"Can you feel, feel like you still have a choice?

If we all light up, we can scare away the dark."

Mizuko Hali, District Four Male

The first slivers of morning sunlight shined on carnage strewn across a three mile radius. Entire buildings collapsed, taking each adjacent one down with it. Muddy floodwater pooled at each crevice and filled up as more water seeped through the cracks of each gaping hole. Mizuko ran a grimy hand through his hair as he tipped a stone over with his trident in the search.

They'd been lucky, him and Ira. At least at first, luck had been on their side. For one, living in a district encompassed and driven by water, Mizuko knew his way around a flood and some nasty waves, but even then, had they been sheltered at the top level of the building they'd been residing in, the outcome would have been bloody.

Mags had saved him. Minutes before the wave came crashing down, the dim chime of a parachute just out of arm's reach from his window at the top floor floated to the bottom of the building and Ira insisted she go as a means of protection for both of them.

Rumbles of unearthly magnitude had thrown both of them off the final staircase, leaving seconds before the wave would be in sight. They had hardly the time to get out of the building and take one last gulp of air before the water descended upon them. The parachute washed away, lost, but certainly not forgotten.

So Mags may have saved him, but he couldn't say the same for Ira. Icy tendrils of floodwater separated him from her and a cannon had gone off, but some illogical, senseless part of him continued to hold onto the hope that she was still breathing. There was, after all, seven other people that could've died instead of her. All he could do was hope and search through the wreckage.

He wasn't sure when the search became futile, when he just started going through the motions, knowing that it was all in vain. Nor did he know when he became attached to the spunky, sassy companion that vanished, taking the little joy he'd had in the arena away with her.

Together, they were better. Sleeping without fear of waking up in a noose was comforting, as was the shared amount of supplies that piled nicely between the two of them. But what Mizuko truly missed and needed now that solitude had him in its iron grip was the sound of company. The broken laughter that echoed across the arena walls and the snarky words that Ira spewed like a sixth sense had not gone unnoticed by Mizuko.

He didn't know when he had became reliant on what was supposed to be temporary.

Silence rang painfully in his ears as he continued to trudge through the littered streets, flipping carnage as he went. A dozen trainers' voices rang out in his mind, yelling at him to be more vigilant, to do his District and Training Centre justice, but he had naught the energy or mind to do so. The less noticeable he made himself, the smaller the chance of Ira noticing him where he didn't notice her.

A bitter laugh bubbled out of his throat. He had promised his friends flippantly that he wouldn't be one of the suicidal buffoons in the final eight, but here he, wanted to be found by the biggest non-Career threat of the Games. Of course, the circumstances were subjective, but the truth remained strong. He was no longer the same Mizuko he was from District Four. Regular Mizuko would've ran the second he saw Ira Quince with a crossbow pointed at him when he woke up groggily that morning. Regular Mizuko would've speared her the second his trident made contact with his hand. Regular Mizuko would have rejoiced that he was scot-free of anything holding him down from going back to Mags and Rain.

But he wasn't that boy anymore, now was he? District Four Mizuko died the second the girl from Three dragged that knife down his spine.

So what was he now? Mizuko scoffed at the thought. Boundless, and without purpose or identity. Wouldn't District Four be proud of him?

What he was now…was a tribute. Only a tribute would feel what he felt and understand the thoughts that were contrived in his poisoned mind. He shuddered slightly as the next thought bubbled.

A tribute would understand him. So would a Victor.

Perhaps that was what he was thinking of – besides finding some petty companion to talk to – he was tailored to win this, but Mags had always told him not to get ahead of himself. There were seven people between him and that crown and like hell was that getting ahead of himself.

Mizuko could dream it up, his names in flashing lights as a Victor, but did he want that? Did he want to be plagued with the memory of the girl who snuck into his mind when she had no place there? Did he want to see and relive each death in his dreams until there was nothing left of him or his soul?

Did he want to kill Ira?

The question hardly registered into his mind before the pained screams also came seconds later. One set was accusing and demoniac while the other was pleading and clearly on the verge of tears.

Mizuko's pace to a jog as he rounded the corner to see the two tributes, one bleeding and one holding the blood with a blue tint in the twitching eyes that met his harshly.

One was Calloway Grace. The other was Ira Quince.

"Mizuko, help me!"

He stood, frozen, as Calloway barked in some jumbled speak, screeching and sobbing, as one thought reiterated itself in his mind.

Would he save Ira or himself?

Ira Quince, District Eleven Female

Mizuko didn't move, gaping at her as she fumbled to do something, say something, to escape with Mizuko in tow. Calloway, now on guard, pointed a dagger at both of them as his line of sight darted from one to the other.

She had been searching for him, as he would for her, undoubtedly. It had bothered her as much as it bothered him, if not more, that she was compelled to, but she didn't go against her gut. It'd become tiresome and she'd become careless when Calloway appeared from behind a line of rubble and slashed a thick red line across her cheek.

Within seconds, she'd been disarmed and wounded by a boy she'd not only overlooked, but forgotten over the course of the Reapings to the very day. Her crossbow lie in the street, earthy dirt poking underneath. Her trembling fingers managed to lock onto her knife – the one Mizuko had given her the day of the bloodbath– as she unsheathed it. The simple motion had Ira tearing up as the blade grazed the deep gash in her right leg where she held her knife.

No one dared to breathe for fear of enticing a fatal reaction.

"Hey, buddy," Mizuko whispered, smiling cautiously at the younger boy, who hardly resembled the composed, intelligent boy from way back when. His tousled hair was sheened with thick clots of blood from who knows where; his fingers jittered around his twin daggers and the chatter of unfathomable words spilled out of his snarled mouth. "C-Can Ira and I just get on our- "

"No!" He screeched, startling the two of them. Ira whimpered softly as her leg jolted painfully. "You and your filth of a creature took away everything, everyone that mattered to me!" Calloway hissed, pointing the silver dagger as if it was a jabbing finger.

His cold exterior melted momentarily, the rabble clearing up slightly to become a mumble. "You killed them, and now you want me to let her go?"

"I-I haven't killed anyone," Mizuko stuttered, stepping forward only to be halted as Calloway aimed not at him, but at Ira, using her as a hostage to a captive audience.

"Liar!" The blue-tinted eyes flared red as Calloway screamed, tears freely streaming down his cheeks. "You and your sick pack killed them! You left me alone!"

"I'm not with the Careers - "

"Stop lying! Stop lying or I'll kill her!" Calloway screeched, heaving breaths into his system as Mizuko raised his hands in defense.

"Okay, okay, you got me, okay," Mizuko soothed, kneeling down. "Please, just - just let her go, please."

Calloway seemed to consider it, with Mizuko bowing and Ira in no position to flee, he probably felt empowered like the sick bastard the little thing was. Time froze as Calloway uttered his response, thickly and hotly.

"No."

Calloway lashed out, slamming the butt of the blade into Ira's head as Mizuko scrambled for a knife to strike him with. Ira hit the ground hard, groaning as the impact left stars in her eyes. The clash of blades reestablished her entrance to reality as her blade, still locked into her hand, came into view. But before she could rise or even collect herself, the clash of blades became distant until it halted completely.

A scream erupted from Calloway's parted lips as he narrowly evaded the first of Mizuko's knives, sprinting away from the ensuing boy. Ira rose, limping to her crossbow, waiting for the cannon to come when one of Mizuko's knives hit its target.

Her grip just met with the wood of the crossbow when Calloway came crashing down into her side, knife whizzing narrowly over his head over the jumbled bodies. The dull crossbow dug into her skin, forcing a scream out of her as Calloway flipped her, pointing the cool metal of the knife into the skin of her neck.

Mizuko's feet came into view from the floor, and by the obvious clank of metal, he had knives to spare around his belt.

"Come one step closer and I swear, I will butcher her into a thousand pieces. Knife, on the ground," Calloway hissed, pressing the tip of the knife deeper until she could feel blood trickling through her shirt. Ira bit her tongue, feeling a new stream of blood burst there, to keep from screaming out. Mizuko audibly growled, lying a knife beside him.

"Go now, and nothing will happen to you," Mizuko murmured vehemently.

"Nothing will happen to me? You mean having actual people that cared for me and not about my brain die right in front of me is nothing? Watching people I love bleed out in my arms – that's nothing?"

"No, no, I didn't mean that - "

"It's too late for nothing to happen to me, and like hell am I ever going to get the chance to make things right ever again," Calloway sobbed, tears dotting through her shirt. "This is my only chance."

"Wait, wait, think about what you're doi - "

"I'm sorry," Calloway breathed. Mizuko scrambled for his knife, but it was far too late. Ira gasped as the metal blade spliced through her flesh and into the bone of her rib cage. The weight of Calloway was lifted off her alongside the whoosh of a blade burying itself into its target. A cannon erupted and even though it was nowhere near her line of sight, Ira knew that behind her, Calloway was dead.

And now, it was her turn.

"Ira!" Mizuko cried out, roughly flipping her to meet her eyes. Cerulean eyes dripped salty tears onto her face as he gaped at her wound, trying to no avail to mask his horror. "Oh, it's not all that bad, it's going to be fine; it'll be fine, I promise!" he murmured, his voice cracking into sobs as Ira shook her head weakly, gasping air while blood began to seep out of her mouth.

"Not for me," she managed, clutching Mizuko's blonde locks with the last reserves of vigor and strength buried by the pain. "But for you and Mags and some girl someday, it will be, Miz, it will be fine," she coughed, spurting a new wave of blood as the adrenaline faded. The once dull pain became all too real as she winced, tears of her joining those of Calloway's on her shirt.

"You'll be that girl," Mizuko whispered, pushing her blood-stained hair out of her face. "I never got to say - "

"It was never going to be me," she cut in, voice softening into a hoarse whisper. "Promise me, promise me you won't give up."

"Don't talk like that," Mizuko sobbed, burying his head into her neck.

"Promise me…"

And as Ira's eyes rolled back, as her head laid onto the dirt, as her soul flew to the unknown above, she could make his voice replying:

"I-I promise Ira."

Minet Nikelle, District Two Female

Two cannons fired in rapid succession, but Minet couldn't bring herself to even rejoice anymore. She'd promised herself not to mope when it was her time to shine, but she'd also promised herself not to grow attached to someone who was going to need to die. And yet, there she was, moping. And lo and behold, she'd grown attached to Graecus when her better judgment told her otherwise.

It was fair to say she broke her promises often.

However, Minet was far from tears and suicidal outbursts; she had her composure under lock and key. A rough patch was all it was.

She only hoped that with victory so near, she'd be able to escape it before she killed herself.

That was the only scenario where she didn't end up on top. Killing herself, breaking herself down until she lost to whichever lucky kid was standing above her as she bled out. No one in the arena rivaled her, save Mizuko, but she could take him with his injuries and all.

Of course, his injuries couldn't have been as major as she'd thought – and hoped – seeing as his face hadn't appeared in the sky.

With any luck, today would end that.

Had either of those cannons been his, these Games were hers. The pipsqueak from Three, the dimwits from Eight: easy prey. Mizuko was more or less dead with the extent of his injuries, or so she hoped.

Then, Naya and Ira. The former, a traitor to every extent of the word. The latter frequented Minet's dreams often, as of late. Each night brought a new method of slow, methodical death for that one. Oh, Minet would have her bleeding and begging on her heels, she lived for it. Vengeance was the only form of justice Graecus would receive and Minet swore to uphold that.

And so, as a knife scraped gleefully against the building opposite her, Minet perked up, feeling something she'd not felt in a while: untampered glee. Alas, the girl before her wasn't Ira Quince, but she'd been eager to fight this one nevertheless.

"Don't tell me you can't speak, Naya, it'd ruin the fun in this," Minet seethed as she unbuckled her rapier, twirling it. Naya looked worse for wear; a limp was evident and her face was grimy, yet the spineless wench actually found her voice for once.

"Couldn't wait to hear my lovely voice?" Naya croaked. Her voice cracked, matching her appearance all too well. Minet eyed the twin knives Naya brandished, but any menacing aspect about her was ruined by her physique.

Too bad, Naya was a formidable enemy before whoever or whatever decided to end her chances. What a shame.

"Yes, screaming and begging for your life, yes, I can't wait to hear that."

Naya scoffed, lurching forward and slicing the distance between them steadily. Minet could feel Naya's eyes watch her for weak points as she did the same vice versa, but there was no point. Naya stood as much of a chance as District Twelve had the week previous.

Minet lunged forward, a shrill shriek bubbling out of Naya's latter hardly managed a parry as she was forced to apply weight on her weak leg. Tears quickly pricked her eyes as she weakly tried to kick out. Minet hissed, caught her leg and swept her off her feet with the blunt end of her rapier. Naya cried out as her head hit the concrete hard, cushioned but only slightly by the backpack laced around her body.

Naya's right knife slipped from her hand as she fell, and whether from pure luck or impressive aim, it embedded into Minet's shoulder, enticing another hiss. Minet briskly fought away tears, begging for adrenaline to dull the pain long enough for her to finish this. She bit the inside of her cheek, forcing her eyes closed as she gripped the handle of the blade.

Groaning inwardly, Minet swallowed the scream and the bile that rose with it as it tried to no avail to escape her. To show pain was to show weakness.

By the time Minet recollected herself, Naya was standing near the building, panting heavily with her remaining knife aimed and locked on her. Minet's rapier lie forgotten, across the concrete in favor of removing the damn knife from her arm. Minet didn't dare make another second in fear of enticing the flick of the wrist that would end her.

"Who's going to be screaming and begging for their life now?" Naya chuckled darkly as she waited for Minet to make the sign of escape that never came. In her position, Minet was racing options through her mind, ridding of them as they came. The realization came in the form of a blessing and a curse.

Naya had one knife. Minet had one knife.

Whoever missed, died.

"Death by execution, is this what you want, Minet?" Silence lingered long enough to hopefully sow seeds of doubt in Naya. The other girl knew the knife was in Minet's recently bloodied arm and the adrenaline was wearing off rapidly. Each heartbeat escalated the dull ache to a screaming throb.

And just as she hoped, Naya took the initiative. The knife whizzed at Minet, who forcibly jumped left, grimacing as the knife left a flesh wound on her side. Naya realized a second too late how much shit she was in, but a second was all Minet needed. Biting her tongue to hold back the yelp of pain that came with movement of her arm, Minet hurled the knife with all her strength.

Naya froze in her tracks as metal dug into flesh then into the bone of her neck.

Like a fish out of water, Naya gasped for oxygen that would never come. Minet let out the breath she didn't know she'd been holding in before walking over tentatively for Naya. Knowing her, she'd pull the knife out of her throat and launch it in Minet, just to spite her.

But Naya didn't have the physique to pull that off, not anymore. Seconds before her cannon burst through the darkening arena, Minet murmured, nearly inaudibly:

"Don't tell me you can't speak, Naya, it'd ruin the fun in this!"

A/N: R.I.P.

Calloway Grace, District Three

Naya Elbasser, District Six

Ira Quince, District Eleven

Fly, Cal was typical yet not in his movements and thoughts, and I'm so glad you let me mess with him a bit before ultimately throwing him into insanity :D

Skye, Naya was amazing and dark and so real that sometimes I felt I wasn't quite doing her justice. All and all, I'm glad with the way she came out :)

Embrace, Ira was so passionate and driven; her brother would be proud of her.

Has it been five centuries since I was here? Pretty much, okay, sorry. Summer school, Band, remnants of a social life. Painful, I know.

Well, there you have it: Your Final Five. Two more chapters of the Games! *gasps* 'Grats to Minet, Dimity, Mizuko, Syrene, and Angevin!

Questions!

Who would you like to win?

Who do you want to win?

Top Five Surprise?

Until next time!