Ready Aim Fire.

We don't have a choice to stay. We'd rather die than do it your way.

Calder Lachlan, District Four Male.

For a few moments, everyone stands still. Carnelian looks at each of us, nodding curtly when we reveal the weapon we have. When he looks at me, though, I know what to do. I tighten my grip on Kiara's hand - feeling the warmth and comfort that I used to get from Mera - and pull her back.

"What, are we going in?" she blinks, like a confused child.

I nod tightly, making sure she's unable to see. "Yeah, it's better if you don't get involved," I say softly. "Let Caine and Carnelian handle it."

Her face falls. I can tell that Kiara feels guilty for maybe not helping out when she could've, but really, it was the better option for her and us. Whoever the unfortunate tribute is, they'll probably be dead within seconds. The mere thoughts twist my stomach in knots. I'm glad that Carnelian hasn't asked me, because frankly, I still debate whether I can actually do it or not. It's... it's surreal, even in thought.

And, like that, Caine grasps the doorknob.

"It's locked," his voice drifts. I look over my shoulder, feeling the nerves rise. "I think they've barricaded it from the other side." he mutters. Carnelian nods, and Caine steps backwards. For a flash, Caine looks nervous, before his hulking body rams straight into the wooden frame.

There's a shout from the other side. Kiara throws herself against my chest, wrapping herself up small.

Caine rams again and again. Soon, the door cracks and splinters, a crash and thump on the other side. I watch as Haven and Carnelian run in after Caine, Nelida hanging back at the doorframe. With her weapon, she's more of a scout and a lookout, rather than upfront fighting. I slowly peel Kiara away from me and place her to the side, like a doll. "Stay here." I say softly once more, leaving her against the wall.

I move swiftly, brushing pass Nelida. "I wouldn't if I was you..." she mutters, but it's too late.

The guys shroud whoever they've caught, wrestling with him. Haven and Carnelian hangs back as Caine grapples with the victim, crashing and banging ringing in the air. A chair is kicked and clatters across the room, whilst someone cracks against the chalkboard at the back.

It happens so fast, like a wrecking ball destroying reality.

The tribute escapes Caine's grasp, revealing himself to be Lyle from District Five. He runs straight into Haven, who attempts to stop him in his tracks, but is easily shoved to the side despite the different body sizes. Carnelian sweeps out his foot, taking Lyle down. He lands at my feet, his breath panicked and weak.

"Calder, now!" Carnelian shouts.

But, I can't move. I'm frozen on the spot, a picture similar to one I've seen before. It all rushes at me. For some reason, it doesn't feel right. He's helpless, isn't he? It isn't fair because of the numbers...

Lyle's face meets mine for a moment, before he's dragged out of the picture, Caine attached to his ankle. Caine hauls him up and slams him against the wall once more, knocking the wind from his lungs. Lyle looks so small, like a child in comparison to the rest of us. Lyle crumples on the floor. I strain my ears for some cannon, but nothing comes.

Carnelian steps back towards me, his eyes dark and clouded. He spares one final look at Lyle on the floor, before he looks away. "Caine, do it."

No matter how Carnelian can feel, it's no use. He's a Career. Our leader, not to mention. He's expected to kill without remorse. We're all expected to kill without remorse, yet it's never... it's never truly right. I don't know whether I feel guilty or sick. I shake away my thoughts, stepping out of the room alongside Carnelian.

There's another fight inside, Lyle obviously kicking back. Carnelian gently closes the door and turns to face Kiara, smiling sadly. "What's up, Kiara? It'll be over soon." he asks politely.

Kiara hums, held against the wall. "Nothing," she smiles, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. It's not a full smile - a Kiara smile. "Is he..."

More thudding. A lot, actually, which is a surprise. My gut twists uncomfortably as something slams into the door, whimpers and pleas cutting through the air like a knife. Then, just as unnerving, the violence stops. Everything falls quiet before a cannon soon resounds in the air. The door opens, Nelida arms her knife, but it's only Haven. He nods his head once and Carnelian slips back through the door, closing it once more. He'll probably raid the room of any supplies or stock, just to bulk us up. It's obvious Lyle is dead. I highly doubt... the words die on my tongue. I take a heavy sigh, switching my glaive into my other hand.

"Who was it?" Nelida asks. I turn, levelling out my eyes. Oh yeah, she doesn't know.

"Lyle from District Five," I echo, the words foreign on my tongue. I didn't know him, yet I'm recalling his death. I doubt I'll forget him now. "Caine dealt with him, I suppose."

Nelida hums. "Seventeen left," she mumbles, running her thumb over the edge of the knife. "It's moving fast."

The door swings open again. Carnelian moves out, smiling slightly. "When the claw has picked him up, we'll go in, think of some sort of plan," he holds his hand out for Kiara, who looks at it. "Come on Kiara," he smiles sweetly. "Everything will be fine."

Sian Amser, District Nine Female.

The ceiling soon glows, the anthem cutting the comfortable silence.

"Does this mean that the day is over, or?" Jem mumbles with a frown.

It's true; you can't tell which day it is, so how do we know how long we've been in here? It only feels like a few hours. Maybe they just update, to keep us informed as much as possible. I sigh, taking a handful of dried berries, which I scoff down greedily. The only face to light up is Lyle, his sweet face still for a few moments, before fading back into darkness.

My mood instantly sinks, and I bring my knees to my chest. I knew Lyle... at least, I spoke to him...

"What's up?" Jem asks, but then he sighs, realising. "This was the guy you spoke to, right? The one you wanted to join our alliance?"

I nod meekly. "Him and his district partner, Audra. It was just them two. I was... I was going to see if they needed some help," I smile softly. "She was timid, and he was sweet. He kept calling me miss and that." I laugh lightly, the fond memories so clear. He was a good guy; he didn't deserve to be cut down so early.

"I'm sorry," he continues to frown. "I mean, I had the same feeling about Sienna, but she's a tough cookie. Like the nut kind. So maybe she's a little nutty too, but she can handle herself," he adds with a smile, before nudging me. "Cheer up, okay? We still have each other."

"Yeah," I nod hastily. "I'm so- no, no I'm not going to rise to your taunts!"

He bursts into laughing, echoing through the large room. His sound practically bounces off of each wall, before coming back with extra force. It's nice to just hear it sometimes. It allows me to forget about the rest of what might happen. To think about now, not the future. "You're so easily led astray," he teases. "I'm not always going to poke fun at you."

"You sound like Torri. She soon changed," I smirk, his eyes lit up. "Oh, sorry. Torri is my best friend."

"Sounds like Amaran to me," he chirps. "Best friends are awesome, right?"

I smile fondly. "I've known Torri ever since we were little. We lived down the same street as each other," I soon remember the woven bracelet I have protected in my pocket; a friendship bracelet, something she carefully crafted for me, to repay for all the things I did for her, mainly twisting the arm of my employee to get her a job. "She's the only person to really know me."

"Hey," Jem places his hand on my shoulder, encouraging me away from the emotions. They're nice to bathe in for a while, but they'll easily consume me. Torri is just another reason why I have to go home. "It'll be okay. I'm sure Torri still likes you in spite of all your little quirks, particularly your apologetic nature." he teases once more, causing me to laugh.

It's true: despite everything, Torri has stuck around. I'm surprised I've coped so well, and, I guess, Torri has benefitted as well. Being as poor as me and my family, she was just as desperate and needy for extra shifts down in the plantations. I got her in, just because I knew she really needed it. It was nice to see her look a little better fed, alongside her little sisters.

"I don't know how Amaran deals with you," I poke. "You're insufferable sometimes," I realise the words instantly. His smile falls as my eyes widen, the realisation hitting me. "I'm so, so sorry. I-I didn't m-mean to touch a nerve or anything... oh, I'm so sorry." I frown.

"I didn't have much besides her," he sounds sad. "Amaran and Nico. That's it, they were basically my family."

Again, I don't want to pry. Jem would tell me if he felt comfortable - it was one of the many things that made people like me in the end. I listened, rather than poke for the gossip. "I'm still super sorry..."

"Don't be," he smiles, more kindly than I imagined. Here I was thinking that I upset him. "You shouldn't be sorry. Some people would take advantage of it," he reminds me, which I know about as well. Torri warned me about that. "You're too cool for your own good." he adds with a smile.

I don't even think. I throw myself across the gap, wrapping my arms around his neck. It's only a brief hug, but the moment is tender enough for me to let go, tears welling in my eyes.

"What was that for?" he asks, an unsure smile twisting on his face.

"I... I don't know," I admit. I've never been one to just... do those kind of things, but Jem isn't just anybody. "I just thought it seemed appropriate. Sor-"

"No, it was... it was sweet of you," he laughs shakily. "I just didn't expect it, is all. And I accept your apology. Like I always do."

That's when I notice the large board - placed over the mantle of the fireplace - has lit up, showing the recent death of Lyle. His name, picture and details join the fellow deceased. I let out another sigh and curl deeper into the tatty blankets we managed to find in a nearby cupboard. Jem leans back, pulling forth an apple to bite. "We can't stay here forever," I admit. "I know you said I might have to carry your positivity an all... but they'll chase us out of here eventually."

He swallows the apple. "For now, though, we can rest. The Hunger Games have only just begun. I'm sure they won't kill us for resting up for a few hours," he smiles, turning towards me. "Relax. Eat an apple or some berries. We'll worry about all that after you've had a rest. I'll take first shift." he moves his flail closer towards him, keeping it at his side.

I close my eyes, not even realising how heavy my eyelids actually were. He's right; we have all the time in the world.

Until more faces join that board. Then... then time will be cut.

Temperance Clarion, District One Female.

I stare ahead as Corin plucks at his shirt desperately, prying the blood from sticking to his skin. I think it shows the sign of a warrior. Corin says that it's sticky and gross.

"It hurts," he whimpers, even though we both know it's simply a flesh wound. "Like, really hurts."

As we enter the gymnasium at my own request, I hear a small ding. Both Corin and I look up, the white parachute drifting down towards us. A smile creeps on my face; I wonder who it's for? It falls down at our feet, and for a split second, we both just stare. "You may open it," I suggest. "I'm pretty sure it's more than likely for you than me."

Corin bends over, hissing the entire time as he brings it to his hand. He clicks the canister open, revealing the white note and small vial of clear liquid. Whatever it is, it's expensive. "It's you," he says lowly, like it's disappointed. "Here." he hands me the small note, a simple sentence scribbled down.

Keep him quiet with this. It absorbs blood from material -A.

Who knew Aphrodite would be out to help me. I always assumed that Carnelian was her pet project. "It's for your shirt," I mumble. "Takes away the blood."

His eyes light up. "Perfect. I was hating this feeling. It's like, I'm not wet, but not clean either," he pours the contents over his shirt, and instantly, the blood fizzles away into nothing. A smile breaks out on his face. "Okay, not that I'm ready, what do you want to do?"

I flutter my eyes. "Bandage that wound up."

Corin peels back his shirt to reveal the wound, the skin jagged and torn. I tie up the cloth around and around, making a brace of sorts. I know all about medical equipment: I bandage myself up all the time, after practice and work. He throws his shirt back on, smiling. "Feels like I wasn't stabbed at all."

"But you were stabbed. A few more centimetres downwards and it would've ruptured a lung. You would be drowning in your own bodily fluids within minutes," I lower my voice. "You were lucky, at best," I turn around, seeing the closet at the back of the large room. It's probably where they store the equipment and projectiles. "You need to learn that the body is fragile. A layer of skin can easily be peeled back."

"...what?"

"Punishment," I point. "You need to face your weakness," I turn back towards him, his face now a hue of white and fear. "Facing your fear will allow you to grow. Growth is vital for someone whose aim is to survive, rather than fall."

I cross the room, passing the makeshift climbing wall and gym equipment, sucked into the wall. A shiny lever hangs on the end, which you must pull to get it out. Most people would put Corin through his tests, make him run an assault course of some kind. But he's not scared of that. What could he be scared of? A cruel smile plays on my lips, and I wag my finger for him to follow.

"I don't know why I need punishment. It was an accident." he shoots defensively.

I snigger. "An accident," I count on one finger. "You were stabbed accidentally. You called me away from killing Nelida. You almost got bested by the lowly peasant from District Ten. You allowed the boy to escape."

By now, four fingers stand tall. Four mistakes that Corin made. He wanted to ally up - he doesn't realise the lengths I will go for a perfect ally. And, Corin is not... not yet, anyway. "You... you want me to run this course? With my bad shoulder?" he jabs his fingers angrily at the wound. "It kills. You don't understand the pain."

"I wouldn't understand. I wasn't the one that allowed my opponent to attack me," I say slowly, keeping the hair in front of my eyes. "And I didn't get my poison, which has really upset me." I play on a sad voice now, just to keep things different. Corin will slowly feel the guilt twisting inside of him.

It takes a few moments before Corin's hand falls on my shoulder. "For you, I suppose I'll do it. Not that I'm looking forward to it or anything... but if it makes a pretty girl like you smile."

I push back the stray hairs. "I don't want you to run the course," I step backwards. "I want you to check the cupboard, and tell me if you see a javelin. I want you to try a target practise."

His eyes instantly snap into confusion. But, he shrugs, stepping past me and opening the door. A smile breaks on my face and I barge into his back, throwing my ally into the cupboard. I swiftly grab the doorknob and slam it shut, twisting the key. Something clatters and falls from inside, before a fist is pounding against the door. "Temperance! Temperance! The... the, um, the door it er..."

"You're in a time-out of sorts," I explain. "As punishment. You can sit in there until I see fit that you may leave."

There's a tense pause, before he angrily kicks the door. "Are you insane? All because I got injured? I was the one that got stabbed, not you! I'm not a little child!"

His words soon turn into heavy breathing. The pounding becomes weak, until his fist simply falls from the wooden door. His heavy breathing doesn't stop, a small whimper breaking through every now and then. A spike of power burns through my veins. So, Corin is scared of the dark... I twist the key, and throw open the door. "You're free," I say to his curled up form, hidden among the mass of gym equipment. He looks up, eyes wild and dilated. For the first time since knowing him, Corin looks... scared. Like a little child. The opposite of what I was aiming to achieve. "Were you crying?"

He stands up hastily, glowering. "...no," he answers shortly. "I just don't like being suffocated by an ally, thank you very much."

"You'll learn to focus next time then," I reply. "Wrath will happen at some point. We will head into battle. If you're not prepared, then you'll be left behind alongside the rest of the mother hens and small children."

He shakes down his clothes, shirt not fully done up, bowtie crooked. "...okay."

"We need to get you your first kill," I decide. "It'll man you up some more. Grab a javelin and some mats. You're aiming to kill next time, not just defend."

"Wha-"

"We're going hunting." I smile sweetly.

Sienna Mayfleet, District Three Female.

"You need some ointment for that," Tierna breaks the silence politely. "Your jaw is starting to look really bad... it's bruising all over."

Onatah looks up. "I'm fine," she answers coldly. "...it was worth it."

We both know that Onatah's damaged jaw is due to her run in with the Cornucopia. The sight - in my mind, at least - makes me want to snigger. Almighty Onatah, brought down to our level. She might be the one to beat compared to the Careers, but she's just another tribute, another person, another ally.

In fact, I'm surprised that she can speak so well. It looks so painful. If it was me, I'd cry. Onatah is obviously stronger... which is not something I can say proudly. Don't get me wrong; it improves our chances as an alliance, and it does paint a huge target on our backs, but for the even ground for us all, it's bad. It means that if pushed down to the final tributes, Onatah will have an advantage.

"Sienna," Onatah commands. I look up, unable to hold my scowl. What is she even doing her? She could leave. She doesn't care about me, nor Tierna. There's nothing tying her down and yet she stays, brooding on the sidelines. "Can you check down the hallway? Need to keep a constant lookout."

"Yes, your majesty," I sneer, standing up. Tierna goes rigid in the middle of us, which makes me feel bad. She's nice; too nice to be around Onatah, at least. I shake away the thoughts and look over the wooden pyramid we've created, the empty, haunting hall stretching out for what seems like miles. With the lights constantly flickering, it's something only the most morbid of people could come up with. In fact, I think I played a game similar to this. It had zombies though. That was creepy. "It's empty," I say as I turn around. "Not a single soul."

"Good," she mumbles. "It's better for us."

"The pool would've been just as good," I state my opinion. "At least we would have more room to move about, rather than looking like caged chickens."

Onatah stares. "Nothing is stopping you from leaving, Sienna," she answers. "I'm just suggesting that this is better for all of us. It'll bring better outcomes than being near water."

Tierna shrinks again, like she's trying to blend in with the wall. I place my hands up, sitting back down. "Look, I'm not trying to argue, even if I prefer Tierna to you," I make sure to add, just to be spiteful. It's always the banter between enemies that make boss battles fun. "But I think we should vote on it. Who elected you as mayor of the girl group?"

"Tierna?" Onatah snaps her glare, though when it hits her, you can see it softening. Maybe Onatah does care about the girl. "Would you like to vote?"

"Sure," she replies, unsure. "I just... I don't want us to argue. It's not good chemistry."

"Okay then," Onatah concedes. "Vote. Raise your hand if you want to stay here, where it's safe," Onatah raises her hand, whilst I keep mine down. Tierna bites her lip, but doesn't join her. "And raise your hand for the pool."

Like that, we both shoot our hands up enthusiastically, though Tierna instantly seems to regret it. I look at Onatah, and smile. "I think we should go down to the pool then."

"You can move the barricade away then," she says calmly, though it's an unnerving calm. "I'm going to gather up our stuff."

"Wait. So you give up, just like that?" I say as Onatah stands. I don't believe it. Something inside of my gut twists and turns, leaving me unsettled. This is like the calm before the storm, or the reveal of a major plot twist.

She turns around, the light giving her bruise an evil glow. "Believe it or not, Sienna, I'm not out to make your lives miserable. If you want to go, we'll go. I'm only looking for our best interests."

She quickly disappears into one of the rooms, where we stored our supplies and extra knives. I turn and smile at Tierna, encouraging a sweet smile in return. "See? You can just ask for what you want. She's horrid, but not a robot."

"It's not that. I just... I don't want tension all the time. I want us to be okay, whilst things are okay, you know?" she sighs. "It's pretty jarring with you guys at each other's throats all the time. Just like you calling her horrid. It's... it's just mean."

Her words instantly make me feel guilty. I don't like it. I stand up and begin to busy myself with the wall, pulling away chairs and the fallen bookcase. After a few, Tierna joins me, keeping quiet. I don't hate her for what she said, because it's true. We are at each other's throats all the time. But that's only because Onatah struck a nerve in me, acting like she's better than us. Maybe I'm being stupid by holding the grudge. But I don't care. Onatah offended me and never apologised. She treats us like peasants, and claims she only wants the best for us.

With her, it's always woe-is-me.

When the final chairs is removed, and the hallway is open, Onatah returns. "You can lead us there, Sienna, since you know all and see all." she speaks quietly, like a croaky mumble.

I have to hide my scowl; yeah, of course you'd want me to do that and make a fool of myself. She's like the pseudo-antagonist, with the Capitol being the main one. I march down the hall, Tierna close behind and Onatah trailing up front.

I can lead us just as good as Onatah did. Probably even better. At least I'll consider Tierna's feelings, rather than being self-centred all the time.

Ash Terrick, District Seven Male.

Venice simply stares forward each time I talk to her. It's nothing new, I mean, Venice often ignored me until I pestered enough. But this time it's different. This time... it's like a piece of Venice has died.

"You can talk to me," I encourage her, from across the room. "I lost Quinn. I could... relate?"

Venice looks up, a sad smile peeling on her face shortly. "I doubt you'd understand."

"I could try? I mean, I won't know unless you say," I edge forward, keeping a smile on my face. I was always told that being kind was a two-way thing, and that you should treat a person how you want to be treated yourself. "I want to help you, Venice."

Her eyes grow watery for a brief moment, until she angrily scrubs them away with her fist. "I'm fine," she stands abruptly, sniffing the whole time. "We need to move, like you said. Someone has already died since the bloodbath."

I frown; it's not the response I wanted, but at least her moving is something. She couldn't just sit there for the entire Hunger Games. She'd be too easily of a target. Venice hastily grabs her backpack and knife, before staring me straight down. My eyebrows rise as it hits me, and I quickly bundle the items into my open arms. All set, Venice heads for the door, knocking away the chair that we propped up, just in case of an emergency.

She cranes her neck out of the door, before silently slipping out. I follow, nerves building up in my chest. It was nervous and frantic trying to find this place, and now we need somewhere new.

Venice heads down a hallway, fleeting past the staircase. Why not up? I don't say anything, though, just because Venice is a little... all over the place, at the moment, and I don't want to piss her off, or unintentionally set a trigger. She's a closed book; I have no idea what could send her spiralling downwards.

"Venice, where are we going?" I whisper harshly, the girl moving further and further away from me.

She halts, turning. "Sorry. Um, I don't know, but not out here. Just follow me."

We pass a map as we continue to jog quietly, our feet falling in time with each other. From the brief look at it, the entire room is large, spanning over two floors and countless hallways and classrooms. It has a few larger squares, but something about them seem... funny. They'd be a lot open. I think Venice knows, too, because she stops in front of every classroom.

"What are we even looking for?" I frown.

There's a pause as she tries and thinks. She turns, shrugging. "I... I don't know..."

Tears brim at her eyes again, which she swipes away with her finger. "Do you want me to find somewhere?" I offer. "You won't talk to me, so at least let me lead? It's a man's duty, after all, to lead in a dance."

"We're not exactly dancing for our lives, Ash," she whispers, a small smile on her lips. "But... only if you want to."

I grasp her hand, pulling her along. If I remember, there was an awesomely coloured purple square, that said something about medic room or something. It'd be a great start, seeing as they might have all the equipment we might ever need. It was... down a hall or two or something. I can't remember. I recall the steps in my head, Venice keeping in time with my moving feet.

As I turn the corner, a bright sign says Nurse's Office, proving my point. A smile breaks out on my face as I pull her along, popping open the door with my other four fingers.

The strong smell of disinfectant hits me, a brief memory playing in my head of when I went to the hospital in District Seven, when I lost my finger in the cutting accident. A saw cut it clean from my hand. Stupid tree, I told them it was too large and firm to be cut with a flimsy saw. Of course they ignored me.

I hear Venice gasp as I twirl her into the room. "See? Let me lead, and I'll take us places." I smile.

The glass cabinets are clinging to the wall barely, the constant bombs no doubt shaking them from their brackets. Venice turns, smiling shortly. "I'm not... I'm not good with saying thank you."

"I'll take it as it is." I wave it away. Again, a closed book, and not one that should be read too loosely. But I like Venice because there's something about her that I admire, something I can't quite point out.

The siren wails again, smothering the silence. Slivers of red light peek through, but it's not so bad. Even when the bomb happens and the glass doors rattle, I realise that I'm slowly growing accustomed to what the arena has done. Venice opens up a cupboard, and pulls out a mass of cloth. "We're taking these," she says, stuffing them into her backpack. "We have to keep moving."

I frown. "I thought... I thought you wanted to stay in one place?"

She turns around, her face almost identical to that of a small child. Venice shrugs, looking away. "...I don't know what's for the best." she looks away, stuffing more and more into the open bag.

"Venice..." I mumble, but she ignores me. "Venice?" she still doesn't respond, her movements becoming more frantic and jerky, piling the entire collection into her backpack. "Venice!"

I grasp her wrist and spin her around. Her eyes quickly grow cold. "What?" she shouts back, and then her eyes change again, back into the sweetness. She hides her mouth with her hand. "I'm sorry..." she mumbles.

I blink a few times. "You're not okay. Tell me, Venice."

She hurriedly shakes her head. "It's nothing. Just... just rest or something."

And, then, she busies herself with stocking up on supplies. Something inside of me sinks - failure? - and I sigh, realising that Venice will never open up to me. She probably doesn't even trust me enough. I turn around and pull open some cabinets, following her orders. I barely skim over the crumpled white paper note, deciding that it's not important.

What's important is opening Venice up.

Caine Pravda, District Two Male.

Another one. Another one at my hands.

I look at my fingers, my palms, expecting to see some sort of change. But they look the same. They look like the hands of someone who could be a miner within District Two, or even a quarry keeper. Rough and calloused. No-one would know that they've killed, that they've taken away someone's pulse. Well, apart from the people who are watching right now. My own family, who knew that this was the life for me... was expected of me.

"You could've cleaned the blood away," Haven comments as the gang begins to pour in. Moments ago, Lyle was laying on the floor, pooling out. His eyes were lifeless and accusing, reminding me of what I done. I even took his ally, his district partner... I shake my head. Blood is etched onto the walls and floor, streaks and lines of crimson... his blood forever left here. "Hey, what's up big man?" he asks.

"Nothing," I glower. "Why would anything be up?"

Haven raises his hands defensively. "Sorry... I guess he did put up a fight. I know he cut me," he shows me the cut on his arm, ripping open his sleeve. "Kinda deserved it after that."

I nod, though I don't fully agree. We pounced on him more than anything. He didn't stand a chance; but he went down fighting, nonetheless. The room - our battlefield - is proof. The chalkboard is dented, chairs thrown across the room, some even broken. The only thing to have not been damaged was his chemistry set, organised and placed in the corner. I doubt he had anything to do with it. It's probably been set up to encourage someone to take advantage of it.

Carnelian, Calder, Nelida and Kiara bring out the rear, Calder gently closing the door. It's a large room, though most of the furniture is now broken.

The light flickers as Kiara sits down, bringing her knees up to her chest. In a split moment, her cheeriness has subsided. She's no longer a ray of sunshine. She would've been put out sooner or later anyway.

Carnelian whistles. "I see he didn't go down too easily."

"I didn't expect him to. He was the same age as us, after all, and weaponless." I make sure to note. He had nothing; we had everything.

Carnelian nods slowly, drinking in the situation. "I'm glad. It wouldn't have been right to just... give up." he takes a deep breath and rolls his shoulders.

It's hitting him too. Even now, a couple hours in, and the crinkles are beginning to show in the corner of his eyes. I bet he's regretting my offer of leader already.

"Are you okay?" I ask. I care for Carnelian, surprisingly. Despite his constant orders of telling me to kill people for him, I don't blame him. He doesn't know how much I hate what I am, what I've always been. "You look a little... under the weather."

His curled lips flip into a smile. "Yeah I'm fine! Are you?"

I nod. "Yeah... you're not worried about Temperance, are you?" I ask, and instantly, his smile falters. "I wouldn't worry about her. She's more bark than bite. I've seen her type too many times."

But he simply shakes his head. "No, I'm fine, not worried about a thing!" he brushes it off, slapping a hand on my shoulder. "I hope you're okay, man. You're doing really well."

He's probably treading carefully over the kills. The fact remains that Calder nor Kiara have one. Carnelian, Nelida and Haven have a single death to their name. Me? Three... Reed, Audra, and now Lyle. Three hearts that have stopped beating, all because of my hands. It's not something you can just brush over... it swallows you, and you can't stop it because, deep down, you feel like you deserve it. I feel like I do, I feel like I shouldn't have a heart. I probably don't. More machine than man.

They wouldn't understand. None of them were born and bred for this. Since I could walk, I could run. Since I could talk, I could fight. It's all I know.

"Thanks," I smile slightly. "Kiara looks shocked though."

Carnelian spins to take a single look at her, before turning back. "I think she's a little down... I'm sure she'll perk up soon."

Over his shoulder, I see Calder slide down next to her. Swiftly, Kiara leaps for his lap, burying against him larger boy. She didn't see anything though. It was just me with Haven on the back, in case I failed, which, of course, I didn't. After a while, everything settles. Carnelian budges a chair under the doorknob to secure it, whilst the rest of us rest. Nelida keeps her distance, Carnelian sits on the other side of Kiara and begins to talk quietly, in an attempt to cool her down, whilst Haven paces around the room, prodding things. I scoop up a chair and fall into the seat, feeling heavy and weighed down.

"I think he created this chemistry set," Haven comments, looking over the small set-up table. "It's on, too. You can hear it bubbling faintly," I look towards him, the vial a dull purple colour. He's right; there's a faint buzz in the air, only disappearing when a bomb sounds from outside. "Do you think it's dangerous?"

"Haven, don't touch it." Carnelian warns with a low voice.

"Okay," he raises his hand. "Just be nosy."

There's another sound as well. It's quiet, mixing in the air with the buzz. It sounds just like the bloodbath countdown... my heart stills. Panic rises in my throat, blocking me from air. I'm suddenly like a fish out of water, throwing myself out of the chair, the wooden furniture slamming against the wall. It sets everyone else on alert, Carnelian rising to his feet hastily.

I barely see the red numbers, strapped to the underside of the table, before I shout. Carnelian, too, catches on and yells two words that would rock anyone to the core.

"Take cover!"

I throw myself to the ground, forgetting about Haven or the girls. I only think of myself and my own harm.

The last image I see is of Haven, the reality hitting him, his mouth falling open... and, like that, the explosion blasts through the air. The noise is deafening, the shatter of glass and wood blowing my eardrums. My heart pulsates in my throat as I throw my arms over my head, the aching thud in my skull becoming more prominent. There's a disgusting squish sound, like food exploding in a microwave or something.

It feels like it lasts forever. Just as the haunting silence returns, it's toppled over by the sound of a cannon, stilling my own thoughts and emotions.

I lay on the ground for a few moments, the sound of the explosion repeating over and over again in my mind, rattling around in my skull. My back stings, and when I awkwardly try and touch it, I can feel the scattered shards of glass pierced into me. I roll over, biting down on my tongue to hold the hiss.

There, in front of us, is what used to be Haven. His body burned and broken, twisted in an abnormal fashion, hand... hand outstretched towards me.

When the dust settles, I stand up, repulsed by the sight. Haven... I can't even look at him anymore. I turn away, seeing Calder protecting Kiara, and Nelida hid behind the overturned bookcase. Carnelian looks horrified when he also sees Haven dead on the floor. For a moment, everyone is silent, Kiara letting out a small cry that's quickly swallowed.

"O-Okay," Carnelian stutters. "W-We're leaving... now," he turns to me, eyes even more weathered than before. "C-Caine?"

I nod, swallowing down everything that surfaces. "Agreed."

We can only but move on.

Ready Aim Fire by Imagine Dragons.

The blog for this story is ffyl hunger games . blogspot - all deaths will be notified here!

Lyle Flinch, District Five.

Haven Hemlock, District Ten.

All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.

arkanians, I loved Lyle's little connection to Cameron even if people thought it was gimmicky. It brought about a wholesome character. I didn't want to drag his character through the mud.

luvkatsuki, Haven was a good character, but I struggled to fully capture him.

I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!

POV that stood out?

Favourite alliance, and why?

And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!

At the moment, chapters are light on everything. I don't want to overwhelm things too early. Everything will get considerably worse as time moves on... like next chapter? Oooooooooooo...

Also, Ash found a note... why are the tributes getting notes? :o

Yeah. As a reminder, please remember that tributes will develop naturally. If I force each one this early, you'll grow bored and then what will I have to work on? They'll grow as time goes on.