The Guardian Games: The Odds of Five

Chapter 24: Utter Disregard for Hygiene and its Consequences

Capitol - Game Centre

"...A blind-spot?"

"Yes, sir. He'd entered a blind-spot."

The Head Gamemakers had to muse over this a while. So far, their little slip up hadn't been discovered yet, for namely two reasons: they had been screening other tributes at the point of time the District 2 boy had disappeared, and nobody was that interested in watching the scrawny boy running around - unless he was being chased by dragons, because that was really quite hilarious.

It wasn't that Pitch was feared of what the boy might do. Blind-spot or not, the boy was still trapped in the Arena. No, it was having an unmonitored tribute in a live Arena that was what's unacceptable.

"We've tried breaking into the code, sir, but it's impossible. The firewall is impenetrable."

"It's a blind-spot, idiot," Pitch answered crisply, hunching forward as he pressed his fingers together. "It's built that way."

Blind-spots. Every Arena had them. Their existence has always been unknown to the public, their locations known to the Gamemakers, and the happenings within them always a mystery to all.

All Arenas have also been huge energy-leeches, hence there has always been the risk that overpower would short-circuit the connection between the Game Control centre and the Arena instead. That would indeed being very distressing to Gamemakers, who rather enjoyed lording over the tributes like gods and hated to have their little fun disrupted.

One of the oldest counter-protocols against there had been blind-spots. Designed to be hidden from the Panem audience and inaccessible to tributes, they had been areas within the Arena that held mini-control centers. These controls had been directly connected to the Arena, unlike the Game Centre which did game-manipulation from afar. It had required a Gamemaker to enter the Arena with extremely discretion, not die, find the blind-spot, enter it, then do whatever he needed to do there.

And before you ask, no. There were no toilet facilities available inside.

The greatest drawback was that blind-spots had to be camera-blind, even to the Game Centre. This had been to prevent the tragic case of an errant Gamemaker flashing any footage of the blind-spot activty on the national television, and displaying to Panem the embarrassing compromises the Capitol had to make for its imperfect technology.

However, due to this particular 'problem', blind-spots eventually became hot spots for easy homicide. You see, the Hunger Games were very much a political mechanism, and those who ran it were persons of huge influence. Thus, it had not been uncommon that one or two Gamemakers would claim a small error in the connection, send a fellow colleague down into the Arena to investigate it, lead him to a particular blindspot, only for that colleague to never return. Then when the whole Games had ended and the blindspots could be surveyed, the body of the Gamemakers would then be found, with autopsy reports varying between 'mauled by malfunctioning muttation that somehow got in', 'asphyxiation due to insufficient oxygen supply', and a great many 'innocuous' reasons for death. After all, blind-spots were never meant for long-term habitation.

Eventually sometime during his reign of terror, Pitch had done away the use of blind-spots all together. But only after all of his own rivals were six feet under.

That being said, areas allocated for blind-spots didn't disappear. Gamemakers were often creative persons, but not more creative then they needed to be. Being Capitol-born meant being extravagance, and extravagance meant laziness, and laziness meant an absolute disregard for the economic principle of effective resource allocation. In other words, it never occurred to them that there was a need to stop allocating areas for the blind-spots, even if they were nothing but hollow holes in the middle of Arena. Tributes couldn't access them, Gamemakers weren't allowed to go into the Arena anymore, and none of the audience, or anyone at all as a matter of fact, could see them. The Gamemakers just shrugged it off, and followed the traditional template of the Arena format each time they keyed in the codes for each new design.

Apparently, it had to come back to bite them at some point of time.

"But how on Earth did he get in?" Pitch brooded, more to himself than the Gamemaker before him. The matter had to be kept so heavily under wraps that the discussion now took place in his private office. And the Head Gamemaker never left the Game Control during live Game-time.

The man hesitated. "We...we don't actually know."

"What do you mean 'we don't'? We've got him recorded till the time he went in, don't we?"

"Yes, sir, but...but it-"

His patience was wearing thinner by the second. "What now?"

"-the videos are corrupted sir. We're still trying to repair-"

"You insufferable fools!" Pitch yelled, grabbing the man by the collar and slamming him against the wall. The man wisely said nothing, though he did wince visibly. Releasing the poor Gamemaker, Pitch started pacing around the office, spluttering in rage.

After a terrifying few minutes for the unfortunate surbordinate, the pale man eventually cooled off as he contemplated his counter moves. "Ah well," he slipped back into his bored drawl. "Blind-spots aren't designed for long-term habitation. He can't stay in there forever."

Turning to the Gamemaker, he said in a deceivingly mild tone, "I don't need to emphasise how your life depends on your silence, do I? Because the President won't take my life, but I have no qualms about giving up yours."

The Gamemaker stutterd some confirmation.

"Good." Practically punching the open button on the door, Pitch stormed out of the office, earning a sigh of relief from the heavily perspiring programmer.

As he entered back to survey the circle of the blue, most Gamemakers were wise enough to avoid him. The emphasis on 'most'.

"Sir, a sponsor gift came in for number ten. Again. I'm not sure if this qualifies, but you said that you wanted to see the gift if they were-"

"Just pass it!" Pitch barked, roughly shoving the Gamemaker out of the way. She stumbled back a little, but said nothing as she watched her fuming boss make his way back to his own dashboard in the Control centre. Grimly, he began delving into the virtual records, a dark visage twisting his face as he tried to trace the boy to the time of his disappearance into ... wherever it was.

He hated it when people tampered with his Games. Especially if that person was an artless, albeit intelligent, walking skeleton.

"What are you doing in there, Haddock?" The Head Gamemaker murmured, leaning back into his chair as he stared at the flickering, unresponsive screen.

Summer Quarter

Hiccup suddenly jerked awake when he felt something cool and slimy run up his limb.

It wasn't the first time had he had been rudely forced back into consciousness since entering the cove. The first time he remembered waking up that night was when the skies were suddenly covered with dragons, flapping their marvellous wings as they swept overhead, but none entered his haven, for which he had been grateful for but couldn't comprehend.

The second time was when the sky had turned dark and all he had heard was the chorus of the Panem Anthem, and he vaguely recalled experiencing a sinking feeling when he had noted that the only tribute reported dead for the day had been the District 6. He wouldn't wish ill of anyone if he could, but more tributes in the field meant that there were more people he might have to kill, and everyone knew how well that was going to work out. But at least that meant Astrid was still alive - if that was a good thing. And Hiro - well, ditto.

He found himself lying on a comfortable bed of grass - soft and sweet-smelling, which was rather strange. Most of the landscapes he had observed in the Summer Quarter had been rocky, thorny and dry, and this little patch that he was sprawled in was ... let's just say after all he had been through, it felt like a little bit of heaven.

He would have been perfectly content to be glued to the ground and staring at the obnoxiously blue sky. If a dark shadow hadn't fallen over him and the icky, slimy sensation up his calf hadn't returned.

Craning his head forward and peering through half-closed lids, his entire body tensed at the sight before him. It was unmistakable that the black creature at his feet was the very same dragon that he had shot down and freed, except that creature wasn't baring his teeth at him or screeching in his ear. No, the beast was actually licking the burns along his uncovered shin.

Hiccup's first instinct was to scream and flee, but he didn't. One, he was at the mercy of this huge - okay, it wasn't as if this reptile was as big as the Monstrous Nightmare or the Zippleback, but still bigger than him - fire-breathing muttation that should have been programmed to kill him, but hadn't, for reasons unknown. Two, the creature wasn't being particularly aggressive as it coated his reddened sores with its saliva. As a matter of fact, observing it reminded Hiccup of the gentleness of a mother dog washing her pups.

He didn't dare move a muscle, fearful that any sudden action might snap the creature out of its seemingly placid attitude, so he satisfied himself by inspecting it as it continued to systematically drool over both of the scratched limbs. Leaning forward a little, Hiccup couldn't help noticing the lack of white in its maw. Subconsciously slipping back into his empirical brain, he murmured to himself, "Toothless, huh? Funny, I could have sworn you had-"

He must have said it louder than he thought, because the dragon's ear flaps twitched the moment the words left his mouth. The beast recoiled immediately, rising to on all four paws and spreading out its bat-like wings to make itself seem bigger - which really worked, since the auburn-headed boy was properly scared. Hiccup jerked back when he saw a set of canines snap out from the previously bare gums of the dragon's maw, a low growl rose from the back of its throat.

"-teeth."

The thin slits in those deep green eyes narrowing on him once again. Grunting scornfully at puny boy, it did one-eighty and gliding across the lake in the cove, landing rather clumsily on the shore opposite.

The bewildered boy was tempted to just sit around and try to comprehend what just happened, but the jab coming from the thorax reminded him to address the necessities. Besides, he could probably do with a bath - who knows how much slobber the dragon had been slapped on him since he'd slept? He kept getting this weird tingling sensation under his skin when at the mere thought of the amount of digestive fluid that lined both upper and lower appendages.

Picking his slobber-drenched self, he headed towards the lake first. Just as he had recalled during the tumbling-off-cliff-and-almost-drowning incident yesterday, the lake water was fresh, though he could taste lots of lime slaked in it. Nonetheless, a thirsty boy was not a fussy boy.

The dragon took no interest in his drinking, but when Hiccup e was about to dip his saliva-covered arms in water, the abruptly abruptly jumped to its feet before it zooming back to his side of the lake. Almost pouncing at the boy, it shook its head aggressively at the lake and growled.

Immediately, Hiccup withdrew his hands from the lake, raising them in surrender. The dragon didn't think much of human signs, but at least it stopped snapping at him. It departed, roughly bumping into a covewall, and snarled disgruntledly as it went its way..

Some decidedly curious part deep in the recesses of the boy's mind that suffered severe priority mismanagement was screaming to him, 'Why is it acting this way? Could it be it hates water?'

As if to dispel this notion, the dragon itself went the edge of the lake before ducking its head into it.

'Okay, it doesn't hate water.' His observation brain noted matter-of-factly. 'Maybe it just doesn't want you to wash off it spit.'

'Are you kidding?' The other voice in Hiccup's head exclaimed. 'You want me to go around the rest of my day coated head to toe in gross and fish-smelling goo?'

'Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize that we actually wanted to risk incurring the wrath of a- wait, fish?'

Hiccup peered at the dragon crouching by shore, staring at the swimming fish. Once or twice, it unconsciously stuck its tongue towards the lake in such a manner that it almost looked like lip-licking. It dunked its already wet head in the water, hissing in distress when it resurfaced once more.

The dragon ate fish.

The revelation could seem but a trifle. However, when you're in a game that promises up you almost certain death, and you discovered a possible blood-thirsty carnivore that happened to be stuck with you an enclosed area actually might prefer eating fish to eating you, well, you had to feel slightly better.

The dragon made low grunt, blowing a puff of hot air through its nostrils before stomping away in frustration, swishing its tail as it disdainfully stalked off to another part of the cove.

Its tail... Hiccup couldn't help thinking it was rather odd. It was long and narrow compared to it much wider body, with only two kite-like tail-fins attached to it end. What was odd was that one tail fin had holes in it, a feature not shared by its other whole tail fin.

The dragon paused its pouting march to snap at one of the cove walls, glaring darkly upwards and then moving over to a patch of grass by a crag. Parting its maw, it released a spray of purplish-flame, drawing a circle of flame around itself till the green turned to as. Settling itself down in the charred pit, it curled itself up, folding back its wings and resting its head on his front paws.

Hiccup couldn't help but catch the discontent radiating of the creature, but the reasons escaped him. The surroundings were pleasant, and it was peaceful, and here in the peace it was easy to forget that there were fifteen other kids out there who were trying to kill you. Maybe the mutt was hungry. It did look like it was trying to fish just now. It was rather strange that it failed so miserably though, since once would expect that such a fearsome creature would be able to fend for itself.

It was only when Hiccup caught sight of the dragon ogling enviously at a bird flapping it wings and zipping out of the cove that he finally understood.

Oh. Oh.

Hiccup's gaze fell back to the creature's tail. While he was no expert in aerodynamics, he had a pretty good guess what a battered tail fin must mean to the usually airborne beast. And who caused it.

He was still gulping down guilt when he picked up his bag. He didn't get very far before the seams of the bag just gave way and spilled the water-logged contents out. Everything smelled heavily of damp, making him wrinkle his nose even though he was already holding it all at arms-length.

The book was soaked, b ut unsurprisingly in one piece, so he just lay it open on the grass. The electric drill was definitely dead – Hiccup felt particularly woeful as he cast it away. It was his special toy after all. The coil of wire and the weird breathing mask were all fine, but some of the glass vials in the leather case broke - he had no idea what to do with those bottles anyway, so he wasn't that concerned. The remaining bolas and spare nets he spread around the grass to dry - not that he had any use for them now that he couldn't rebuild his catapult. Since there was much to do save literally watch stuff dry, Hiccup found himself sitting by the dragon'

s side and just studying it.

He found himself taking in all the creature's details - how its ebony scales seemed to eat up any light shining on it, how its small spines ran from its head down its vertebrae, how it actually had a smaller set of wings located below its larger more obvious ones. Unintentionally, he started stealing lots of glances at the frayed left tail fin. Without realizing, he had starting easing his way towards the creature, till he was just in front of it. The creature noticed this movement but besides an irritated harrumph, it made no visible rejection. Well, until the scrawny boy decided to give it an awkward little wave, to which the dragon snorted as it swept it tail over its eyes. Having the tattered tail re-shoved in his face only increased his interest in scrutinizing the Night Fury.

Without thinking, he stretched a hand to touch the torn membrane. Before he could though, the dragon jerked its tail up, glaring reproachfully at him. Almost instantly Hiccup shot to his feet, feigning innocence as he scuttled away quickly.

The hour that passed was one of the most peculiar experiences Hiccup had ever had, but hardly the most dangerous. He also noticed that the red of his sores and wounds had actually lessened remarkably. All of it was splendidly puzzling, and Hiccup couldn't fathom why the Gamemakers' hadn't set the reptile on him already.

Or maybe, they couldn't.

At the back of his head, a memory of the odd metallic pin he had found before stumbling on the captured Night fury resurfaced. Long-reputated uncontrollable mutts and stray metal pins which happened to look a bit like a microchip? It wasn't hard to put two and two together.

All the same, he couldn't understand why it took scientists this long to make such as simple solution to the Dragon problem, and how the Gamemakers could make such a grievous error. But that wasn't really his problem, so he chucked aside and enjoyed the benefits. No microchip meant that the dragon no longer really saw him as a threat, and without the Gamemakers' interference, perhaps it wouldn't consider him as a meal, or annoying enough to die. Yet.

Thinking about meals eventually made Hiccup realize the lack of food supply in the area - well, except for fish. An idea clicked in his head as his eyes fell on the nets and the coil of wire lying in the grass.

The following hour he managed to occupy himself by weaving in the wires into a net. Deciding the holes were small enough, he threaded a new coil through the ends of the net, joining them up to till they made a loop. Next, a handle was needed, so he pillaged his timber from vines crawling on the cliff faces, twisting with wire to make it solid and straight enough to function as a pole.

It was at that moment he realized that his actions had earned an audience - not that the Night Fury was really hiding its interest, though as it seemed to be a rather haughty creature. Or maybe it just it was checking that he didn't decide to a head dive in the lake - again.

Trying to keep cool under the weight of the creature's gaze, Hiccup headed to lake, halting at the shore. He then slid the net under the surface gently, trawling along the bed.

Annnndddd nothing happened.

After checking the net twice and sinking it back down, he began to suspect that the snorts that the dragon made occasionally were directed at him. It sounded like it was … laughing?

Rolling his eyes at the creature, Hiccup remarked scoffing, "Oh, like you did so much better."

The end of the fishing pole hit his head at that moment and he spotted the dragon lolling its tongue out in mockery.

"Laugh all you want, incompetent lizard." His follow-up was prompt. He understood well it was ridiculous talking to an animal, even more so a muttation who could toast him in a breath, but the words were just automatic.

He could swear that the creature just rolled back its eyes at him.

It was a good amount before he finally caught his first fish. Prying the slimy writhing cod out of the make shift net and slipping his fingers under its gill, he struck its head sharply with a stone. Picking up his catch, he was about to cry triumph and taunt the reptile when he discovered the green orbs of the beast mere inches from his own.

Squeaking, he lurched backwards. By the sniffing and the licking of its lips, he could pretty much guess that the beast was ravenous. It was possible that the disability had hindered the creature's hunting abilities, and besides, who didn't love stealing easy food from wimps? As the creature advanced slowly towards the boy, Hiccup could hear his own heart thudding or not. Microchip-ped or not, primeval instinct could throw had any restraint the dragon had before.

'You know that it can probably smell fear, right?'

'This isn't fear. This is, erm, apprehension-"

'This? What, no, urgh…why don't we just give the dragon the fish and hope it doesn't kill us?'

'With one cod only? Look at the size of this guy! One cod isn't going to be enough-'

'You know what? Let's cut the mental conversation and address the flippin' elephant in the room!'

'It's 'dragon' in the 'cove'.'

'FEED THE MUTT BEFORE WE – erm - I BECOME DRAGON CHOW!'

And that's how he ended up holding out his own meal to the scaly beast before him. The creature had stared suspiciously at the offering, before snatching it deftly out of his hand, gobbling it down instantly. If he had thought the creature would be satisfied with that, he must have thought wrong, because the dragon kept its eyes on him, grunting.

"I…I don't have anymore," Hiccup stammered, ruefully eyeing the now empty net.

In reply, the creature merely glanced at the net, then at the lake, then back at him. Seeing that the boy was still staring blankly, the creature repeated the actions again. It took a while before the message came through.

"You want me to fish for you?" The idea was so foreign to him that it took him some to wrap his head around it.

The creature crooned in what seemed to be an affirmative manner.

So Hiccup dipped the hand-crafted hand-net back in the lake water and brought out more fish, all which were devoured by the greedy creature. At one point, the mutt had ceased to prod him for more feed, so he gave his exhausted arms a rest. Just as he sat himself down, the beast darted to his side again, eyeballing him purposefully.

"I'll get you more in a sec," Hiccup said, rubbing his aching arms. Fishing was harder than it looked, and he was still pretty hungry.

The dragon didn't seem to have heard him this time, still eyeballing him intently. Hiccup heard a gurgle come from the back of the dragon's throat, followed by sometime that sounded like a cough. When the dragon parted it jaws again, a gooey piece of cod that fell from its mouth and landed in the lap of the boy. The creature then retreated a few steps back, still staring at him as it fell back onto it hind legs.

Hiccup peered disbelieving at the half-digested fish, holding it queasily in hishands. A nod from the dragon towards its own offering told him what it expected him to do. He was aghast for a second, then resigned the next. Well, survival always outlived civility. And food hygiene.

His stomach was already churning when he reluctantly sank his teeth in the raw, slobber-covered meat. It tasted sort of sour, like acid – he didn't want to guess where that was from - and he wouldn't have swallowed it if the creature hadn't indicated that was expected of him too. Shuddering, he tried not to dwell on the revolting taste in between his teeth and flashed the dragon a lopsided grin instead, which he hoped would appease the beast.

The creature only squinted at him inquisitively. Slowly, it parted its maw from the side, retracting it teeth to reveal a gummy somewhat – smile?

Surprised, Hiccup's sickly feeling was overpowered by his surprise. Again, instinct overtook caution as he reached out towards the creature.

Reaction was immediate. The teeth filled the creature's mouth immediately as it snarled at him. Twisting its body, it leapt away, heading for opposite shore once more. Before it did, it stopped by the spread of drying tools on the grass. The nets it clambered over without a thought, but catching sight of the electric drill infuriated the dragon instantly. The useless tool had been blasted into smithereens less than a second later.

Its reaction to the book was the most noteworthy of all; the dragon drew closely to the book for a moment to sniff it, before recoiling sharply, a horrified expression on its face as it bounded away to his chosen resting grounds.

His arm still hanging aimlessly in the air, Hiccup remarked to no one in particular, "I just don't get what's going on anymore."

Autumn Quarter

It was the eyes that haunted her. Soulless, yellow eyes.

The first time Merida had heard of how her father lost his leg in the Games was when she was three. She had been terrified then, because her da' would make dramatic sound effects and vivid descriptions of every second, but then he'd pick her up and tickle her until the fears had dissipated into laughter.

Elementary school hadn't been that kind. Everyone in the Districts had to undergo some form of 'patriotism' classes, and that meant watching a lot of the Hunger Games videography. Since her father had been one of the few victors of District 5, she had ended up watching his Games. A lot.

There had been no laughter at the mention of her father's missing leg after that. Instead, she had developed irrational fear towards large, furry black animals with yellow eyes.

With age, her skill at the bow had improved, till a point that she had discarded her childhood phobia and had replaced with her confidence in archery. She had reckoned that as long as she had her bow, no great black creature would ever make her afraid again, real or imaginary. She had even a few black wolf pelts to prove it.

That belief had been shattered yesterday.

Fear was foreign to the teenaged Merida – or at least that's what she told herself. Before the Arena, she had seen herself as some kind impenetrable tower; solid, steady and ever battle-ready. Then after entering the Arena, that notion was disproven over and over again.

She was weak. She was scared.

Those were the first thoughts that came to her mind as she woke, shivering in the shadow-filled cave. Sitting herself up, she winced as her left arm shifted. Squinting in the dark, she noted that it seemed to be wrapped up in some kind of splint to keep it at an angle, just tight enough to prevent her from moving it, but not enough to numb the ache. Her free hand ran up neck, past her red ringlets to massage the bruise on her scalp.

When her eyes adjusted fully to the dimness, she could finally make out the entrance of the recess. Taking measured movements, she crept over to the mouth, pushing away the green foliage hanging in front of it. As she did, she heard a lithe voice singing in a quite off-key fashion, "But before I go and hit the ro-oh-oh-oad,-'

Merida blinked hard as the sunlight tried to force their way into her pupil. Leaning on her good hand and keeping the injured one near her chest, she unsteadily tried to located the owner of the voice.

"-I gotta know-oh, til then." The singing, though not loud, was particularly enthusiastic. "When can I see you again?"

When the white in her vision cleared, she found a small girl with a black-haired pony-tailed girl squatting down at over a little bowl, ripping berries off a broken stick and placing them in a bowl.

"Oh, oh, oh. When can we do this again? Oh, oh, ohhh- " Any tune that the words possessed took a stage left when the girl took notice of Merida, smirking. "Well, get a load of this. Sleeping Beauty's finally up from her nap."

"I'm no beauty," Merida retorted automatically, as she sat on a log opposite the girl, "and to answer your second question, I hope never to do this again."

"I concur." The black-haired girl nodded firmly. "It took me close to an hour to drag your fizzle-frazzle butt down here, and two to wrap that arm." The girl jerked her chin towards Merida's cast. "You really stink at looking after yourself, just F.Y.I. Want some?"

Merida stared down at the bowl of red berries, before furrowing her brows at the girl offering them.

The girl huffed, rolling her eyes. "Oh, sweet mother of monkey milk."

She grabbed a handful of the fruit and shoved it into her own mouth. Chewing on them with exaggerated slowness, she swallowed, then waving her hands in the air as she dryly announced, "Ta-da!"

Placated by the demonstration, Merida took a handful of the berries and began eating them. They were sweet and very crunchy, tasting almost better than the game she had hunted a few days prior.

"Where did you find these?" The redhead asked, as she stuffed more in her mouth. The younger girl handed her a waterskin, which she accepted and uncapped with asking.

"They're everywhere in this Quarter," the kid answered, as she resumed tearing the stalks from the leaves. "We have them in District 11 too, so I recognized them." District 11 was all about agriculture, so perhaps the girl's knowledge about plants shouldn't have been surprising.

"I never really caught your name," Merida confessed as she handed back the water skin, before realizing that she had just taken a drink without checking. She didn't feel any sense of discomfort in her body yet – besides her most apparent injury - so her unease was put aside.

"Vanellope. What about you, Frizzles?"

Merida was taken aback to hear that nickname again. The first time the girl had called her that was after the parade in the Capitol. Jings. How time had flown. Where twenty-four of them had still been alive that night, only sixteen remained now.

"Merida Dunbroch, but just Merida would do."

Vanellope hummed disapprovingly, shaking her head. "Nah, I think I'll just call you Frizzles. Easier to remember." The irony was not lost on the older girl. Vanellope definitely sounded like a hybrid of 'Vanilla' and 'Penelope'.

Merida couldn't help but feel that she was missing something even if she sat comfortably on the log, gazing up at the red maples that surrounded them. Hearing the chirping swallows, she couldn't help grinning as she thought how easily she could pin one or two of those…

Her eyebrows shot up alarmingly. Her bow!

She spun to the smaller girl, demanding, "What did you do to my bow?"

Even though she was in a potentially precarious situation, Vanellope gave an impatient sigh. "Oh, hold your crumbs together, you diaper baby. I stowed it safely." She thumbed at the cave. "Delivery's free, but tips are strongly encouraged. Hah! Get it? Tips! Like arrow tips! Ha!"

The redhead went to check for herself, and relief washed over her when she found her bow and quiver were indeed leaning against the cave wall. She counted the arrows and frowned at the new and smaller number, but given yesterday's events it couldn't really be helped.

With her broken arm forced to rest, there wasn't much she could do now, so she joined the girl by the fire once more. Any quiet that Merida could have hoped for was killed very quickly. Vanellope was obviously the talkative type, and her groggier companion wasn't surprised when she struck up conversation again. "What were you doing in the tower, anyways?"

Merida narrated the troubling turn of events, occasionally adding on her own opinion as she described the trio of allies. She explained how Turbo had given her an offer of alliance, and how she had refused him. From then, it wasn't easy to avoid talking about his role in the battle of the castle.

"-he betrayed her." Merida bit her lip, shaking her head. "His own district mate."

"It's the Games," the other girl muttered darkly, clenching one fist and driving it into her other palm. "It's kind of expected for allies to turn against each other at some point." She made a rude noise. "Of course, in Turbo's case, I would pin it down to him just being a lousy, low-life, cruddy little jerk-face."

That was Vanellope for you; Opinionated, cynical and frank, all wrapped in a tiny girl's body.

The train of conversation was starting to approach more uncomfortable topics, so they reversed and began exchanging information instead.

The younger girl had already done a full circle on the entire Arena – she had attributed this to her speediness, and also due to managing to keeping close to Cornucopia grounds at that time. Staying in Autumn was entirely strategic in her case; Winter was too cold; Summer was too rough. Spring was pleasant, but it was the Career headquarters.

"It isn't that great anyway," the girl shrugged, popping another berry in her mouth. "Spring has the perfect weather, but it's reeking poison. Almost everything that looks edible there's got venom. The Careers don't issues with that though. They've got their own little food pyramid." She snorted, and Merida nodded in approval. They both obviously shared the lack of love towards the Careers.

They spoke of many things away from the Arena. Merida learnt that the girl was not only an orphan, but too a street urchin of sorts. At the sight of the old girl's horrified expression, Vanellope hurriedly assured her that the life was better than it sounded.

"Got my own li'l gang," she explained. "They're my family – sorta. They look out for me. And I know this may sound pretty unbelievable but," her volumes dropped several notches, "I'm actually their leader."

Merida found herself telling the younger girl of her family and her home, sans the riots, of course. They were on Panem television.

"Must be nice living in a big manor," Vanellope murmured wistfully, resting her chin on her knuckles, sighing. "Bet you can get your own little quiet corner to shoot arrows and destroy stuff."

Out loud Merida agreed. However, she remembered too well the pain of turning away desperately starving citizens, or the countless visits of the Head Peacekeeper to their home, or how her mother had attempted to squeeze her into the mold of a Capitol woman as a last ditch effort to save their District from being razed to the ground.

They went through a few circles of chat before Merida asked about something had been bothering her since the night before. "Why did you stop running?"

"Hmm?" The girl seemed occupied in gobbling down more berries, but she was practically scraping the bottom of the bowl by now.

Merida was careful to slow her words. "When the bear chased you down the slope, you tripped up last night, then you got up and just stood there, just staring into space. When I yelled at you, you still didn't budge. What happened?"

"Got disorientated. A little brain-fuzz. No biggie," Vanellope replied dismissively – too dismissively, to the point that the redhead could feel that she was hiding something.

Merida wasn't put off. "What really happened?"

The black-haired girl didn't seem to hear, only remarking, "Oh, look, we're out of berries! I bet you're still hungry. Tell y'a, Frizzie, I'll go and help us get some-"

"Lass, stop avoiding the topic."

The corners of the younger girl's mouth were downturned, and her eyes soon followed. Merida noted the grimace in the girl's expression, but she didn't relent. "Look, I may be able to help you on this, but I need to know what-"

"You can't help me." There was a subdued resignation in the girl's tone even as she idly crushed the leaves beneath her boots. "No one can."

A tense silence fell between the girls, with only the whistling winds and the singing bird breaking it. Merida, perhaps suddenly realizing that full honesty wasn't always the surest road, opened her mouth to retract her question, but the younger girl had beaten her to the punch.

"I have a …glitch."

The redhead didn't understand. "A glitch?"

"That's what I call it." Vanellope tried to fake a smile, but it was unsuccessful. She lay the empty bowl near the fire, still not meeting Merida's eyes. "Since I was little, I've had these 'glitches'. There're just moments where I'd just-" the girl shifted in her seat, her expression growing graver,"-I'd just blank out. When I glitch, I suddenly stop responding to stuff; Can't see, hear, all zilch. And usually I can't move either. They're random and usually really short, but they're annoying, because there's never a warning and after I snapped out of them, I don't remember going under at all." She frowned more deeply. "It really sucks for time-tracking."

Vanellope swung her legs back and forwards, shoving her hands in her coat pockets as she did. "People used to make fun of me a lot because of it. Bullies liked shoving me in the mud during my 'spells'. They loved how shocked I always look – used to taunt me that I time-travelled." She made a dry chuckle, but the listener spotted a tint of red in the little girl's eyes.

"You said 'used to'," Merida pointed out.

"Ooh my. Someone's been paying attention," Vanellope remarked with mock surprise, before continuing in a somber tone. "There was … this big guy who showed the bullies up one day. Since then, they've never bother me, and those who did, well," she made a smile, "they actually became my friends. They're actually my gang now. It's kinda neat, I guess."

"But your… your glitch. It's still-" Merida left it hanging on purpose.

Vanellope rubbed her elbows awkwardly, her shoulders drooping again. "There isn't a cure. Not one that a street kid could afford, anyway. The healer said it's likely to wear off when I got older, but I guess it doesn't matter anymore-"

She didn't need to finish, because Merida could fill the blanks herself. '-because I might never leave the Games.'

It was only then that the consequences of her actions struck her. She had essentially goaded Vanellope into revealing her greatest weakness to the Capitol audience. If the lass had any sponsors from before, they would all back out on her right now.

Merida bit her lip. This couldn't be right to that to her. This girl was smart, spunky, and honest. She didn't deserve to be brought down by an unexplainable body quirk, and for crying aloud, she was only twelve.

Fine. She would admit it. There was no way she was leaving this kid on her own anymore.

She tried to sound causal as she asked. "You and me as allies. What d'ye say, lass?"

Vanellope gaped at her as if she had just said that that President Lotso was actually a cuddly, pink teddy bear that smelled like strawberries. When she spoke, she made her disbelief clear. "Sorry if you didn't catch it right, Frizzles, but having glitches is actually a bad thing."

Merida shrugged. "Well, I have a broken arm. Makes you and me equal then."

"If you keep in the cast, you might have it back sooner," Vanelloped countered. Seeing Merida's serious countenance however made her realize her companion's sincerity. Hesistatnly, she said, "You-you do mean it, don't you?"

The only reply was "I'll watch your back if you watch mine."

The small girl pondered over this a while, securitizing the older girl carefully. "Well," she pretended to sound contemplative, "we did beat those idiots plus the grizzly bear back at the castle."

"Aye, we did." Merida played along, though she had a brow raised.

"And we've managed to stay in each other's company for five minutes without pulling each other's hair out."

The redhead privately thought that this situation may not be permanent, but she still nodded all the same.

The little girl scrunched her face one last time, squinting intently at Merida. Slowly, she raised a hand to her mouth and spitting on it.

"Ally?" She then held it out, daring the District 5 girl to take it.

Any girl with the tiniest sense of decorum would have recoiled immediately at such a practice that was both uncultured and unsanitary. Fortunately, Merida didn't quite fall in this category.

Without the slightest hesistation, she spat in her good hand before clasping it with the girl's. "Ally."

Between tomboy and tomboy, a pact was sealed.

S/N:

Blindspots are of my own invention, so don't dig the THG books expecting to find it. Like the armbands, they're just for the story.

Expecting the full forbidden friendship scene? Well, not here. Don't even expect Hiccup to ride Toothless. Yet. And yes, 'paranoid' Hiccup is back. Note that in here, Toothless has only has a frayed left tail fin, not a missing one like the movie.

Vanellope's 'glitch' in this AU is actually a form of absence seizure, which is characterised by 'blanking out' suddenly for up to 15 seconds, then carrying on like nothing has happened, but it is possible to notice a lapse in time. It usually happens to children aged 4 – 12, and it's possible to happen to adults too, so I'm assuming Van falls in that range. Being from a poor and largely uneducated background, she would never know of the condition or the medication that can be used to manage it. The first hint of Van having absence seizure is actually in Chap 9.

Death Recap as of this chapter (in case)

3 - Honey Lemon

4 - Heather

5 - W. Dingwall

6 - Taffyta

7 - Female Stabbington (the Gender-bented)

8 - Greno

9 - Nameless Boy

10 - Toothiana

Remaining Players

1 - Gothel, Shen

2 - Astrid, Hiccup

3 - Hiro

4 - Dagur

5 - Merida

6 - Turbo

7 - Male Stabbington

8 - Rapunzel

9 - Nameless Girl

10 - Jack

11 - Vanellope, Ralph

12 - Elsa, Hans

Known Alliances (& my l'il names for them)

The Careers: Gothel, Shen, Astrid, Dagur

Team J.E.: Jack, Elsa

The Dark Team : Turbo, Male Stabbington - Alliance Status Uncertain

TeamWildchilds - Merida, Vanellope

Metal Band Band

Hiro - 2 bands

Jack

Rapunzel

Hiccup (Annnddd Hiro still doesn't know that. Bum. Bum)

Up Next: Can't say much, but I'm calling the chapter 'Tenuous Partnerships' – Go figure.

A/N: Whoohoo! Pass 150 reviews!

This story has really come a long way - honestly I never thought I'd make it pass the interviews, yet... here we are. I'm more confident then before that I will indeed actually finish this story, and hopefully I will. Who can say?

On a random note, has it ever occurred to you that 'Brave' doesn't actually fit the movie Brave? The movie isn't really about being Brave – maybe it's 'daring' to change your fate, but hardly bravery. (Quotes Mark Twain's 'Courage is the Mastery of Fear blah blah.) Perhaps it might be brave to take responsibility of your mistakes and stuff, but then the title should have been 'Responsibility' then. Or maybe 'The Bear and the Bow' – really, really fitting, though possibly not as easily marketable.

Really, what's with all the single-word titles? (Yes, yes, I know that ROTG and HTTYD exist. Thank you.)

Mailbox:

QueenElsaOfArendelle1: Mer and Van weren't allies in the last chapter, but they weren't against it. And now after saving each other's butts, they officially are. Team J.E. would be appearing in the next chapter, if I don't change my mind halfway.

countrygal15: Okay, I guess now that sorta makes sense. Am I really turning the characters into their movies selves? Oh dear. And her was I was trying to turn them into dark, angsty versions of their ...oh, oops. Thanks for reviewing!

A way to uncreative girl: Hmm... you have a point. I could totally take over Pitch's job at this rate.

Pitch: (quietly allocates the author into the 75th Hunger Games) And SharKohen is now no longer around to finish this story. Which means... (Triumphant grin) Pitch now rules the story! (Cackles wickedly)

Sorry. Caffeine.

Awsomaniatica: Yay! Thank you for your review! There'll be more intense chappies coming by, especially when alliances start being made and weirder shit happens (I'm so excited for the next big story arch). To be honest, I found the tracker jackers scarier than the wolf-mutts in the movie, simply because they are bugs. (ugh).

Guest (chap 4): Your guess makes a lot of sense (Snow - Santa Claus. Haha) but I guess you would know that that's not true any longer.

manyotpslife: Yay, the will-o-wisp ref was one of things I took forever to think of! Thank you so much for the review! Team J.E. will be back soon, promise, even if it's not excessively dramatic.

Guest (chap 24): Thank you so much for your review! I'm really glad that you enjoy it. I'll try to put in names every time there's a switch in perspectives in the future - hopefully that would make it better. For dialogues, it may be a bit harder, but I'll try. Thanks once again!

Lostblueheart 16: Haha, Merida has survived so far, as long as she doesn't die from Vanellope-istis. Elsa and Jack aren't dead yet, but they'll be back soon, in either next chappie or the one after.

Thanks for reading guys! See ya in two weeks time!

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