Arena, Night Four.

Alana Bedford, 17 years, District Six Female

The royal promenade is a pretty place.

That's the technical term for it, obviously. To me it's just a big, wide-open space lined with shops and restaurants and booths. It'd probably be even nicer if it was all lit up, but I guess I'll have to settle for stumbling around. I'd rather say that I'm looking for something a little less purposefully than I normally would instead of stumbling. I do technically know where I'm going.

Mostly.

A note fell out of the sky a few hours ago, attached to a silver parachute. All it read was 'Fifth Floor. You'll know when you see it.'

It wasn't signed, either. I don't think either of our mentors were particularly inclined to help me, and even less so now, which means it's someone higher up. Of course they're enjoying this. No one from the Districts has to. I didn't volunteer for them, I volunteered to get away from them. Whether they approve or not.

By 'see it' I hope they realize that the power clearly has no plans of coming back on it's own. Whatever I'm supposed to see, it better be pretty damn obvious. For all I know it could be five feet in front of my face and I won't even realize it.

I pass a booth in the middle of the avenue laden with jewelry. Nothing particularly interesting there. There's a restaurant off to the left, but I have enough food.

So what is it?

I'm almost completely to the end of the walk when a blinking red light in the far corner catches my attention. It's completely dark around it.

On first glance it looks pretty simple. It's a curved wooden desk, the front of it lined with glass shelving and brochures with fancy island pictures on them. There's a few loose pens lying on top of it. Just looks like an information desk. Where people would go to get help. I always appreciate a little help.

I fall into the rolling chair behind the desk, letting it go until I'm in front of the blinking red light. It's located next to a series of switches, and then a microphone. Lying next to it, conveniently, is a brand new tomahawk. There were no others back at the Cornucopia; I even went back and checked.

Someone in the Gamemaking room is being generous tonight. I smile.

I unwrap the parachute from it and pick it up, still smiling. It's much nicer than the one I currently have, and shinier too. Then again, the one I already have is more covered in Elias' blood than not. I thought it may have been a better fight. Then again, the element of surprise may have helped me a bit more than I expected. Elias didn't run away like I expected, but towards me, somehow.

Of course, that only enabled him to punch a hole in the wall when he meant to hit me, and that meant giving me an extra few seconds to rip the spear off his back and stab him with it.

Not too deep, obviously. That wouldn't have been any fun. Just a little in the side, enough to make him stumble, falter, and reconsider. He hadn't expected me to be quick enough to dodge and get behind him. I got him to the end of the hallway before I decided enough was enough, and by then he didn't see the tomahawk coming.

It would have taken his arm off entirely if he hadn't twisted at the last second. I'm surprised he even bothered fighting. But he grabbed the tomahawk's blade with his free hand and stopped me from doing it.

Which only ended in the torture getting worse, which he probably wasn't aware of. If he'd just let me take his arm I might have stopped.

I only backed him down two more hallways. He was stumbling, by then. There were cuts in his legs and his arm was useless and I finally got the tomahawk in his stomach, again and again, just enough to hurt but not enough to kill.

He's resilient, I'll give him that. He's been lying there for hours, unless Larkin got to him, and he's still alive. I left him his sickle and a knife, just in case he was still there when the mutts came crawling out. They'd have killed him by now. Somehow he's gone. That was the more preferable option, surprisingly. Now I need him to go running to the only people left in this arena who might not kill him. I need Elias to tell them that I'm going to do the same to them, one by one.

I'll let Larkin help, if she's with him. Maybe she'll accept to save her own skin. If they find the others, I think I'll go with Duke first, just so Elias can watch as I chop him into pieces. Maybe I'll kill him after that. He'll probably want to die by then anyway.

Seren will have to be next, just to watch Kal scream. I doubt Meritt will sit there and watch it, though. On the other hand, maybe he can live too. I still haven't figured him out, and I'm not letting him go until I do. Who knows, maybe he's the type to accept an offer when he's given one. Maybe he's already that person.

I don't know how long I'll have to drag out Kal's death for it to be truly enjoyable. Days, probably. I'm not letting him die until he begs for me to do it. I could leave him alone, after that. The mutts will smell the blood and finish it for me.

Now that's what the Capitol wants to see.

I run my finger over the red light. It's on, despite the power outage. It seems that only the things they want us to see are still working.

Flipping the switch up, I pick up the microphone. Sure enough, a hum starts up the second it flicks on, the light changing to a solid, unblinking green. I tap a finger against the microphone experimentally. The noise reverberates down the promenade, no doubt everywhere on the ship. They wouldn't lead me here unless I could use it.

I just can't stop smiling.

"Attention, attention."

Duke Galore, 18 years, District One Male

"Someone was definitely in here."

"Are you saying that because the cupboards are empty or because of the giant blood splatter on the floor?"

Well, Kal does have a point. It's not hard to tell the infirmary was raided. The cupboards are devoid of pretty much anything useful. The only things left are the occasional bottle of medication with a name that I don't even recognize or a package of band-aids the size of my finger. Whoever came through here knew what was useful and took it all.

The blood everywhere is still unsettling, as are the tears in the plaster where there was obviously a mutt crawling. I think they're going easy on us tonight because we could have drowned yesterday trying to escape them. Which I still haven't forgiven Seren for, but the issues we're probably going to face soon are bigger than that.

Someone sighs. It's so heavy it sounds like it was all of us simultaneously. We were hoping we could find something useful. Sure, we have first-aid supplies, but nothing extensive.

There's yet another screech from outside. They've been far enough away, but they sound like they're getting closer.

"We should probably go before they decide to invade," Seren says, completely echoing my thoughts. There's no point in staying here anyway.

Seren makes Meritt go first; he's pretty much the only one willing to anyway. He steps carefully out into the hallway while Kal finishes closing up the last of the cupboards behind me.

"We've got a problem."

Seren has stepped out into the hallway with Meritt, both of them staring mostly vacantly towards one end of the hall. Both of them are pretty unreadable.

"Well, it can't be that big of a problem if you're moving and talking," Kal insists, shoving past me and out the door. "Unless— oh, shit. Found your boyfriend, Duke."

My first thought is to tell him to shut the fuck up or I'm going to smother him. The only thing is, though, where Seren and Meritt looked unreadable, Kal looks genuinely concerned and not like someone who's afraid of getting his ass kicked by Elias.

I peek out into the hallway, barely visible.

The oh shit was an underestimation.

It's a good thing someone else confirmed it was Elias, because it looks so bad I wouldn't have even been sure. He is indeed at the other end of the hall, being held up almost completely by Larkin, who looks to be pretty healthily covered in his blood.

Alana's nowhere in sight. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what happened.

"So what's the plan?" Meritt asks quietly.

I take off towards them without hesitation.

"That was a dumb fucking question," Kal mutters. Someone hits him. I don't turn around to see who.

Larkin panics the second I get close to them, like she thinks I'm dead-set on attacking them or finishing off whatever Alana started. There's nowhere for her to go, though. She can't back-pedal away from me without making things worse.

I reach out for Elias and she seems to understand that I'm trying to help pretty quickly. She very carefully lets go of him until I'm holding onto most of his weight. Larkin has to practically peel her arm away from his back, there's so much blood everywhere.

"Hey, give me his other arm."

Seren's on my other side, trying to help as best she can. I should have at least given them a choice about helping, but it doesn't seem like Seren's going to try and make me stop. Sue me for wanting to. I wasn't going to just stand there and watch. Kal's got a hand on Larkin's trembling arm, trying to smile and look comforting while completely ignoring the mess that's going on a foot away.

Meritt's standing behind, just watching. Probably the smart move. It wouldn't shock me if Elias, even in his half-conscious state, tried to beat the shit out of him for Lynn.

To my surprise, though, he is conscious. The second Seren manages to get around his other side he at least makes an effort to try and look at me. One that fails miserably, but it's the thought that counts.

"We— I just thought the infirmary might have something," Larkin trails off weakly. She's already tore her coat to pieces to try and stifle some of the bleeding, but it doesn't look like it's doing much.

"Someone's already gone through it." Kal tries to look reassuring, but judging by whatever Larkin's gone through in the past few hours, it's gonna take more than that.

"I told him we'd fix this," Larkin says under her breath. Elias still stirs, though, trying to straighten himself the slightest.

"'m fine," Elias mumbles, although it doesn't sound much like that.

"Shut up," I snap at him without thinking, way too harsh for someone who's probably dying. I really don't want to think about the fact that he could be dying as we speak. Elias honest to god tries to smile, even though he can barely keep his eyes open when he looks at me.

"F-Fuck you."

"Okay, I deserved that," I agree. "Now shut up."

Is there any fixing this? Judging by the looks everyone's sharing, there really isn't. With just Larkin, there'd be no saving him. But there's so many of us, now, even if we aren't allies. There has to be a solution somewhere.

If there's really no way to fix this, then it's just reaffirming how fucked we really are.

Rover Morgan, 17 years, District Eight Male

Erna's asleep.

She hasn't been so keen to leave me up alone lately. Usually she would wait until I fell asleep. She always woke up before me too. It's like I'm on a permanent watch.

I guess I'm kind of used to it. Marcos did the same thing in Eight. I guess that's what you get, when a doctor basically adopts you. I'm still not used to it, though. I don't like people constantly worrying about me. I need to stop crying, to stop panicking. Erna can't protect herself if she's too worry about me.

I helped her barricade the door before she fell asleep. The only things that haven't been tipped over are a few of the chairs, and the desk and computer that we need. It'll be a pain getting out, when we want to, but it's better than whatever's out there.

There was a notebook and pen in the desk we left standing.

Not much has changed on the map. There are still two people missing. Two of the scattered dots on the eleventh floor are back together and have moved to the second, where the Careers are. So far, none of them have disappeared, which means they're not killing each other.

It's weird, if you ask me.

The third dot on the eleventh is now on the fifth, which seems to be the main floor out of all of them. All of the other dots are still on the same floors they were before.

Now that I have a notebook, I can try and keep track of it all. Maybe, when Erna wakes up, I'll have accomplished something. It'll definitely make me feel better. So far I've done nothing but intervene when I apparently shouldn't and stand in the way of Erna getting things done.

The only colour coat that I really know is the Eleven's, and that's all because of Magne. I think about what happened every time I remember the wound on my neck.

His was green. Light green. Not a colour you saw often in Eight, unless it was in one of the windows of those expensive shops in the Town Square. Some of the walls in the hospital were painted that colour too. Supposed to be soothing. That's what Marcos always said.

If Magne's was green, that means the Eleven girl is one of the people on the fourth floor, with whatever one of her allies is still left. We haven't been seeing much of the anthem lately, not unless we go outside. They're probably doing it on purpose; not letting us know who's dead and who's alive makes things more interesting.

It still doesn't explain who's missing.

"Go to sleep, would you?"

I almost jump. Almost. I've managed to reign in the urge to flinch when Erna speaks out of nowhere. She does it so often I think I've almost gotten used to it.

She's staring at me with one eye open. Her back's propped up against one of the few remaining armchairs; she doesn't look anywhere near comfortable. I wish I could sleep as easy as her. Nothing effects her the way it does me.

"I'm just trying to figure all of these out. The gray's were the Sixes, right?"

Erna squints, like she's trying to force the memory of seeing them four days ago back into her brain. "Think so."

So that's another two people down. One of them's on the fifth, one on the second. Though the group down there is looking to be heading up to the floor above. It's slow moving progress.

I try to go back to the bloodbath. That enough makes me want to stop. I remember the panic when I saw the tiniest kid here die, his neck snapped like a twig. And then Magne getting stabbed, Erna stopping me from going to him so she could do it herself.

I'm so busy thinking about it that I don't even notice Erna practically drag herself across the floor towards me. She plucks the pen out of my hand and shoves it in-between the pages of the book, and then takes that too. I watch her shuffle back to her previous spot, clutching the book tight against her chest.

"Go to sleep," she emphasizes once again. "It'll still be here in the morning."

I grab my knife, lying on the ground next to me. It's like I need something to hold onto at all times, and when it's not Erna's jacket or a pen or a notebook, it's the knife.

There are so many things that scare me, so I might as well add that to the list. I don't know when the thing I reached for became a weapon. Maybe it's because Erna's changed me, or maybe watching Magne die did too.

I hear a sigh, snapping my eyes back to Erna. She's let the notebook slide to the ground but she's staring at me fully, now, just watching.

"You're not going to sleep, are you?"

"Probably not."

Another sigh. She closes her eyes and rolls over onto her side, facing the other wall. Very obviously not facing me, like she's admitted defeat. That's something she's never done before. She always forces the issue until I listen.

"Wake me up if something interesting happens."

"I will," I respond quietly. Erna lifts her arm and gives me a thumbs up before letting it flop back to the ground.

Maybe I'm not the only one who's changing.

Kole Chambers, 17 years, District Five Female

I finally finish shoving the desk against the door, leaning against it and panting heavily.

A well-known fact that a lot of people probably don't think about; moving furniture one-armed isn't the easiest task in the world.

Sure, I've spent a year building my strength back up, but it still sucks if I'm being frank. Kian offered to help, already half-standing up to try and help me, only to have to freeze in that position once he realized walking wasn't an option.

I don't know how much longer I can handle the noises coming from outside. I don't know how much longer I can handle Larz just being gone. I'm trying to act strong, to act positive for Kian's benefit, but I can't keep it up much longer.

There's still that lingering question in the air: what if he doesn't come back?

More noises echo down the hallway, startling me. My hand goes to my machete without thinking. Already a reflex. Kian just watches silently, guilt still clouding in his eyes.

I want to yell at him to stop it, that it's not helping, but I know that won't help either. Getting upset now, on top of everything else, will only make things worse. Besides, it's not him I'm upset with. I should have stepped up. I should have done something. I said I didn't want to burden anyone, and yet here I am not really helping at all.

Sitting around and wallow because you got your arm practically blown off in a maintenance accident is one thing. Sitting here and waiting for something bad to happen is even worse.

A screech outside the door is abruptly cut off, ending in a whine that is equally as inhuman. There's another similar noise a second later. I step towards the door, listening.

"Kole, don't," Kian murmurs.

The screeches are dying out, one by one. I can hear the thumps as their bodies fall to the floor. I lean around the desk, trying to get as close as possible to the door while still leaving somewhat of a barrier. Just in case.

There's only one more screech, and then absolute silence. What I hear next almost sound like footsteps. The tiniest shadow passes through the crack at the bottom of the door, barely visible in the lack of light. Like a pair of feet so close on the other side that I can almost see them.

I feel the pressure of someone trying to turn the handle and push the door in, stopping when they realize they're making no progress. I lock my hand around the door-knob when they try again, stopping them from moving it any further.

I feel like it's not even right to breathe.

"You gonna let me in, or not?"

I freeze.

"Holy shit," Kian practically yelps, scrambling off the chair he had been sitting on. He regrets it almost immediately but continues his slow, painful progress towards me. I start shoving at the desk, not even caring about where it ends up. Eventually it just tips over towards me, leaving a few inches for me to yank the door open.

Larz is standing on the other side, hand half-raised like he was about to try opening it again. He's covered head to toe in thick, black blood. I'm extremely worried until he smiles.

It strikes me that I don't think I've ever seen him smile like that, so genuinely happy it almost hurts.

"Figured it out," he announces, still smiling. He tosses something at me. I just barely manage to catch it, the small bottle smacking against my chest.

I throw it somewhere behind me without looking. Kian makes a noise of discontent and starts after it.

I step forward and hug Larz as tightly as I can manage. He's disgusting, covered in so much of their blood that I can feel more of that than him, but it doesn't matter. He wraps his free arm around me, still holding the mace in the other. The hallway is littered with corpses, most with smashed in skulls or a neck so destroyed it's barely there.

When I finally take a step back it's to actually look at him, to make sure he's really okay. He's still smiling.

"I'm never going to be able to get up," Kian complains, rather loudly. He's sprawled face-down on the floor, reaching under the bed for the bottle. He finally reaches it, holding it up to his face.

"What even is this?" He questions.

"No idea," Larz supplies. "I took one just to see what it did. And let me tell you, I can't feel anything."

He's pointing to a jagged set of claw marks across his shoulder and collarbone. From what I can tell, it's really the only major injury he has. Kian makes a noise of satisfaction, pulling the lid off and tipping what is probably an inappropriate amount of pills in his hand. He begins making his way towards the bathroom, practically crawling there.

"I'll hug you when I can stand," he yells at us, finally getting himself through the doorway.

I still have a hand on Larz's arm, like I don't plan on letting him go anywhere any time soon. I'm really not. He wraps the arm I had a hold on around my shoulder, squeezing tight.

"What the hell did you do?" I mumble. The sudden amount of relief hitting me is probably visible from space. I can't even find the energy to care that the confidence I had tried to build up is gone. For five minutes, I don't need to be strong.

"I'll tell you all about it," Larz assures me. "Once I shower and sleep for about a year."

That I can accept and be happy about. He's safe. We're all safe.

For the first time in a long time, I think we're alright.

Kal Arker, 18 years, District Six Male

I'm about as effectively useless in this situation as I could be.

I have no medical knowledge whatsoever, and whatever basic first-aid knowledge I think I know is completely outmatched by the fact that I'm surrounded by Careers who definitely know what they're doing.

We still don't have the things we need to fix Elias, though. Medical knowledge is only helpful when you have the supplies to actually put it to use.

It would also help if I could even look at his arm without wanting to throw up.

It really is almost completely severed from the rest of his body, only held where it is by the scrap's of Larkin's coat.

Both Seren and Meritt agree that just chopping his arm off entirely would probably be better for him, although I don't know if anyone's really willing to chop his fucking arm off. I'm certainly not volunteering to do it. He's in enough pain as is. There was a bottle of painkillers left in the infirmary but they're not working any miracles in the shape he's in. It didn't take as long as I expected to get to the third floor and actually set Elias down, but it's clear however long he's been dragged around really isn't helping.

We have no stitches to put his stomach back together, nothing except rolls of bandages and tape from that first-aid kit we found. Blood's already seeped clean through them.

He's dying. They don't send the supplies to save people who are already dying.

Everyone's even less willing to tell Larkin, and I guess Duke too, that fact.

"Attention, attention."

I stumble, smacking my hip into the table. Swearing, I rub a hand against it. Everyone else pauses, looking around the room at the sudden booming voice. Even Elias blinks sort of confusedly from where Duke's still basically holding him up.

"Is that—?" Seren starts.

"Yeah," Larkin finishes wearily. As if this shit couldn't get any creepier, now I'm going to be hearing Alana's voice wherever I go.

"I'm pretty sure everyone knows who this is," Alana states. "But just in case, it's the person who's inevitably going to end up killing all of you."

I can see the little speaker implanted near the ceiling at the door. Probably some sort of announcement system. Ship-wide, I'd bet. Just what I needed to complete my day.

"I'm sure at least some of you have found the handiwork I left behind last night. Which is good! At least you know what's coming to you now, if Elias hasn't already made it blatantly obvious. But to everyone else, it's nothing personal. Really! Some of you don't deserve what's going to happen to you. Most of you do, but I guess that's kind of beyond the point now."

"She could not get any more fucking dramatic," Seren mutters.

"Let's go down the list, shall we?" Alana asks, like we have a choice in the matter. I really wish we had a choice in the matter. "First off, Duke."

"Oh, this should be good," he mutters. Elias looks like he'd laugh, if he could.

"You had so much potential!" Alana laughs. "And then look at you pulled in the bloodbath. Picking the wrong side, killing my closest ally. You should've known you'd be hearing this eventually. And then there's Seren, whose known it since the beginning. You think you're pretty great, don't you? You've got all your little allies, except they won't be around to protect you once they're dead."

She just won't stop. She rattles off something about Larz and Kian, about how they won't escape again, not when they've had so many chances. The next time she sees them they'll die, according to her. She brings up the way too nice kid for Seven for even being near her for a few seconds in the bloodbath. Maybe she doesn't mention Elias because she knows he's already knocking on death's door.

"Kal!" Alana announces cheerily. "Man, do I miss you. No, really. I miss seeing your face so that I can imagine more easily beating the living shit out of you."

Does she not have anything better to do in her spare time?

"But just like Seren, there will be no one to have your back eventually," she continues. "And once they're gone, so are you. You're nothing. So are you, Larkin. You could've helped me. This could have worked. You'll be making the wrong decisions until the day you die."

For a second, I think she's done. Alana trails off into silence for seconds longer than she had before. But of course she's not.

"I saved the best for last, of course. Everyone's forgotten about Meritt Trevall, haven't they? That's pretty good, for someone who got an eleven. When are you going to tell us how you got that, by the way? Or are you never going to? When are you going to fess up to the fact that you're bigger than what's going on in here, that you've been hiding what's going on since the beginning? You think I don't know you - maybe I don't. But I know that we've all got missions, here, and that sooner or later yours will blow up in everyone's faces. The sooner you remember who you are, the better."

"Sleep tight, kiddos," Alana finishes. "You're gonna need it."

I hear the static break of the connection as she shuts it off. No one says anything.

Meritt's staring at the floor. Duke and Larkin both have their eyes closed. Seren's looking at me, and she looks a lot more tired than I think I've ever seen her. That's worrying enough on it's own, ignoring everything Alana said.

I don't think any of us know where to go from here.

"That was fucked up," Elias finally manages, breaking the silence. Still, no one reacts.

Yeah. Yeah, it really was. And I think it's only going to get worse.

I know, I know. Get on it with the killing, Twist, you're boring us to tears here.

In order to kill people I have to be extra dramatic and draw it out, though. I'm basically Alana. I hope no one takes that seriously, I'm not quite that level of crazy or weird. It's very much fun to write, though, even though things almost always play out differently than how I originally tend to write them.

Hope everyone did alright over the two week break! As always, thanks for the reviews, I appreciate them dearly.

Until next time.