Still with me? Great. And now for another camera angle. Not really. Well, kind of.

To clarify something I left pretty ambiguous, and for a fact of the day: Ariel managed to get the radioactive metal out of his boot within a few minutes of Luther leaving and kick it away. Having a piece of radioactive anything that close to you is never a good thing, but it's true that feet aren't very radiation-sensitive and it wasn't there for very long. That, and it turns out the metal was an alpha emitter. Alpha particles can't penetrate the skin, although it's still not a good idea to play catch with them because if you inhale any of the metal it can certainly damage the insides of your lungs. Also, the type of Geiger counter he built—a simple version with an argon tube—can't distinguish between different types of radiation, so although he could guess it was alpha radiation, he couldn't be a hundred percent sure the Capitol didn't plant some kind of who-knows-what that emitted beta or gamma radiation, which most certainly can get through the skin. Hence his preference to not have it near him.

Tl;dr: a chunk of uranium or plutonium in your immediate vicinity won't kill you unless it's big enough, but don't eat it or stuff it up your nose. (And if it is big enough, you ask? Excellent question! We'll come back to that.)

Felicity Haywood, District Twelve, 14

I do not feel bad. I do not feel bad. I do not feel bad.

Okay, I feel bad.

But all I want is to survive. I don't want Des and Castalia to die. The thought is awful. But I don't see why I have to try and be a hero, either. I've always been that quiet girl in the background, shy and polite, never stirring things up. Am I really expected to put my life on the line for people I met a week ago?

But I guess a lot has happened in that week. We stuck together during training, we went down the hatch together, we faced the monster together. And I pushed Castalia out of my way to get away from it.

I'm not a hero. I'm not brave. I never claimed to be, I don't want to be. But that memory is really, really bothering me, eating away at my insides. I want to live, but I'm starting to realize I can't be ruthless or I'll make myself miserable. I'm making people hate me. And that's not even the problem, really. I'm chipping away at my own self-respect. The lower I sink to preserve my life, the less it's worth.

I changed my mind. Survival at all costs isn't such a good philosophy after all.

I don't move a muscle, perched on a pipe in a big, quiet storage room, but all at once I make what I know is a big decision: I'm going to be someone worthy of respect. I'm going to be brave. Fearless. I'm going to face this Arena down, and if it kills me I'll die like so many in my history books, fighting, pushing back, standing up, someone future generations can be proud of being descended from, except I obviously won't have descendants, but that's not the point, and I'm sure some of my siblings will have kids anyway so close enough. Someone will be proud to be related to me.

It's like a fire kindling in my chest. I feel physically stronger. Suddenly I understand the attitudes of some of those other tributes, like the Four boy and Ten girl. That quiet confidence despite their awful chances. It's not because they think they'll live, it's because they're not scared to die, and that means they win the only game they care about. If I'm not afraid, they have no power over me. It's only fear that can make me do what they want. But if I decide that I'm going to do what I know I'll respect myself the most for, there's not a damn thing they can do to stop me.

I drop from the pipe, draw the pistol, and stride out into the hallway, my head held higher than I think it's been in my life.

The Careers are on the top floor. With any luck, Des and Castalia are near there if they're still alive. I'm going to find them. If I meet a Career on the way, well, we'll see.

I make it to the top floor without incident. This floor is pretty dull, all metal hallways and locked hatches on the walls, although I can barely see them. I follow the reflected light toward what feels like the center of the Arena until I see it spilling from a doorway. That's got to be the Career base. Otherwise known as the place I am most definitely not going. I decided I'd be brave, not suicidal.

Except I hear something. Is it possible that Des and Castalia are still there? For all I know, there were only one or two Careers left and my former allies managed to kill them. And the noise sort of sounds like someone in pain. Sort of. Not quite.

Curiosity gets the better of me and I decide I'll peek around the corner after all. Very carefully. If someone sees me, I'll turn and run. I take one last look over my shoulder to make sure nothing's coming, then creep forward and lean around the edge of the doorway.

Oh, good lord.

I pull back, blinking owlishly and trying to process what I just saw. Questionably-Dancing Lab Boy made a… friend.

I should kill them. Just stroll in there and shoot them both. I bet they're too preoccupied to even notice me coming. But before I can decide whether that fits my newfound philosophy, there's a noise behind me. Footsteps.

I dart past the doorway, banking on the boys not noticing me, ducking into the darkness beyond it just in time. The footsteps round the corner. The One girl steps into the light and stops dead.

"Oh, hey, Amelia," Lab Boy's voice says from inside.

"Really, you two?" she reprimands, stepping into the room. "I was gone for ten minutes. Contain yourselves. This is the Hunger Games,"

Wait. Damn. I could've shot her, too, and been long gone before the boys managed to untangle themselves, find weapons, and come after me. If they even would, given how busy they were.

Does killing Careers count as doing the right thing, though? I have no clue. What if the Careers killed Des and Castalia?

That's the real question. Where on Earth are Des and Castalia?

Lillen Ketch, District Ten, 18

My ol' grandpa used to say, if it's stupid and it works, it ain't stupid.

I've wandered up a few floors and I think I'm as high as I can go now. I've still got that black orb thingy. But not for long, I hope.

This floor is dark and seemingly deserted. The architecture is boring, anyway. Lots of metal and locked doors. Open rooms here and there without much of anything in them. But I'm sure there are night vision cameras everywhere, so if I just pull the thing from my pocket and drop it somewhere, the Gamemakers will notice.

Which is why I have my plan.

I put my hand in my pocket and stride purposefully toward one of the empty hatch things. As I step inside, I "accidentally" catch my foot on the lip of the doorway and fall on my face. I "accidentally" grab a big shelf of stuff next to the door as I fall, dragging it down on top of myself. Blessedly empty beakers smash and forceps skitter across the room. Somewhere in the wreckage is the black orb. The shelf is a little heavier than I might've hoped—ow—but I can budge it when I wriggle a little.

"–Definitely this way–"

Hmm. That's not good.

Should I lie still and hope they'll go the wrong way? Do my best to get free and run for it? I could reach out and knock the door shut from where I am, but something tells me that if that door closes, it's not opening again. I'd rather run into the Careers. And I'm ninety percent sure the voice I heard was a Career.

I decide I like the idea of doing something and dying for it more than doing nothing and dying for it. I brace my toes and palms on the concrete and heave myself off the ground, struggling and cursing my way out from under the shelf. The metal screeches against the wall. More glass breaks.

"Here." The voice is right outside the door. No running, then.

I sigh and dive behind the pile of rubble. It's worth a shot.

The door crashes open and two tall figures clamber in. A boy and a girl. The girl sweeps a flashlight across the room, then holds it on me.

"Uh… I see you," the guy says.

I chew my lip and study the broken glass in front of me, because I guess I should revel in my last few seconds of life. Take it all in. Take all what in? Yep, that's a sharp bit of glass, alright. I know because my palms are torn to shreds. I note how dusty the air tastes and how hard the concrete is and how it'll all go on just fine without me.

Just because I'm gone doesn't mean I never was. I'm still real. I was here, I was good, I did good things, and that'll still be true when I'm dead.

I stand up straight and give the Careers a terse smile. With the light coming from behind them, I can't see their faces. It feels right somehow, making them seem almost angelic. The boy raises a crossbow and sends a bolt into my heart.