Warning: There is violence in this chapter! Not sure how graphic that violence is... If anybody feels uncomfortable and/or thinks I should raise the rating on this fic, let me know. I'm probably over-reacting, but I read through it to edit it and just thought "Woah, where the hell did that come from! 0.0"

But yay, longest chapter so far! :D

It was evident early on who the Capitol's favourite District was that year. From the moment 4's chariot came rolling out during the Opening Parade, one would've had to be blind not to see it.

Finnick Odair cleaned up nicely, it turned out. Beneath the grime of the Strand, his skin possessed a glowing tan and his hair was blonde with little flecks of auburn in it. His stylist seemed to have picked up on the latter, for the toga he wore seemed to be copper or some other metal of similar colouring, designed to look like a thick fishing net. It made the natural highlights in his hair stand out even more; if Annie was honest, she'd not even noticed them before.

Marisol wore a dress of shimmering green scales which glimmered in a manner not quite blinding beneath the Capitol lights. Her hair had been curled into bouncy, tight ringlets that bobbed whenever she moved her head. There was a emerald starfish painted on her left cheek, the outline adorned with glitter so that it, like her dress, dazzled beneath the city's lights.

Both tributes smiled brightly and waved, seemingly confident and unafraid. Marisol in particular seemed an entirely different person to the sobbing little girl Annie had left in the Justice Building. She hoped that perhaps Marisol had come to her senses, that maybe she had realised that crying on live TV was not going to do herself any favours.

Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith praised their tanned skin and golden hair, as though it wasn't present in most of District 4's population.

"I'm sure the sponsors will be keeping their eyes on these two, Claudius." Caesar commented enthusiastically.

Annie crossed her fingers and hoped he was right.

The male District 3 tribute (a lanky boy with a shock of red hair and a splatter of freckles across the bridge of his nose) was perhaps halfway through his interview with Caesar Flickerman. Backstage, Marisol shuffled forward a few steps to stand just inside the door and glanced over her shoulder at Finnick.

"You'll be fine." He promised, as though reading her thoughts.

"I hope you're right." She mumbled.

Marisol tried to remember what it was her mentor, Musa, had told her to do during her interview.

"Be confident, be polite, smile." She whispered to herself under her breath. "Confident, polite, smile. Confident, polite, smile."

"You're up." Finnick interrupted her, nodding towards the stage.

Taking a deep breath, she composed herself before heading out. Caesar Flickerman stood up from his chair to greet her, shaking her hand and offering her the other seat.

She thanked him and sat down, only now turning to look at the vast crowd of Capitol citizens gathered in the studio to watch the interviews. Her legs couldn't give out beneath her if she was sitting down.

There were an awful lot of people. She'd seen the Hunger Games on television before, of course, but somehow the crowd seemed even bigger when they were right in front of her.

"So, Marisol," Caesar Flickerman said.

The fair-haired girl waved at the crowd, who cheered in response, and turned to face Caesar, placing her hands in her lap and smiling politely.

"At twelve years old, you're this year's youngest tribute." The presenter explained gently. "Do you think that puts you at a disadvantage?"

Confident, polite, smile.

"No, Caesar. I don't." She assured him, beaming as brightly as she could. "If anything, I'd say it'll work in my favour."

"Oh?" Caesar leaned forward slightly in his chair. "How so?"

Marisol giggled, as though she was about to tell him a secret that she should be keeping to herself. "I'll be a smaller target, won't I? So it'll be easier to miss me."

Caesar pointed at her and turned to look at the Capitol audience, jaw dropped in mock surprise. They ate it up, laughing at both his expression and the young girl's comment.

"You might be onto something there." He told Marisol, his voice sincere. The timer rang and he stood up. Marisol followed his example.

He took her hand, raising it above her head.

"Marisol Lean!" He announced. The crowd cheered as the little girl giggled, still not used to being quite so in the spotlight.

Caesar let her go and pointed towards the edge of the stage, where the tributes who had been interviewed were lined up to watch those remaining. She smiled and thanked him for telling her where to go before scampering over and standing next to the boy from District 3. He offered her a shy smile, which she returned, but otherwise they ignored each-other.

Marisol looked back over at the stage just in time to see Finnick, striding over to Caesar as though it was what he was born to do. He waved at the Capitol crowds and blew kisses, stopping only when he reached his chair, which he flopped down into without being asked. Marisol wondered if Mags had given him the same advice as Musa had her; be confident, be polite, smile. He certainly had the first part down to a 'T'.

Between the two of them, the 65th Hunger Games' tributes from District 4 had the sponsors wrapped around their little fingers.

Annie and her brother sat on the sofa in front of the television. Paws was curled up on Annie's lap, a purring mound of fur with two green eyes and claws sharp enough that she could feel them through her skirt but not so pointed that they'd break her skin.

Neither sibling spoke to the other, although Annie did reach over and take Julien's hand in her own. He gave it a reassuring squeeze, eyes glued to the television screen.

Though neither one of them said it, they both automatically began searching for Marisol as the timer began its countdown.

"There!" Annie said, jumping up suddenly and sending Paws tumbling to the floor. The cat hissed at her and fled the room before Annie had chance to apologise to it.

Julien tugged her back into her place beside him on the sofa, using his free hand to place a finger to his lips, signalling that she should be quiet. Annie concentrated on Marisol, who was standing between the boy from 3 and the girl from 8.

Ten…

Marisol nodded her head at someone, potentially Finnick. Annie didn't know, she was too busy focusing on the image of her best friend, standing on a podium in a stance that indicated she was ready to run.

Nine…

Please don't go to the Cornucopia, Annie begged silently in her mind. Please just get out of there, before the bloodbath starts.

Eight…

Marisol made eye contact with the boy from 3 and smiled reassuringly.

Seven…

Paws strutted into the living room proudly and curled up on top of Annie's feet.

Six…

The camera switched so that Annie could no longer see Marisol. Instead, she found herself staring into the hazel eyes of the girl from District 2, which were narrowed in concentration or thought.

Five…

The girl from 2 turned to someone positioned to her left, out of the camera's view, and grinned.

Four…

Paws stretched and yawned before promptly falling asleep on Annie's bare feet.

Three…

The camera panned out again. It took Annie a moment to spot Marisol, who still looked more or less the same as she did four seconds previously.

Two…

Julien squeezed Annie's hand wordlessly. She squeezed back.

One…

The twenty four tributes leapt off of their podiums. Much to Annie's initial confusion, Marisol ran straight to the boy from District 1.

"Where's your District partner, 4?" The tall blonde boy asked. Annie wasn't sure whether or not he meant it to sound scary, but somehow it did anyway.

"He's here." Finnick cut in, running over to join the two of them. The girls from 1 and 2 had already snatched up weapons (a pack of knives with different sorts of blade and a slender chrome spear respectively), and the boy from 2 was fist-fighting the girl from 7.

"She's joined the Careers." Annie breathed. She turned to face her older brother. "Julien, is that good?"

"I don't know." He replied cautiously.

Eight days in, and the Career pack had yet to lose a single member. Besides the six of them, there was only one remaining tribute; the boy from District 5, who had so far proved brilliant at hiding since they had not so much as glimpsed him since the countdown ended over a week ago.

Four out of the six Careers were snuggled up in their sleeping bags, with the two tributes from 1 still awake, keeping watch lest the tribute from 5 try anything during the night. It didn't seem his style to ambush alliances, but the Games were drawing to a close by then; people grew desperate to speed things up at this point. For all the two District 1 tributes knew, everyone else was asleep.

Finnick Odair had always found it difficult to fall straight to sleep. He used to lie and stare at the crack in the ceiling above his bed, and try to look for pictures in the uneven plaster surrounding it.

Of course, out there beneath the stars, he couldn't very well do that. He'd adopted his father's old method of closing his eyes and hoping he'd eventually drift off, even though that rarely seemed to work for him.

"When are we going to call of the alliance?" He heard the girl from 1, Shimmer, whisper to her District partner.

Finnick kept his eyes squeezed shut and listened intently.

Her partner took a moment to respond; "I think we should wait."

"Why?" Shimmer whispered harshly. "I mean, think about it; we could just kill them now."

"Clarus is the best fighter out of all of us," Clarus was the boy from District 2, and was built like a heavily fortified military tank. "We should wait until he's taken out the kid from 5 for us. And then we'll give the Capitol the finale they've been waiting for. All six Careers, in one massive bloodbath. They'll love it."

Finnick couldn't see them, for his eyes were shut and his back was to them, but he knew they were sharing a sickeningly cruel smile. The two tributes from 1 that year had a habit of doing that.

Unsure of what he ought to do with his newfound information, Finnick continued to feign sleep, his mind buzzing with possibilities and plans.

All throughout the next day, Finnick was on constant alert in case the two from 1 sprung anything upon the rest of them. Part of him hoped they never found the boy from 5, simply because his death would result in the finale that Shine had mentioned, and he didn't think he was ready for that yet.

Midday rolled around. Clarus stated that he was hungry and sat down on the ground, refusing to move until they had eaten something. Begrudgingly, his District partner agreed that it was probably best to get some food into their systems before they did more walking, and it was settled.

The Career pack sat down on the forest floor and shared a packet of salted peanuts.

"Now my throat's dry." Shimmer complained. "Hey, Parasol, can you pass the water?"

Marisol shot the older girl a glare which made Finnick laugh and rummaged around in one of the three backpacks the group had between them, taking out the silvered flask and handing it over.

Shimmer opened it and raised it to her lips. A few seconds later, she took it away and tipped it upside-down, rolling her eyes tiredly.

"It's empty." She pointed out.

"Well, go refill it then." The girl from two, Nona, huffed. "It's not going to do it by itself."

Shimmer groaned dramatically. "Do I have to?"

"You're the one who's so desperate for a drink!" Nona snapped. "So yes, you do!"

"Here," Finnick offered, holding out a hand for the flask. "I'll do it."

Shimmer narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously.

"It's alright." He assured her, smiling cockily. He was getting rather good at that, he thought; smiling cockily at people. "I've got pins-and-needles in my foot; I need to go for a walk anyway, and the river's not that far from here."

The girl from 1 gave him the flask and struck up a conversation about what she was going to do to the boy from 5 when she got hold of him, the others cutting in to add their own colourful suggestions.

Finnick shot Marisol a sympathetic smile and jumped to his feet, heading in the direction of the river to refill the flask and work the tingling numbness out of his right foot.

Kneeling down by the water, he refilled the flask and screwed the cap back onto it. On a whim, Finnick submerged his hands in the water. It was freshwater, not the saltwater he was used to swimming in back home, but even then it was better than no body of water at all.

It was a small reminder of home, no matter how loosely it fitted, and it made him smile fondly to himself.

The rhythmic bleeping of a parachute made him pull his hands out from beneath the water and dry them off hastily on the green t-shirt that all tributes wore in the arena that year.

Holding the flask between his knees so that he didn't lose it, Finnick turned around and felt his jaw drop.

This was certainly the biggest parcel so far. It was almost as long as he was tall. Feeling like a child on Christmas morning, he grabbed the box and forced it open, excited and slightly giddy.

As he reached into the box, hands wrapping around the handle of the stunningly silver trident within, Finnick finally understood why the tributes from 1 smiled at each-other the way they did.

This. This was what power felt like.

Night rolled around and they still hadn't found the boy from District 5. District 2 claimed the first watch, the other four tributes unrolling their sleeping bags and curling up to sleep for the night.

Finnick kept his trident beside him, one arm lying over it so that if anyone tried to move it he would know and have chance to act.

Once again, he could not sleep.

A wolf howled somewhere in the distance. Beside Finnick, Shine bolted upright, awoken by the din.

Finnick shifted so that his hand was wrapped around the hilt of the trident. He had a feeling that this year's 'epic finale' was about to come into play.

Somebody screamed. It didn't sound like it was close; it couldn't possibly be one of his fellow Careers.

Marisol climbed up on her feet and began to fight with her sleeping bag, trying to wrestle it off so that she was free to move should she have to; to run, to fight.

A cannon fired.

"Was that…?" Nona's voice trailed off, the sentence left unfinished, though they all knew how she meant to end it: the boy from 5. And yes, yes it must've been, for in the darkness Finnick could just about make out the five faces that had become so familiar over the past nine days.

Just like that, any ties to their alliance were cut. It wasn't even District against District; it was tribute against tribute. There were no allies anymore, only obstacles blocking the way out.

Shimmer crawled out of her sleeping bag and fumbled about under her pillow, retrieving the knife that she kept there. Whirling around, she threw it at Clarus, impaling him in the eye. Cursing, the boy from 2 stumbled backwards, where Nona was waiting. She struck him from behind with a spear, which went right through his stomach and came out the other end, dripping with blood and some sort of gunk that Finnick didn't think he wanted to be able to put a name to.

Nona didn't bother to retrieve her spear, and Clarus collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath and struggling to tug the weapon out of his body with his suddenly clumsy hands.

Shimmer dashed over and pulled her knife from his eye socket, sighing and wiping it clean on the fabric of her t-shirt as though it was stained by chocolate spread or margarine and not a dying person's blood, not the jelly from someone's eye.

Finnick stood, trident in hand, and waited for anybody to dare challenge him. Shine was bold enough to try, leaping over the discarded sleeping bags and yanking the spear out of Clarus. The boy from 2 took one last, shuddering gasp for air and fell face-first to the floor.

His cannon thundered somewhere above them.

Turning, the boy from 1 charged at Finnick with the spear. Using the prongs of his trident to catch the spear's tip before it ever touched him, Finnick lifted the weapon up out of the way and used it to tug the boy from 1 closer to him.

Their faces only inches apart, Finnick wasn't sure what to do now; both of their weapons were locked above their heads, and he wasn't sure how he could use either of them.

Out of nowhere, a pair of hands rested themselves upon Shine's shoulders and began tugging him backwards. His grip on the spear fell loose. Finnick knew he had to think fast. Shaking the spear away from his trident so that it landed upon the floor with a soft pattering sound, he struck Shine in the stomach. Twisting the weapon slightly in the hopes that it might make the boy's death a bit quicker, Finnick yanked his trident out of Shine.

Far more entrails came with it than Finnick had been expecting, but to his credit Shine died more or less immediately; a stark contrast to Clarus before him.

Marisol stood behind him, her hands shaking but still held in front of her, at the point where Shine's shoulders had been just seconds before.

Part of him wanted to yell at her, remind her that this was the finale, that they weren't working together now, that she shouldn't be helping him because only one of them could win and he sure as hell wanted to see his family again.

He listened to the other part, though, and thanked her. After all, she could've just as easily pulled him away from Shine. It could just as easily have been him lying dead on the floor.

Meanwhile, Nona and Shimmer had fallen into their own fight. Shimmer kept trying to get at Nona with her knife, but the girl from 2 had a firm grip on her wrist which seemed to prevent the weapon from ever getting close enough.

Apparently noticing the spear upon the floor, Nona used her free hand to lunge for it. Before her fingers could reach it, Shimmer stabbed, however she missed anything vital and buried the blade of her knife in Nona's arm.

"You bitch!" The girl from 2 screamed, slapping Shimmer so hard around the face that Finnick could almost feel it himself. He winced on her behalf.

Whilst her opponent was stunned, Nona grabbed the spear and hopped back a few steps, taking a run up and impaling Shimmer in much the same way she did Clarus. This time, however, she yanked it out almost immediately after.

Shimmer's cannon sounded.

Nona stood there looking proud of herself for a few seconds, before apparently remembering that she was not quite the last one standing. Not yet.

By this point, Finnick had snuck behind her and positioned his trident.

Nona looked at the spot where he had been standing before. She whirled around to meet his gaze, her brow furrowed in confusion.

He shoved the prongs of his trident into her stomach before she had chance to do anything to him.

As he did with Shine, Finnick made sure to wriggle the trident around a little bit in the hope that it'd hasten her death and ensure minimal suffering on her part.

Unlike with Shine, Nona's cannon sounded before he'd even had chance to wrench the trident out of her.

A rivulet of sweat ran down his nose. Finnick reached up and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, only now realising how tired this whole ordeal had made him.

As he lowered his hand, his caught sight of a pair of wide blue eyes. Little Marisol stood right where he left her, the corpse of Shine lying at her feet.

She stared at him, wordlessly, her face drawn and uncharacteristically pale. The last obstacle left between him and going home.

Finnick thought she must've known what he was going to do before he did it.

"I'm so sorry." He told her, like it might've done something to soothe her. "But there can only be one winner, right?"

She nodded in understanding, the few curls left in her otherwise straight hair bouncing in so cheerful a manner that they didn't seem to belong there at all.

He made it as quick as he could for her; he stabbed her in the neck, knowing that it would kill her more or less immediately.

Annie held Paws so tightly it was a wonder that he hadn't clawed her face off yet. She wondered if he somehow understood how utterly broken she felt, if he didn't want to add to the pain she was already experiencing.

Beside her, Julien sat with a box of tissues. Occasionally, he would reach over and mop up the tear tracks staining her cheeks. Their mother had to bring her dinner to her that evening, and her brother had to coax her into eating it. She didn't feel like eating. The prospect of eating just made her want to throw up.

He promised.

I promise Annie's Games will be longer. It's just that this is more her story at the moment than it is Finnick's, her descent into 'madness', and Marisol's death was really just a chapter of that story. An incredibly important chapter, but just a chapter. More than just a chapter in Finnick's story, since he'll have to live with the guilt now... But, like I said, this is mostly Annie's story.

And seriously, if I freaked anyone out with the violence, or if you think I should up the rating, let me know! It just sort of appeared without me really thinking about it and afterward I was like "Woah, where did you come from, Slightly Disturbing Violence?"