They didn't look back... the killers... but now, revenge is in their minds... will the weak become dangerous... will the dangerous be put at the weak's mercy once and for all? Ladies and gentlemen, this is the 28th Hunger Games. Enjoy the show.

Main Characters: Gisli Raylor, Floyd Barabe, Kendal Resista, Brook Callins, Storm Marlinfield.

District 12: Gisli Raylor - 55 hours

The Gamemakers probably didn't care. They probably felt nothing as we screamed and shouted and bled and died. They would be used to it by now; they should be after 28 years. They probably didn't care that they had almost killed half of the tributes on the outside, they just enjoyed it, saw it as entertainment. They probably didn't care, or didn't realise, that those of us left were dead or dying inside.

The Gamemakers weren't paid to care.

Care. We all probably cared at some point, I guessed. We just had to wait for the trigger, that thing to make us stop caring. Everybody stops at one point. President Snow stopped caring very early in his youth, I supposed. The rest of the Capitol were born and raised to not care at all. But those of us, the people who have seen death with their own eyes and cared about it, we don't care anymore.

Loss is a common trigger to end care. Just a bang and feelings are gone.

The little girl, despite everything, still cared. She had her brother, her sister, her mother; she still had reasons to care, back then. She was scared, yes, but she wouldn't let that scare the feelings away. Pain, she didn't welcome, but was secretly glad that she felt something. The little girl should have been too young to worry about such things.

Her father would come home, and she would try her best to keep her mouth closed, to do the dishes, to put food on the table, to not smile. But she always did something wrong. Dropped a plate because her hands were shaking; Tripped over nothing because she was struggling to walk; Said something that she shouldn't have.

Those were the things that drove the fist into her face.

The little girl still loved her father. She never understood why he would hurt her; she thought it was because of her. It never was, not really.

Her brother tried, you see. Tried to fight back, but that only made things worse for both of them. He learnt, eventually, to keep the anger inside, keep his vision from seeing red. It was all he could do; it was all they could both do.

Her mother and baby sister were no help. They didn't get hit as much as the little girl and her brother did; her father seemed to favour her sister over them. But she couldn't hate her for it; she was only three, and didn't understand anymore than the little girl did.

When she got older, she learnt about it more. She knew that it wasn't her fault - her father had problems, her brother had told her. She didn't know what problems, or if you could fix them, but she finally understood something.

But every time she got hit, she always wondered, was it me?

She hid her scars and bruises from her brother, and never let him know how much really happened. She took a deep breath, and sung her mother's lullaby from her young childhood in her head to block out some of the pain.

One day though, her brother leant in close and whispered something into her ear. She was only eleven at the time, still not eligible for the Reapings. He was though.

Apparently, her brother had had enough with her father, and slowly, he told her his plan. She didn't like it at first; she still loved her father, despite everything he had given her. But in the end, she agreed. She supposed that it would be easier to say it then, rather than later. Only if her brother made it quick, easy. He promised, but she wanted to be there herself.

So that was how the little girl from District 12 cared, even for the father who abused her, for the mother who didn't help her, for the sister she should have envied, for the brother who killed a man.

She cared, but when her family number was pushed down to just three, she started to wonder. Was caring worth it?

"Gisli?" A voiced asked, and I turned to look at my ally and friend, Somber. We were both people no longer willing to really get close to anyone, but we had each other. We had both decided that that was enough.

"Mhm?" I replied, looking down at my fingers and playing with my weapons. I still couldn't, after all these years, get the image of my father's vacant eyes from my head.

"Can you hear that?" I looked around, and realised that I could hear something. It was like water dripping from somewhere, a steady rhythm in the distance. I froze, even more unmoving than I was before. I carried on listening, and felt my eyes widen just before the wave collapsed on top of us.

District 2: Floyd Barabe - 57 hours

"Duck!" Somebody yelled, but I didn't; I wanted to look my competition in the eye, whatever or whoever they were. I heard a drip, drop of water, and froze. There was a crash as a wave appeared in the distance, knocking down and destroying everything in its path.

I was like a cat; water was not my element.

"Please tell me that everyone else can see that, or I am officially crazy," Isabella said, watching as the water came towards us in a fierce tidal wave.

"You were officially crazy even before that comment," Sequin retorted, gathering her knife and the water canteen.

"Come on, honey. We need to go." I gritted my teeth and managed to stop myself from strangling her. I gathered my sword and supplies, and checked around to make sure that everyone was following our lead. Isabella was helping Trista and Ivory was pulling on her dagger and bullet proof vest, delivered by silver parachute a few hours before.

"Let's roll," Isabella said, sprinting off into the middle of the arena, and towards the golden cornucopia still sitting in the centre. We all followed after her, keeping pace with everybody else in the alliance. We were careers after all; we knew how to run, and run fast.

"This is it," Trista said dreamily, still running quickly with us.

Ivory turned her light head to the half-insane tribute, and in a condescending voice, asked, "What the hell are you talking about?"

I sometimes wondered if Trista was actually smarter than any of us, but I quickly shook that thought out of my head. I was going to win, and I couldn't be admiring other tributes' skills and concentrate on destroying them at the same time.

"The trick to bring us all together, of course. Before, it was the hourglass arena. Now, it's this tidal wave. The Gamemakers aren't stupid; they know that only a lucky few of us can swim." We all slowed as she realised exactly what the district 2 tribute was saying.

"I think that here, dear friends, is where we part," Isabella said dramatically, taking Trista's arm and running away, never looking back. I looked at my two remaining allies.

"It's been fun, sweet-pea. But I've met better kissers," Sequin murmured, touching my cheek. She flashed me a smile, and Ivory did the same.

They walked away, but just before they were out of ear-shot, Ivory called out, "Every man for himself, Floyd!" Then they were gone. I supposed that Sequin realised that she had enough sponsors without me, and plus, Ivory had quite a few as well. I just had to hope that I could survive on my own. I could, and would.

I started running again, actually away that there was still a wave chasing me, us. I breathed deeply, and spurted forwards, using all of my energy to try and reach the cornucopia and hopefully, safety.

The thing was, from different points across the arena, you could see blobs appearing. From every corner of the summer, spring, autumn and winter areas, tributes were running from one, continuous wave of salt water.

Trista was right. This was the big fight, the one to at least halve our numbers.

I had to believe I had a chance; and so, just as I reached the centre, I grabbed the tribute nearest to me's neck, and without mercy, squeezed.

District 8: Kendal Resista - 58 hours

I gasped as I felt the water lap at my neck, and sprinted even faster to the centre of the arena - no man's land. Opposite me, I saw Floyd grab Sequin's neck; it seemed as though that romance had ended quickly.

Sequin fought back with a vengeance, but I didn't have time to concentrate on that fight, because that was when I saw a certain District 6 tribute standing only metres away from me. She looked almost scared as she watched the wave creep closer to her.

I smiled, more than I had in days, and edged nearer to the backstabber I had sworn to kill.

"Afraid of a little water, are we?" I mocked, grinning from ear to ear. She looked scared for a moment, and then humour danced in her eyes as she turned to face me. I twiddled my knife in and out of my fingers tauntingly, slowly putting one foot in front of the other.

"Of course not. Why, do you have something to hide?" She scoffed, and I hoped that my face was a perfect mask, because I didn't know how to swim.

However, I took comfort in knowing that she probably couldn't either. Hopefully, I could use that to my advantage, not the other way around.

"No," I replied simply, throwing the knife up into the air and catching it in my other hand.

I knew I was showing off, but I wanted her to be scared. I wanted dear little Anya to beg for mercy, to be on her knees as I faced her with my weapon, ready to kill. I wanted to see the hope and light leave her face when she felt my knife plunge into her ice cold heart.

"You don't want to do this, Ken," she warned me, testing the weight of her sword. I tilted my head and pretended to think for a moment.

"Don't I?"

"I'm not somebody you want to mess with. You know that. Don't make a stupid mistake," she told me, but I just narrowed my eyes at her. I knew that I wasn't a killer, but she had murdered my friend and betrayed us; that was something that was never worth my forgiveness.

"You made the stupid mistake when you back-stabbed our friend," I spat venomously, seeing if the word would have any effect on her; it did. Her eyes widened and looked shocked as her glinting blade clattered to the ground.

"I was there when you killed Wolf. I saw, with my very own eyes, how you cut him open and tore out his organs. He asked why you betrayed him, but you only said you wanted to win. What did you tell Derek, Anya? Did you tell him that you wanted to win too?" I asked, tears pricking sadly in my eyes, but I blinked them away.

I didn't want her to think I was just a weak little girl with anger management issues; that was her, not me.

"They died for nothing. Do you know why?" I asked, but she shook her head. I leant in close; no longer scared of the girl I had once called my ally. "Because you aren't going to win," I whispered, my grin getting possibly even bigger.

The wave was getting louder as I heard the water knock down even more trees on its way. I looked back to my opponent, and smiled. She seemed to know exactly what was going to happen, too. I threw my knife, letting it dig itself into her stomach. I heard her petrified gasp of pain as I grabbed hold of her arm, and pushed her into the upcoming waters.

Thankfully, I couldn't hear her screams underneath the water, but I saw the bubbles rise like panic.

I closed my eyes for a moment, and turned to see Ruse and Keira May looking at me solemnly. A cannon sounded, and they nodded. They knew that I had to do it; they knew she had to pay her price.

District 9: Brook Callins - 59 hours

I was running, and this time, I had no ally running beside me. I hated seeing the cornucopia again, especially as there were three tributes standing on top of it; one armed with arrows, another with darts, and another with throwing knives.

Ouch.

I looked left and right, just as I felt the wave crash down on top of me, cutting off my air supply. I gasped for breath, but instead inhaled a bucket-load of salty tasting water.

I attempted to doggy paddle, but I had never learnt to swim. They never taught us in school just how hard it was to keep your head above the water. I splashed frantically, waiting to either be dragged under the surface by the force of the wave, or for an arrow or knife to end my misery.

But neither came. I felt the water slowly receding around me, and I appeared, gasping, on the ground of the arena.

Around me were sixteen other tributes; it meant that two had died already. I looked around, wondering who was missing. But my brain was too water-clogged to process the scared and determined faces. I shakily stood up and shook the water droplets from my hair.

We were stood in a circle, much like we were in the original bloodbath, but this time it was purely coincidence. To my left was my district partner, who indeed looked as scared as I felt. I didn't want to kill Tristan; I wanted to survive, yes, but I wasn't one to stab my friend in the back.

On my right was Ashton from 10. I had sworn I had seen a Gamemaker trick after him, but maybe he killed it.

Opposite us were the careers, who seemed to have separated into separate groups now and the big alliance. There were only three left from the original six.

Next to them were Gisli and Somber, an alliance I wouldn't have put together. On the careers other side were Mylene and Rosemary, yet another unlikely pair. Finally, next to my remaining district partner, were the group of three girls still standing on top of the cornucopia.

Hopefully, the alliances would leave me alone. Somehow though, I didn't see that as a likely option.

Almost as if another gong had rung out, we all moved at the same time, everyone going for different targets. I didn't concentrate on anyone else though; just saw the determination in the eyes of the tributes in front of me. They had all struck me as the one group who wouldn't hurt me, but they must've thought I was the best target to take down, if any.

I backed away as the group of three cornered me, my back pressed against the giant, golden horn. They looked quite scared and sad, but one girl, the one remaining tribute from 5, leant close to me.

She whispered words of comfort in my ear, and explained. "The careers are planning to take down those on their own. I'm sorry, Brook, but this is the best way," Keira May murmured, tears pricking in her eyes as though she felt sorry that she was going to kill me.

Some people might accept a mercy killing and think that it was for the best, but I did not.

"You're not going to kill me," I replied, looking into her eyes. I smiled, full of danger, and yet, it wasn't full of hate. Keira May was a nice person; I knew that. I just wasn't ready to die yet, at the young age of just fourteen.

It didn't seem right; none of this did.

"I have to. You don't want to die like they did," she told me harshly, and I thought that she had friends who had died, too. The boy from 7 and her district partners. Maybe she was right; I didn't want to die like they did. I didn't want to die in this arena.

"No; I don't," I said, pretending as though I was accepting my fate, and ducking my head in shame. I waited for the blow, well, acted as though I was.

At the last moment, I jumped away, causing Keira May's weapon to scrape ear-splittingly down the golden metal cornucopia.

I ran, the knife in my sweating hand feeling painfully heavy. I looked behind me, checking that they weren't chasing me. It should have been my first and only mistake; it wasn't. I turned back to see where I was going, and gasped. She was standing in front of me, her eyes wide.

It was Kendal, her face scared and her hands grasping for something she couldn't find. Eventually, she found the hilt of the knife, my knife that she was looking desperately for protruding out of her stomach. She looked at it in disbelief, and back up at me, as though she was watching a ping pong match.

"I'm sorry; it's the best way," I murmured, knowing that I was mimicking her ally's words, but I couldn't think of what else to say. Maybe she would've made it further; maybe the careers would've got her before she could.

Ruse and Keira May looked at me, sadness and anger in their haunted eyes.

"It was her or me. I wasn't ready to die," I explained simply and softly, before taking one last, heart-breaking look at the dying tribute. Keira dropped down, holding Kendal's hand in one last ditch attempt to take away the pain.

Her loud cannon sounded shortly after, but I had already left the mourning scene.

The fights were still going on, but all I could do was watch and wait, and hope that the wave will finally cease, taking the blood with it.

District 4: Storm Marlinfield - 62 hours

It was strange, watching the tributes gather yet again. I had to close my eyes, long enough for Marylin to shake and shout, to block out the nightmares sure to come crawling back. I couldn't help but wonder exactly how Casey would deal with this.

She always teased that I was too soft, growing up as a career.

Would she have been sitting with a Capitol person, letting them cuddle up to her like he had done too? Would she have never faced the memories, and never learnt to move on? Would she watch re-runs a year later, she so that she could see my face again? Would she have thought of me every single waking and sleeping hour?

I knew the answer. She wouldn't.

She would fight everything all the way, knowing I would've wanted her to live, not just survive. My Casey would be strong; I knew that much, because that's what she always was. When the four of us were facing death, she was the strong one. My beautiful Casey, so strong, so broken. Held together by the simple will to live, and live happily. She might have thought that she was a good liar, but I had always seen through her lies.

She was as scarred then as I was now.

"Storm, can you help me with the dishes?" Amelia asked me, catching me by surprise and tearing me away from my self- pitying thoughts. I looked up, but obeyed the tall, brown haired girl. I shot Mary a quick smile which she responded quickly to, blowing me a kiss and mouthing the words "Be back soon".

We washed and dried in silence in her massive kitchen, moving around, never touching like they do in the movies.

Where they reach for the same spoon and their hands touch, then they jerk away and realise they're in love because they chose that moment to pick up a spoon. Instead, we mainly kept out of each other's way.

"I know that I'm a heart-less Capitol viewer. I know that I will never live through what you have, but I understand. I'll never truly accept it or in any way know what it's like to be a tribute, but I understand, somehow," Amelia broke the silence suddenly.

Anger rose in my chest.

"How? You watch the Games for entertainment. How can you even begin to imagine what it's like to be in them?" I asked her, trying to keep as much hate and malice out of my voice as possible.

I was bought up to love the Capitol; but I had grown to hate it.

"While Marylin might be able to sleep through everything and anything, I'm not deaf enough to block out your screams," Amelia told me harshly, but I heard the sadness and pity that I didn't want in her voice. I understood too though; she was talking about my nightmares, that I might be able to keep at bay in the day, but smother me like a hand around my neck at night.

"When are you going home Storm?" Amelia asked, her tone full of disdain. But then she added something I never thought I would hear from her lips. "They're waiting for you. They want you back with your family, where you belong."

Her voice was so tender and kind, I was frozen with disbelief.

"I don't know. My... duty is here in the Capitol, with Mary," I answered, the last words coming automatically now. I had to make people believe that I was in love with her, or liked her at least. I realised my mistake too late.

"Your duty? Your duty is to your family and your home, not Mary." Amelia would, could, never know how the two were exactly the same thing. Before, my duty was to Casey and my allies. Now, it was to what remained of my family. They could never know what I was forced to do when Marylin kept me awake at night. Casey could never know.

As if Amelia could read my thoughts, she murmured as not to be over heard, "I can bring her back Storm. Maybe, just maybe, I can bring her back, at least for a while."

I studied her, my first question was why? But I knew that she wouldn't tell me, so I settled for second best.

"How?"

Yes, cliff hangers love me, I hate them, you hate them, but I just can't stop without them! Who was killed... how will Amelia get back Casey?

Remember to leave a (nice and wonderful) review, for me? And of course, it's my first update of the year 2011! Maybe an extra long review for an extra long chapter? Thanks for everything guys!