten minute conversation! “I’m not going to let you martyr yourself and die like a hero!”
The statue, Schindler, pauses on the edge of the beach. Its eyes rotate in their stone sockets as they take me and my brother in. If Solomon fights this thing on his own he will die. But if I stay with him…
“We’re going to kill this thing!” I adjust my grip on the spiked club and step forward. Solomon gapes at me. “And once it’s dead, you’re going to finish your story and explain everything.” Solomon still has to repay his sins. Dying would be letting him off easy. He needs to go live and spend each and every day of his life repenting for his horrid actions. 
Solomon nods. I think I see the briefest flicker of a smile on his lips before he turns to face down the statue. “Very well, then. We’ll destroy this statue. Together.”
For the first time in what feels like forever, I smile. “That’s right. Together.”
===Solomon Eudia (District 13)===
Alci places herself beside me as we both face down the statue as it casually approaches us. My reconciliation with Alcmene had gone better than I could have hoped. She didn’t forgive me—nor should she have—yet she was willing to hear me out. To listen to my story and draw her own conclusions. I don’t truly know what she thinks about any of it, but she isn’t trying to kill me anymore.
That has to be a good thing.
But that statue is not.
It stands almost seven feet tall, with broad stone arms and thick legs. Its head is sculpted to look like a balding man with a long nose and a pair of glasses—so it’s not a depiction of someone I’ve seen before. But its appearance aside, its arrival carries an obvious meaning—The Gamemakers want me dead.
But why choose now to strike? Right when my reconciliation with Alcmene seemed imminent? What has changed? Is it, perhaps, because of the reconciliation? Roscoe was only protecting me because he thought I was the Kin-Killer and, upon my Victory, planned to “reveal” that my family was secretly plotting the downfall of the Capitol. Letting it be known that I am not evil and in fact regret the Tragedy…did that cause Roscoe to withdraw his protection?
The statue hovers in place, not moving at all as Alci and I stare it down. Should I have spoken quieter? Tried to hide what I was saying from the cameras? No. That wouldn’t have worked. Roscoe would have still seen me place my trident against Alcmene’s throat and refuse to kill her. That alone would have thrown too many red flags to ignore. 
This confrontation was unavoidable.
The statue, Schindler, takes another step. I react instantly, finger pressing the button and sending an arrow hurtling from my crossbow. It hits Schindler directly in the face, snapping on impact and falling harmlessly to the side. I frantically fire off two more arrows to the same result and curse, tossing my crossbow aside. 
“It’s too strong for most of our weapons,” Alci says quietly. There is no fear in her eyes. Just a calm resolve. I still do not know why she’s chosen to stay by my side instead of running, but her decision has filled me with hope. Maybe our relationship can still be mended.
Assuming this statue doesn’t kill us first.
“We need to think outside the box here.” I scan the statue for seams or cracks, anything that would serve as a possible weak point, but I don’t see anything. The entire statue seems to be made of solid stone. How am I supposed to kill stone? 
“It’ll break if we hit it hard enough,” Alci says, hefting her club. For the first time I stop and really pay attention to her club. Its size and weight. The spikes embedded in it. That club is probably the best damn weapon we could have against a living statue!
“Be careful,” I warn as Schindler continues to draw closer, seemingly unconcerned by our actions. “We don’t know how fast it is.”
For a moment I consider injecting both myself and Alci with the poison in my pocket and just faking our deaths, but I toss that idea aside when I realize that even if we faked it successfully, that statue might just come over and stomp on us anyway. No. The escape plan will have to wait until it is defeated. 
“Watch my back!” I dart forward and circle around Schindler. He takes his gaze off Alci, following me as I wind up behind him, near the edge of the kiddie pool.
There’s no obvious weak point, no clear sign as to where I should attack, so I follow my best judgment and go for the eyes.
My trident slams into the statue’s face, throwing up dust as it chips off the side. Schindler makes no reaction as I pull my trident back for another strike. Despite hitting his eyes straight on, it seems to have done nothing to slow the thing down. 
Schindler goes on the offensive. 
He swings an arm my way and I dodge underneath it, rising for an attack of my own, but his left hand thrusts out and slams into my chest. I fly backwards and bounce off the artificial tree which stands in the center of the island. Ignoring the flaring pain in my back, I push myself up and see Schindler bearing down on me, moving much faster than before.
“Solomon!”
Alci darts forward and swings her club straight into Schindler’s chest. The massive statue stumbles back and I look for a crack or fracture, any sign that the hefty club dealt some actual damage. 
There’s nothing. 
“You okay?” Alci helps me to my feet.
“Yeah.” My back is throbbing with pain, but it’s nothing serious. “But we’ll need a plan to deal with this thing. It’s even stronger than I thought.”
“We just have to keep hitting it!” Alci turns and charges Schindler. Ducking underneath his swing, she pops up behind him and slams her club into his shoulder. The statue doesn’t so much as stumble before whipping around and swinging an errant arm at my sister. 
This isn’t working. At this rate we’ll either tire ourselves out or Schindler will finally land a blow on one of us. We need a new plan. Something that will slow the statue down. Lure it into the water? It’s so heavy that I doubt it can swim. 
Schindler swings an arm for Alci and she matches the blow with her club. The impact sends chips of stone careening outwards. One sprays past my face, slicing against my cheek. I press a hand against the wound and feel the blood when it finally hits me.
The joints!
“Alci, aim for the joints!” 
My sister nods, backing off from Schindler as he unleashes a barrage of swings in her direction. The joints will be the weakest part of the statue. If we hit them with enough force we should be able to slow him down, if not outright hack it off. 
I spring back into the action, swinging my trident at Schindler in more of an effort to distract him than anything else. Alci’s club is the real star here. Without that I doubt we could even scratch the stone. 
Schindler spins to face me down, right arm raised for a strike, when Alci slams her club into his left arm’s elbow. 
Chips of stone and dust fly into the air as the statue pulls its arm back. I almost shout with joy when I see it. A crack! A long, narrow crack has appeared in the statues arm, running from the elbow down to the wrist. 
I leap forward and stick the tines of my trident straight into that fissure. Schindler makes an odd grating sound—a cry of pain?—and steps back. I keep up the attack, pushing the trident in further, when Schindler suddenly raises his right arm and slams it down onto my trident. 
The metallic weapon snaps. I back away, eyes wide as I stare at one half of the trident in my hands. Such strength! I hadn’t expected—
Schindler rips the other half of the trident out of his arm and tosses it into the lazy river. He focuses his stone gaze on me and swings his arm. There is no time to dodge.
Solid stone slams into my side, throwing me to the ground. My shoulder screams in pain as I roll across the beach, coming to a stop at the edge of the water. I use one arm to push myself into a kneeling position. The other hangs limply at my side. My eyes water as I prod at it. Feels dislocated. Not good. 
Schindler does not take advantage of my incapacitation, choosing to strike at Alci instead. Fear and panic fill me as I watch them fight. It looks more like a dance, with Alcmene frantically dodging those quick, heavy blows of Schindler’s. Alci shouldn’t eve be here. The Gamemakers didn’t send Schindler after her. She’s only in danger because of me. If she dies…then I will have killed my own sister. 
I get to my feet, doing my best to ignore the pain, and use my good arm to draw a knife from my belt. It’s such a small, feeble thing compared to that statue, but it’s the only weapon I have left. 
Alcmene smashes Schindler across the face as I start forward. He falls back, seemingly stunned, and that’s when I see it. A wide crack spreading across his forehead.
A weak point. 
I can’t let Alcmene die. I haven’t come this far, suffered so much, just to lose her to some stupid hunk of stone. I will defeat Schindler. I will fake our deaths. And we will escape this arena. 
Schindler spins to face me. His stone expression doesn’t so much as twitch, yet it still somehow conveys a look of disappointment. He comes at me swinging and I duck back towards the artificial tree, dancing out of reach. When his massive fist shoots out I step aside at the last moment. 
His stone hand slams into the tree, becoming stuck in place. 
And then Alci smashes her spiked club into his extended elbow.
The arm snaps in half with a piercing crack! Schindler stumbles back, holding his broken forearm high in the air. His stone face somehow contorts itself into an expression of shock as he falls to one knee. The other half of his arm is still dangling loosely from where it got stuck in the tree.
I see my opportunity. If I can work my knife into that crack in his head, I can kill him. That has to be his weakness. I charge forward with a battle cry.
Schindler swings his remaining arm with a sudden acceleration. Solid stone slams into my lower back, flinging me aside. There’s a spike of agonizing pain and then nothing at all. I come to a rolling stop and find it difficult to breathe. Dust swirls in the air above me. Bright lights shine down from overhead. I try to move and find that I cannot. My left arm is writhing in pain while I can’t feel the lower half of my body at all. 
Fear threatens to suffocate me. I try wiggling my toes and feel nothing. No movement. No sensation. My legs won’t respond either. What happened? Did that blow to my back…I can’t even finish the thought. If my legs have been paralyzed then everything is over. There will be no escape. No reunion with Alci.
We will both die here.
I can still hear the sound of combat, Alci’s grunts and the smack of her club against stone, but I can only see the ceiling. Pain wracks my shoulder but my lower half is empty. I try using my one good arm to push myself up but can’t manage to get more than a few inches. 
A shadow looms over me. 
Schindler’s stone face stares down at me. The wide crack in his forehead taunts me. The stern expression on his face promises pain. He begins to lift his foot.
“Leave my brother alone!”
Alcmene’s club slams into his face, the spike driven straight into his forehead. Schindler reels backwards and Alci grins, grabbing her club and pulling it free.
Except it doesn’t come free.
The club is stuck. The spike embedded in Schindler’s head. Alci tugs on the handle and yet it doesn’t move. The grin slips from her face just as Schindler raises his remaining arm and punches her straight in the chest. 
Alci flies backwards. She slams into the artificial tree and drops to the ground beside me. I just have enough strength to turn my body and face her.
All hope inside me dies.
Her chest is completely caved in. Alci’s head lolls at an angle, blood dripping from her lips as grey eyes stare sightlessly forward. She doesn’t move. Not so much as a twitch. I open my mouth to scream but don’t have the strength.
No. No, no, no! This couldn’t have happened! This didn’t just happen! I put so much effort into this. All my years planning our reunion…and this is how it ends? No! 
“Wake up, Alci!” I reach out my right hand and grab my sister’s outstretched arm. “Please wake up! I need you. I need you!”
Movement overhead causes me to look up and watch as Schindler grips Alci’s club and pries it free from his face. He stares at it for a moment before tossing it aside. The crack in his forehead is still there. Larger than before, but still not slowing him in the least. 
Boom!
A cannon sounds somewhere outside and I die on the inside. That’s it, then. Alci is dead. My little sister has died. Been murdered. By a statue that was sent to kill me. Alcmene died because she couldn’t just leave me alone. Refused to let me face my fate. Alcmene died because of me.
I killed her. Just like the rest of our family.
Schindler’s chest begins to transform. The stone churns and shifts, rotating until it opens up into a square opening just below his neck. He reaches a hand into this cavity and pulls out a small black box. 
Have I gone delusional with grief? This doesn’t seem to make any sense. As I watch in confusion, Schindler drops the black box beside my head.
“Hello, Solomon.” A deep voice emanates from the box. One I recognize all too well.
“Roscoe Stryker.”
“I must say, Solomon, that I am quite disappointed in you. I never thought that you would betray me.”
“I am going to kill you!” This is the man who sent Schindler after me. Who killed Alci. The reason why I am dying. 
“Really, Solomon? Is this truly how you wish to spend your final moments? Issuing empty threats?”
“We had a deal!” I never intended to go through with his stupid proposal, nor did I ever bank on it helping me in the arena, but reminding him of this is the only thing I can think of to try and sway this situation out of the hellhole it has fallen into. 
“Yes, we had a deal. But then you reneged on it, making the deal null and void.”
”You’ll never become President without me!” There has to be someway out of this. Schindler still looms over me, a menacing shadow that has Alci’s blood on its hand. That sight dampens my spirit. What would even be the point of escaping without my sister?
“On the contrary, Solomon, I still have two very formidable Champions left,” Roscoe’s voice sounds amused. “Though I admit that you were my favorite and I dearly wished to use your story to my advantage, things here in the Capitol have become…messy. The last thing I need is to introduce someone as complicated as yourself and your family to the situation.”
If I die, then there will be no Eudia left. What’s to stop Aamon from trying to claim the fortune again? I can’t let him win. I can’t! “If you truly care about the massacre of my family, then you should know that the true culprit is still alive! Aamon will try and get his hands on—”
”You needn’t worry about your family’s fortune,” Roscoe says calmly. “With your death, the Eudia family will be left without an heir, and thus the Capitol will seize its assets and claim its wealth. This “Aamon” you speak of has no chance to take it.”
That does little to cheer me. So instead of Aamon taking our family fortune it will just be the Capitol itself. I try to move, to force my legs into action, but my body refuses to cooperate. Bitter tears begin to slide down my cheeks. Is this really how it ends? 
“Goodbye, Solomon.” Schindler bends down and picks the black box back up, holding it in an open palm. “Your usefulness to me has run out, so it is time for a departure. May you fare better in your next life.”
Schindler closes his fist and crushes the box. He grinds it until there’s nothing left but dust, then sprinkles that dust atop me. I stare helplessly at the stone behemoth. Despair has wrapped my heart in a vise. No hope. Everything has gone wrong, All because of me. 
“I’m sorry, Mother,” I force the words out through trembling lips. “I’m sorry Claude. Sorry Marcus. I’m sorry Citria and Hyacinth. And most of all…I’m sorry Alci.”
I know that these apologies won’t do anything. That it’s far too late to make up for what I did. But it’s all I have left. The only thing I can still do. 
“I am sorry…for everything.”
Schindler lifts his stone foot and then brings it down in one swift stomp.
===Briar Destry (District 10)===
The time is drawing near. The announcement declaring that the Feast is only a half hour away happened at least twenty-five minutes ago, meaning there is little more than five minutes left before this parking lot becomes steeped in blood. 
I feel cold. Sweat builds on my face and my limbs can’t stop trembling. Aiko keeps throwing me these strange looks. I think she is worried about me. She shouldn’t be. There’s much more important things to be worried about.
“W-we need to run for the bags the moment they’re placed,” I say. It’s hard to see most of the parking lot from our position inside the cornucopia. The other tributes could be hidden anywhere. “There’s no time to waste.”
“I understand, but…” Aiko stares at her feet. “Briar, are you okay? You don’t look too good.”
There’s a dull pain in my stomach. I can’t imagine its source. What’s happening to me? It’s hard to hold my axe still. “It’s just nerves, Aiko,” I lie with a smile. Can’t distract her. She needs to be razor focused for this moment. I’m no fighter, so if we get into conflict—which we will—Aiko will need to bail us out. “I’m perfectly f-fine.”
I feel sick. Nauseous. It’s hard to breathe. This feels like that time I caught an illness which swept through District 10, incapacitating a third of the population. I don’t understand. I felt fine this morning, so why am I so ill now? 
Aiko keeps glancing at me. Clearly she didn’t buy my lie. But there’s nothing to be done about it now. We couldn’t leave even if we wanted to. The other tributes are undoubtedly circled around the parking lot, waiting for the Feast to begin. If we tried to flee we’d be taken out within moments, especially since two cannons have already sounded today. The others aren’t holding back. 
“Attention tributes of the 333rd Hunger Games!” A loud voice booms in the sky, the same one from earlier. “The Feast is about to begin! Within a few seconds the tables will be lowered and you all shall be able to partake in the Feast!”
Finally. I shift my weight and peer over the edge of the crate, ignoring the pain which flashes through me as I move, and gaze out into the parking lot. The cars still sit arranged in that odd pattern and I can’t see any sign of the others. They must have hidden themselves well. 
“Hovercraft in the sky,” Aiko whispers.
She’s right. Two large hovercraft’s have appeared in the sky above the hotel across from us, swiftly approaching the parking lot. They will be what lowers the Feast tables, no doubt. I take a deep breath and find myself hoping that my legs won’t give out when I finally stand. 
“Attention Monty Moose!” Another voice sounds from the speakers positioned above the parking lot lampposts. 
“That’s Marina!” Aiko hisses. 
“The hotel staff would like to invite you to a wrestling contest taking place in the main parking lot! The last person left standing is the winner!”
The radio shuts off. “She’s trying to lure a mutt here,” I put together the situation in my head. If that mutt shows up while we’re all fighting…things will become even more deadly. 
“We’ll be long gone before it gets here,” Aiko says. I hope she’s right. 
Up above, the two hovercrafts have opened doors on their bottoms and begun to lower two tables down, using large cables to transport them. One table is laden with food and drinks, the same fancy kind they had back in the Capitol. But it’s the other table which draws my attention. Nine bags rest atop it, arranged in a neat little line that, judging by each bag’s color, is organized by District.
“District 1 and 13 are missing,” Aiko says quietly. 
That means…I have to fight through the cloud of confusion which fogs my mind to find the answer. The Kin-Killer and his sister are both dead. How did that happen? Did they kill each other? I don’t have time to wonder, because as soon as the tables touch the ground the cables disengage and begin to rise back into the sky. 
The Feast has begun.
“Aiko, let’s move!” 
I force myself up and into motion. The ground seemingly spins as my stomach lurches with pain. Nausea and dizziness threaten to trip me, but I fight through it and head straight for the table set before us. I nearly stumble into it, but catch myself at the last moment, hands grappling for the brown bag emblazoned with a white ‘10’. 
Aiko snatches up her own bag, throwing it over her shoulders before pulling four more bags into her grasp. “We’ll chuck these into the traps,” She tells me as she ties two of the bags together by their straps. “Then we get out of here as fast—”
“I know!” I cut her off as I grab the last few bags on the table. I am just aware enough to recognize them as the bags belonging to District 4, 5, and the Capitol. “No time for talking!”
Whatever this illness is, it’s not enough to completely incapacitate my thoughts. I’m not useless. In tremendous pain, yes, but not useless. 
We turn and run for the closest trap. It’s set near the first line of cars, just on the edge of the Launch Platforms. We’re about halfway there when Aiko screams a warning and I become aware of a car barreling straight towards us. 
At first I don’t react. Just stare at the approaching car in shock and dismay. But then I snap out of my stupor and throw myself aside at the last moment, barely cognizant of Aiko dodging to the opposite direction. I roll and get back to my feet only to stagger as a wave of nauseous pain washes over me. The car spins on the spot, wheels screeching as it turns, leaving behind skid marks as it follows Aiko. Whoever is in the car clearly knows she has their bag.
Part of me wants to drop everything and rush to Aiko’s aid. That’s what my heart is saying. But another part, my rational mind, knows that’s folly. Leaving behind these bags would ruin our entire plan. Better to throw them on the traps first, then help Aiko. 
Another spasm of pain overtakes me as I turn and toss the first bag—one colored orange for District 5—towards the nearby trap. Pain makes it hard to think. Difficult to move. I won’t even be a help for Aiko at this rate. Just a hindrance. I should rid myself of the last two bags and then run. Can hardly stand. What is—
Something slams into my side. One second I’m standing and the next I’m on the ground, rolling over the concrete as my mind desperately tries to make sense of the situation. I force climb to my knees and nearly puke. Everything hurts and my stomach feels like it’s in a vise. 
“No hard feelings, but I will be taking that bag from you!” 
A jovial voice which clashes with the violence and pain cuts through the air. Blinking my watery eyes, I watch as Mako comes to a stop, trident twirling in his dexterous hands.
The Careers, then. Death approaches. I am too sick and weak to put up much of a fight. Still, I won’t just give up. Tasha is counting on me!
I snatch up one of the bags and heave it straight at Mako’s head. He stumbles back with a curse before picking the bag up and throwing me a glare. “Wrong bag! I wanted mine, not the Capitol boys!”
Like I care. I edge backwards, using the last bag—his, incidentally—as a shield in front of me as I do so. For some reason a small voice in my head warns me not to go too far back, but my mind is too foggy to understand why. Besides, I need to focus all my attention on escaping. But how? Handing him his bag won’t work. He’s a Career and will kill me regardless. But then—
Mako darts forward with a growl, trident flashing for my face. Instinctively I move the bag to block it and Mako suddenly jerks aside, trident slashing through empty air. For a moment I don’t understand, but then I realize that he’s trying to protect the bag. He doesn’t want to risk breaking whatever is inside. I can use that against him. How? 
Mako reacts before I can even think of a possibility. He steps forward, grabs the bag with his left hand, and rips it free from my grasp. I can only stand and gape before he slams the end of his trident into my face.
An explosion of light. Pain. I stumble back and hear a soft click as my foot steps on the pressure plate Faren left behind last night. Dozens of nails launch outwards in a cone shaped radius, digging into my legs and back. Immense pain floods me as I collapse with a scream. Even Mako shies back as some of the nails pierce his arms.
Can’t think. My legs are wet with blood as I crawl along the concrete, body aching with pain. There’s a whirlwind of movement above me. Mako is fighting someone else. It’s hard to see, but I think it might be the Capitol boy. Not surprising. He would have wanted his own bag. 
I’ve lost everything. This realization crashes down upon me as I pull myself towards the District 5 Feast bag. My allies, my friends, even my own life. Everything has been ripped away from me. Poor Tasha. She’ll never be able to spend another day with her big sister. 
No. There’s still hope. This isn’t over. I continue to inch closer to the bag, ignoring the pain which wracks my entire body. Black dots begin to encroach on my vision. I was dying even before that trap went off. How? The food from our sponsors? No. That doesn’t make any sense. Besides, the why doesn’t matter. Not if I don’t reach that bag. 
Feast bags always have important items inside. Sometimes even medical supplies. Perhaps something that can fix me. District 5 means it belongs to either Faren or Opal. Faren would probably have something technological, but Opal might have something helpful. 
My hands grip the bag. Pull it towards me and slowly unzip it. My body trembles with each movement. Not much time left. I peer into it.
A small vial with a hypodermic needle rests inside. 
Instant Relief. 
For a moment I just stare at the vial, unable to comprehend my good fortune. Instant Relief can heal anything! Without knowing the science behind it, the thing is basically magic. Numerous times I have seen people in the Games brought back from the brink of death by this item. 
And now it’s mine!
I reach a trembling hand into the bag and carefully pull the vial out, placing the needle tip first against my chest. I’ll need an immediate injection. Anything else and I am liable to die. I can still feel the blood dripping down my back and legs. Faren’s trap struck me hard. 
I inject myself with the Instant Relief.
At first there’s nothing. Then a cold wave washes over me, chilling me to the bone. Suddenly my muscles begin to spasm, gradually at first but slowly spreading. My throat closes up and I find myself unable to breathe. It feels like a massive hand has closed over my face, choking me and driving out all the air. This isn’t what Instant Relief does. It’s not meant to be like this!
Blackness creeps in on my vision and my body finally loses all strength as I sink to the ground, Tasha’s face flashing in my mind.
===Remus Ring (The Capitol)===
Mako and I dance along the parking lot, our whirling weapons creating a symphony of noise as they smash into each other, neither one of us gaining ground on the other.
He’s skilled. A true fighter who knows what his strengths are and how to use them to his advantage. I can’t just blindly swing away and expect to beat him. No. Mako has been trained too well for that. 
Mako slaps away my thrust and responds with a sweeping attack that I am forced to sidestep. Sweat builds on my head as I continue to expend energy dodging his blows. I would have preferred to remain out of any conflict, but that proved impossible. 
A rainbow colored bag, the one supplied to me at the Feast, dangles from Mako’s left shoulder as we fight. The Feast began almost the moment I arrived at the cornucopia, so I had no time to stop and take gauge of the situation. Two tributes—Briar and Aiko, I think—rushed out of the cornucopia and grabbed all the bags the moment they appeared, including mine. I was forced to run after them, lest I lose my bag. Yet before I even got started a car made an appearance, zooming across the parking lot and cutting them off. 
That’s when Mako came. Taking advantage of the distraction caused by the car, he approached Briar from behind and knocked her to the ground. Briar still had my bag. I couldn’t just sit back and wait for Mako to claim it as his own, so I was forced into action. 
That’s how I found myself in this fight.
Mako’s trident flashes towards my face, razor sharp tines glinting in the light. I use my staff to slap it away, then dance to the side as Mako pulls back. This is the first time in the arena I’ve fought someone who has a longer reach than I do. So far I’ve been taller and rangier than every opponent, but that isn’t the case here. Mako is not only taller than I am, but his trident’s reach is approximately equal to my staff’s. For the first time since I entered the Games I cannot just rely on my superior range.
A grim smile works its way across my face. So be it. I’ve spent many long hard hours in the fighting arena back home. I know how to fight opponents who match up well against me. Yet that is not my only worry. What if someone attacks me from behind whilst I’m distracted? That is always a genuine concern when you’re alone, especially at the Feast. 
I need to end this battle quickly.
Feinting a thrust, I quickly transition my blow into a swing, aiming it at Mako’s lower half. His trident is too high to block and he steps back with a elicitation of pain as my staff strikes him in the thigh. 
You can’t fight if you can’t stand. I don’t care how strong Mako is, too many blows to the legs like that will incapacitate him before long. 
Boom!
A cannon goes off. I keep my gaze on Mako, not letting it distract me, but he doesn’t do the same. Mako’s eyes flit to the side, where Briar lies motionless. I take advantage of this opportunity.
My staff snaps forward and smashes into Mako’s left leg. He pulls back with a curse, but as he does so the bag on his shoulder slips and falls to the ground. 
My eyes widen. That’s mine!
We both move at the same time. Mako darts to the side as I stick my staff out, looping it underneath the bag’s straps and pulling it towards myself. Once I have it, I spin to face Mako. 
He’s rising from Briar’s body, a light blue bag clutched tight in hand. So he wasn’t distracted by Briar’s death after all. 
“Looks like we both got what we wanted!” He proffers the bag at me. “So how about we call this a draw and head our separate ways, yeah?”
That would be my preferred route, but I don’t know how much I can trust Mako. What’s stopping him from stabbing me in the back?
“No response?” Mako frowns. “What? You want to kill me that badly?”
I need to get back to Solomon. That cannon has reminded me of the two which had gone off prior to the Feast’s start. Initially I’d worried that Solomon was slain by his sister, but both cannons sounded in such close proximity that it made me think of an even worse possibility. What if Solomon enacted his plan and faked his and Alcmene’s death? What if he’s abandoned me in the arena? I realize that he owes me nothing, that he has his own goals and aspirations, but I still feel an uncomfortable twist in my stomach. Is this why he sent me to the Feast on my own?
“Look, buddy, I don’t know what—” Mako has been speaking this entire time but now he cuts off with a gasp. His eyes widen as he stares at something behind me. My instincts are to turn and follow his gaze, but I squash that impulse immediately. This could all be some kind of trick to get my guard down. I cannot allow him to—
“Hello, friend! Are you here for the wrestling contest too?”
I freeze. That voice…
Aware that turning my back on Mako might be a fatal mistake, I slowly sidestep until the speaker comes into view. An all too familiar form stares back at me.
Monty Moose.
I haven’t seen him since yesterday, when we were all caught in that fire which raged through the hotel. I’d hoped that would’ve been the end of him, but evidently that was not the case. Though that’s not to say the fire had no impact on him. It has. His bristly dark fur is shorter than before, completely burnt away in some swathes, with angry red skin poking through. His clothes, once so bright and perky, are now nothing more than tattered rags, and that silly little propeller hat he always wore is missing entirely. 
“Wrestling contest…?” I stare at him with a mix of shock and dismay. What is he talking…oh. That announcement from earlier springs to mind. Marina had summoned Monty to the Feast!
“Monty hope you ready for this!” The moose begins stretching his arms, a lopsided grin spread across his broad face. “Because Monty is very good at wrestling!”
I begin to protest against my having any involvement in this “wrestling contest” when I spot movement behind Monty and trail off. It’s not a tribute, or even another mutt. No. It’s something far more mundane. 
A car.
It isn’t like the car which chased Aiko. It’s not moving fast, nor does it even have any tribute inside. The car is gently rolling forward, slowly but surely getting closer with every second. Yet the car itself isn’t what has drawn my fear. 
That’s the line of gasoline extending away from it.
The trail leads all the way back to the edge of the parking lot, near the Klondike region. It’s there, standing at the end of the trail, where I spot Opal.
And she’s holding a lit match. 
“Monty, behind you!” I scream the warning just as Opal drops the match. The gasoline comes alive with flames, the fire frantically racing down the line within moments. Monty begins the process of turning around just as the flames reach the car.
And then the explosion happens.
I am thrown backwards. Head hits the ground hard enough that I think I black out. When I come to all I can see is the flaming wreckage which lies around me. My ears are filled with a piercing ringing. Smoke billows in the air, reaching towards the sky. Trembling arms push me back to my feet, wherein I look down and spot the backpack which I’d unthinkingly held out in front of me just as the blast occurred.
It is pierced with over a dozen pieces of shrapnel. 
I let out a long breath as I pick it up. Whatever is inside that bag is sturdy enough to have prevented the shrapnel from reaching through and impaling me. I fling the bag around my shoulder and stumble through the wreckage until I find my staff which has, remarkably enough, survived the blast almost entirely unscathed. Then I turn and survey Monty.
Or at least what’s left of him.
A massive pile of flaming metal lies where he once stood. It almost seems as if the entire car had imploded on him. Flames flicker and pop as they burn amongst the pile of metal scrap. It is hard to see through the smoke and sparks, but I can just make out a single antler as it pokes through the rubble. 
“Rest in Peace, Monty,” I mutter as I back away from the debris. Though he may have been a rampaging mutt, he did save my life by killing Mercia. That has to count for something.
Mako is nowhere to be seen as I retreat from the cornucopia. Likely he fled when Monty first arrived, but I suppose there’s an outside chance that the explosion killed him. Ears still ringing, I stagger towards the nearest form of shelter, which is the ruined shell of the Klondike building. It feels like forever ago when Solomon and I ran through here, chased by a pack of ravenous mutts. 
I don’t get very far into the rubble before pulling to a stop, ducking behind a still stable pillar and dropping to the floor. The ringing in my ears has only just begun to fade, and the adrenaline from the fight has worn off. Tiredness makes its way through my body.
My eyes are about to slide shut when a terrible thought strikes me.
Briar and Aiko were both at the Feast. Chrome and Faren showed up in their car. Mako fought with me, and Opal set that explosive trap. Marina lured Monty to the parking lot, and it’s not too difficult to imagine Notcher is still with her. Including myself that’s nine out of the eleven tributes accounted for. If all of us were alive at the beginning of the Feast, then there’s only two people those earlier cannons could have belonged to.
Solomon and Alcmene.
I stare up at the blue sky which peeks through the ruined roof of the hotel. Wispy white clouds float lazily across it. Solomon is either dead or has faked his death. Either way, he is out of this arena. I am alone.
I feel empty. It is hard to feel for Solomon’s loss when I don’t know whether he is dead or has just left me behind, so there is no sorrow. No fear. Just emptiness.
The only thing I know for certain is that I am now completely and utterly alone.
===Faren Gomery (District 5)===
The car speeds across the parking lot, barreling through the empty parking spaces as I steer it towards Briar and Aiko as the two make their way down the street with an armful of bags.
My stomach twists at the sight. Of course it had to be the two of them. Of every tribute possible it had to be the two who have the biggest grudge against us. The two who were so keen to kill us yesterday. The two who won’t hesitate to kill us today. 
“What’s the plan?” Chrome sits shotgun, his hands curled around the spear in his lap. He looks eager for things to get started. I don’t understand that. 
Our car continues to speed ahead. My thoughts match that speed. Briar and Aiko are taking all of the bags—why? Surely they know that will only bring everyone down upon them. They would’ve been able to get away unscathed if they only took their own, so why make themselves targets? What’s their angle?
No matter how fast the two run, they cannot outpace a car. We close the gap between us at a rapid pace. Only now do they become aware of our presence. Aiko looks up and gives a shout before scattering to the side. 
Briar doesn’t move. Just sits there in the open staring at us with wide, disbelieving eyes. What is she doing? Is she trying to get herself killed? Chrome begins to hoot and holler as we draw closer. I can’t help but think of how messy a death this could be.
But no. Briar snaps out of her stupor and jumps aside at the last moment. Our car thumps as it hits a curb, then I frantically turn the steering wheel, tires squealing as I force it back around. 
“Which one has our bags?” I ask Chrome as I get the car back under control. Aiko and Briar have gone separate ways. We can’t follow both.
“Aiko has ‘em!” 
I hit the throttle and the car lurches forward after the little girl. She pauses and turns, a small object glittering in her hand. A moment later something slams into our windshield, cracking the glass.
”Bitch threw a shuriken at us!” Chrome shouts as Aiko dances to the side, our car heading pass her.
I don’t answer, too busy with turning the car back around. This won’t work. She’s too agile, and our vehicle can’t pick up enough speed in such a closed in area. If we want to get our bags we’ll have to…
“I’m going to stop the car,” I say as I finally turn it around. Aiko unleashes another shuriken, this time striking the side mirror. 
“Are you crazy?” Chrome shakes his head. “Just run her over!”
“I can’t!” There’s not enough room to maneuver the car. She’ll easily dodge us. “We just h-have to fight her on f-foot.” 
I don’t want to. There’s hardly anything I’d want to do less than confront someone like Aiko head-on. But what else can I do? Just sit back and let her escape with our bags? I can’t afford that. Joule can’t afford that. 
Chrome growls and shakes his head once more. “Fine! Just pull over and let me gut the little bitch!”
He is more aggressive than usual. The stress and fear must be getting to him. I know that it’s getting to me. I can hardly breathe. Still, I do as he says. Spinning it around one last time, I pull the car to a stop beside a surprised Aiko. “I’ll keep it running,” I tell Chrome as he swings his door open, nearly striking Aiko with it. 
He doesn’t respond. Just throws himself out the door and starts swinging his spear. Aiko dodges it like she’s made of liquid, swerving around the tip and stepping to the side. I watch with dismay. Chrome is no match for her. He’ll die if left on his own, and where would that put me? 
Keeping the car running—I don’t know when I’ll need to make a quick escape—I throw open the door and stumble outside. Aiko is dodging Chrome’s blows with ease when I shout her name. “Aiko!”
Her head whips around to glare at me. “Faren! Come to kill the rest of your friends?”
My mouth opens and closes with no response. What she says has some merit, but that’s not the full story. My actions resulted in the death of Damian and Talia, but it’s not as if Aiko wasn’t complicit in behavior just as heinous. Briar and her plotted our deaths!
“Shut up, you sanctimonious bitch!” Chrome backs off, panting hard. “It’s not as if you ain’t killed no one!”
Aiko’s eyes flash with fury. “I didn’t kill a friend!” Her gaze turns back to me. “What would Joule think, Faren? Does she condone your actions?”
My breath catches. Everything I have done, every action I’ve taken, has been for the sole effort of saving Joule. Yet I never stopped to consider what she’d think about it. Does she support any of this? What if she doesn’t? Suddenly I am terrified that all I’ve done is push Joule away. What if I return to District 5 and she doesn’t care? If she hates me for all the awful things I’ve done? Could I bear that?
No.
No, I can’t believe that. Joule wouldn’t do that. No matter what happens, I can’t stop believing in Joule. “D-Damian wasn’t so g-good,” I dig a hand into my pocket, fishing around for the recorder. “He and Briar planned to k-kill me and Chrome.”
Aiko doesn’t respond, just backs up and flicks a pair of shurikens into her hands. Probably thinks I am about to pull out a weapon. Well, I am. It’s just not a physical one. “Listen to this!” I take the recorder out and toss it on the ground as Briar and Damian’s voices begin to play. 
“How…What is that?” Aiko cocks her head to the side as she watches the recorder. Only now do I remember she probably has no idea what it even is. 
“It’s proof.” My voice cracks as the recording continues. I feel tears build up in my eyes. I’d truly thought that they were my friends. Never did I think they’d betray me like this. 
Aiko stays silent as the audio continues to play. Has she begun to rethink her actions? Realized that Chrome and I are in the right? Maybe she’ll give us our bags and just let us go. 
Aiko raises her arm…and throws a shuriken.
Instinctively I raise my hand up and that’s all what saves me. The small metal star digs into my forearm and I recoil with a scream as a wave of pain and shock course through me. With blurry eyes I watch as Aiko darts forward, dancing around Chrome’s strikes and closing the distance. I was wrong. Aiko isn’t repentant in the least. She still seeks our deaths. 
Aiko kicks out Chrome’s legs from beneath him and he collapses to the pavement. Aiko places a foot atop him, one hand procuring a knife from her belt with a flourish. She is going to kill him. There’s nothing I can do to stop it. 
An explosion rocks the parking lot. 
I’m thrown to the ground. Clear, sharp pain rips through my body as I come to a rolling stop. It’s hard to breathe. I stare at the sky for several long seconds, ears ringing with the screaming of sterocilia as I desperately try to regain my sense. When I finally do so, pushing myself onto my hands and knees, I take a look around the parking lot.
A flaming ball of metal wreckage lies on the other side of the cornucopia. I can’t quite tell what happened, but it looks like a car exploded. How? Why? I don’t have any time to wonder. Aiko is climbing to her feet, two knives gripped tightly in her hands. 
My hands fumble inside the pocket of my jacket as Chrome staggers to his own feet, a dazed expression across his face. He has no means of defending himself. Aiko will kill him, then me. 
Unless I stop her.
My hand tightens around the object of my search. The electric baton. The one I finished making yesterday. I never got around to showing it to the others. None of them know what it does. So, as Aiko takes aim at Chrome, I flick the baton on and feel a faint hum in the air as it charges with electricity. Joule is counting on me. 
I can’t die here.
I throw the baton. Though I put my full strength behind the throw, it sails through the air at a slow, almost lazy, pace. Aiko sees it coming and makes no effort to dodge. Why would she? As far as she knows it’s just a piece of plastic I chucked at her. So when it gets close enough Aiko simply turns and swats it away with her hand.
And lets out a scream of pain the moment her skin comes into contact with it. 
Aiko falls to the ground, convulsing as the electricity races through her body. Chrome pulls to a halt, blinking in surprise at the small girl as she screams with pain. “Grab the bags!” I yell and pull a dagger from my belt. My only weapon other than for the baton. That shock won’t have killed her. Aiko will get back up soon enough. 
Chrome reaches over and snatches both our bags. For some reason they have been tied together. He’s about to pull away when Aiko suddenly reaches out and grabs his ankles.
He falls to the ground with a shout. Aiko pulls herself up, face grim, muscles twitching. A knife has appeared in her hand. She means to use it. 
I am already moving. My body reacts on its own, primal instincts kicking in. Aiko has only begun to raise her knife when I slam into her. We hit the ground hard. Something wet coats my hand. Aiko is making an odd choking noise. Head ringing, eyes blurry, I look down and see that my dagger has gone straight into her throat. 
“Oh…” I scrabble to my feet and feel my heart leap into my throat. Aiko tries to do the same but stumbles to one knee, blood pouring out from the wound, streaming down her neck. “Oh.”
Aiko swings her knife at me. I don’t even think to dodge. The blade slashes across my face, digging into my left cheek. I recoil with a cry of pain as Aiko’s feet give out and she collapses to the pavement. Her dark eyes, burning with hatred, stare at me until the light behind them goes out and her body goes still. 
Boom!
A cannon pierces the air.
I remain very still. Blood slides down my cheek and drips onto my shoes. I feel like I’m going into shock. Can barely think. I killed her. I murdered Aiko. She was only twelve. Just a little girl. And I killed her.
“Good job, bro!” Chrome climbs to his feet and recollects both our bags before peering down at Aiko’s unmoving body. After a moment he gives it a savage kick.
I wince at the way Aiko’s head snaps back from the impact. 
Aiko was trying to kill me, yes, but she was still only a child. I didn’t want her dead. She was my ally once. Not a friend, but…she didn’t deserve to die. Joule…she always liked children. What will she think of this?
Chrome pries Aiko’s bag off her body and thrusts it into my chest. My hands close around it robotically. Still can’t believe this has happened. I killed somebody…
What have I become? 
“Bro, we ain’t got time for this!” Chrome grabs me by the shoulder and begins tow me away. “Anyone else could show up at any time!”
I think back to training. When I ate lunch with Briar, Aiko, Talia, and Damian. I remember the way they laughed. How they spoke about their hopes and aspirations. They’re all dead now. Because of me. Because of what I did. Why? Why did I…
Joule.
They all died for Joule’s sake. I reflect on this as Chrome continues to pull me away from the cornucopia and the still smoldering wreck. We don’t head back to our car. Chrome is taking us towards the New Frontier region. I am too numb to care. 
Joule. I can’t regret my actions. Not when they contribute to her safety. Had I not acted then Aiko would have killed me. She would have condemned Joule to death. She needed to die. So did Briar and Damian. So does the other tributes. So does Chrome. 
Everyone else must die so that Joule can live. 
===Marina Mattel (District 4)===
I observe the carnage of the cornucopia from the edge of the parking lot, behind the cover of a red pickup truck. In the distance two figures retreat. It’s hard to see any defining features from this far away, but the color of their jackets are orange and grey. District 5 and 11.
”Looks like Faren and Chrome survived,” Notcher mutters from my left. The scrawny boy is crouched low, his uninjured hand holding a pair of needles. 
“Looks like it,” I agree. True to his earlier prediction, we showed up at the cornucopia late. The tables have already been looted and some kind of flaming wreckage lies in the center of the clearing. There’s no sign of Monty, but at this point that’s probably a good thing. I wouldn’t have wanted to encounter him myself.
A hovercraft floats over the cornucopia, lazily collecting a pair of bodies. Notcher gives a satisfied grunt as the second one is picked up. “You recognize them?” I ask.
He nods. “Yup. It was Aiko.”
His District partner. Guess he didn’t like her. Suppose that’s not too uncommon. Mako and myself never really got along either. Thinking of, where has he gone off to? We haven’t see hide or hair of him, yet he undoubtedly attended the Feast. No way did someone as arrogant as Mako skip it. 
“Get ready,” I rise to my feet and twirl my trident in an overly flamboyant manner. “We’re about to head in.”
“Someone could still be hiding among the debris,” Notcher points out.
”No. Hovercraft’s don’t collect bodies with tributes nearby, remember? The cornucopia is clear.” Only question is whether our bags are still there. It’s all too possible that someone else ran off with them. 
The thought of that makes me growl in anger, drawing a curious glance from Notcher. I need that bag. How will I ever gain my vengeance without it?
”Come on, let’s go!” 
We approach the cornucopia at a slow, careful pace. Despite my eagerness to lay hands on the Feast bags, I am not about to blindly wander into someone’s trap. I haven’t been at the cornucopia in days. Who knows what the others have left behind?
We reach the tables without incident. Though the one laden with food is largely untouched beyond for a few pieces of shrapnel stuck in it, the other is completely empty. Not surprising. We could see that much from the edge of the parking lot. “Look around!” I instruct Notcher, cautiously gazing into the golden horn itself. “There might be something left behind.”
My words convey more confidence than I feel. Seems like someone has taken our bags. Who? Mako? Opal? It wasn’t Faren and Chrome. What about the Kin-Killer and his goon? They’re likely candidates for doing something like this. 
There’s nothing of interest near the horn, so I venture a little farther down. The smoldering wreckage of what seems to be a car lies not too far away. The wreckage itself seems oddly shifted and giant ash-covered hoof prints lead away from it. “Looks like Monty was here after all,” I murmur to myself. Well, good. I’d hate to think all our effort locating the radio was in vain. 
I continue to search. Another car—still in one piece and running—sits on the opposite end of the cornucopia. I can’t tell what happened, but the tire streaks on the pavement tell me that someone had been driving the thing. Tributes in cars? Worrisome. 
“Found it.” 
I spin at the sound of Notcher’s voice, trident flashing out, but relax when I see the thin boy picking his away across the debris towards me, a bag in each hand. 
“You brilliant bastard!” A wide smile spreads across my face. The bags are blue and olive. District 4 and 8. Our bags! 
Notcher grunts, tossing the blue bag down at my feet. I waste no time in picking it up. “Wasn’t so hard. They were lying beside some kind of contraption. Used a piece of rubble to trigger the trap.”
I raise an eyebrow. So someone had tossed our bags onto a trap, did they? Wonder who it was. “Find anything else?”
”No.”
I nod and unzip my bag, peering inside. I recognize the item stored within immediately. It’s the same exact thing provided to Alfyn Sapp at last years Feast. 
Body armor. 
Another smile crosses my face. Today has gone almost exactly according to plan. 
I can see the finish line. It’s so tantalizingly close. Soon vengeance will be mine. Tristan will pay and I will have justice. 
“Let’s get out of here before somebody else shows up,” I zip my bag back up and toss it over my shoulder. Notcher grunts and follows me as I lead the way back across the parking lot, carefully watching my step all the while. Wonder what was inside his bag? Considering the kind of guy he is, I doubt he’ll tell me. Well, that’s fine. I haven’t told him everything either.
I feel at my jacket pocket, where I have the note I wrote earlier today stored. My plan for the today isn’t over yet. There’s still one more thing left for me to do. 
===Missy Randos (Mentor)===
I sit quietly in the corner of the room, gently tapping a thumb against my thigh as I watch the televisions which line the walls. The Feast has just wrapped up, leaving several more dead children in its wake. Normally I would be planning my tributes next move, perhaps speaking with Sponsors, but today I am doing none of that.
Because the Red Hand of Ra is still here.
Despite the hours which have gone by, no one has come to free us hostages. I don’t think the Capitol even knows anything is wrong. Still, that can’t last forever. Eventually someone will realize that something is amiss and come to investigate. 
All I have to do is keep my head down and wait.
There are six members of the Red Hand present. Their leader sits in a large armchair set before the fireplace, legs crossed as he stares into the room with a smile. His dissonant serenity is unnerving. This little stunt of his is going to end with him dead or worse, yet he shows no sign of concern. 
But it’s not just him. All five of his cohorts seem equally as calm. Maybe their weaponry is giving them false assurance. Two stand on opposite ends of the room holding automatic rifles, while two more patrol along the center with handguns. The sixth carries no gun, instead opting for a wicked looking machete. 
I shiver at the sight of it. This weapon scares me more than any gun, because it’s a stark reminder of my time in the arena. I’d thought that my experience being threatened with bladed weapons was long behind me. 
The Red Hand’s calmness is a sharp contrast to the other mentors. Amaranth sits in the corner crying as Panama tries to reassure her. Mist paces back and forth down the length of the room, hands folded together as he mutters to himself. Soot and Charce are seated together at a table, seemingly arguing among themselves. Soot keeps gesturing at the Red Hand’s leader but Charce is shaking his head. I have no idea what that is about, but it is worrying indeed.
“Missy!”
I turn to see Watt approaching. The young woman seems distraught as she walks right up to me, fear in her wide green eyes.
“What’s wrong?” I am careful to keep my voice down, aware of the Red Hand guard who stands nearby. His gaze flicks towards us before turning away.
”It’s Austin!” Watt follows my example and looks towards the guard, who seems more interested in playing with the safety on his gun than paying attention to us. “He and some of the others are plotting to attack the Red Hand!”
Fear twists my stomach into a knot. Attack the Red Hand? That’s dangerously foolish! “The Hand have guns!” I hiss. “They’ll rip them to shreds!”
“I know!” Watt is on the verge of tears. “But they won’t listen to me! I thought maybe they’d be more willing to hear you out!”
I take a deep breath. Of course. Haven’t I built my reputation as the voice of reason? It makes sense that Watt would think I’d have sway over the likes of Austin. Still, she should know him better than me. The two of them won the same Games. “I’ll try,” I tell her quietly. “But I can’t guarantee they’ll actually listen.”
Watt thanks me and drifts away. I take a moment to compose myself and look for Austin. When I find him, my stomach tightens even further. Him, Lux, and Kulver all stand together, heads bowed as they whisper conspiratorially. Kulver. Of course he’s involved in this. The last thing I want is another conversation with him, but I can’t back out now, not after promising Watt I’d try. 
So I put my reservations aside and march straight up to the group, setting both hands on my hips as I give them an angry glare.
They all look up and stare at me for a moment, then Austin turns to Lux. “I told you Watt would tell on us.”
He shrugs. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for cute girls.”
“You guys are going to get people killed!” I don’t have to fake any outrage here. This plan of theirs is beyond idiocy. 
“You want us to sit around and wait for them to kill us?” Lux says with a laugh. “No way. I’m taking action before that!”
I give the young man a hard stare. He thinks this is all some game. Maybe he never truly grew out of the boy who competed in the arena. He had fun with all the death and killing there too.
“These are terrorists, Missy,” Austin keeps his voice low and his eyes on the Red Hand. None of them have paid us much attention yet. “Whatever their aims are, it’s nothing good. Better to stop them here and now.”
“This isn’t the arena, Austin. You’re not going to steamroll them just because you’re well-trained and better prepared.”
He frowns. “You really think that’s the only reason I won?”
“You can’t say that you didn’t have advantages the others didn’t.” This isn’t what we should be talking about, but maybe it will distract him long enough to forget about the foolish notion of trying to fight the Red Hand. 
Unfortunately Austin doesn’t take the bait. He smiles and shakes his head. “You don’t need to worry, Missy. Our plan can’t work unless we have more people in on it.”
”We’d need to take all the gunmen out at once,” Lux chimes in. “Otherwise they’d fill us full of bullet holes.” 
Well, I guess they’re not completely insane after all. 
“There’s three of us and four gunman,” Kulver speaks for the first time since my arrival. I notice that he avoids looking my way. “If you each take one, I can handle the other two.”
Of course Kulver thinks he can fight off two armed men. “How about we not try and do something risky like that?” Don’t they realize this isn’t the arena? Unnecessary actions are dangerous here. All we need to do is sit back and wait for the matter to resolve itself. Eventually the Capitol will—
“Time’s up!” 
We all spin in unison to face the leader of the Red Hand as he stands up from his chair, a wry smile plastered on his face. 
Soot steps forward, expression grim. “I’ve been thinking about your organization, you know.”
“Thinking is always a dangerous pastime!” The man quips. 
Soot ignores him. “I’ve been researching the Red Hand ever since I first heard of them, and I have to say that something doesn’t add up.”
It’s impossible to miss the way the gunman tense up. The entire group minus their leader suddenly seems on edge. Why? What could Soot have learned? 
“Go on,” The leader waves a hand, still smiling. 
“As you’ve mentioned, I am a prominent figure among the underclass of the District’s. I know all their black markets and grapevines. I hear about pretty much every rebel group that exists in the country.” Soot steps closer to the man, eyes narrowed. “But prior to your attack on District 2, I’ve never once heard of the Red Hand. Not a thing. No mention of recruitment, no whispers among the rebels, nothing.”
The man continues to smile, but doesn’t say anything. 
“When I heard about Erevan being your leader, I thought it made sense. Your group was formed in the Capitol by Capitolites. You guys never recruited amongst the District’s. That would also have explained how and why you had Peacekeepers in your ranks.”
A few of the surrounding gunman shift uncomfortably and I hear a gasp from somewhere behind me. Amaranth, I think. Her shock is understandable. The Red Hand is a Capitol rebel group?
“I already told you Erevan wasn’t associated with us,” Their leader pauses to examine his fingernails. Is he feigning his nonchalance? Or is he truly so unconcerned with Soot’s ascertains?
“I know, and that’s what I am trying to understand.” Soot stares the man in the eyes, unblinking, not backing down. “You guys are clearly from the Capitol, your accent alone confirms that, but if Erevan isn’t your leader, then who is? It would have to be someone relatively as powerful as he is.”
“A simple “no” would have sufficed, don’t you think?” The man reaches a hand into his pocket.
Soot blinks. “What?”
“If you remember, I gave you all time to think over whether you’d join us. And instead of answering you gave a long rambling diatribe about your personal conspiracy theories.” The man shakes his head. “Disappointing.”
He pulls his hand from his pocket and reveals a handgun. Before anyone can even so much as react, the man fires two quick shots straight into Soot’s chest. 
Soot hits the floor, body thumping hard. “No!” Watt lets out a terrified screech and rushes forward, dropping down beside him. Amaranth and Panama both recoil with screams of fear.
I stare ahead, numb. I haven’t seen violence like this since the arena. I’d hoped it was a sight which was long behind me. Foolish, perhaps. The world itself seems to love violence. I find myself staring at Soot’s bloody form, Watt desperately trying to stop the bleeding, and am unable to muster much emotion. He was going to be a father…
”Now!”
Austin and Lux act as one. They kick a nearby table, knock its legs loose and scoop them up. Austin whirls on the nearest Red Hand member and swings the plastic leg straight into his face. The man stumbles back with a shout, rifle dropping from his hands and clattering across the floor.
Lux stabs his leg into another guards belly, doubling him over, then slams it down onto his head and drives the man into the floor. 
Two of them are down, but there were six guards total. Fearful, I spin to look around for the other gunman and find Kulver rising from the ground, bloody knife in hand. A body lies at his feet. 
Behind him the fourth gunman raises his pistol.
“Kulver, watch out!” 
In one smooth motion Kulver spins and launches his knife across the room. It takes the gunman in the neck and he falls to a knee, body jerking as he fires off one shot which misses Kulver and slams into the portrait on the wall behind him. 
Kulver walks over to the man, twists the knife in deeper, then turns and gives me a curt nod. “Thanks for the warning.”
I am too shocked to offer more than a slight tilt of my head. 
Five members of the Red Hand lie on the floor, either dead or incapacitated. It took Austin, Lux, and Kulver less than a minute to do it, armed with nothing more than plastic table legs and a steak knife. 
Is it any wonder these three won their Games?
“You get what you pay for, I guess!” The sixth and last remaining Red Hand, the leader, chuckles to himself as he crosses the room and sits on the armchair across from us. His handgun is directed straight at Austin. “Put that leg down, if you please. I’d hate to see you end up like poor Soot.”
Sudden anger flares in my chest, drowning out the fear. “How dare you!” I point an accusatory finger at the man—no, the monster. “Soot was going to be a father! He just found out today!”
The monster crosses his legs and shrugs. “So what? That kid won’t be the first to grow up without a father.”
For a moment I find myself literally blinded with rage. I rush forward, hands flailing as I mean to smash the bastards face in, but strong arms suddenly loop around my waist and pull me back. “Let me go!” I scream and beat at the hands. “Let me go! He needs to die! That bastard needs to die!”
“Give it up,” Kulver’s gravelly voice speaks in my ear. “Let go of that rage, girl. It’ll only eat you up inside.”
I go limp. Let the hands draw me back. The Red Hand only grins, gun still pointed at Austin and Lux. “I may end up being arrested, but trust me when I say that it won’t be for long.”
Austin drops his table leg and goes to Soot’s side, murmuring quietly to Watt as he helps her try to control the bleeding. I want to assist them, but what could I do? I don’t have any medical knowledge. 
I untangle myself from Kulver and retreat to the corner of the room, hugging my arms across my chest. I don’t understand anything that has happened. Why did the Red Hand even take us hostage? What was the goal? It makes no sense. 
Something thumps against the door. Everyone turns to look as another thump sounds, this time creating an obvious indentation in the door. “The Capitol has arrived,” Lux mutters. 
He’s right. Another thump slams the door open and a squad of Peacekeepers swarm into the room, holding guns and shouting orders. The last standing member of the Red Hand drops his weapon and kneels with both hands on his head, still grinning ghoulishly. I don’t resist as a Peacekeeper grabs me by the arm and drags me out of the room. The last thing I see before the door shuts behind me is Watt calling out for someone to get a medic. 
“Missy!”
I jump at the sound of my name. A pale blonde woman with her hair done up in a pair of elaborate braids touches my arm. Hazel. “What happened in there? Are you okay?” Her blue eyes swim with concern and I force myself to give a nod. 
“I am fine. But Soot…” I give a quick recap of what transpired inside the room. Hazel gasps and mostly reacts with shock at everything. When I finish she shakes her head.
“I’m so sorry, Missy! You shouldn’t have had to endure that!”
”What took so long for you all to notice?” I can’t keep the bitterness out of my voice as more Peacekeepers hurry onto the scene. Still no medic, though. 
“Everything in the Capitol has been thrown off,” Hazel says, pulling me away from the room and the Peacekeepers. “Everyone has had a hard time figuring anything out. Considering what happened it’s not surprising but—Oh! You don’t know what happened!”
“No, I don’t.” The way she’s going on, you’d think it has to be something earth-shaking. 
“President Stryker is dead.”
“What!”
“He died in his sleep, apparently. People are saying that the grief from losing his son was what killed him.” 
I have no idea how to respond. Tiberius Stryker has been President of Panem for my entire life. Him being dead…it’s almost unthinkable. Yet at the same time, I really cannot bring myself to focus on this matter. Not when Soot is lying in that room dying, if not already dead. 
“The whole Capitol is in an uproar,” Hazel continues, oblivious to my distress. “No one know’s what’s going to happen. One of his heirs will take over, obviously, but no one has any idea which. Rumor is that the results of the Games will decide it.”
I don’t respond. A group of medics have just arrived, pushing past the Peacekeepers as they pour into the room. I stand silently watching, hoping and praying that it’s not too late to save Soot. 
===Mako Melanesia (District 4)===
I make my way down the hallway with a broad grin on my face. Today, much like yesterday, has been pretty great. Yeah, sure, getting into a battle with Remus at the Feast wasn’t exactly on the agenda, but I didn’t die, nor did I receive serious wounds, so it’s all good. 
I shake out my badly battered leg and my grin slips a little. Remus really focused on taking out my feet. Good thing he used a staff. Had his weapon been bladed then I’d probably only have one leg right about now.
My grin stretches wide again. “Luck is on my side, bay-bay!”
Currently my goal is to return to the hotel room where I spent last night, then sit back and chill. The difficult part is over. The Feast is behind me and my hard-won prize is safely secured. 
I can’t resist giving the bag a gentle pat as I continue down the hall. Instant Relief! The gem of all gems! This little baby will heal just about any wound in no time at all! I’ll practically need to be killed twice for me to lose, and what’s the odds anyone is even capable of killing me once? 
The hallway is quiet. The only sound is the gentle pattering of my footsteps, muffled by the thick carpet. It reminds me of today’s cannons. Wonder who they were for? Briar is the only person I know for sure is dead, but I can make some pretty educated guesses on the others. 
Remus showing up at the cornucopia without his buddy the Kin-Killer was a little odd. Why would they split before the biggest moment of the Games? Originally I thought it was some kind of trick they were trying to pull, that maybe the Kin-Killer would attack me from behind while I was distracted or something. But the more I think of it, the more I realize that Solomon might have already been dead.
I mean, there were two cannons before the Feast even began, and I know that Briar and Aiko were both alive at that time. Ditto for Faren and Chrome. I saw those two dudes driving their little car right before I made a rush to the cornucopia. And since I fought with Remus at the Feast, the cannons clearly weren’t for him. So that only leaves a few possibilities left. Solomon, the last remaining Careers, and…
Huh. I pause in the middle of the hallway. Who is the last tribute? I know that there were eleven of us left heading into this day, but who was the eleventh? I scratch my head, wondering what I’m missing. Can’t be anyone important or I definitely wouldn’t have forgotten them. Maybe it’s—
Footsteps.
I snap my trident into a defensive position, musings forgotten as I spin on the spot and face the direction I’ve just come. A person has turned the corner, coming into view. They pull to a halt the moment they spot me.
“Mako.”
”Opal.” I incline my head in greeting, a small smile playing on my lips. Not exactly who I wanted to see.
The girl looks slightly different then the last time we met. Her dark hair, normally tied up in fancy bobs, is pulled back into a braid which she has tucked into her jacket. Smart decision, that. Her old style left way too many chances for someone to grab and pull it. 
Other than for her hair, though, she looks pretty much the same. She still has a smug “better than you” expression permanently etched on her face, and her eyes are still narrowed in disgust. Even her weapons are the same. I recognize the axe in her hand as the one she had when we last met several days ago.
”I did not expect to meet you here,” Opal speaks calmly, voice full of that faux-politeness she sometimes used. “How long has it been? Two, three days?”
I shrug. “Something like that.”
“I daresay that you’ve been busy in the meantime. I know that I have.” Though she speaks as if we’re friends, I notice that she does not relax her grip on the axe. She isn’t as calm as she pretends. 
“Honesty? I haven’t really done much since us Careers split.” Spent a lot of time relaxing in a bed. Man, I’d much rather be doing that right now. Opal gives me the creeps! 
“Mm. Is that so?” Opal’s eyes swim to and fro, taking in everything at once. It’s this harried demeanor that makes me think she’s just as surprised to see me as I was to see her. “Interesting. Have you met any of our old allies, by chance?”
“Nope.” 
“Not surprising. I am fairly certain that the only Careers left are us and Marina.”
“Really?” 
”Indeed. I watched the Feast, you see, and I counted the tributes who arrived. Dear Alcmene was not among them.”
Meaning that she was one of the two cannons which sounded earlier today. Weird. That would imply that both her and her kill happy brother died at around the same time. Wonder if they offed each other.
I pump my fists into the air. “District 4 is the last Career District standing! Let’s go, bay-bay!”
Opal’s face twist into a scowl for a moment, but is quickly replaced by a small smile. She’s really not good at this kinda stuff. “Then that makes District 4 and myself the only real contenders for the Crown.”
Yeah, that’s not a good thing. The way she spoke makes it clear that she considers District 4 her only competition. While that’s pretty short-sighted, it’s not what really disturbs me. No. It’s the implication that she’ll personally come after me. Guess I wasn’t wrong for thinking she’d stab me in the back on day four.
“Don’t sleep on Remus,” I say with a grin. I’m a pro at hiding my real feelings, unlike her. “Remember, the Capitol is typically a Career District. Them not joining this year was an outlier.” 
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Opal’s narrowed eyes never leave my face. What is she planning? Is she going to attack me? Or is it possible that she’s afraid I’m going to attack her? 
Yes. The more I watch her, the more certain I become that Opal isn’t looking for a fight. Just the opposite, in fact. She’s actively trying to avoid one! 
I can use that. The last thing I want at this juncture is to get into a battle before the finale I feel is coming tomorrow, so Opal’s hesitancy works to my advantage. But how to do it? Act overly aggressive? That might force her to flee, but it could also cause her to launch into self-survival mode and attack. Better to keep things simple and honest. 
“So, I notice you don’t have a Feast bag with you.” Didn’t see her there either. Did she not attend? Or did she just show up after I fled? I certainly didn’t stick around to see what that terrifying Moose was going to do. 
“Correct. I did not take my bag.” There’s a slyness in her eyes that I don’t like. 
“That sucks.” I give my own bag a little shake of emphasis. “The stuff inside these can be real game changers.”
A small smile pulls at her lips. “I am sure it changed someone’s game.”
That’s oddly ominous. Well, at least it wasn’t my game. Speaking of game changing… “So now that pretty much all the Careers are dead, how about you come clean, eh?” I offer another wink and smile. “You were the one who killed Zekel and Yewan, weren’t you?”
Opal purses her lips but doesn’t respond. Maybe she thinks this is some kinda gotcha question. It’s not. I’m just genuinely curious to see whether my hunch is right or not.
Eventually she shrugs. “Oh, very well. I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore, does it? Yes. I killed them.”
So I was right. Guess that means Valor and Alcmene weren’t plotting to kill me. Well, maybe. “So Marina was innocent?”
Opal nods. “Indeed. Though I do not have any idea as to why she fled the cornucopia like she did.”
Yeah, that was odd. Wonder what was going through Marina’s head? Really didn’t make any sense for her to bail on us like that. Except maybe it was better for her in the long run, considering what ended up happening. “It’s nice to finally learn the truth,” I say with a nod of my head. “Well, that’s all I wanted to ask. See you later.”
Opal frowns. For a long moment it seems as if she’s going to say something, but then she just shakes her head and backs off. Guess she’s smart enough to realize that I’m giving her an out here. So instead of pushing her luck, she slips around the corner and disappears from sight. 
I stay put for many long minutes, making certain that she has left and isn’t simply hanging around to try and follow me the moment I let my guard down. After enough time has passed, I turn and sprint down the hallway. There’s no way Opal is faster than I am, so her following isn’t possible. I run until I reach the same room where I spent last night, then duck inside.
I lock the door and slide the bolt into place. After a brief moment’s hesitation I grab a nearby dresser and drag it over, sticking it against the door. Better safe than sorry.
Afterwards I turn and crash onto my bed. Mission accomplished! I successfully attended the Feast, secured my bag, and returned to my base of operations with hardly any effort expended! Soon enough there will be trumpets sounding as they announce my Victory to all of Panem. 
Mako Melanesia, Victor of the 333rd Hunger Games! Man, that has a sweet ring to it! Can’t wait! I pump my fists in the air and imagine how great it will feel to finally explore the ocean on my own boat. That’s the dream.
And I won’t let anyone stop it from coming true. 
 
===Faren Gomery (District 5)===
My legs ache with a throbbing pain as Chrome and I finally come to a stop. Orange sunlight spills out from beneath a thin cloud layer as we stagger into the massive outdoor waterpark. Sweat pours from my head, mixing with the dry blood that coats my face. The air is thick and humid, reminding me of our second day in the arena. 
Faces flash through my mind. Damian. Briar. Aiko. Talia. All dead. 
I drop to the pavement below me and let out a soft moan. How did things ever get this far? 
“Haha! This is awesome!” Chrome whoops with joy and pumps his fist in the air as he tosses our bags on the ground before us. His, mine, and Aiko’s makes three. We recovered a third of the nine bags supplied at the Feast. That should make me happy, but…
Aiko’s face appears in my head. The rent in her throat pouring blood. I did that. Me.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try wiping the blood off my hands. It doesn’t work. When I reopen them I see that the dried blood is still there, a stark and clear reminder that past actions cannot be erased. Sins cannot be cast aside. 
In a desperate bid to get my mind focused on anything else, I send my gaze around the waterpark. A series of pools lie around us, some filled with basketball hoops and lily pads, while others hold small islands littered with loungers and beach chairs. A sign decorated with dinosaurs shows me the parks name. Lost World.
I’ve never been this far north in the arena before. I know that Lost World is supposedly the biggest waterpark, but until now I didn’t realize quite how massive it truly is. The place is like a maze, with a long lazy river winding through it and a large slide tower looming over everything. It’s even taller than the nearby buildings. 
“Bro, what is this?” Chrome has been going through the bags, and now pulls something out from mine. Two things, actually. A black rectangular box and a smaller item which appears to be some kinda remote. 
“Let me see.” I reach out for the box, trying to banish Damian’s judgmental eyes from my head. Erase Talia’s pained stare. 
Chrome hands it over and I give the thing a quick look. I nearly choke on my shock when I recognize what it is. 
An explosive device!
“What is it?” Chrome peers over my shoulder as I stare at the black box, unable to form any words. “What does it do? Looks useful, man.”
“I-it’s a remote explosive!” I can’t believe this was actually supplied! My mind blanks with the possibilities this entails. I hold up the smaller box. “Th-this is the controller! The other is the explosive itself!”
Chrome gives a long whistle. “How does it work?”
I have to study the thing for a moment before I can show him. Apparently the explosive can either be set on a timer or detonated remotely by the controller. From what I can tell the explosive itself isn’t too powerful, but it’ll definitely pack a wallop. More than enough to kill any of the remaining tributes. Maybe even strong enough to punch through a wall. With something like this we should be able to—
Briar’s face fills my mind.
I nearly drop the explosive as I gasp in fear. Chrome gives me a sharp look but doesn’t say anything as I gently set it aside, then rise to my feet and walk a little ways down the pavement. My arms tremble as I wipe at my forehead and the sweat there. 
Why do I keep seeing their faces? I did nothing wrong. They were the ones who betrayed me! Yet…yet guilt creeps up my spine even now. Briar and Damian discussed betraying me, even audibly agreed to it, but they hadn’t actually done so. They’d never raised a weapon against me. Not until…
Talia’s face, blue and twisted as she gasped for breath, flashes across my vision.
“It was for Joule!” I mutter to myself, stamping my feet to work out the nerves. “It was all for Joule!”
Only one person survives the arena. It had to be me. I am the only one who can save her. Joule’s life is too important. I can’t let her die. 
I can’t!
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, I attempt to calm myself down. It doesn’t work. If anything, it makes me feel worse. So I take a walk around the park and try to clear my mind by watching the water. I didn’t betray anyone. What I did and what Rotor did were completely different. We’re not the same. 
We just aren’t. 
Several long minutes pass before I feel confident enough to turn around and return to Chrome. When I find him, he’s kneeling on the ground, head hunched over as he reads what looks to be some kinda letter.
“What is that?” I ask, adjusting my glasses. 
He looks up and I feel my heart sink. There’s a disquieting look in his eyes. “I found it in your bag. It’s a letter for you.”
“F-for me?”
“Yeah. From District 5.”
My heart thunders in my chest. A letter from District 5? There is only one person who could be sending me a letter. 
“Let me see!” I try to grab it but Chrome pulls it away. Desperation kicks in and I feel tears building. “Please let me see!”
“I don’t know, man,” Chrome shakes his head. “You might not want to—”
I yank the letter out of his hand before he can finish. He doesn’t protest as I turn and walk away, finding somewhere with better light to see. My heartbeat picks up as I begin to read.
Faren.
This is Joule’s father. First off, I’d like to thank you for everything you’ve done for my daughter. You’ve been by her side for the toughest part of her life and have given her an endless font of hope. I am eternally grateful for everything that you have done. Thank you, Faren.
Now, my message. It is with a heavy heart that I must inform you that Joule has passed on. She watched you from her bed as you undertook the interview and survived the bloodbath, yet lost her fight on what would have been your second day in the arena. She was so proud of you…
My tears fall onto the letter, blotting the words and drowning out the rest. My hands shake so badly that it is impossible to read. No. This isn’t happening. That can’t be happening! 
I can’t breathe. It feels like a hand has grabbed my lungs and begun to squeeze them until they burst. Joule is dead. Has been dead for days. My second day in the arena…no. That can’t be. It’s a lie. It has to be. No way is this the truth. But…why would Joule’s father lie? What would be the point? No. This is no lie. 
Joule is dead. 
Tears flow from my eyes so freely that I can barely see. I sit on an overturned rock and and cradle my head, sobbing as I pull at my hair. Why? Why wasn’t I fast enough? My fault. This is all my fault. If I had just sped these Games up then I could’ve saved her. Too slow. I was so incompetent. Joule was my everything. What is tomorrow without her?
Briar’s judgmental eyes burn into my soul. 
The second day of the arena…that was the day we met Chrome. Before Kia even died. Everyone was still alive and together. Happy. Hopeful. 
Then I went and wrecked everything. 
My tears continue to fall and I find myself standing, then walking through the park, following the river. I was the reason why Briar and the others died. Without me they would still all be together. They would have attended the Feast as one large group and secured their bags. They would outnumber the remaining tributes. Their Victory would have been imminent. 
But because of me they’re all dead.
A soft breeze cools the warm night air. It stirs against my cheeks and dries my tears. I continue to follow the river. A large tower looms overhead. Damian and Talia died for Joule. I pushed away all the fear and guilt, buried it underneath the guise of necessity. It was necessary, I told myself. They had to die so that Joule could live.
But Joule had been dead for days, so what did they die for?
I can barely see straight. Everything seems to be spinning as I reach the tower’s staircase. I set a hand on the wooden banister and use it to support myself as I begin my ascent. 
Briar and Aiko, dead on that hard concrete. It was for Joule, I said. I couldn’t afford to feel anything for them because their deaths meant Joule could live. Yet she was already dead. Dead because I wasn’t good enough. 
The sun continues to set as I climb higher and higher. The breeze gets stronger, stirring my hair as I reach the topmost landing. The entire park stretches out before me, minuscule from this height. I can even see over the hotel and the forest beyond. Rippling blue squares mark the forcefield and the arena’s boundary. 
My hands are covered with Aiko’s blood. I set them atop the railing and stare at them in dismay. I killed her, a little girl, and used Joule’s name as a justification. A reason. I told myself it was fine because Joule needed to live. 
What a sad, pitiful excuse. 
Damian and Talia died because of me. Briar was killed due to my actions. I murdered Aiko for no reason. And, worse of all, Joule died because I was just too damn slow.
It feels like a mountain of sorrow is crushing me and I am slowly suffocating underneath its weight. I promised Joule I’d save her, didn’t I? But I did no such thing. I didn’t save anybody. All I have done is kill people who once called me friend. 
Time slowly passes as I stand atop the slide tower and stare down into the arena. The sun sinks beneath the horizon and is replaced with a bright moon. It’s almost as if an anchor is tied around my ankles, dragging me down. This pain of loss…it’s more than I can feel.
I reach into my pocket and pull out Joule’s music box. With a careful, trembling hand I gently turn the key and set it on the railing. Soft, melodious notes begin to play. Tears well in my eyes. Joule shouldn’t have loved someone like me. She deserved better.
All I have done is bring harm to those closest to me.
Without thinking, I pull myself up onto the railing. It creaks beneath my weight as I carefully balance atop it, conscious of the wind upon my skin. The forest in the distance is lovely, dark and deep. 
“I will always be with you, Joule,” I whisper the words into the air.
Then I step off the ledge. 
===Chrome Kimathi (District 11)===
The slide tower looms in the distance. There, standing upon the railing of the topmost platform, I can just make out the form of a person, silhouetted against the moon. 
I watch as they step off the edge and plummet to the ground below. My view of the tower’s bottom is obscured by some cabanas, so I don’t see the impact. But I can imagine it. 
A small smile creeps across my face.
“Wondered how he would react,” I lean back in my beach lounger and toss one of my grenades from hand to hand. I hadn’t known what I’d find in my Feast bag, so it came as a shock when I found three of these babies. 
Grenades! At first I thought they was the normal kind, but then I saw the label on ‘em warning me about the harmful gas inside and learned the truth. 
Gas grenades. Deadly and unexpected. The perfect combination!
I stuff the grenade into my pocket and pick up the small black box lying beside me. Good thing I was smart enough to make Faren show me how this worked, or I might never have figured it out. An explosive device! Man, you can’t make this shit up! 
Boom!
Faren’s cannon finally goes off and my smile widens. The whiny little sissy is dead. Good riddance. I mean, the guy sure was useful, but he wound up being pretty uppity there at the end. Telling me what to do! Who’d he think he was? Well, I know what he is now.
Dead.
I set the explosive aside and pick up the letter which was inside Faren’s bag alongside the explosive and the remote. The real letter, not the fake I wrote up and gave Faren. I give it one last look over.
Dear Faren,
You have no idea how much joy it brings me to watch you fight for my wellbeing. I know that it is selfish, but I cannot help but feel giddy every time I see how much love you hold for me. Rest assured, that love is reciprocated. You are my everything. I would ask how you are feeling, but I think I already know. As for me?
I am as well as can be expected. Though the doctors told me that any day may be my last, I know that I will not succumb until you are wearing the Victor’s Crown. As you fight inside the arena for me, I am fighting for you from here. I refuse to let this disease claim my life. Not until I can look you in the eye again and tell you how much I appreciate everything you have done. 
I know that you are having a hard time reconciling your actions inside the arena with the kind of person you wish to be. The guilt and fear is probably eating you up inside, but I want you to know that you’ve done nothing wrong. The arena forces people into horrid situations where there are no right decisions. No matter what happens or what you are forced to do, I know that those actions are not what defines you. You are a great person, Faren, even though you haven’t realized it yet.
I have so much more to say, but the Capitol has given me a strict character limit, so I will bring this letter to a close. Faren, I want you to live. No matter what happens to me or what you may hear or see, I want you to continue living your life. Even if I were to pass on before you return, I want you to push forward and be the man I know you are. 
Don’t give up, Faren. Don’t ever give up.
Yours always, Joule.
I toss the letter over my shoulder and chuckle. What irony! She wrote the guy a whole sappy letter telling him to never give up, and what happens? He reads a fake letter, thinks she’s dead, then goes and kills himself! 
I laugh. I just can’t help myself. I laugh and laugh and laugh. I laugh until tears stream down my face. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to see her expression right now! She’s probably sitting in her little sickbed and crying her heart out! Maybe the shock will even kill her! Wouldn’t that be something? 
It takes awhile, but I eventually get ahold of myself and put my focus back on the important stuff. While tricking Faren was fun and all, my true goal was trying to force him into action. I thought he’d go and blow some people up in anger or something, but instead he just took his ball and went home. Kinda disappointing, but not too bad. At least now I have his explosive for myself.
That’s the real beauty about this. I have three whole Feast bags to myself now! My own, Faren’s, and Aiko’s. That little brat actually had a disappointing bag. Only things inside were knives and some kinda rope thingy. It looks like a jump rope to me, but has a sharp blade stuck on one end. I don’t know what it’s supposed to be, but I’m sure the psychotic bitch would have done something with it if Faren hadn’t killed her.
That’s another great thing about today. All them morons are dead! Haha. Fools. I used them up and threw them out! Thought they could pull one over on me, did they? Well, they found out what happens when you cross Chrome. Just like how all my former “friends” will find out when I get back home. 
I lean back into the lounger and cross my arms behind my head. All I gotta do now is sit back and relax until tomorrow. That’s when the real dangerous stuff begins. There’s only a few other tributes left now…
…and I doubt any of them are capable of stopping me.
===Notcher Stott (District 8)===
Marina is happy as we make our way back into Waterdome. Even someone as asocial as myself can see that she’s practically radiating with joy. Why? Probably because our plan worked exactly as she intended. 
The wave pool is placid and still as we bypass it on our way towards the office where we spent our afternoon. I don’t know why I am drawn to this place. The familiarity, perhaps. Even back in District 8 I always felt safer being in a place where I knew every nook and cranny. Easier to escape that way. 
Marina pulls up short and stares at the large television screen which hangs on the wall above us. Right now it’s blank, but soon enough it will transition to show the Anthem, just like every other screen in the resort does at midnight.
Deciding it’s best to wait here until the Anthem plays, I jump up onto a nearby table and set my bag down next to me. I don’t miss the curious glance Marina throws my way. She wants to know what is inside my bag. Well, she can keep wondering. What I found inside may be used against her at some point, so it’d be stupid for me to reveal my hand. 
“There’s only four other tributes left,” She says after a moment of silence. 
Another cannon had gone off not too long ago. The fifth of the day. I don’t know who it was for and haven’t wasted any time trying to guess. The Anthem will show me the truth soon enough. 
Marina continues to look at me, apparently expecting a response. This is why I hate being around people. Why must they always chatter like incessant birds? As the silence stretches on, I search my mind for a suitable response.
“I’m not concerned,” I say with a shrug.
Marina frowns. Guess that wasn’t the response she wanted. Her fault. If she wanted me to say something specific then she should have asked. 
I glance at the clock set on the wall just below the television. Only a few more minutes left. I slide a few needles across my fingertips, making them disappear into my sleeves before reappearing in my hand. Marina hasn’t realized it, but these needles were the item inside my Feast bag. 
The first thing I did when I found our bags—before even telling Marina—was to open them up and check what was inside. My bag contained a trio of leather-working needles and a note telling me that they’d been coated in a fast-acting, paralytic poison. I promptly tore the note up and tucked the needles away before moving on to check Marina’s bag. Apparently she’d been supplied with some kind of body armor. 
Marina is still watching me. What a creep. I don’t like the cleverness in those dark eyes of hers. Unlike some other Careers she’s not just brawn—she has the brains to back up her strength. Still, she’s not unbeatable. I gave her body armor a careful look over and noticed that the seams in the joints are just large enough for me to stick a needle into. 
That’ll come as a nasty surprise to her when she eventually tries to kill me.
That’s the problem I am currently facing. How far can I trust her? The closer we get to the end, the more likely it becomes that she will turn on me. Soon enough she’ll think I have run out of usefulness and try to remove me from the board. I half expected her to try something at the Feast. 
“What’s inside your bag?” I ask aloud. I don’t know why. The question just popped into my head. 
Marina turns to face me and raises an eyebrow. “It’s body armor,” She says after a brief pause. “Fitted to my exact measurements.”
Huh. She told the truth. For some reason I was expecting her to lie. I can’t think of a decent response, so I just nod. Marina watches me with those dark eyes. She’ll ask what was inside my bag now.
She doesn’t. Instead she just gestures at the nearby bathroom and says that she needs to go and dress herself in the armor. I grunt and wave her off. That’s probably why she told the truth. Would’ve been too hard to hide the armor from me.
Another glance at the clock shows that the Anthem is still a few minutes off, so I resume playing with my needles. I don’t know how to feel about them. They’ll be immensely useful against the other tributes, yes, but they came from the Capitol. Those scum sucking pigs are the ones who supplied the Feast bags. Using the needles they gave me would be tacitly admitting that I needed their help, and the thought of that rankles me like you wouldn’t believe. But on the other hand, not using the needles just because I hate the people who gave them to me would be the definition of idiocy.
There’s no good option here, and that’s what angers me the most. I hate being thrust into no-win situations! 
An all-too familiar musical tone picks up as the Anthem finally kicks in. I peer up at the massive television as the very first face appears. Alcmene. Ha! Stupid Career got what she deserved! What kind of moron volunteers for this game anyway? 
The next face belongs to the boy from District 5, Faren. I think he was the one who whined about his dying girlfriend at the interviews. Guess she’s going to die, then. For some reason that brings a twinge of discomfort to me, and my thoughts drift to Lanon before the next face shows up.
It’s Aiko. I chortle with amusement at seeing her self-righteous mugshot reflected on the screen. Didn’t she tell me that she’d kill everyone else to protect her “friends”? Seems like that didn’t work out well for her.
Briar’s face is next and I have no real opinion on her. Soon enough she is replaced with the fifth and final face. Solomon. The Kin-Killer. I actually kinda liked the guy, if only because he was despised by the Capitol. If they hate someone, then you know they had to have done something right. 
Since those five are dead, who does that leave inside the arena? Mako. He is Marina’s District partner and a Career, which makes him a serious threat. Opal, that bitch of a District 5 girl who joined with the Careers and stuck with them until their dissolution. She’ll probably be just as much of a hassle to kill as Mako.
That leaves two others. Remus and Chrome. One of them is from the Capitol and allied with the Kin-Killer, so you know he’s unhinged. The other went in alone before joining with Briar and her alliance. Funny how they’re all dead and he’s not. Coincidence? Or something more? 
I spend so much time thinking about the other tributes that it’s not until the Seal fades away and the music stops do I realize that Marina hasn’t returned from the bathroom. 
I feel no panic. Just a cold worry that creeps up my spine like an icicle. What happened? Where has she gone? I glance around the waterpark but see no sign of her or anyone else. Just the wave pool and those stupid tiki decorations. 
I rise from the table and cautiously approach the bathroom. There’s no door, but I have to creep around a tight corner before the tiled floor and a line of stalls come into view. A long mirror with a row of sinks sit opposite the stalls. There’s no sign of any people, but the floor is slick with water. 
“Marina?” I call out tentatively, a needle in each hand. “Are you in here?”
No response. 
Damn. If she’s not here that means she either fled or has been attacked. I don’t know which would be worse—hold on.
Something in the mirror catches my eye. A reflection. I creep closer and notice that it’s a piece of paper pinned to one of the stall doors. A note. 
“I hate reading,” I grumble as I snatch the. note up and hold it close to my face.
Notcher, tomorrow will likely be the last day in the arena, and I can’t risk you killing me in my sleep. However, even you can admit we make a great team. If you wish to continue our alliance, meet me at the place we spent our first night as an alliance together in the arena. I’ll be there for exactly one hour after the sun rises.
I crumple the note into a ball and chuck it across the room. What the hell is she playing at? Abandoning me? And expecting me to come crawling back to her? The place we where we spent our first night in the arena? Where even was that? Somewhere in Lost World?
Even as I rage I am aware enough to know that my anger isn’t with Marina. Not directly, at least. I’m just furious that I got outsmarted. That she was capable of slipping away from me without even triggering my suspicions. I hate being played like a fool! 
Still, my rage begins to taper off after a few moments. I prowl the bathroom halls, pacing back and forth as I clench and unclench the fingers on my maimed hand. Marina still wants me as an ally. Thinks that it’s the best way to win. Best way for her to win, maybe. But what’s the best way for me? 
Sticking with Marina will give me an edge in any fight against the other four tributes, no doubt, but that’s a doubled-edge sword. What’s to stop Marina from killing me whenever she feels I am no longer necessary? I already know that I can’t beat her in a straight up fight, and it’ll be a lot harder to catch her unawares if I am always by her side. 
But of course, not rejoining Marina will mean that I’ll have five tributes gunning for my head from the outset of the day. Much like with Marina, I don’t appreciate my chances against any of the others in a head-on fight, so if I choose to go alone I’ll need to try and avoid them at all costs. 
Decisions, decisions. What’s the correct path here? Which one leads to my death in this godforsaken arena and which one gives me a reunion with Lanon in District 8? All I know for sure is that I have a difficult choice ahead of me, and I only have until sunrise to make it.
==Day 7/ Finale==
===Aurilee Stryker (The Capitol)===
Everything was spiraling out of control.
Aurilee entered into the Map Room—slightly surprised to see that she was the very first to arrive again—and found herself wondering how everything had fallen apart. All her carefully laid plans were coming undone by events she couldn’t possibly have foreseen. 
Father was dead. Dead. Never had she even begun to suspect that such a thing would occur before the Games ended. How? What happened? Was one of her siblings responsible? If so, then who? And why? Father was retiring at the end of the Games, so there was little reason to have him removed. Unless…
The doors at the far end of the room were flung open before Aurilee even took her seat. Uncle Escortius stalked into the room, face dark and stormy as he hurried across and kicked a chair away from the table. He sat himself down upon it with as much force as he could, then stared at the oaken wood table in stony silence.
He did not greet Aurilee.
She did not love Father as much as she had Mother, but his death still shook her. Aurilee had never prepared for his death. While he was retiring, there was still supposed to be years to go before his death. How was she meant to feel about this? Sad, yes. But what she felt went beyond that. Aurilee was angry, too.
When the doors opened to admit another entrant, Aurilee watched that man with a keen, piercing gaze. 
Dimentio.
Did he have a hand in Father’s death? If he did then Aurilee would stop at nothing to bring him down. She would call out his killing of Nedry right in front of the others, consequences be damned.
She kept a careful watch on his face as he took a seat at the table. There was no real indication of emotion on his face, which was unusual for Dimentio. He typically had some sort of expression, even if it was fake. Aurilee kept searching, hoping to find anything that could confirm or deny her fears. 
His eyes! 
Those watery blue eyes darted from Aurilee to Uncle Escortius then back before settling on the table before him. There was genuine concern reflected there. That took Aurilee back. Dimentio was concerned? Why?
“Have you heard about the attack on the Victors?” Aurilee spoke, drawing both men’s attention. She needed to fish for more information. “I almost missed it, with all the…uproar about Father.”
“The Red Hand infiltrated the Capitol and killed a Victor,” Escortius growled. “Of course I heard about it!”
Dimentio shrugged his angular shoulders. “It was only Soot. The man financed rebel groups, so why should I care about him?”
That was the expected reaction, yet Aurilee was unsure she bought it. Not from Dimentio. He wouldn’t let something like Soot’s proclivities sway his opinion. Dimentio was always doing things differently, taking an unexpected approach. 
“Do you think the Red Hand’s attack is in any way connected to Father’s death?” She kept pressing.
Dimentio finally turned his full attention on her. He steepled his hands and set them before him, gazing over at her. “Perhaps. It is possible they sought revenge for Erevan’s arrest.”
Erevan wasn’t the leader of the Red Hand. Both her and Dimentio knew that. Was he playing dumb for Escortius’ sake? Or was this a coded message? Dimentio had told her that he thought someone else was their true leader. 
The doors opened before she could begin another line of questioning. Roscoe and Rozlyn strode into the room, both their faces stern but with an underlying sense of glee. They knew that Father’s death helped their claim to the Presidency better than anyone else. That was why so many of Aurilee’s plan had suddenly fallen through.
There were only six tributes left in the Games. Two of them were Roscoe’s champions, and a third was Rozlyn’s. Aurilee had her Remus, while Dimentio still had Opal in the running. The sixth tribute, that cretin from District 8, had belonged to Nedry before the man’s untimely death. While they’d all agreed to continue the game and decide the next President based on the arena results, they hadn’t yet decided what would happen if he won. Escortius had tried unsuccessfully to argue that the boy should become his own champion, but the rest all shot that idea down. No one wanted to add another competitor into the field.
As it was, half of the tributes left would lead to a Roscoe presidency. Rozlyn would undoubtedly just be his puppet, so Mako winning would change little. As for the District 8 boy…The truth was that, if he won, the presidency would likely be decided by which of the heirs had a better claim and political connections. Unfortunately that was currently Roscoe. 
Aurilee grabbed the armrest of her chair and squeezed it until her fingers hurt. Though she had connections with many of the Great Family’s, her most important link was to the Ring Family. Their patriarch, Basilius, was politically influential and had much sway with many of the smaller houses. Aurilee had been attempting to get him to publicly back her for the entirety of the Games, yet the man continued to delay. Basilius, it turned out, would only lend her total support if his son Remus won the Games.
She had faith in Remus. She’d known him for all her life and had never seen him to be anything but dependable in all situations. She had absolutely no doubt that, given a fair chance, Remus would emerge Victorious. But it wasn’t Remus she was concerned about. It was the Gamemakers.
Head Gamemaker Vitas Tarquinius had promised Father that he would not allow anyone to interfere in the Games, but would his promise still hold now that Father was dead? Vitas had always been good friends with Roscoe. What if the man decided he wanted a friend as President? Vitas could have Remus killed with a mere snap of his fingers.
The thought chilled Aurilee to the bone.
“I know that we are all still grieving,” Roscoe spoke shortly after taking his seat. “But it is important that we do not forget the challenges facing us. Panem must have a President.”
“That’s what the Games are for,” Escortius said. “A President will be elected once a Victor is crowned.”
Roscoe inclined his head. “True. And Head Gamemaker Tarquinius has personally assured me that the Games will end today, so as not to hamper the future of Panem.”
Aurilee took a sharp intake of breath. Vitas personally assuring Roscoe of anything was bad. How long before he personally assured Roscoe a Victor? Aurilee was certain that the man had already interfered on Roscoe’s behalf. That statue taking out the Eudia’s yesterday was far too convenient to be a coincidence. 
“Do we have a report on the Red Hand captives?” Uncle Escortius’ mind was apparently on a completely different track. “Surely one of them has given us a lead on something.”
“I do have a report,” Rozlyn smoothly pulled out a file and laid it upon the table. As leader of the Seekers of Truth, Rozlyn was in charge of all the nations crime reports. “And what we’ve learned has been…illuminating.”
The way she phrased it caused Aurilee to raise an eyebrow. What could those terrorists have said to be so interesting? “Well, what have they found out?”
Rozlyn smiled. That in itself was a worrisome sign, for Rozlyn rarely smiled. “Firstly, all of the surviving Red Hand members have, to a man, vehemently denied that Erevan Newcastle had anything to do with them or their organization.”
“Of course they did!” Uncle Escortius sniffed. “Why wouldn’t they attempt to protect their leader?”
“They continued to claim this even after being exposed to the Seekers and their…techniques.”
That caused somewhat of a stir. Few people lied to the Seekers. Especially not after having been in their grasp for an entire day. Still, Uncle Escortius wasn’t convinced. “Then why, pray tell, was there a paper trail leading to Erevan’s involvement?”
“They claim it was a setup. That someone else had framed Erevan and, not only faked that information, but planted it inside Nedry’s chambers.”
Aurilee could not resist throwing a glance Dimentio’s way. The thin blond man was watching Rozlyn with a tepid smile, eyes blank of all emotion. It was only the way he played with his stylus, constantly tapping it against one of his cufflinks, that alerted her to his unease. The Seekers were getting disturbingly close to the truth, and Dimentio clearly did not want that. 
“Who’d want to frame Erevan?” Roscoe’s voice was gruff. This whole time he’d looked impatient. He did not think this report was worth an entire briefing, apparently. 
“They did, in fact, supply a name,” Rozlyn flipped through a few pages of her notebook. “And a motive. According to them, the entire Red Hand was created by this man in an effort to gain himself the Presidency.”
The room grew very still. Heads turned as they all gazed at one another, wondering what curveball had just been thrown their way. Aurilee, for her part, set her gaze firmly on Dimentio. The man had stopped tapping his stylus and was now sitting very still, his eyes seemingly glued to the notebook in Rozlyn’s hands. 
Was it him? Had he lied to her? Was Dimentio truly the leader of the Red Hand? For some bizarre reason that thought hurt Aurilee. Dimentio was many things and hardly an ideal brother, but she couldn’t stomach the thought of him straight out lying to her face. 
“Well?” Roscoe alone seemed unaffected. He snapped his fingers. “Get on with it! Who did they name?”
Rozlyn fixed him with a cold, stern gaze. “They named you, dear brother. Roscoe Stryker.”
There was a long, drawn out silence. No one spoke. No one so much as twitched. Aurilee could not imagine what was happening. Had Rozlyn just accused Roscoe of working for the Red Hand? Rozlyn! She was Roscoe’s puppet! She had been for decades! No, her entire life! Never before had she done so much as lift a finger without his approval. 
“Rozlyn, what is this?” Roscoe’s harsh demeanor dropped away. There was genuine hurt and confusion in his eyes. “What are you claiming?”
“I have not made any claims, brother. I am merely repeating what the Red Hand has told me.”
“This isn’t the report we’d gone over! You told me nothing of these outrageous allegations!” 
It did not come as a surprise to Aurilee that Rozlyn had privately shared reports with Roscoe. It was what she had expected, after all. But to see this friction between them…
“We may be jumping at shadows,” Uncle Escortius spoke slowly, mulling his words carefully. “We’ve already arrested Erevan on mere accusations. It would be foolish to do so again.”
Roscoe pointed at him. “Yes! Thank you! Exactly!”
“Why so concerned, brother?” Dimentio spoke for the first time, drawing everyone’s attention. There was a shadow in his eyes. Clearly this show was not to his liking. “If you’re innocent, then surely you have nothing to fear from such trifling tricks?”
“I am not concerned!” Roscoe rounded on the younger man, hands curled into fists which he pounded against the table. “I am outraged! Clearly these terrorists are lying! It has already been proven that Erevan Newcastle was their leader!”
“We’ve identified several of the captured men,” Rozlyn ignored the outburst, continuing to read from her notebook. “Two of them are former Peacekeepers, Skuld Marrow and Francois Masonry, and another is…well, it’s a name you should know very well, brother. Delphos Havlok.”
Aurilee gasped. She knew that name. She knew it just as everyone else present did. For years Havlok had been the head of Roscoe’s bodyguards and his right hand man. Every single action that man had undertaken in the last decade was at Roscoe’s behest. 
A pit was forming her stomach. She knew that Erevan had been framed. Dimentio admitted as much. And now Rozlyn’s accusations and the involvement of Havlok…was Roscoe truly behind the Red Hand? 
“What?” Roscoe stared at Rozlyn with an expression that could only be hurt. “Havlok was among them? No. Impossible. He would never—”
“Havlok supplied us with a coded language used amongst the Red Hand,” Rozlyn continued over him. “As well as a cypher used to crack the code. Surprisingly, this was the same exact cypher used for your own personal messages, brother.”
Roscoe opened and closed his mouth several times without saying anything. His eyes swam back and forth between the others, no doubt taking in the doubt cast on their face. Uncle Escortius in particular seemed quite upset. 
“This is preposterous! What reason would I need the Red Hand for?” Roscoe finally found his voice. “Their stated goals are the complete antithesis to my own personal vision for Panem!”
“That’s exactly why you used them,” Aurilee said quietly. “No one would ever suspect you to be behind a rebel group.” But, was the Red Hand really a rebel group? Other than for the attack on the Reaping, everything it had done was more-or-less designed to bring unrest to the Capitol. They hadn’t done any recruiting in the Districts, nor had they been trying to drum up support. Very unusual for a supposed rebel group. 
Roscoe spun around to glare at her. “Don’t you get involved! This has nothing to do with you!” 
“I believe a matter of national security involves all of us,” Uncle Escortius said. 
“The Red Hand of Ra…” Rozlyn mused. “Did you ever wonder what it stood for? I have. Many times. Well, Havlok told me the truth. The Red Hand of Ra. Ra. Do you wish to know it’s full name?”
“No doubt it is some audacious lie.”
“The Red Hand of Roscoe.”
Another lull of heavy silence befell the table. Then, moments later, the doors were flung open and a group of black-clad men poured into the room. Aurilee recognized them by the silver hand emblazoned on their breasts and shoulders. 
The Seekers of Truth. 
“Roscoe, you will be brought in for questioning,” Rozlyn offered her twin a small smile as she stood, tucking the notebook back into its binder. “If everything you say is true and you’re innocent, then nothing will come of it. However, if you’re lying…”
“What are you doing, Rozlyn?” Roscoe remained calm as he was forced to his feet by the Seekers. “What about all our plans? We were to rule together! You’ve just thrown away decades of plotting!”
“Everything is a plot to you, isn’t it?” Rozlyn didn’t even look him in the eyes as she gathered her remaining items. “Perhaps that is why you felt compelled to employ the Red Hand.”
Roscoe did not resist as the Seekers began to haul him away. He sagged limply in their grasp, icy blue eyes fixed squarely on his twin as he failed to comprehend her actions. Whatever else could be said of Roscoe, his faith in Rozlyn had been absolute. Clearly he’d never anticipated this moment. 
Soon enough he was gone from sight. The Seekers disappeared out the doors with him as swiftly as they’d appeared. Aurilee could barely think straight. So much had happened in such a short time. She felt like a mere spectator, watching a scene she had no right to view. That was dangerous. No President should ever feel like that. 
“We should—”
“I have pressing business I must attend to,” Rozlyn spoke briskly, cutting Aurilee off before she could finish. “So I will bid you all farewell here.”
“What? Now?” Uncle Escortius rose to his feet in indignation. “Nothing has been decided! What about the presidency?”
Rozlyn barely spared him a glance as she walked towards the door. “The Games will decide the presidency, of course.”
The door shut behind her. Uncle Escortius hovered in place for a moment before hurrying after her, saying something about deserving his own fair chance to win. Aurilee watched them both go with overflowing confusion. She still couldn’t wrap her head around how Rozlyn had betrayed Roscoe. The two of them had been inseparable for decades…
“This is very bad.”
Dimentio’s soft voice drew her eyes back to the thin man. He had been unusually quiet during the whole altercation, and now he was leaning forward, elbows on the table as he stared at Aurilee.
“How so?” Aurilee knew exactly why this was bad, but felt it was worth hearing Dimentio’s candid thoughts anyway. 
“Rozlyn has practically just wrapped up the presidency in one fell swoop,” Dimentio waved a hand in the air for emphasis. “With Roscoe’s arrest, both of his Champions will become hers. And if Notcher wins, the presidency will likely be decided by whomever has the best political connections…which I don’t need to tell you is going to be Rozlyn.”
So four of the possible Victors would result in Rozlyn winning the presidency. More than half the field. Still, there was the chance that Remus or Opal won. Rozlyn hadn’t secured herself anything yet. 
“I’ve already sent out a press release detailing the competition,” She spoke firmly. Aurilee had imagined this situation—albeit with Roscoe opposed to Rozlyn—and jumped the gun. By now the entire Capitol knew a Remus Victory meant her own as well. “Rozlyn won’t be able to swindle her way into office if one of our Champions succeed.”
Not that Dimentio becoming President would be any better. In many ways it might be even worse. 
Dimentio smiled lightly. It didn’t touch his eyes. His smiles rarely did. “You mistrust me so much, don’t you, dear sister?”
“You have given me more than enough reason to.”
“Perhaps I have.” He flashed another mirthless smile. “Well, how about I give you a different reason this time? I am officially dropping out of the presidential race. If Opal wins, I shall grant you the presidency.”
Aurilee’s first reaction was to think this was a trick of some sort. Why would Dimentio willingly give up the opportunity to seize power? But then, didn’t he previously tell her he had no interest in becoming president? There was a reason to his actions. There always was. “You truly do not wish to see Rozlyn as President, do you?”
His smile faltered. “Of course not. Her very first action upon gaining the presidency would be to eliminate me in whatever way possible.”
That was a step too far, in Aurilee’s estimation. As cruel as her elder sister could be, she very much doubted Rozlyn would pull a Dimentio and murder her own siblings. “So you believe she will kill the both of us, if she wins?”
“No, not both of us. Just me.” He stood and rapped his knuckles on the table. “You she will marry off to some Great Family’s heir in an effort to secure more political support. She doesn’t fear you. Not in the way she fears me.”
That, Aurilee could understand. Dimentio was dangerous in ways none of the rest were. He was willing to do things the others would balk at. Dimentio was more than capable of burning the entire world to the ground just to get what he wanted. 
“How does dropping out of the competition help?” Aurilee was putting the puzzle together in her mind, but it was like trying to do so without all the pieces. 
“I will be leaving the country within the hour,” Dimentio strode away from the table without answering the question. He didn’t so much as look back at her. “A recent report has indicated that our missing Victor has finally shown his face somewhere on the outskirts of Panem.”
Missing Victor? That could only be one person. “Acheron has been seen?”
Dimentio nodded. “Indeed. I am off to go and…investigate his appearance. I have always found him to be a very interesting individual.”
Aurilee prided herself on her ability to discern plots and see through lies, but she was completely stumped by this sudden curveball. Dimentio was leaving the country to investigate some random sighting of a man who had long since been declared dead? No. That was unlikely to the extreme. Dimentio wasn’t investigating anything.
He was fleeing.
Aurilee remained silent as Dimentio finished gathering his belongings and departed the room. Her brother clearly felt that the presidency was all but Rozlyn’s and was trying to get away while he still could. Likely he had some bunker hidden away somewhere outside of Panem where he could lie low. But Aurilee couldn’t mimic that behavior even if she wanted to. She did not have any hideouts anywhere beyond the Capitol. Never did she think she’d have to flee. She still didn’t.
Remus would win the Games. He would emerge Victorious and hand her the presidency and the country itself on a silver platter. Dimentio may be scurrying away with his tail between his legs, but Aurilee would stand fast. 
Rozlyn thought she had everything secured did she? Well, Aurilee would show her. Something she learned at a young age was to never celebrate a victory until it became a sure thing, else someone would snatch it straight out of your hands. 
Aurilee smiled. It seemed as if Rozlyn was about to learn that truth the hard way. 
===Marina Mattel (District 4)===
There’s a tension in the air as I creep back into the hotel. A tingling sensation that is akin to the feel of a summer day right before a storm hits. Today will be the final day of the Games. That much is certain.
The hotel hallways are eerily quiet as I tuck my newest weaponry acquisitions into my pocket and head up a nearby staircase to the second floor. A sponsor balloon had just arrived, bringing with it a multitude of darts and a trio of flares. Superficial in the grand scheme of things, perhaps, yet I will use everything I have to secure the crown and become Victor.
The sun has not yet risen, but the lights inside the hotel are on twenty-four seven, so I have no problem navigating the halls as I prowl forward, trident held in a careful hand. I have a particular quarry today. Someone who will prove tantamount to my endgame strategy. 
And it’s not Notcher.
He played his part well, but I no longer have any use for him. The odds that he turns on me are just too high. Notcher’s main purpose was to help me navigate the arena and survive unscathed until the finale—which is now here. He was never meant to be an asset in a fight. In fact, you could even say he’d be a hindrance. Who would the other tributes target first if they saw us together? Me or him? There’s only one answer, and it’s not him. 
When I reach the second floor I bring myself to a stop and rest against the wall, rearranging my outfit. It isn’t comfortable, wearing a set of clothes over my body armor in this heat, but the last thing I want is for the others to know I even have it. Hiding the portion on my legs was the hardest part. As our arena wear had a pair of shorts that failed to cover the entirety of my armor, I had to find some pants in a hotel closet to do the job instead. 
The sound of a door opening snaps me into alert mode. Snatching up my trident, I spin and face down the hall just in time to see someone emerging from a nearby hotel room.
Mako. My District partner.
He peers down both sides of the hall as he exits the room, and stiffens at the sight of me. I barely resist the urge to roll my eyes. What’re the odds we actually stumble straight into each other like this? I mean, I did purposely begin my search here in the intact portion of the hotel because I knew there’d be no way someone as arrogant as he is would pass up the opportunity to sleep in a bed, but I never imagined he’d actually be awake this early in the day!
“Oh. It’s you, Marina,” He gives me a stiff nod. Though his words are genial enough, I don’t miss the way he positions his feet in a defensive stance. Mako clearly does not trust me. “Didn’t expect to run into you like this. Pretty amusing, huh?”
I never got along with Mako. Always thought he was supremely annoying and infuriatingly cocky, but the situation has pressed my hand. I need somebody by my side for this last day, and it can’t be anyone but him. 
“I don’t mean to fight,” I angle my trident so that it is pointed downwards. Just enough out of position to show I mean no harm, but not far enough away for me to be undefended. “I merely want to have a conversation.”
He waggles an eyebrow at me. “Oh, really? Gonna explain why you cut and run on day three?”
“Yes, actually.”
He chuckles. “Of course, of course. Figures. You know, this is just like my conversation with Opal.”
That sends a wave of tension through me. “You’ve spoken with Opal?” Haven’t seen the girl since I left the Careers. While I’m not sure how she of all people survived the Careers dissolution, I know enough about her to be wary of her mere presence. 
“Yup. Last night. It was in this very hall, actually.”
A creeping sensation of being watched washes over me. Is Opal still nearby? The last thing I want is for her jump us while we’re talking. 
“Don’t look so frightened!” Mako laughs and pats the wall beside him. “I have no doubt she’s moved to other places by now.”
Despite his words he does not let down his own guard. The fact that he is awake before the sun even rose is another good indicator that he is not as unconcerned as he wants me to believe. Opal worries him just as much as she worries me.
“Do you want to know why I’m here or not?”
Mako frowns. “Oh. So you’re here on purpose? I thought this was just another chance encounter.”
“I wish to propose an alliance.”
“You wanna stab me in the back, you mean.”
“No.” Not immediately, at least. “I want the two of us to be a duo until the final three. District 4 should be the glue which holds us together. No one is willing to betray their District partner.” Hazel, and the repercussions for what she did, are the main reason for that. Since the 325th it has been quite rare for District partners to kill one another, and unheard of for one to do so after making an agreement with the other. 
Mako watches me with a narrowed gaze. I don’t know what he thinks of this proposal, but I know it didn’t start off on the right foot. I still haven’t explained why I left. “Look, I know you don’t fully trust me, but I split with you guys for a good reason. There was an unknown killer on the loose, and I very much doubted hanging around in the Careers would be beneficial to my health.”
He nods. “True enough. Opal killed Yewan the very night you left.”
Opal was the killer? When did he figure that out? And, more importantly, if he knew that, then why did he apparently have a docile conversation with her yesterday? No matter. There are more important things to discuss.
I continue, giving a brief but truthful rundown of my actions since the last time we saw one another. Mako barely reacts to any of it. Well, more to the point, he overreacts with yawns and periodically mimes checking an imaginary watch. The insufferable boy wants me to know that he has no interest in any of my past activities. Or least wants me to think that. For all I know he is making careful note of everything I said, jotting it down inside his head for later use. In all the years I’ve known him, Mako has never been one for strategic planning, but the Games change people. Anything I know of the boy could be obsolete at this point.
When I finally bring my tale to a close, finishing with how I’ve lured Notcher to Lost World on the pretense of us meeting up, Mako leans his trident into the crook of his arm and gives a slow clap. “Man! You’ve had an exciting time in the arena! Much more interesting than my own!”
I have to forcibly keep my face blank. Is he purposely trying to anger me? “Oh, really?” I push the words out through gritted teeth. “What have you done, if I may ask?”
He shrugs. “Nothing, really. Just laid in a bed and relaxed.” 
That is an obvious lie, but there is nothing to be gained by calling him out on it. I just have to hope he isn’t omitting something which could get me killed.
”Are you willing to work with me or not?” There’s no windows in the hotel hallways, so I can’t see the sky, but I know that dawn isn’t too far off. “If we want to take out Notcher, we’ll have to do it before sunrise.”
”Which one is Notcher, again?”
I can’t tell if he’s playing dumb or not. “The boy from District 8.”
Mako leans back against the wall, one hand in his jacket pocket as the other rubs his face. “Notcher…District 8…huh. Can you be a little more specific?”
“He started the Games as a loner. He was the one with the maimed hand.”
“Oh!” Mako straightens out and snaps his fingers. “The small guy with the shifty eyes! How did I forget him?”
That’s exactly what I was wondering. There’s only six tributes left, so it shouldn’t have been so hard for this lummox to figure out which of us are still alive. “He’ll be waiting for me at Lost World before sunrise,” I try to keep the frustration out of my voice. “So if you’re willing to align with me, we need to move now. We won’t get a better opportunity to eliminate him than this.”
Notcher is a dangerous, crafty opponent who knows far too much about me for my comfort. The sooner he is dead, the safer I will be. But will Mako even agree to my deal? I watch his face and find myself unable to answer. Mako has a stupid little grin and is waggling his eyebrows again. I haven’t the faintest idea what goes on inside that head of his.
“So you want us to team up until the final three?” Mako begins to approach and I avoid tensing up. Any overt act of suspicion on my part may tank the deal. “And you want to take out the shifty-eyed boy first?”
I keep a careful watch on his hands as he stops before me. “Yes.”
His grin widens. “Okay! Good enough for me! We have a deal!”
He offers me a handshake and I accept, half-expecting him to try and thrust a knife into my ribs. But he makes no effort to harm me and, as we turn our way back down the hall, I wonder just how far I can trust him. Probably not at all. Today is likely the final day, so he will have to see me dead to win. That’s fine, though, because I only intend to use him as a tool to eliminate Notcher and maybe a few others. There’s certainly no way I am allowing him to reach the final three with me. 
So, as the two of us begin our journey to Lost World—quietly discussing the details of our plan to eliminate Notcher along the way—I have already begun plotting the best ways to kill Mako without him even knowing what happened. 
===Notcher Stott (District 8)===
I crouch on the top of a cabana, flexing my injured hand as a warm breeze stirs the nearby umbrellas. Sunrise is not far off. Already a faint pink glow has appeared in the sky, sending rays of light down onto the arena. 
The small maintenance shed where I awoke back on day four lies off in the distance. Though I have been here staking it out for half an hour, I have not seen anyone so much as approach the place. If Marina truly intends to show up, she’s leaving it late.
Maybe I’m a fool for this, but last night I decided that sticking with Marina would be my best option. Yes, it has some serious risks and drawbacks, but what plan doesn’t? At least with her by my side I’ll stand a chance in an actual fight.
I know that we both can’t win. That sooner or later one of us will stick a knife in the other’s back. But I sincerely believe staying by Marina’s side will make my journey to the end easier. I could win these Games without her aid, but it would be harder and more dangerous. As much as I loathe to admit it, I’d stand no chance in a straight-up fight with someone like Mako or Remus. But with Marina’s help…
Time continues to tick away as I dwell on my thoughts. The arena grows brighter and brighter as the sun slowly begins to peer over the horizon. The deadline will soon be here and there is no sign of Marina. Has this all been some trick?
No.
From my vantage point atop the cabana, I can just make out the form of a person as they slip over the green chain-link fence and emerge from behind the maintenance shed. While her dark hair has been tucked into the back of her sky-blue jacket and she now wears a pair of black pants, I still recognize her immediately.
Marina has come after all.
“Let’s see how this plays out,” I grumble to myself and slide down from the cabana, a jolt running through my legs as I hit the concrete floor. 
Marina has shown up later than I anticipated. Maybe she was just trying to be careful, like I am, and wanted to wait until I’d shown up first, but something about her late arrival has me on guard. I’ve spent a lifetime honing my instincts on the streets of District 8, and right now those instinct are telling me that something is not quite right. 
As my cabana was on the opposite side of the park from the maintenance shed, I have to duck and weave between the overturned tables and flowing lazy river to make my way towards the rendezvous point. I take the time to check and arrange my weapons as I go.
It’s not much—just six needles and a hammer, but I also have something else. Something even Marina doesn’t know about. 
A silver parachute had landed near me shortly after I first began my stakeout. While I was I initially worried it’d give away my position, I eventually approached and tore the thing open. Inside I found a simple dagger.
I know the thing came from the Capitol. That some lunatic who thinks these Games are an exciting competition of skill and strength was responsible for it winding up in my hands, but I don’t care. At this point I have neither the time nor the inclination to waste effort moaning about the Capitol giving me help. If this dagger is going to keep me alive, then fine, I couldn’t care less who sent it to me.
My foot lands in a puddle and I look down with a frown. The lazy river is overflowing, apparently. Water is stemming over its edge and collecting on the ground below. Some of it runs into the nearby drains, but there’s too much for it all to be swept away like that. It’s a strange sight, but I don’t currently have time to worry about it. Marina will be waiting for me.
I break into a jog for the last portion of the trek and when I round the corner and come onto the maintenance shed, I see that Marina is still there. I raise a hand in greeting. “So you were telling the truth.”
Her head whips to face me. As usual, her eyes are full of anger and distrust. “Don’t get any closer, Notcher!”
I ignore her and continue to approach. “You got a plan for today?”
Marina hurriedly backs up, keeping her distance from me. “I told you to stay back!”
“Yeah? And since when did I have to listen to you?” Something about this whole situation is off. Marina doesn’t issue me orders. The whole basis of our alliance was founded on the agreement she wouldn’t try and boss me around. But now that’s exactly what she’s doing. 
What has changed?
Marina keeps inching back from me, so I continue walking. It’s like some bizarre game of tag where no one is allowed to run. It’s really quite a comical sight, but the sheer ridiculousness of this is making me angry. “Marina, stop running like a chickenshit or I’m calling this alliance off right now!”
That gets her to come to a halt. She pauses, body reflexively adopting a defensive stance, and gives a small nod. “Sorry. I…just didn’t know if you wanted to keep the alliance going.”
Is she an idiot? Why would I have came here if I didn’t want to maintain the alliance? I am about to snap off a snarky retort when I see something that gives me pause. Marina’s eyes. They’re not watching me. No. They keep darting left and right, checking over my shoulders and searching for something behind me. My back itches with unease. Is someone back there? 
“What’s going on, Marina?” I keep my voice level. Or at least I try to. Never have been good at hiding my anger. “Why are you acting so cagey?”
There’s a pause before she responds. Her gaze flickers to the side now. What is she looking for? “It’s the final day. Why wouldn’t I be nervous?”
She is avoiding the question. Well, that settles it. Marina is working against me. She probably has someone else helping her. Who? A Career pal? There’s still two of them left. My first instinct is to turn and run, but that would be foolish. Her buddy is probably lying in wait, waiting for me to do just that. Or Marina would simply put her trident in my back. No. Running isn’t an option. Not after I walked straight into their trap. 
Marina is still talking, saying something about a top three deal, but I’m not listening. If someone is behind me then they have to be hidden under the staircase to my left. There’s nowhere else for them to be, unless they are somewhere amongst the pile of chairs and tables to my right. Damn. Can’t be sure which direction they’re waiting, so it’s probably best to face the one threat I actually know the location of.
I take a step forward.
Marina instantly steps back.
A cold, humorless smile crosses my face. “Who are you working with, Marina? Mako or Opal?”
While she manages to keep her face blank, she can’t hide the surprise which flickers in her eyes. Marina never expected I would see through her plot. Big mistake. 
I take another step and Marina tries to back up again, but this time she brushes against the chain-link fence behind her. 
“There’s nowhere left for you to run,” I say quietly. Always knew she would try and kill me at some point today. Just didn’t think it would happen so soon. 
Her eyes harden. Body tenses as she flicks the trident end over end and settles it in a combat position. “You know you can’t beat me, Notcher.”
“Is that so? Then why are you trying to run away?” Marina is afraid. She’s worried that I know her strengths and weaknesses. That I can put her down. Why else would she be so eager to keep her distance? I can use that against her. No one who is afraid of losing has ever won anything meaningful. The real problem is going to be her buddy. I’m surprised that they haven’t already rushed me. I’d be caught between them and Marina with nowhere to run. 
I can’t afford to wait any longer. I slip a needle out from my sleeve and hold it between two fingers, eyeing my target. Marina’s entire body is protected by body armor, except for her head. So that’s exactly where I’ll aim. Needles aren’t built for being thrown, but I only need to hit her hard enough to break the skin. My poison should do the rest. 
I flick my wrist and send the needle flying.
Marina tosses herself forward and jerks her head to the side. There’s a brief moment of panic as she comes barreling towards me, trident flashing for my face, but then my instincts kick in and I scamper backwards. The trident smashes into the concrete, throwing up sparks, when I do something very risky. 
I step forward and grab the trident by the haft. 
Marina has already begun to pull the trident back to her and I see the surprise in her eyes as I come with it. I raise a needle clutched hand and begin to slam it towards her exposed neck.
Marina catches my wrist and twists. I scream as my joint is bent, needle dropping as it’s forced from my grasp. Marina slams an elbow into my head and there’s a flash of light as I roll to the ground.
When I come to, Marina is standing over me with a raised trident.
There’s no pithy one-liner or snarky comment. She just slams the trident straight down. 
I roll out of the way. Trident tines dig into the concrete as I climb back to my feet, one hand reaching for the dagger in my belt. I pause when I see someone behind Marina. 
Chrome.
“Really?” I back off, dagger held outwards as Marina repositions her trident and faces me. She looks troubled, which I don’t understand, because she holds all the advantages. “You allied with Chrome?”
“What?” Marina doesn’t take her eyes off me. Figures. 
I don’t respond. Chrome holds a small, round object in his hand. I swear that I recognize the object, but it can’t be what I think it is. No way did the Gamemakers supply us with grenades. 
Well, it doesn’t matter. I can always—
Something hard and heavy slams into my back. I’m thrown forward with tremendous force, body rag-dolling as I roll across the concrete. When I come to a halt, I find myself staring into a spinning sky. Everything hurts. What the hell…?
Forcing myself to my feet, I turn to face Marina and see her backing away, face a mask of horror. At first I don’t understand, but then I spot it. 
The statue. 
A large stone statue of a man stands near the maintenance shed. Wide cracks run down his body like fissures and he only has a single arm, but the expression on his face is one of anger and disappointment. 
The statue lifts a hand and points at us. For some reason I know that’s not a good thing. But before I can even think of what to do about it, a small black object bounces across the ground and comes to a rolling stop between me and Marina.
A grenade.
“Ah, hell…” 
A cloud of gas erupts from the grenade. Noxious green fumes explode onto the scene as I drop to my knees and throw my backpack onto the ground, fumbling inside for the one item I’ve had since day one but have never found a use for.
My gas mask.
The gas washes over me as I work. I don’t dare breathe, holding my breath as I dig through my stuff. The gas smells strange and makes my eyes water. Vaguely I wonder if I shouldn’t have just ran. What if the gas is harmful to the touch? But it’s too late for that. I finally find the mask and pull it over my head just as I think my lungs might burst. 
Everything slowly comes into focus as I blink away tears. My nose stings something awful, and even my ears throb, but my breathing is normal. The mask works. Good. So I won’t have to—
A stone arm cuts through the gas and grips me by the throat. My legs kick out wildly as I’m hauled into the air. The statue’s face appears before me. Stern eyes stare holes through me as stone fingers slowly cut off my airway. 
I recognize that stupid face. Pictures of him are plastered all around the resort. Mr. Schindler. The general manager. 
I pull my dagger free and slam it down on the stone arm. Again and again and again. But no matter how hard I swing the blade doesn’t so much as chip the stone. Can’t breathe. Black dots begin to swirl across my vision. That stone face fills my sight. Authority. He’s the living embodiment of authority.
And he’s slowly strangling the life out of me.
All I can feel is a mix of anger and fear as I wail away at the arm. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing changes. Soon I run out of strength. My arm goes numb and falls to the side, dagger slipping from my fingers. Everything begins to go dark…
Then the statue tightens its grip and there’s nothing at all.
===Marina Mattel (District 4)===
I stumble into the hotel and nearly lose my footing before catching myself on the wall. Taking a deep breath, I try to collect my thoughts as I turn and stare at the cloud of green gas that hovers in the distance. 
I am lucky to be alive. So much had happened that I can barely think straight. How did Notcher see through my trap? Where did that statue and Chrome come from? And, most importantly, where the hell was Mako? He was meant to sneak up on and dispatch Notcher while I had him distracted, but that idiot never showed up! 
While I’d like to think sheer incompetence was the reason, I know that isn’t the truth. No. The reason Mako didn’t show wasn’t because he’s an idiot. It’s because he betrayed me.
I knew I never should have trusted him! What was I thinking? Mako has only ever cared about himself! 
I watch the gas cloud slowly begin to dissipate. As it does so, I can just make out the form of a person moving inside, apparently headed this way. Tightening my grip on the trident, I ready myself to kill whichever fool thinks to reveal himself. 
Boom!
A cannon cuts through the air just as the figure emerges from the gas. I let out a small gasp of surprise at what I see. 
The statue lumbers forward, its one arm dragging the limp body of Notcher as it marches towards the hotel. It comes to a halt as it spots me, then tosses Notcher aside and raises its arm in the air and points at me.
I turn and run.
Dammit! That thing is made from solid stone! How the hell am I meant to fight it? 
I run through the halls, not stopping to look back. I know that fighting is futile. Whatever that statue is meant to be, there’s no way I am going defeat it. 
Yet as I run I notice something odd. The carpet beneath my feet is wet. Sodden with water. And the further I go, the deeper it gets. I pull to a halt as I realize that the water is actually rising. It’s pouring in from beneath the doorways and vents, slowly filling the halls. Vaguely I remember seeing something similar back in the waterpark. Weren’t the pools overflowing? Does that mean…
“The arena is flooding!”
It hits me like a brick. The Gamemakers are flooding the arena! The final day almost always has some kind of inciting event. Something that causes conflict and pushes all the tributes together. Ignoring the signs the Gamemakers are giving rarely works well for anyone, so I’d best figure out what they’re trying to tell us.
I slog through the hall, hampered by the waters rapid rise. Already it’s at my knees. High ground. If the arena is flooding, then it’s probably a sign that we should head for high ground. Where is that? The rooftops? Yes. That would make—
The wall behind me explodes into chunks of wood and plaster as the statue smashes through.
I don’t waste time screaming. I just take off running. The rising water slows me. Threatens to pull me down. Twice I nearly lose my footing as my feet connect with some submerged object. Yet the water doesn’t seem to slow the statue. It moves at a steady pace, inexorably gaining ground as it pushes through the water with ease. 
Fear pounds in my heart. Worry greater than even when Notcher had me cornered gnaws at my mind. This statue cannot be stopped and will not be slowed. 
How am I to escape? 
A staircase appears to my right. I waste no time in ascending it. The moment my feet are clear of the water I pick up my speed. I whip down the hall and take the first corner, but when I do I am forced to a halt.
Chrome stands in the center of the hall.
“Oh, hello there!” He flashes a wide smile full of white teeth as he tosses a grenade from hand to hand. “Didn’t expect you to survive my gas, to be honest.”
 
I don’t have the time nor inclination to humor this fool. Raising my blowgun, I quickly fire off a dart. Chrome reels back with a grunt as it slams into his shoulder. He rips it back out and stares at the dart for a moment before tossing it aside. “Stupid bitch!” 
He pulls the pin on the grenade and rolls it towards me. The moment it lands I kick the grenade and send it flying back down the hall. Green gas erupts into existence as the grenade goes off behind Chrome. 
Footsteps thunder behind me. The statue is rounding the corner. Once it does…
The hallway beyond Chrome is blocked. Filled with deadly gas. The way behind me will soon be occupied by an indestructible statue. Neither choice is appealing. My eyes spin around in search of another route when Chrome suddenly darts to the side and disappears into an alcove. Desperate and out of options, I rush to follow. 
A small staircase leads up to the third floor. Chrome has already disappeared out of sight, I begin my ascent, taking the steps two at a time. There’s nothing at the Academy which will prepare you for a situation like this. No training course for what to do. The only way to survive is to have good instincts and just a smidge of luck. 
The third floor is identical to the second. Maroon carpet decorated with little bears, wooden walls, and long open stretches of hall where there’s nothing but doors. I pick a direction at random and start running.
I only get a few paces down the hall when Chrome leaps out from behind a door and thrusts a spear straight into my ribs.
The force of the blow is enough to send me careening against the far wall. My head bounces off the wood and everything goes blurry. Lashing out by instinct, I slam an elbow down onto the spear and knock it loose from his grasp. Chrome backs off down the hall as I press a hand against my ribs, checking for wounds.
Nothing. The spear didn’t even pierce my armor. 
Still, the blunt force was enough to cause damage. My ribs smart with pain as I straighten out and point my trident at Chrome. One of my ribs is probably bruised. Maybe cracked. I don’t have the time to stop and check. I need to dispatch this moron before that statue catches up with us. 
Chrome has pulled some kind of black box from his bag and is slowly backing down the hall, with another larger box resting at his feet. Idiot. Even if he killed me, that statue will tear him apart.
“Get out of the way!” I prowl forward, trident held in a high defensive stance. My head is unarmored, so I need to protect it at all costs. 
He shakes his own head and waggles the box at me. “Nah. Don’t think I will.”
Thunderous footsteps pound against the floor and I don’t have to check behind me to know that the statue has arrived. Time is up. I have to either press the attack or die, and I refuse to die until Tristen has paid for his crimes.
I take a single step forward and Chrome kicks the box at his feet, sliding it across the carpet until it comes to a stop between me and the statue. An awful realization hits me just as Chrome lifts his black remote and presses the button.
The box explodes.
A blast of heat followed by pain. There’s the sensation of falling as my body hits something hard then pinballs off it. Pain. Tremendous pain in both my face and chest. 
Water.
I splash into cold water, the shock of it freezing my mind and body as I hit the bottom. Everything is blurry and unfocused as chunks of wood rain down upon me, drifting through the water before coming to a stop at the bottom. The ground beneath me is carpet. The same maroon carpet as that above me. The explosion ripped through the floor and dropped me to a lower level.
A large stone settles down beside me. No. Not just a stone. A piece of the statue. It, too, has been hit by that bomb. 
My hands bat at the water as I desperately attempt to pull myself to the surface. Hard to breathe. And not just because I am underwater. A sharp pain throbs in my torso, just above my ribs. Every movement brings localized agony to my lungs and chest. Something has hurt me. What?
My head breaks the surface and I suck in a deep breath of air. Murky water surrounds me. It’s not that deep yet. My feet are touching the bottom. Still, it’s hard to stay upright. The pain in my chest is more intense than any I’ve ever felt. 
I press a hand on the wound and am surprised to feel stone. Can’t see through the murkiness of the water, but I fear that some shrapnel from the statue has pierced my body armor and been driven into my chest. It’s the only thing which would explain the pain. 
Yes. My fingers continue to prod and even through the water I can feel the blood flowing from the wound. The stone has been driven in deep. Explosives. The one thing which would ruin my armor. Why did they supply the tributes with explosives? 
I am too shocked to feel the fear which should be coursing in me right now. This isn’t the type of wound you just bounce back from. It requires time and medicine, neither of which I have or am likely to find soon. This could very well spell the end of—
No!
I have come too far to surrender now! Tristen has yet to pay for his crimes! How could I just roll over and die? 
But the water continues to rise and I have little strength. It’s a struggle to even keep my head above the surface. Can barely stand straight. That shrapnel of stone is so heavy. 
“Yoohoo! You still alive down there?”
I fight through the pain and crane my neck upward and stare at the gaping hole which was blown into the floor above me. Fluorescent lights shine down, silhouetting Chrome’s head as he peers into the hole with a wide grin. 
“Yes.” I try to project strength but my voice is weaker than I’d like. “Your l-little bomb wasn’t enough to kill me!”
He chuckles. “Nice try, but from where I’m standing it looks like you’re on deaths door!”
I reach a fumbling hand for my belt but cannot find my weapons. Where did…? I lost them in the fall. No. My hand brushes against something which I slip free from its clasp. My blowgun. 
“I refuse to die here,” I force the quaver out of my voice. There’s a handful of darts in the pouch on my waist. “Not until Tristen has faced justice.”
“Oh, really?” Chrome settles into a crouch. “Who is this Tristen, and what has he done to make you hate ‘em so much?”
I forgot that I’ve never publicly acknowledged my past since I volunteered. Didn’t think mentioning it would serve a purpose. Always thought that Tristen would pay once I won. Never did I consider what’d happen if I didn’t. “A trainer at the Academy,” I slide a dart out from the pouch and set it into my blowgun. The rising water makes this harder than it should be. “He violated me. Raped me. But his position protected him. Never faced the consequences.”
“I can’t believe he did that,” Chrome shakes his head. “I mean, you ain’t pretty enough for it.”
For a moment I feel nothing but a cold fury. It burns inside me, hotter than my fear and stronger than my pain. I don’t see Chrome’s face as he stares down at me with that smug little grin. I see Tristen’s. I see the superiority in his eyes as he knows that his prestige and reputation protect him, that nothing I could do would ever bring him harm. 
With this in mind, I raise the blowgun to my lips and launch the dart.
It strikes Chrome in the eye. He flails back with a shriek, hands flying to the wound as he falls backwards and out of sight. His tortured screams echo through the halls as the water rises above my nose and I struggle to breathe. The stone which pierces my chest drags me down. There is no triumph in my success. 
Only fear and despair.
My legs buckle and I slip underneath the surface of the water. Debris and hunks of stone swirl in the murky depths. Can barely see my own hands as I desperately try to swim to salvation. But I can’t. My body refuses to budge. Drifts aimlessly through the water. The strength is fading from my limbs. Soon my efforts weaken to the point where I make no progress at all. 
Slowly I sink to the bottom.
I land on the carpet below me, my shoulders touching the maroon bears. A disembodied head lies beside me. The statue’s. Those stern, disappointed eyes gaze at me as my lungs burn with the desire to breathe. Failure. The bitter taste of failure pervades my entire being.
I open my mouth and scream. I scream soundlessly at all the injustice which faces this world. All the cruelty and suffering. The unfairness of everything. I scream and scream until my vision goes black and the pain fades away. I scream until there is nothing left.
Nothing at all.
===Opal Crane (District 5)===
I kneel upon the back of the golden cornucopia as I gaze upon the flooded parking lot before me. Cars drift serenely through the water, bypassing the occasional crate as the early morning sun reflects off the rippling surface. 
I stare at one car, a blue midsize sedan, and grit my teeth. Hours of work wasted. I spent the entirety of the predawn hours hot-wiring cars and setting traps around the parking lot in preparation for the finale. And what have I accomplished with all that work? 
Nothing!
When the water first began to pour out from the drains and pipes around the parking lot, I was unconcerned. The Gamemakers were clearly doing something, but I figured it had nothing to do with me, so I continued my work. It wasn’t until the water got up to my knees did I realize exactly what the Gamemakers were plotting.
The entire arena is flooding. No doubt this is a ploy to gather all the remaining tributes together for one final clash. Blood and death. Water and fire. The final battle.
The bottles tied at my side clink and jangle as I stand. They, at least, are still useful. This morning I went around puncturing the fuel tanks of cars in an effort to create puddles of gasoline, but I also had the forethought to fill several bottles with the stuff. While the rising water has thoroughly ruined my trap idea, the bottles are still a viable threat, especially combined with my matches.
”They haven’t seen the last of my Molotov’s,” I mutter to myself as I scan the horizon. The water hasn’t yet reached the top of the cornucopia, but it’s getting there. Soon I will have to relocate to higher ground, lest I want to spend the rest of the Games swimming.
That wouldn’t be the end of me, but it would be a major hindrance. Swimming isn’t my strong suit. I can swim, of course, but I do not have the knowledge and skill that Mako and Marina undoubtedly possess. This sudden flood favors them greatly.
I shove away the anger this thought draws. Rage can be a powerful tool, but only when used sparingly. I need to channel my anger into something productive, not just let it burn wildly. Father will pay for what he has done to me and Mother. He will learn what strength I truly harbor inside. I will reclaim my rightful place in the Capitol.
But first I must kill the remaining tributes.
The water continues to rise at a slow but steady pace. It laps at the top of the cornucopia, spilling over onto the surface and then sliding back off. Soon it will claim the horn entirely. I will need to relocate before then.
The parking lot is surrounded by a ‘U’ of buildings. One of them, the Klondike side, has been wrecked by the fire I caused a few days ago and is teetering precariously among the water. The other two buildings are mostly intact. Both are connected to each other and neither seems to be too different from the other, so whichever one I choose is immaterial. 
I make my final preparations. Check the seals on my bottles, ensure my weapons are secured at my side, and remove my rain jacket. It’ll only slow me down while I swim.
“I suppose this is why our uniforms included swimsuits,” I say as I walk up to the edge and peer down. The water is surprisingly murky. I can’t see too far past the surface. Irritating. Who knows what dangers are hidden below? Still, there’s nothing to be done about it now. I must either swim or drown. 
I dive into the water and begin swimming towards the nearest building, the one closer to the canyon which connects the southern end of the resort with the northern part. I feel like this is a very centralized location and would make perfect sense for a final confrontation of the tributes. 
The water hasn’t yet fully risen past the second floor, but I find a maintenance ladder which connects from the ground to the top of the building and use it to begin my ascent upwards. In only moments I am pulling myself up onto the roof.
Most of the roof is covered in green slate which slopes outwards, but the portion where I find myself is flat and filled with concrete. Several large machines hum quietly in a corner and an antenna reaches up to the sky. Clearly this is a maintenance area. 
Content that the vicinity is clear, I check the seals on my bottles—they’re still intact—and slide two throwing axes free from their sheaths. I am prepared for a fight. I will not be the only tribute to have realized that the roof is the safest location. Soon another will show.
Indeed, not more than a handful of minutes pass before a figure appears in the distance, walking across the rooftops with a cocky smile and arrogant swagger.
Mako.
“Ho, Opal!” He snaps off a mocking salute and waves his trident at me. “Didn’t expect you to get here so soon!”
I knew it would be either him or Marina who’d show first. The two of them are unquestionably the best swimmers left in the arena. “I am afraid this encounter will not be so docile as our last,” I say. Already I am scanning his stance, checking for weakness. His shield will probably block any axe I throw at him from this distance. 
“Really?” Mako slides down from the green slate and lands on the concrete. “I thought you might try and ally with me like Marina did.”
“She wanted an alliance with you?” How quaint. Personally I wouldn’t be able to trust Mako an inch. 
He nods. “Yup. ‘Course, I knew it was all some trick, so I ditched her first chance I got. Wonder how she fared against…uh, what’s his name, without me.”
'What’s his name’ could be any of the three remaining tributes, so I see no point in guessing. No doubt Mako is being intentionally vague anyway. “And now you’ve decided to die by my hand.”
He looks up and frowns. “Uh, not really, no. Honestly I’d prefer if I could make it to the final two without fighting anyone. You sure we can’t make that happen?”
“Unfortunately that is not a possibility.” Mako is too dangerous a threat for me to just let him go wandering off. I can’t afford to just assume someone else will kill him. And, more importantly, I cannot trust Mako would actually walk away even if I let him. 
Mako shrugs as if I told him our lunch plans were canceled. “Oh well. Guess I’ll just have to put you down here and now.”
He takes a step forward and I circle to the side, eyeing the large shield he carries in front of himself. Wicked looking spikes adorn the front, and it’s wide enough to cover most of his torso. That combined with the long reach afforded by his trident practically makes him a turtle. Even the simple act of getting close to him is dangerous.
He won’t be baited into a mistake. Despite all his buffoonery, Mako is a skilled fighter who knows exactly what advantages his shield and trident give him. He won’t overextend himself or take long, ponderous blows. He’ll know that he’s basically unbeatable against me in a conventional battle.
Which is why I don’t intend to fight conventionally.
I do as he expects at first, circle around him and pretend to search for an opening, but the moment he drops into a guard I back off and pull a bottle free from my belt.
His eyes widen as he watches me light a match. He saw what happened with Valor. He knows the danger of these bottles better than anyone.
I let the bottle fly.
I don’t throw it straight at him. He’d just block it with his shield. No. Instead I send the bottle right at his feet.
It smashes open into a wave of sparks and glass. Mako gives a pained shout and throws himself to the side as shards of glass rip into his legs and flames lick at his feet. He drops his shield as he rolls away, coming back to a standing position.
I rush him with my axe. Unfortunately he recovers quickly and thrusts a trident for my chest, so I am forced to slide underneath it and pop back up behind him. 
Mako turns to face me with a growl of anger. Surprisingly he makes no snarky comment or foolish boast. Turns out Mako is actually quite serious when he’s pushed against the wall. What a bother.
I send one of my axes flying at his skull and am unsurprised when he deflects it with his trident. Yet I’ve closed the distance between us in the time he took to do so, and he’s forced to step back to avoid the swing of my second axe. When I press forward, he pulls a flare from his belt and thrusts it towards my face.
I reel back as angry red sparks shoot out and sting my face. Mako drops the flare at this feet and steps back, muttering to himself as he takes up his trident in a two-handed stance. His shoes land on the sloped green slate and I suddenly realize that I have him.
With one hand I pull up another fire bottle and Mako curses, trying to move out of range. As he does so, his feet slip on the uneven terrain and, in that brief moment of unsteadiness, I use my other hand to send the axe flying.
Mako’s arrogant face turns to shock as the axe finds a home between his neck and shoulder with a spray of blood. One hand presses against the wound as he staggers back and slips. Mako thumps against the roof and goes sliding off into the water with a splash. 
I walk up to the edge and peer down, readying my third axe. The moment he resurfaces I will send it straight into his skull.
Yet he does not reappear. For several long moments I stand on the precipice of the roof, gazing into the water below and waiting for his return. But there’s nothing to be seen. Not even a ripple.
Boom!
A cannon confirms what I’d already begun to suspect. Mako Melanesia is dead.
“Good riddance,” I mutter and turn away from the scene, recollecting my fallen axe and sticking it back into my belt. While one threat may be neutralized, there are still others out there. These Games aren’t over yet.
Not even close.
===Remus Ring (The Capitol)===
I trudge through the waist-deep water, staff held high as I make my down the flooded and twisted halls of the resort. Cannons have gone off. Tributes have died. Yet I haven’t seen a single person all day. The only thing that even sets today apart from yesterday is this sudden flood.
I don’t know how to feel about this. On one hand, this flood should inconvenience the others and force them into altercations, which favors me. On the other, I myself am not the best swimmer, nor do I really have a good way to navigate these waterways. At least with my lower half concealed by the water everyone will feel compelled to attack my torso and head. 
My Feast bag contained a chest protector and a visored helmet, both of which I currently wear. It would be foolish to think that these will fully protect me from harm, yet it is only human nature to take further risks when one wears protective gear. I will need to remind myself that I am not invincible. I need only look at Solomon and his fate to remember.
Solomon…
Did he escape? Or did he die in the arena? I do not know, and I doubt I ever will. I would like to think he successfully executed his plan and will live out the rest of his life peaceably with his sister, and yet…I fear that is not the case. 
I am pulled out of my thoughts as a rotting piece of the ceiling collapses and plunks down into the water beside me. Evidently all this water damage is not good for the structural integrity of the building. Not surprising, really. It’s only to be—
The building gives a sudden shake and the ceiling trembles as a wall in front of me explodes into splinters of wood. Swirling dust floats over the water as a massive figure pulls itself through the hole, shrouded by the debris and dust.
My heart drops as I recognize that familiar form. Impossible. There’s no way he survived…
“Monty Moose is angry!”
Monty himself stands before me. Though he looks nothing like before, it is undoubtedly him. His clothes and fur have been burnt away, leaving behind nothing but angry red burns and large blisters. One of his eyes is swollen shut and both of his antlers have been snapped in half, one being nothing more than a stubble. His lone remaining eye swivels around before coming to a stop on me. 
“You!” He points a long finger at me. “Monty hates you!”
“Me?” My voice sounds all-too much like a squeak. “Wh-why do you hate me? I have done nothing m—”
“Every time Monty see you, something goes wrong!” Monty stalks forward through the water. It barely reaches his knees. “First you with that evil green child, then you there when Monty’s home burnt down! Yesterday you tricked Monty into thinking he was in wrestling competition, then you tried blow him up! And now Monty see you again, and guess what? Monty’s home is flooded!” 
I’d never stopped to think what all these coincidences must have looked like from Monty’s perspective. I was present for literally every awful thing that happened to him. Is it any wonder that he blames me? 
“I wasn’t responsible for—”
“Monty no care!” The moose’s voice booms throughout the hall, rattling the walls and causing another piece of the ceiling to collapse. “Monty is tired of all you children ransacking his home! Monty is no just angry! Monty beyond angry! Monty is pissed off!”
There is no reasoning with this creature. The furious expression on his bizarrely human face is enough to tell me that my words would be wasted. After everything that has happened to him, Monty no longer cares about making friends or playing games. 
And that terrifies me.
Monty continues to press forward and I stagger back, slowed by the water. Monty’s broad lips are twisted into a snarl as he raises an arm. “Monty sick of you! Monty is going to rip your head off!”
No amount of training or preparation will ever be enough to comprehend the horror of facing down an enraged, eight-foot tall monstrosity of a moose, but my instincts kick in all the same. I raise my left arm— the one with the wrist mounted dart-gun looted from Mercia—and fire off a volley of darts as Monty closes the distance. He bellows and shakes his head as they strike him in the face, but it doesn’t so much a slow him down. Well. Time for plan B.
I turn and run.
The water drags at my feet as I push through, drawing upon all my training and stamina to urge my body into overdrive. I cannot possibly defeat Monty in physical combat. I saw what he did to Mercia. He even survived an explosion! If that didn’t kill him, then what can?
Monty’s enraged roars fill my ears as I round the corner and press onward. This is taking too long. The waters rapid rise threatens to pull me under or worse. I cannot afford to be caught down here. If the water reaches the ceiling…
A stairwell appears on my right. I angle myself towards it right when Monty leaps forward with a trumpeting roar. 
A massive hand smashes into my chest, throwing me forward. My vision fractures as I bounce off the staircase and come to a rolling stop. I suck in a gasping breath and roll onto my side. Feels like I’ve been hit by a truck. Pretty sure my chest would be caved in right now if it weren’t for my body armor. Muscles screaming in protest, I force myself upright.
And find Monty standing right in front of me.
I lash out in a panic, thrusting my staff into Monty’s face. He barely reacts, merely letting out a growl as the wooden end smashes into his right cheek. He raises a hand. “Monty sick of your games!”
There is no time to dodge the swing. His hand strikes me across the face and sends me flying up the stairs. Half of my helmet shatters as I crash across the far wall and slump to the floor. Blood dribbles down my forehead and into my eyes as I slowly climb to my feet, blinking away tears of pain. Can’t stay here. Have to get away. Monty is a force of nature. Unstoppable. 
I stagger up the last few steps and onto the third floor. The hallway here isn’t flooded yet. That’s good. Means I can move with some semblance of speed.
I jog down the hall at a wobbly pace. I am dizzy. Everything seems to be spinning. Wouldn’t be surprised if that blow gave me a concussion. But I can’t slow. Slowness equals death. 
Someone appears ahead of me. Stumbling through the halls at a sluggish pace with their head bowed as they go. The gray jacket gives away his identity before any of his features even come into focus. 
Chrome.
He hears my approach and turns to watch as I stagger towards him. One of his hands is pressed against his eye, a well of blood bubbling between his fingers. Clearly he’s been in a fight. 
I hold my hands in the air. “I do not intend to fight you!” Monty won’t be fazed by the two of us fighting. He’d just stomp straight through and rip us both to shreds. “There’s a mutt chasing me, and it’ll kill us both if we stop!”
Chrome nods slowly and sticks a knife back into his belt. I hadn’t even realized he’d drawn it. “Sure thing, man. I know a thing or two ‘bout mutts.”
Not entirely sure what he means by that, but I don’t have the time to dwell on it. I rush forward and bypass him. As I do he moves his hand off his face and I see that one of his eyes is more-or-less missing. “You got a plan to deal with it?” Chrome follows me as I move down the hall. Monty’s trumpeting roars sound after us. It won’t be long until he catches up.
“Not at all.” I don’t remember a thing about Chrome. I can’t be sure he won’t stick a knife in my back as we go, but I have to trust in his sense of self-survival. Attacking me while Monty is chasing us would be foolish to the extreme. 
Chrome lets out a hiss of breath. “Damn, man. Then what we gonna do?”
That’s the million credit question. What can we even do to evade Monty? There’s nothing I can think of that would slow him down or wound him. Nothing which would prevent his chasing of me. 
The hallway branches into two separate paths ahead. I immediately begin to head left, but Chrome places a hand on my shoulder and draws me back. “We need to lure that mutt right, man.”
“What? Why?”
“‘Cuz I got a trap set up that way. It’ll stop ‘em dead in his tracks.”
I sincerely doubt that, but I have no better option, so I just nod. “Right. Very well. What kind of trap?”
“You’ll see. Just remember to stick to the left when we turn the first corner!”
I actually begin to recognize our location as we head down the path Chrome indicated. We’re near the cornucopia parking lot now, on the third floor of the building which formed the bottom of the ‘U’ that surrounded it. That means…what does that mean?
Chrome presses himself flat against the wall as we reach the corner and I follow suit, mimicking his actions to the last detail. If Chrome intends to betray me, he’ll have to be clever about it. When he pulls away from the wall and turns to survey the hall behind him, I do the same. 
A series of long, sharp spikes extend from the wall across from us, attached to a black board which has been placed against it. I do not understand what I am even looking at until Chrome grins and gestures at it. “Behold! My spike trap!”
I can see the mechanism on the floor which should trigger the trap itself. It’s right in the center of the hall. When Monty follows us there should be no way he avoids stepping on it. 
“Are you certain this will stop him?” I ask Chrome quietly. My body is still sore and aching from the moose’s blows. Dried blood has crusted in my eyebrows. 
Chrome shrugs. He’s pressing a hand against his eye again. “Dunno. But if this don’t work, then nothing will.”
That’s exactly what I am afraid of. 
“YOU CAN RUN, BUT YOU NO CAN HIDE!” Monty screams as he makes an appearance at the end of the hall. His stunted horns and red skin give him an almost demonic appearance. 
“We’ll see about that,” Chrome mutters as he turns and takes off sprinting down the hall. His feet splash in puddles of water as he goes. So the rising water has reached the third floor now. Is nowhere safe? 
Monty lets out a roar and charges forward. He only gets a few steps before his foot touches the mechanism and activates the trap. Immediately the wall snaps close, driving the spikes into Monty with tremendous force. The moose gives an ear-piercing screech as the spiked wall digs into his flesh. 
We have him! It actually worked! That trap managed to stop Monty in his—
The spiked wall is sent flying as Monty rips it off him. Blood drips from a multitude of holes that adorn his flesh as Monty staggers free from the trap, his face curled into a vicious snarl. Those wide, human-like eyes find me as I stand staring at him in disbelief. “Monty tired of this. Monty no want to play. Monty just want to tear you in pieces!”
Once again, I turn and run.
My feet send up sprays of water as I splash through the ever-growing puddles which pour into the halls. I am quickly running out of places to run. Where can I even go from here? I find my answer as I take the next corner. A door labeled ‘Roof Access’. I waste no time in pushing it open and stumbling up the steps. I blink rapidly as I stagger onto the roof, blinded by the sudden sunlight. 
“Well, well, well, looks like yet another opponent has arrived!” A haughty feminine voice cuts through the air. There’s a familiar undercurrent of an accent in it. The Capitol?
I pull myself to a stop when I spot the two people standing before me. Chrome…and Opal. The dark-haired girl is across a small, open square of concrete on the other side of the roof. She holds two axes in her hands and, from the expression on her face, she means to use them. 
“There’s a mutt coming!” I gesture wildly at the door behind me. “He’ll kill us all if we don’t band together!”
Opal hops down from her perch and gives a small, sardonic smile. “No thanks. I work alone.”
Chrome, one hand still pressed against his injured eye, gives me an apologetic shrug. “Sorry, man. Pretty sure we the last three and…well, if that mutt kills you two first…”
These two don’t understand the problem facing them. They haven’t fully experienced Monty’s might. Not like I have. Yet I find myself unable to speak as the two of them begin to circle around me, forming a small triangle on the roof. The fools. If they want to fight it out, then we’ll all die. Monty won’t spare anyone just because they’re the Victor!
Reluctantly I begin to circle with the others, keeping my guard up and my sight on them. I make sure to position myself so that they are between me and the door I came from. When Monty arrives…
Opal feints an attack. I do not budge, but Chrome flails backwards, one-handedly waving his sickle in the air. His eye wound is holding him back. Weakening him. There is the possibility he will bleed out, and then…
“YOU NO CAN RUN FROM MONTY!”
Monty smashes through the wall as he arrives. A cloud of dust and plaster washes over him, billowing over the rooftop as its propelled by the wind. I back away to the far side of the roof, standing practically on the edge. All around me there is nothing but a sea of water and the occasional building poking through. The arena has truly been flooded and there is nowhere else to go.
Monty strides forward, muscles rippling as he points a beefy finger at me. He opens his mouth to speak when Opal’s axe suddenly smashes into his face. 
Monty staggers back with a howl. Blood pours from his face, mixing with the burn marks that adorn his torso. The axe has struck him straight in his swollen eye, cleaving it in two. 
“This is the mutt you were so frightened of?” Opal laughs scornfully as she sets her second axe into a loop on her belt and holds up a bottle. “How pathetic. This thing couldn’t hurt a fly!”
Monty turns his attention on her. Fury burns in his eyes as he roars and steps forward, hands reaching out to grasp her. For a moment I think there’s going to be a repeat of what happened to Mercia, but then Opal sticks a match into her bottle and chucks it straight into Monty’s face.
The moose goes up in flames like a candle.
Monty screams. He flails his arms wildly as the flames race across his body much quicker than should be possible. Desperate, he turns and rushes to the edge of the rooftop, where he flings himself over the edge and lands in the water with a massive splash. 
“Help! Help!” He continues to thrash about even as the flames are extinguished, long arms beating at the waters surface. “Monty no can swim! Monty no can swim!”
He struggles like that for several long moments, begging and pleading for someone to help, before his head finally sinks beneath the surface. Even then his arms continue to reach and grasp for something, anything, to grab onto. But eventually those sink as well. Monty Moose disappears beneath the waves. 
Then there is total silence. 
A soft, clean wind blows across the rooftop as Opal walks over to the edge and peers down at Monty’s watery tomb. For a moment she just stands there watching, then she spits. “Good riddance to bad company, I say!”
The girl turns her attention on me and I feel an icy fear deep in my heart. She is not like the rest of the tributes. Even the other Careers did not have this presence, this total mastery of the situation. Everything about her, the accent, her posture, even the way she carries herself, screams of the Capitol. No. Not just the Capitol. 
The Great Families. 
“Who are you?” I ask quietly. This is no mere girl from District 5. I would’ve noticed this long ago had I spent any time studying her prior to this moment. There is a distinct feeling to her arrogance. To the complete certainty she performs every action. It calls to mind Cyprian Valii and Callum Trevelyan, both heirs to one of the Capitol’s Great Families.
Opal twirls an axe in her left hand as her right pulls another from her belt. She walks towards me at a casual pace, no worry or fear anywhere to be seen. “Who am I?” She laughs. A short, cruel sound. “Well, I suppose I’ve come far enough that it won’t matter if I reveal my identity now. My true name is Yuna Melville.”
House Melville is one of the Great Families. A prestigious House that is almost equal to House Ring, but has typically avoided dabbling in politics. Their current patriarch is man named Silas Melville, and while I personally know several of his children, the name Yuna is not familiar in the slightest. 
“You’re a member of House Melville?”
Opal nods. “Oh, yes. Though my Father has taken great pains to segregate me from society, I am indeed his child. His bastard, to be specific.”
That would explain it. Bastards are not looked upon kindly by the Great Families. “Your Father shipped you off to District 5?” It would make sense. Why else would she be from there? 
“Quite so. He probably expected me to disappear quietly and yet…here I am, moments away from becoming Victor and achieving my lifelong ambition.”
Over her shoulder, I spot Chrome as he slowly slinks to his feet. He holds a sickle in his hand as he carefully begins to creep forward. 
“And what is your ambition?” I speak to draw Opal’s attention to myself. If Chrome manages to take her out from behind, all the better for me. He is wounded, weak. It wouldn’t take much effort to put him down. But Opal? She is another matter entirely. 
“I seek to become the head of House Melville!” There is passion in her voice now. More emotion than I’ve ever heard from the girl. “But I do not intend to do it as Yuna Melville. Oh no. That girl is dead and buried. I was reborn in District 5. Raised with a new name and identity. The very same name that my Mother, an Avox, once carried. I will burn House Melville to the ground and, in its place, I will raise up House Crane.”
I feel weak in the knees. An Avox. Her mother was an Avox. So her father had a dalliance with one. But then…my own Father had been so enraged by Julius’ romance with that Avox. Disgusted by it. And yet his peer was doing the same exact thing! 
Opal is still talking, lost in her own hysteria as she speaks of all her grand plans and designs. Chrome sneaks up behind her, ducked low to the ground as he leaves behind a trail of blood leaking from his eye socket. He’ll be dispatched so simply once Opal is dead, and I will be declared Victor. 
Then there is Aurilee’s promise and Julius…
Chrome strikes. In one fluid motion he rises to his feet and slashes out with the sickle, the half-moon blade racing towards Opal’s neck. 
Opal ducks. 
Chrome staggers as his blade goes sweeping over her head, then Opal spins and, with one swing of her arm, plants an axe straight into his forehead. 
Chrome thumps to the ground with nary a sound.
Boom!
”You did not believe I was really so foolish as to neglect my surroundings, did you?” Opal turns her attention back on me, a cold smile playing on her lips. 
My only response is to raise my staff into a defensive stance. 
“A duel, is it?” Opal flicks her axe, sending droplets of Chrome’s blood flying. “Very well. Let us fight. The scion of House Ring against the black sheep of House Melville. This will really be quite the spectacular show. En garde!”
Opal charges forward. I stay put and study her movements. Her eyes. This is my domain. I have spent countless hours at the fighting arena back in the Capitol battling in this exact situation. Staff against axe. Power against skill. Speed against strength. I can win this. 
I know I can.
Opal’s first swing misses as I dance to the side, then I duck her second. There is no staggered response from her like there would be with a novice, instead she just sends a third swing towards my leg. I snap my staff downwards, where it collides with the haft of her axe, then whip it up and plant a thrust into her thigh. 
Opal stumbles back with a growl. Her eyes burn with anger. “You’re skilled, as I expected. Perhaps I should take a more…direct approach.”
She hops backwards, drastically increasing the space between us, then sends one of her axes spiraling towards me. I am forced to roll in order to dodge it, and when I come back to my feet I see that she holds a rag stuffed bottle in her right hand. 
In her left is a match.
I freeze in panic, all training forgotten. Then there’s a sharp whistling noise as a spear flies over my head and strikes Opal in the shoulder.
Opal collapses to the floor with a scream. Instantly I spin and face him as he comes scrabbling over the rooftops edge, a wide grin on his face as his soaked clothes drip with water. 
“Hey, hey! Did ya miss me?” The tall, broad-shouldered boy grins as he spins a trident in one hand, a net dangling from the other. “I hope you did, because I’m your next Victor! Mako Melanesia, bay-bay!”
===Mako Melanesia (District 4)===
Remus stares at me like a startled fish as Opal lies on the floor, cursing and screaming as she tries to pry my spear from her shoulder. Neither one seems to have expected my reappearance, though perhaps they should have. Weren’t they keeping count of the cannons?
“You’re dead!” Opal howls as she finally pulls the spear free. Blood blossoms from the wound it leaves behind. 
I can’t tell if that’s a question or a threat, so I just roll with the former. “Nope. I am very much alive, thanks to this little baby.” I take my empty Instant Relief container and toss it at her feet. “I told you that you shouldn’t have ignored the Feast. They gave out some really good stuff.”
In the corner of my vision I spot Remus as he begins to edge away. Probably thinks I can’t see him. Well, that’s okay. I have something else I need to focus on first.
I hop off the ledge and walk over to Opal’s fallen bottle, which lies halfway between her and Remus. I lift a foot and crush it, grinding it into pieces. “No more fire, okay Opal? The viewers are getting bored of it!”
Opal snarls in fury as Remus continues to back off. I make sure to keep a close tab on him. Honestly, I’d have preferred to remain hidden in the water until there was only one person left, but that was kinda hard to do with all those sharks. 
Numerous gray dorsal fins peek out from the water, swimming in circles around this particular rooftop. The very same sharks that were kept in the wave pool, no doubt. I didn’t see hide or fin of them until Chrome’s cannon sounded. That’s when they all appeared. Guess the Gamemakers didn’t want me sitting out on this little melee-a-trois. 
“You had a cannon!” Opal struggles to her feet, one hand pressed against her wound in an effort to stem the flow of blood. 
“Yeah, no, that wasn’t for me.” I look around and gesture at Opal and Remus, then point at Chrome’s body. “Considering you three are here, that means it was probably for Marina or…that other guy.” Man, wouldn’t it be ironic if it was Marina’s cannon? Guess that would mean our ‘alliance’ paid off after all.
Movement on the right catches my eye. Remus is slowly lifting his left arm up. I don’t see any weapon in his hand, so I have no idea what he’s doing, but it probably isn’t going to be anything nice. I spin to the side just as a dart is launched from some small device on his wrist. I tap a finger against my head. “Nice try, but I’m too smart to be caught off guard like that!” 
Remus doesn’t respond. He simply drops back into a defensive stance and watches me warily. Though he wears a helmet, half of it is shattered and reveals his stern face underneath. This guy is all business. 
Meanwhile Opal has regained both of her axes and is drifting closer. I can see another axe hanging from her belt and some kind of hatchet strapped to her thigh. Man, these two have all kinds of weapons, don’t they? Wish I had something more than my trident and net, but I lost my shield in that first fight with Opal and my little swim ruined the last flare I was saving. Well, I mean I do have a dagger, but that’s reserved in case of emerg—
Opal sends one of her axes flying my way. My first instinct is to entangle it in my net, but I don’t want to risk it getting ripped, so I just roll out of the way instead. When I pop back up onto my feet, I see that Remus has entered the fray and the two of them are duking it out in a frantic clash of staff against axe. 
Okay. Okay, this is good. If my two opponents focus on beating the crap out of each other, then that means neither one is focused on beating the crap out of me. All I need to do is hang back and enjoy the—
A dart slams into my shoulder and I flinch back with a yelp. Remus nods in satisfaction, then uses his staff to deflect Opal’s axe strike and returns to the battle. 
I rip the dart out, study its bloodstained tip, then chuck it to the side. Not poisoned. That’s good. Still, it shows I can’t just hang back and relax. The others haven’t forgotten about me.
I turn my full attention on the fight.
Remus sweeps his staff out like a broom, catching Opal in the ankles and sending her to the floor. He aims a thrust for her throat when I jump in, trident flashing towards the back of his skull, but he whips around and deflects the blow with his staff. I wait for his next attack and, when it comes, I toss my net forward and wrap it around his staff. 
Remus staggers as his main weapon becomes entangled in the thick netting. Caught off guard, he doesn’t even resist as I pull the net back to me and rip the staff clean out of his hands. He stares at me in shock.
”Haha! Not so tough now, are you? Without your little stick you’re not—”
Remus drives his shoulder into my gut and wraps his arms around my legs in a classic takedown. I hit the ground hard, breath knocked out of me as the full weight of Remus crashes down on my chest. A moment later his fists begin to smash into my face. 
There’s a certain disorientation that comes the first time someone is punched, especially in the head. It is a kind of disbelief, a stunned irreconcilability. Most people aren’t accustomed to being assaulted. To being struck straight in the face. Even trained fighters can be caught off guard if the punch comes when least expected. 
So that’s why I barely resist as Remus rains blow upon blow down upon me. It’s hard to see. His fists break open my skin and I feel the blood sliding down my face as he goes about his brutal work. Then I finally come to my senses and land my own punch right in his liver.
Remus gasps and his blows falter. I take the opportunity to shift my body and toss him off me. He rolls onto the ground, moaning in pain as he clutches at his gut. Liver punches are especially painful, but I didn’t get much force behind mine. He should be back up soon.
Unless I finish him first. 
The dagger I’ve kept hidden in my belt makes an appearance as I approach the downed boy, ready to put an end to this madness. 
Something smashes into my knee.
I fall with a scream as Opal steps over me, Remus’ fallen staff in hand. There’s a savage brutality in her eyes. I’ve always known she was unhinged. “These Games are mine to win!” She slams the staff into my head. I try to block it with my hands to little avail. Everything goes cloudy as the thick wood connects with my skull. Hard to even think. “Mine! I’ve come too far to fail now! I will win!”
She continues to wail away with the staff and I find little strength within me to resist the blows. I begin to think that this might be where it ends when I spot Remus rising to his feet, round shield in hand. Where did he…?
Remus slams the shield into Opal’s face. 
The girl is sent flying to the ground, body rag-dolling as she rolls towards the rooftops edge. Bright, cheery sunlight shines down on the calm blue water as I struggle to my feet. What a sharp contrast to the pain and brutality on display here.
Remus bends down and picks up his staff. He looks weary. Tired of everything. His eyes find me as I finally regain a standing position. “I need to win,” He says quietly. “My brother is counting on me. Aurilee has promised me. I…I can’t afford to disappoint them.”
I shake my head in an effort to clear it. Doesn’t really work. “Yeah, I hear ya. I need to win, too. Really want to buy myself a big boat.”
His eyes harden. Probably thinks he’s being mocked. Why is that? Does he really think his desire to not disappoint his family is more important than my dream of sailing the seas? Talk about a myopic world view! “You’re not special, Remus. You don’t matter anymore than the rest of us do.”
”You don’t understand!” He almost shouts the words. “I am an heir to a Great Family! The influence and favor they curry in the Capitol is unparalleled! And if I win…Aurilee has promised me her hand in marriage. I can change things, Mako. I can make Panem and the world itself a better place. Can’t you see that?”
I see a reflection in the shards of glass upon the floor. Opal. She has regained her feet and axes. 
“Will I have a boat in your better world?” I ask. 
Remus stares at me as if I’ve gone mad. “Mako, I…you’d be dead. How could…”
”If I don’t get a boat, then how can you say that world would be better?” 
Remus looks troubled. He seems to be sincerely contemplating my words. Huh. Maybe he really is the best person here. Perhaps the world he will make truly would be better. Unfortunately we will never find out, because a second later Opal’s axe smashes into his face.
Remus falls straight back and thumps against the floor. The axe is buried deep into the left side of his face, where his armored helmet had been shattered. Blood flows around the steel blade and pools on the floor. He doesn’t so much as twitch.
Boom!
Opal steps up to his body and pries the axe free. I wince at the wet squelch. “House Crane’s first victim was the heir to House Ring,” She gives a small shake of her head. “How appropriate.”
“That’s pretty cruel,” I say quietly. Remus was no friend of mine, but I still feel a little melancholic about his death.
Opal gives me a glare. “My mother was slowly tortured to death. What do you know about cruelty?” 
Ouch. Didn’t know that. Still doesn’t change anything. I gesture at the empty rooftop. “It’s super ironic that we’re the last two, huh?”
“I will kill you.” Opal turns to face me head-on, both hands clasped around the handles of her axes. “I will return home and take my rightful place as head of the family. I will bring down my father.”
Her and Remus had such grandiose schemes and ambitions. All I ever wanted was my own boat. Yet that doesn’t matter. In the end, we’re all the same. We have one single desire that we crave beyond all else. It doesn’t matter if it’s something as complex as changing the world or as simple as owning a boat. Neither want is more important than the other. They’re both just dreams…
Until someone makes them come true!
I roll forward, snatch up Remus’ fallen shield, and bound back to my feet. Opal sends an axe flying, but it deflects off the shield, sending a reverberating tremor through my arms. Opal steps back as I swing the shield at her, using it like a club. I need to create distance. Get her away from the center of the roof and closer to the edge. 
“You’ve been a thorn in my side for too long, Mako!” She still has an axe in her hand, alongside another on her belt. How many of those damn things does she have? “It is time for you to shut up and go away!”
I throw the shield like a frisbee and it strikes her across the chest. Opal falls to the floor, sliding along the concrete until she touches the sloped green slate. I begin to approach, bending to snatch up my net as I do. “You know, I was thinking the exact same thing.”
Opal takes a step forward and I throw the net atop her. She growls wordlessly as her axe slices at the ropes, but she takes an involuntary step backward as she does. Her foot lands on the green slate, slick with water, and she sways in place as she loses her balance.
I rush forward and shove her straight over the edge.
Opal hits the water with a splash. Screaming and cursing, she flails her arms as the axe cuts away the ropes and she frees herself. “Do you want to know where I got the name Mako?” I casually pick up my dagger and toss it from hand to hand. Opal doesn’t respond. Arms free, she begins to tread water as she glares up at me. I laugh. “The name came from a shark, Opal. I was named after sharks.”
I raise a hand and point at the gray dorsal fins as they begin to close in on her.
“You foul little cockroach! You’ll pay for this! You’ll—” Opal’s voice turns into a scream as the first shark reaches her. 
Though I can’t seen through the water, I can see the blood which turns it red. The mere presence of it puts the sharks into a frenzy. Opal screams and swings her axe to no avail. The sharks tear into her, ripping off limbs as I watch calmly from the roof. It is not a pretty sight, but I can’t afford to look away. Not until it’s official.
It doesn’t take long. In less than a minute there’s nothing of Opal left. Just bloodstained water and the retreating fins of the sharks as they move back to deeper water. “Wait for it…” I glance to the sky anxiously. What’s taking so long?
Boom!
There it is! A wide smile breaks across my face as I turn away from the water and survey the two bodies left on the roof. Both Chrome and Remus have their faces split in two, so they’re very clearly dead, but what if I miscounted the cannons? What if Marina is still alive somewhere? Ah, hell. The last thing I need is for her to come sneaking out and declaring herself—
The beautiful sound of trumpets cut through the sunny sky as the wondrous voice of Reginald Vettel echoes in the air. “Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce the Victor of the 333rd Annual Hunger Games, Mako Melanesia!”
Yes! Oh God, yes! I pump my fists into the air and scream like a maniac. It’s happened! It finally happened! The Games are mine! I won! I won! All that blood, sweat, and tears were worth it! Everything I’ve put into training has paid off! 
Yes! 
I parade across the rooftop as confetti begins to rain down from the sky. I don’t know where it comes from but I really don’t care. Victory! Sweet, sweet Victory!
My dream is coming true! I laugh and punch the sky as a hovercraft appears, lazily drifting towards me. “I won! I won! Ha! I told you, Brian! I told you I’d win!” My boat is coming. A big, beautiful boat that I will travel upon the oceans with. 
The hovercraft touches down and a veritable horde of doctors come pouring out. I find it strange at first, until I remember that I’ve actually taken quite the beating. Adrenaline is probably the only thing keeping me upright. 
“I’m your Victor!” I tell the doctors as they begin to swarm me. “I’m the Victor and my name is Mako Melanesia, bay-bay!”
==Epilogue A==
Rozlyn’s shoes clicked against the hardwood floor as she made her way down the long hallway. Everything had gone almost exactly as planned, and now the Presidency was hers. Last night’s ceremony had simply made it official; Rozlyn Stryker was the next President of Panem.
Days had passed since the 333rd Games came to a conclusion. The fact that Mako, her Champion from the start, won had been the icing on the cake. While the presidency would’ve undoubtedly fallen to her even if Marina or Chrome won, this way there’d be no pedantic objections from Aurilee or Escortius. 
Her Presidency was safe and secure.
She finally reached the large opalescent doors and swung them open, striding into the room as if she owned it. Which, of course, she now did. 
A man stood at the large table set in the center of the room. His head was bent studying documents laid before him, but he looked up as Rozlyn approached “Congratulations, Madame President! You’ve done it!”
Delphos Havlok. 
Rozlyn dipped her head in acknowledgment. “That I have, Delphos. You played your own part beautifully, of course.” Havlok had been her man for decades. He was one of the very first people she recruited into the Seekers of Truth. Getting him planted into Roscoe’s inner-circle and having him rise through the ranks had been an easy task. After all, she knew her twin better than anyone and understood exactly what he looked for in a lieutenant. 
Havlok had been a plant designed to gather Roscoe’s trust for decades. 
Havlok smiled and rapped the tables with his knuckles. “Now that the Presidency is secure, will you dispose of Roscoe?”
That was what everyone expected of her. She had been the one to have him arrested on the charge of conspiring with the Red Hand of Ra. “I think not.” Rozlyn wasn’t one for doing the expected. “I will keep him prisoner. He will languish in his cell and become a symbol for all those who wish to oppose me. Better for controlled opposition than genuine.” She could always stage further terrorist incidents and blame it on him, discrediting any true rebellion.
She’d been secretly scheming against Roscoe all along. Even during the Games she had tried to have his Champions eliminated. Telling Mercia to avoid his selections was a ploy on her part to get the girl to kill them. After all, she knew Ivy couldn’t ignore a forbidden target.
Havlok nodded. “Very well. Then I suppose you’ll continue with the Red Hand?”
The Red Hand of Ra. She’d told everyone it stood for the Red Hand of Roscoe, but that wasn’t quite the truth. No. The true name was the Red Hand of Rozlyn. 
She’d assembled the group over the last year or so, covertly using her own Seekers to gather followers from among the Peacekeepers and other related organizations. Not everyone involved in the Red Hand was privy to their true intentions—that’d be far too risky—but some were indeed in on the ruse. These were her most loyal followers and they would die for her. Some of them already had.
She lost some good men at the massacre of the District 2 Reaping, but it’d been necessary. She needed the Red Hand to make a splash, force all the attention onto themselves. In fact, she’d originally planned for two attacks. One in District 2 and another on District 6. The latter did not pan out due to Havlok losing the credit coins he was meant to pay off the guards with. That failure still irked her.
”Havlok, have you looked into the matter of your little pickpocket?”
The man looked up and immediately averted his gaze. However much that failure upset Rozlyn, she knew it hurt Havlok more. “I have, Madame President, but…little progress has been made. The best report we’ve gotten is from a Seeker who found an urchin claiming he saw a “decrepit looking man” unearth a stash of credit coins in some seedy part of town.”
Rozlyn remained silent. That was hardly the explanation she wanted to hear. Havlok ducked his head apologetically. “Since this is District 6 we’re talking about, there’s hundreds of decrepit men, so…our investigation has hit a wall.”
“No matter.” A few dozen credit coins was a trifling amount compared to the entire treasury of Panem she now had at her disposal. “You can disband the investigation. We have more important issues to deal with.”
“What about the other heirs?” Havlok was still going over his papers, no doubt triple-checking all possible roadblocks. “Erevan, Aurilee, Dimentio, and your Uncle?”
“Erevan is mine. The fool owes me his life and has vowed complete devotion to my presidency.” She had not been the one who set up him as the Red Hand’s leader, but she undoubtedly took advantage of it. Erevan had been primed for execution until she intervened at the last minute by “revealing” Roscoe’s true intentions. “With all his companies at my beck and call, I daresay I have a stranglehold over both the shipping and media markets.”
“Nedry did you a favor, then.”
“The only favor Nedry ever did me was dying,” Rozlyn held no love for her fool of a brother. No doubt someone led him by the nose into suspecting Erevan. “It was the person pulling his strings who truly did me a favor, however inadvertent it may have been.” She suspected either Aurilee or Dimentio. She knew Roscoe did not have a hand in it, and Uncle Escortius was never one for shadowy plots. Either way, it hardly mattered at this juncture.
“And the others?”
“Though my Uncle may gripe about it, he has the sense to acknowledge I have won the competition fairly and has promised me his full support. I do believe he can be trusted to keep his word, and I have assigned him the task of overseeing Mako.” 
Their newest Victor had turned down all her offers to discuss politics by rather belligerently claiming that the only thing he wanted was to “travel the ocean on a boat”. While it was off-putting to be dismissed so readily, Rozlyn could admit that Mako had already done his task in winning the Games and was no longer necessary to hold the presidency. Certainly having his support would be ideal, but it was far from mandatory. Still, she could find a use for him in a way that he would agree to. Something to do with boats, perhaps. 
“That leaves your two youngest siblings, then.” 
Indeed. Rozlyn spent many hours thinking on how best to deal with Aurilee and Dimentio. “I have arranged a meeting with Aurilee in…oh, a few minutes time. We should wrap this up and I will deal with her then.” Rozlyn gathered up the loose papers on the table and stuck them into a file which she then handed to Havlok. “As for Dimentio…well, that is a matter for another day.”
Havlok saluted and made his way towards the door. “One last thing, Delphos.” He turned and gave her a quizzical look. “As you may have imagined, keeping yourself as Delphos Havlok is…well, let’s say burdensome. I have begun the preliminary process of having a new identity created for you.” With the Capitol’s advanced surgical knowledge, this would include a full facial transformation. In just a few weeks time Havlok would be unrecognizable to even his own family, had he any. 
“I understand, Madame President. Thank you.”
Havlok departed the room and Rozlyn was left on her own. Not for long, though, for the doors opened again a few minutes later and another person entered. Rozlyn’s sister.
Aurilee.
She was young and beautiful, with their mother’s golden hair and dazzling blue eyes. Today she wore a gown of deep black, with wide droops of lace at the wrists and waist. It was a mourning dress. Aurilee wore it for the Ring boy, no doubt. Rozlyn had Seekers watching her sister at all times, and they reported that she’d cried herself to sleep every night since the Games conclusion. Apparently her feelings for the boy were genuine.
Baffling.
“You wanted to speak with me?” Aurilee avoided meeting Rozlyn’s eyes, instead staring at a small object she carried in her hands. It seemed to be a playing card of some sort.
“Yes. I intend to discuss your future with you.”
Though her younger sister’s eyes were red and puffy, that did not stop the anger from manifesting. “My future? You mean how you’ll kill me?”
“So hostile! What have I done to earn such ire?” Rozlyn doubted Aurilee truly believed her own words. More likely she was merely being provocative for sake of her own personal interest. “Have I killed Roscoe? Erevan? What about Uncle Escortius? No. So you needn’t worry that I shall harm a single hair on your head.”
Aurilee did not respond. She kept staring at that card in her hands, constantly turning it over and over again. Rozlyn wanted to slap some sense into her, but that was not how a ruler behaved. At least not one who wished to stay a ruler. Something she learned long ago that Roscoe never did was that being a total despot led to nothing but ruin. Yes, you could treat the District’s however you wished, but the Capitol and the Great Families were different. Alienate too many of those and you were likely to lose your head, as past Presidents could attest. 
“You seem so quiet, sister. Don’t you wish to know whom you’ll be marrying?”
Aurilee looked up with a start. There was surprise in her eyes, but it was quickly replaced with anger. Yes, she had anticipated this move. “You intend to make me powerless by marrying me to some idle fool, no doubt.”
Rozlyn smiled. “Hardly. I have reached an agreement with Sulyvahn Valii to have you betrothed to his son and heir, Cyprian.”
If Aurilee was angry before, it was nothing compared to the fury which crossed her face at this news. House Valii was House Ring’s biggest and most hated rival. There was a bloodfeud between the two Families which led back decades, almost a century, into the past. Cyprian Valii was the same age as Remus, often considered to be the boys rival in every aspect. Rozlyn thought it only fitting that he marry her sister. 
“This is an insult!” Aurilee drew herself to her full height, which wasn’t much more than five feet. “I refuse! I will not marry that bastard! I am above him!”
“House Valii‘s lineage stretches back to the Dark Days. They are an ideal match for our family, especially considering Sulyvahn’s newfound position as Interior Minister.” That promotion had been part and parcel of the betrothal. As House Ring would never consider itself a friend of hers, Rozlyn needed to find a family of equal or greater strength to become her own ally. House Valii was an easy choice. 
Aurilee feel silent. Clearly she knew there was no reason to continue the argument. She had no leverage, no counterpoint. She would marry Cyprian and cement Rozlyn’s status as President.
It was time to move onto other matters. “Have you heard from Dimentio?” The man had fled the Capitol on the final day of the Games, purportedly on “official business” to the country’s border. That much was a blatant lie, yet Rozlyn did not know what he was truly up to. Did he have some sort of plan to retake control of the Capitol? Or was he simply fleeing from a lost cause? 
Aurilee glanced down at the card in her hand. “I have, actually. This morning I found this slipped under my doorway. It’s…a message from Dimentio.”
She held the card out and Rozlyn took it, holding it up so she could see better. It was a simple playing card, the joker, but it had words written in black ink on the flip side. 
Dear sister. I have found a new home and will not be returning to the Capitol for quite some time. Rozlyn will have made the place unbearable and I never could stand her silly little face. Rest assured that I have found the man I sought and will someday return. When I do, I will destroy both the Capitol and the Stryker family itself. Cheers! ~Dimentio.
Rozlyn raised an eyebrow. He planned on destroying the Capitol, did he? Well, that was a borderline impossible task for someone who had practically no connections or semblance of power. An empty threat. “Why did he write this on a playing card?”
Aurilee shrugged. “He always did like his games.”
The man I sought “Who was he seeking?” Perhaps it didn’t matter. Rozlyn’s grasp on the Capitol was complete and there was precious little left that could pose a threat to her. 
“He claimed to be searching for Acheron Bane,” Aurilee said. The blonde woman refused to meet her gaze. No doubt she was still furious over the betrothal. 
Rozlyn pondered that for a moment then ripped the card in half. Aurilee watched with silent eyes as she scattered the pieces across the room. “From this point on Dimentio is dead. He will not be discussed or mentioned again, understood?”
Dimentio was a silly fool who was no doubt planning on spending the rest of his life hiding in some faraway bunker on the outskirts of Panem. There was no reason to waste time thinking about him ever again.“Panem has a bright future ahead of it, Aurilee. A future guided by a wise and determined hand. My hand.”
Rozlyn turned and studied the map on the far wall. Her plans had finally come to fruition. She had won the Presidency and everything that it held. Panem was was hers, and she would personally guide it into the bright future which awaited.
==Epilogue B==
The sky is bright blue with a brilliant shining sun as the Boatatt cuts through the azure waves, throwing up a spray of water along the sides. I cling to the rigging, laughing as the ocean spray washes across my skin and sweeps along the deck. A brilliant, bold horizon stretches before me.
“The future looks bright, lads!” I slide down to the deck and pump my fists into the air as Escortius Stryker studiously steps up to join me.
“Indeed it does, Mako. Indeed it does.” The dour man frowns as we hit a crest and a spray of water rains onboard, dousing us both. I can’t say that I enjoy the man’s presence, but it’s a small price to pay for the freedom to sail the seas. 
I claimed my own boat the first moment I could, which ended up being way longer than I wanted. I was forced to go through all those stupid ceremonies and coronations, not to mention some publicity tours and speeches, before I was finally given the green light to set sail. Even then, Escortius here was sent along as “supervisor” so I wouldn’t get off track.
Whatever that means.
“Turn the Boatatt starboard!” I yell out orders as I hop up into the railing and stare out at that beautiful horizon. We’re way past the checkpoint now. Probably further out at sea than anyone has been in decades or longer. 
“I still have no idea why you chose the name Boatatt,” Escortius grumbles.
“Dude, you’re not even pronouncing it right!” Escortius gives me another one of those constipated looks of his and I break out into a round of laughter. “You know buddy, you’re alright.”
“I’m glad that I can amuse you.” His voice is a complete deadpan, and for some reason that causes me to laugh even harder. This guy is way too uptight. 
I lean against the railing and stare out at the beautiful horizon. Just about anything could be out there. New landmasses, a sea monster, maybe even a whole ‘nother continent worth of people. Wouldn’t that be something? 
“Land ho!”
The man atop the crow’s nest yells out and I turn about and hop onto the opposite railing as I scan the horizon which lies across those bold waves. Though I can hardly see it from this distance, there is the unmistakable outline of land just over the waves. 
“Ah, it appears that the reports were true!” Escortius joins me at the railing and stares at the distant line of land. 
I glance at him. “Report?”
He gestures a hand forward. “We’ve long heard tales of there being a chain of islands out this way, but we never knew for certain. This will be the very first confirmed landing.”
A brand new island…Excitement builds in my chest and I have to resist the urge to jump up and down. This is exactly what I signed up for! New islands? Let’s go!
“How big is it? When will we reach it? Can I name it? How many do you think—”
Escortius holds up a hand to stem my tide of words. “Patience, Mako. For all we know that island is filled with psychotic cannibals.”
”Dude! That would be awesome!”
”It was a joke. We are fairly certain these islands are uninhabited.”
Escortius refuses to answer any of my further questions, and the sailors are too busy with their jobs, so I have nothing to do but watch the island as we draw closer to it. Even from this distance I can tell it’s tropical, which isn’t surprising considering our location in the world, but still. A tropical island paradise? Sign me up!
“Congratulations, Mako,” Escortius rejoins me at the railing as the island grows near enough to see the trees. “You will go down in history.”
“Cool. Mind telling me why?”
”This chain of islands,” He waves his hand forward. “Will be the next District of Panem. District 14, to be precise. And you will go down in history as its founder.”
District 14…Just like District 4, but with a one in front of it. Signifying how it’s one step above? Yeah, I like that idea. “That sounds awesome!” I pump my fists into the air as the Boatatt continues to approach the island. Me, the founder of a brand new District? Can’t get much better than that!
I jump atop the railing and let the wind sweep across my face. “Mako Melanesia, bay-bay!
==Status Chart==
Tribute 	Allies	Items 	Location
Remus Ring (C) 	N/A 	Staff, Rapier, Knife x2, Dart Gun, Body Armor, Night-Vision Goggles 	Klondike
Mako Melanesia (4) 	N/A 	Trident, Spear, Dagger, Night-Vision Goggles, Instant Relief, Radio, Net, Antidote, Flare x2 	Room 455
Marina Mattel (4) 	N/A 	Trident, Baton, Blowgun, Darts x5, Knife x2, Body Armor, Night-Vision Goggles, Alcohol, Antidote, Rope 	Lost & Found
Opal Crane (5) 	N/A 	Battleaxe, Hatchet, Knife x2, Bread, Water, Flashlight, Night-Vision Goggles, Poison, Wire 	Arcade
Notcher Stott (8) 	N/A 	Needles x6, Hammer, Flashlight, Bandages, Gauze Pad, Anti-Infection, Anti-Septic Wipes, Gloves, Gas Mask, Poison	Waterdome
Chrome Kimathi (11)	N/A 	Sickle, Shuriken x3, Knife x3, Whip, Spear, Camouflage Paints, Remote Explosive, Gas Grenade x3 	Lost World
==Death Chart==
Place 	Tribute 	Day Killed	Killed By  	Killed From
28th 	Shiloh Masego (11) 	1 	Valor Forge (1) 	Spear in neck
27th 	Atticus Rockwell (2) 	1 	Remus Ring (C) 	Cracked skull
26th 	Lucia Shale (13) 	1 	Yewan Felling (7) 	Axe in chest
25th 	Lilith Lovelass (2) 	1 	Kia Gage (12) 	Knife in neck
24th 	Harmon Achlys (9) 	1 	Mako Melanesia (4) 	Trident in chest
23rd 	Zekel Zin (3) 	3 	Opal Crane (5) 	Blade in neck
22nd 	Teal Arden (6) 	3 	Mercia Occisor (C) 	Knife in neck
21st 	Matiss Ferrum (12) 	3 	Aiko Kinu (8) 	Shuriken in face
20th 	Kia Gage (12) 	3 	Mako Melanesia (4) 	Spear in back
19th 	Yewan Felling (7) 	4 	Opal Crane (5) 	Axe in neck
18th 	Killen Timmerhout (7)	4 	Mercia Occisor (C) 	Sword in neck
17th 	Discordia Achlys (9) 	4 	Mercia Occisor (C) 	Knife in neck
16th 	Mercia Occisor (C) 	4 	Monty Moose 	Crushed skull
15th 	Maximo Gallardo (6) 	5 	Valor Forge (1) 	Sword in chest
14th 	Valor Forge (1) 	5 	Remus Ring (C) 	Arrow in neck
13th 	Damian Gonzalez (10) 	5 	Chrome Kimathi (11)	Sickle in neck
12th 	Talia Migonette (3) 	5 	Chrome Kimathi (11)	Broken neck
11th 	Alcmene Eudia (1) 	6 	Mr. Schindler 	Fist in chest
10th 	Solomon Eudia (13) 	6 	Mr. Schindler 	Crushed chest
9th 	Briar Destry (10) 	6 	Briar Destry (10) 	Poisoned
8th 	Aiko Kinu (8) 	6 	Faren Gomery (5) 	Knife in neck
7th 	Faren Gomery (5) 	6 	Faren Gomery (5) 	Broken neck
6th 	Notcher Stott (8) 	7 	Mr. Schindler 	Snapped neck
5th 	Marina Mattel (4) 	7 	— 	Drowned
4th 	Chrome Kimathi (11) 	7 	Opal Crane (5) 	Axe in face
3rd 	Remus Ring (C) 	7 	Opal Crane (5) 	Axe in face
2nd 	Opal Crane (5) 	7 	Shark Mutts 	Torn apart
Victor	Mako Melanesia (4) 	--- 	--- 	---