Trigger warning: some slight misgendering in the first POV.

DJ Verona, 16
District 8 "Male"

The second they got back from the carnival, DJ took off, in search of a place where nobody would dare to look them.

Unfortunately, there was no such place. So they fled to the roof. They were used to hiding in plain sight, posing as an angsty teen in a sea of people, ignored by all. That's all they were, huh? Something else to ignore. Someone else to pity.

Because, nothing in their fucking, pathetic, miserable-ass life could ever go their way.

Who would miss them when they died? Not their parents, too busy cussing them out for being the disappointment of their family, screaming about pronouns and names and how nobody ever fucking understood. Not Stan and Roger, too wrapped up in their own busy lives to notice them. Not Quinn, head over heels in love with Rachel.

"You're still not over it," DJ muttered under their breath. "You pathetic waste of space. He wants nothing to do with a freak like you! Give it up!"

They curled up on a cold bench, head in their hands. There was nothing left for DJ to do but sob over how pathetic and worthless they really were. They were going to die, another footnote in the history book. Some tribute who screamed and yelled his (because nobody cared how they actually identified anyways) way to an untimely and painful death.

Useless.

DJ continued to sob and barely heard the sound of doors opening. Then there was a shadow over them. "Hey."
"Fuck off. Want to make me more miserable than I already am?"
"Why are you miserable?"

DJ pouted. "I thought I told you to fuck off."
"Mind if I sit here?"

DJ didn't answer; they knew Rachel was going to sit down anyways, regardless of what they told her. She gently placed their legs onto her lap. DJ fought the urge to kick her. Stupid, perfect, Rachel. Rachel Verona, who had a perfect boyfriend, a perfect social life, a perfect everything. Rachel, who never once cared about how DJ actually felt.

"DJ, I'm sorry."
"No you're not."

Rachel shoved them so hard, they almost fell off the bench. "Yes, I'm sorry! I really am! I've been trying to apologize for a full day now, but all you've done is ignore me!"
"Why the hell do you wanna apologize!? Because I'm useless!? Because I'm pathetic!? Because I can't actually talk to Quinn or a normal fucking person or I act like I'm too good to be a fucking boy or because everyone treats you like a goddess and me like trash!?"

DJ paused to catch their breath. They didn't want to cry, especially not in front of Rachel of all people.

"Fuck off, Rachel. I'm tired."
They didn't have the strength to scream at her anymore. Not it was their own fault things were like this in the first place.

The truth was, DJ Verona was jealous. Jealous that Rachel worked up the courage to ask out a boy they had been secretly crushing on for months, jealous that she could keep up a healthy relationship with her friends, refusing to let bitterness corrode her. Jealous she could sing her songs and say her lines and walk off the stage to applause.

"DJ." Rachel was in tears now. "How can I make it up to you?"
"You can't."

"DJ, please. You're my twin. And I know I've been so unfair to you. Really, I know I've said a lot of horrible things. I'm sorry. I was being so hurtful to you."
DJ didn't respond; the only noise they heard was their sister's heavy panting as she tried to slow her crying. There was no way they could make up everything in single night. Not when all they could think about was tomorrow and how they might never get the chance to fix every single fuck-up they had made.

"DJ? P-please. I want to be your sister again. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
DJ sat up, then gently put an arm around their sister.
"I'm so sorry..." Rachel whispered again.

DJ still kept silent, unsure what to say. They were normally pretty loud and explosive, but all their energy was gone. They just wanted to sit here and pretend that they weren't going to die and they weren't complete trash because all they were capable of doing was screwing their life up and blaming the mess on someone else. At first, they wanted to stay in denial.

But maybe it would be best to die with a clear conscience.

'You know, Ray... I was so jealous of you when you and Quinn started dating. I was pissed because you made it look so easy while I kept pretending to drop hints and never actually make any progress with him. I kept acting like you stole him from me but...he was never mine to begin with...I was angry, I was bitter..."

Rachel laughed nervously. "Is that why you've been avoiding him this whole time?"
"It sounds pretty fucking stupid now, doesn't it."

"Well, I think we're both sinners in that regard. I promise, I'm not going to misgender anymore. It was wrong of me to even start in the first place. I'll respect your pronouns and whatever you want to be called. But you should probably clear things up with Quinn. God, he's been worried sick about you. He thought he did something wrong!"

"He did?" Any confidence DJ had instantly faded.
Rachel rubbed her foggy glasses lenses with her sleeve. "It's kinda my fault, I blamed you. I guess we both owe him an apology...if we ever see him again..."
"Are you scared about tomorrow?"

"Scared like hell," Rachel whispered into their shoulder and for once in a very long time, DJ no longer felt alone.

Ace McCree, 15
District 10 Male

"Can't sleep, Ace?"

Ace nodded silently. He was wrapped up in a fuzzy grey blanket he had taken from his bedroom. Pete was lounging on the couch, watching some random program. Ace could see the faces of his fellow tributes flash by, along with numbers that probably meant something.

"Pete, I'm scared."
"Why are you scared, Ace?"
"I don't wanna die."

Pete sighed and pulled off his sunglasses. Ace noticed just how dark his eyes were. "Do you wanna talk about it?"
"I don't know."

"Well, I'm your mentor and I don't know how I can help you if you don't tell me what's wrong," Pete sighed. "But I can tell you it's natural to be afraid. I was afraid too."
"Really?" Ace squeaked. "But you're so...so...big! Henrietta and my dad said you were a beast and your Games and that you killed people!"

"Ace, I was fifteen years old when I won. I didn't know as much as I know now. I was terrified."
Pete's voice was gentle. Ace decided he liked it. He knew he liked Pete too, because the man was kind to him and gave him so much good advice. But there was something else, something Ace couldn't quite put his finger on. As if he knew Pete from somewhere.

"Oh yeah, Henrietta said you were in the last Quarter Quell? Was it the one where siblings had to compete? Was it scary?"
"When you saw it, did you think it was scary?"

"My dad only let me see it once because he said it was too much for him. It was a long time ago. I don't remember a lot. But it would suck if I had to go into the Games with Bodi or with Davy. I don't think I could handle seeing them die-"

Ace trailed off, suddenly wrapping the blanket around himself even tighter. Then he burst into tears. "Pete, I don't want Henrietta and Bodi and Davy to see me die!"

Pete quickly jumped up, placing a protective arm around him and gently leading him to the couch. "There there. It's okay, Ace. It's okay."
"B-but it's not! I d-don't want to d-die!" Ace hiccuped loudly. "I'm sc-scared! What if it h-hurts?"

"Ace...Ace. listen to me, please." Pete's hands came down on Ace's shoulder. "You've got so much more potential than you give yourself credit for."
"But...but there are people here older than me! They're...they're adults! They w-want to kill me!"
"You have two allies older than you. And they want to protect you."

Ace stopped hiccuping as tears continued to run down his face. He had never felt more nervous than he felt tonight. He missed his stepmother. His brothers. He missed his dad.

"I will tell you this, because I know you're old enough not to need sugarcoating. Yes, there will be many people against you. Do you want to know why? Because they want to survive. They want to win and there's a good chance they will start to abandon their morals to do so. If they need to kill you to win, they will do it. But you want to survive too, right?"
"Yes..."

"We've been over your strategy and I trust you to stick to it. But also listen to your gut. Follow your instincts. Remember, I want to help you and bring you home. Sadie will be doing the same for Merona and everybody's mentor the same for them. I will do my best to get you as many gifts as I can. Your allies seem great and I know you can count on them, but you need to remember: the Gamemakers will only allow one victor."

"One victor," Ace echoed in a wobbly voice.

"And this last bit is very important. So, I need you to listen to me?"
"Yeah?" Ace whispered.

"Don't give up. Ever. You're going to feel like you're out of luck, but keep fighting. It's tempting to quit; don't. Don't ever quit. The moment you give up, nothing I do will ever save you and you'll be a dead man walking. Remember, you've got a family who loves you and friends who care about you. You have a district that will welcome you and a mentor who will support you. You have people who want to see you win. Don't forget about them."

"I won't." Somehow, Ace's voice found its strength.

"Also, please don't piss off the Gamemakers. It's not pretty when you do."
Ace tried to keep a straight face, but he couldn't help laughing a little. "I would never do that."
"Good. You actually listen."

Ace relaxed a little bit, the blanket hanging loosely off his shoulders. But there was still something weighing him down. "Pete?"
"Yeah?"
"I miss my dad."

Pete didn't say anything.

"I don't know if you've met him, though..." Ace picked some lint off his blanket. "But Henrietta says I look so much like him."
"I see. You really do."
"You've met him?"

Pete just shrugged. "Would you like to hear some stories? There were a lot of things we did together as kids."
"Yeah! He said he played in a band with some friends and...Pete, were you in my dad's band?"

Pete got up and left. A minute later, he returned with a pair of chipped wooden drumsticks. Ace gently ran a finger across them. "Wow. I never thought you were the kind of guy who played drums. Were you guys really really good? Were you popular?"

Pete laughed. "Popular? Nowhere close. As for good, that's debatable, I suppose. But I really enjoyed it and it was a lot of fun."
"You said you were gonna tell me stories about my dad?"
"Which one would you like to hear?"

So there we have it, the last night before the Games begin!

Before I forget, I'm going to address sponsoring here. Mars and I have decided that we will allow each reader to PM us and submit up to TWO sponsor gifts per chapter, until the Final 12. After that, each reader may only submit ONE sponsor gift until Final 5.

What did you think of this chapter? Do you think Rachel and DJ have finally made up, or they still need more time? What kind of stories do you think Pete told Ace about his dad? Did any info here surprise you?

Next chapter will be the final morning with the last two tributes before we reach the Bloodbath! Stay tuned for that!

-Vr