POV – Harrison Jones

8:51AM

Harrison scores impressively on plant identification, his tendency to read books assisting him greatly in this instance. Despite this, he can't bring himself to be happy, his mind far too preoccupied with yesterday's events.

There are two that concern him. For one, his encounter with the girl from 10 really cemented the notion that working with others may be more difficult than anticipated, and to achieve. Her visceral tone and dismissal to diplomacy frustrated him more than he'd like to admit, he found himself needing to refrain his desire to shout at her, to force reasoning into her.

Is it truly so wrong to discuss things peacefully, to reach conclusions without hostility?

Obviously, is the painful realization. To think every person he spoke to would be diplomatic is the height of naivete and unsound idealism. That being said, if a single setback was all it took to deter Harrison from attempting to remain diplomatic then he never truly was destined for greatness, never destined to achieve his goal.

As such, he's at an impasse the moment he sees her. She appears to not notice him, but her minute changes, minor tensing, gives that away. She's not happy to see him, her posture is defensive, and her mouth thins, threatening to break into a frown. It's understandable, he has to concede.

After she snapped and started actively requesting means to effectively kill him, his ally, Adalyn all but lost her composure. He can't even fault her for it. Adalyn, from his short time knowing her, has a fuse shorter than his and far more easily ignited.

Harrison recalls needing to pull her away, less she drew even more attention. He would like to think that despite the shaky first introduction, he could speak to the girl from 10. Yet, even as he indirectly approaches her, she flees. Not from fear, but resentment, anger even. Harrison shakes his head sadly as he sighs heavily, for every success there is a failure. He can only hope to learn from it. He stands from the plant identification station and makes to walk away when he spots an electric scoreboard.

A baby blue 11 materializes overtop the scores before dissipating into small pixels. Once it clears up, Harrison can finally see the contents of the scoreboard. It looks entirely barren on the bottom half, with only a handful of scores making up the top half of the provided space. It makes it relatively simple to examine the scores, first looking for his own. An 85% places him in fourth. His eyebrows raise seeing it, expecting to have been placed better overall. Tesla Eddison scores the highest with a 98% followed by a Hazel Redford with 95% and a Mila Carway with 88%. All impressive scores, and it makes Harrison wonder if scores and names are purposely shown to put targets on those who do well.

In that case, he's perfectly content with how he did. Pride doesn't serve him here, and although he'd like to think to score the best may paint him in a positive light for the private sessions, he genuinely doesn't believe he could score above 98% anyways.

Any further efforts would be in vain. Harrison ponders the worth of talking to her, possibly adding her to the alliance. But after some serious thought, he dismisses it. Adalyn didn't even bother showing up to the plant identification on the basis that she's confident enough not to inadvertently poison herself. He himself only decided to take the test to sate his curiosity, as well as to distract him.

Knowing how to survive in the wilderness is second nature for those in 11, especially those who need to work in the fields or forests. Tesla has more theoretical knowledge, but can it translate into practice? He doesn't know the girl, but she does hail from 3, as the scoreboard makes sure to remind him.

Trees, wilderness, they don't come to mind when he thinks of District 3. Intelligence does however, so her score makes sense. She could be book smart, much like how he strives to be. But she likely lacks the ability to transition said intelligence into tangible results. Sure, it's a bit of a stretch, but even assuming she could. She wouldn't contribute much more than what Adalyn or he could already do together.

She's to be noted as a possible threat, someone who if she survives the initial bloodbath, may have the ability to live long. Killing her may be ideal, as if it came to attrition, she very well may be able to outlive him.

Almost as if struck by lightning, Harrison jolts. His throat constricts as he swallows slowly, his hand runs through his hair as he lets his thoughts sink in. Did he really just plot the murder of a child?

He smiles wryly, bitterly, the games are responsible for this mental regression, responsible for forcing his hand like this. A man of diplomacy, who wishes to usher forward a better tomorrow for 11, relegated to plotting murders like some petty back alley degenerate.

The mere thought agitates him. Not that he was ever self-righteous. He doesn't shy away from fighting for himself, to keep himself secure. But, for it to translate so naturally to killing? Is this as far as his values take him? As far as he's willing to play a diplomatic hand?

The fact Harrison already knows the answer agitates him the most.


POV – Sela Fields

10:23AM

There's a spring to her step, Sela won't deny it. In what has been the worst week of her life so far, things are starting to change their tune for the better. Last night, Harvest and she managed to solidify an alliance with the duo from 8.

The talks went swimmingly, and now her chances of bringing district 9 a victor have increased tremendously. Plus, the two are very easy to talk to, charismatic in their own right. Where Velvet carries herself with bounds of confidence, Nylon has an easy-going demeanour that makes him impossible to stay mad at.

Despite this, she isn't foolish.

For district 9 to win, Sela may need to be the one that kills them. It's an unsettling notion, but she's prepared for it. She has been the moment she was reaped. The duo from 8 may be nice, and perhaps if she met them anywhere else, she'd be happy to call them friends. But here, no, in there, in the arena. They can't be friends.

They can be cordial, friendly even, but not friends, never friends. The stakes are too high, and when the moment calls for it. Sela will kill them. It's not a shocking revelation, or a sickening one, just a simple resolve to bring district 9 a victor.

"Sela, are you okay?" Her district partner calls to her.

Sela blinks, as if released from a spell and turns to face Harvest with a smile, "I'm fine thank-you, what station do you want to go to?"

He shrugs, "I'm fine with whatever you decide."

Sela nods, furrowing her brows as she allows herself to get distracted in the thought. Yesterday, she tried some trap making with Harvest, then she went and learned how to make a camp while he went to learn plant identification. Other than that, she did try her hand, or more accurately, her legs on the obstacle course.

With that in mind, it becomes clear what she needs to practice next.

"The range or weapons stations maybe, depending on where the careers are," Sela concludes.

"I see. They are at neither," Harvest says simply.

Sela quickly whirls on her heels, staring towards the center, where the weapon station lies. She's shocked to see it empty of careers. That's not to say it is empty, there are other tributes taking the opportune moment for what it is.

Despite this, she furrows her brows and nervously checks her surroundings. She can't explain it, but not knowing where the careers are makes her uneasy, as if she's setting herself up. Anxious prey instinct to fear the lurking unseen predator.

She admonishes the stupid metaphor as quickly as it comes. She can't afford to fear them, fear will cause hesitation, and hesitation can cause death.

"The weapons station looks pretty crowded," Sela muses out loud, she clears her throat and turns to face her district partner, "how about we go to the range?"

He nods and the two set out towards their desired station. They walk in comfortable silence, coming up to the relatively empty range. The only other tribute is the boy from 3, but Sela quickly notices that he's not actually doing anything, just staring at the targets.

He's a bit unsettling, and Sela finds it difficult to go up to the tribute. Frankly, he looks intimidating and carries himself with unknown confidence. As if he belongs here, it puzzles Sela as equally as it freezes her from approaching.

During her momentary distraction, her district partner goes to collect two quivers and bows. He clears his throat, drawing her attention as he hands her a set.

"Thank-you Harvest."

He nods before shifting his focus to the targets. Sela decides to follow his example and fetches an arrow. She hesitates for a second, not really knowing what to do with the weapon in her hand. Thankfully, an instructor comes over and gives her a very basic rundown on archery.

The two tributes from 9 spend their time practice grasping the bowstring, nocking arrows and most importantly having a relaxed grip. Sela struggles at first, most of her arrows falling too short of the target. The instructor tells her to use her back some more and to relax her shoulders.

She furrows her brows but soaks up the feedback. Under the instructor's guidance, she finds drawing the bow becomes easier after half an hour. It still doesn't do much for her aim, unfortunately, her 'instinctive aiming' isn't something she can develop overnight.

Not that she understands much of the jargon, but she figures it bottles down to a lack of experience. It makes sense given this is her first time picking up a bow. But, Sela's frail, her arms are thin, so close combat just isn't feasible for her. She doesn't think she'll have the strength to throw knives either, so it really only leaves her with one option.

She takes a moment to watch her partner draw his bow. He remains frozen in place, taking his time to aim. 5 seconds go by before he quickly releases, making sure to follow through. Sela tries to follow the arrow, but it goes by too quickly and lands with a thud as it pierces near the center of the target.

Her eyes widen for a moment, it's the most success they've had all day.

"Nice shot Harvest," she congratulates with a grin.

He rubs the back of his head sheepishly, "I believe the expression is, 'beginner's luck'," he says, although it doesn't stop a small smile from forming.

"Perhaps, want to continue practicing until lunch?" Sela asks.

"If you want, I won't oppose."

"Great, thanks, Harvest."

"Ah, your welcome," he responds in his usual emotionless tone.

Sela shakes her head, laughing softly at his mannerisms. She then quickly takes a deep breath and draws her bow.


POV – Calder Lynch

12:02PM

His hands instinctively go back to his ears. He clicks his tongue in frustration, once again feeling the absence of his fishhook earrings.

Too much of an advantage, could be used as a weapon they say.

How exactly can he kill anyone with a fishhook? If anything, he'd use the fishhook to fish. Those idiots from the Capitol have their heads filled with bloodshed.

At least he didn't have it the worst. The blonde girl from 9 isn't so blonde anymore, having black hair ever since the parade. And the boy from 7, as far as Calder remembers, should have face tattoos and a long-tangled beard.

Instead, the guy has a trimmed beard and tattooless face. As if killing them wasn't enough, the Capitol also enforces their victims to play dress up. They couldn't have a simple execution, they have to make a bloodspot out of a punishment, give a false sense of hope, a faint light at the end of the tunnel. Only to have victors turn out drunks, druggies or dangling.

The Capitol is a cesspool masked as a utopia. Built on top of the broken ruins of its districts. The unjust treatment of the districts, the oppressive nature, it's stifling, how there hasn't been a rebellion since the creation of the Hunger Games is beyond him.

Well, actually, that's not true. Begrudgingly, he knows why. Because, what would even be the point? Some districts like the Games, seeing it as a recreational activity to put your children in. The districts have either become desensitized to the brutal notion of pitting children against children, or they've long since abandoned hope of ever seeing freedom of it.

Calder takes a seat at an empty table, plopping down his tray. He's packed his plate with bread, greens and meats, with the anticipation of stocking up before the games. He isn't the only person to take this approach, almost everyone sans maybe the Careers are indulging in some overeating.

It makes him think of his family. Calder's eaten more in the last three days than his family has in the last two weeks. He almost feels guilty, thinking of how his sister would undoubtedly love to try some of the more exotic plates provided here.

Then again, he's also incredibly grateful that she isn't given the chance, since it'd imply being reaped. Just the thought of her going into the games makes him shiver. Better him than her, even if she'd be far better prepared to handle these games.

Maurea could get herself into an alliance easily. Calder, on the other hand. He doesn't want one. At the end of the day, it's just too unreliable. The boy from 12 spoke to him yesterday. Which raised all sorts of alarm bells in his head.

Calder has a bit of a reputation back home, one of a volatile delinquent, to not be approached. He laments the fact it didn't transition to the group of tributes here. Judah Rockefeller has a funny way of talking that immediately gave Calder the impression of a snobby Capitol wannabe.

And sure, that in itself was a bit grating, but, Calder was more hung up on the fact he was spoken to at all. Even if his reputation is absent, he didn't really make himself approachable, always closed off, sitting alone, head ducked and eyes firmly on his plate.

How could anyone see that as a sign of to waltz over and just start chattering at him? No, Calder was guarded, still is around Judah. This time, the tribute from 12 didn't sit with him, and honestly, Calder couldn't care less where he went so long as it's no longer beside him.

"Hey, can I sit with you?"

Calder raises his head from his plate, instinctively pulling it closer to him. The boy in front of him has a bronze complexion and black curly hair. He looks small, but that can be attested to his age. Has to be on the younger side. Calder's gaze shifts from the boy's face to the tracksuit he's wearing. Where Calder has navy blue stripes, this boy has orange. And an Orange 6, which would be the most telling aspect about him.

Still, Calder hesitates, why would this tribute want to talk to him, actually, why do any of the tributes want to talk to him? Judah first, and now 6? Is he really this approachable despite his best efforts? This kind of stuff never happened in 4.

"uhh, whatever I guess," He eventually says.

"Thanks, name's Vortex by the way," the boy greets easily.

"Calder," he answers stiffly, and the only reason he doesn't immediately tell the tribute to leave is because he looks roughly Maurea's age.

Vortex quickly takes a seat and starts to eat. Calder watches him for a few moments, waiting for whatever reason the boy came over to surface. After some more seconds of awkward silence, Calder finally allows his attention to go back to his own food.

Only for a moment, the sound of a shattering plate pierces throughout the cafeteria, putting Calder in high alert, his gaze zeroing in on the sound.

The career table looks a bit bigger, with new additions. Boy from 7, girl from 5. However, that's not the cause of the commotion. It seems the boy from 2 started something with the boy from 1, a hand gripping his tracksuit collar. The sudden movement probably caused the latter of the two careers to drop his tray.

The two are wordlessly glaring at one another. Peacekeepers file into the room and quickly break the two apart.

"Save it for the arena, you will not fight in my facility," The head trainer, Tullius- Calder has to remind himself, says.

Both are being held back by peacekeepers, yet neither are making a move to break free, perfectly content with posturing and glaring. It looks incredibly childish, Calder concludes.

"Damn right I will, I'm killing you first one," the boy from 2 says.

He probably didn't mean to say it for everyone to hear, but the whole cafeteria is quite small to begin with, and deadly quiet. Tensions in the career alliance is practically a lifeline tossed to everyone here.

The mohawked tribute laughs, shaking his head dismissively, "You'll try,"

"Fu-"

"That's enough, you two need to be separated, one of you leave this table."

"I was just leaving actually," District 1 says.

"Good, see to it that this doesn't happen again,"

"Sure, sure," he responds with a dismissive wave of his hand.

The obnoxiously annoying scene quickly fizzles out, the boy from 2 sitting back at the table while the mohawked tribute goes for more food. Only when the murmurs of the other tributes build up again into full-blown conversation does Calder allow his gaze to fall back onto his plate.

"Well, that was certainly entertaining, huh," Vortex whispers.

Calder raises his gaze from his plate to the tribute across him. He stares at the boy intently, what is his angle? Everyone has one, so what's his?

"What do you want Vortex?" He finally asks.

Vortex puts a finger to his chin and furrows his brows, pretending to be deep in thought.

"Just want some company is all," he explains with a shrug.

"Where's your district partner, she can keep you company," Calder says.

"Where's yours?"

"I chose to stay away from her, what's your excuse?" Calder answers a bit hotly.

Vortex raises his hands in mock surrender as he snickers, "you do have me there."

Calder raises an eyebrow, and leans back on his chair, "well?"

Vortex frowns, all sense of mirth evaporating from his features, he shrugs lamely, "my mentor told me not team up with her,"

The other eyebrow raises as Calder ponders this new piece of information. He thinks back to his own mentor, Florian. The man has given him some helpful tips, he can't deny that. He told Calder to join the careers, that he he's strong enough to join. Although reassuring, that's a group he refuses to join on principle.

But that's a side point. He looks over Vortex, the teen tries to hide his grimace at the revelation, clearly upset or perhaps unsettled by the instruction.

"Do you want to work with her?"

Vortex blinks numbly at him, slowly processing the information before shrugging again, "she's not very nice."

"Neither am I," Calder reminds him with an exasperated sigh.

"Nah, you're not all bad," Vortex dismisses confidently.

Calder wants to object, but suddenly doesn't have the energy to. This kid is way too energetic, especially given where they are. Calder can barely motivate himself to wake up in the morning, the prospect of punishment being the sole incentive, more so than a chance to learn something helpful in the facility that is.

"Well whatever I guess," Calder murmurs quietly, going back to his plate.

"Sweet, you mind if I sit here again tomorrow?" the boy asks.

"Just don't be too noisy," Calder says, compromising.

"Would you look at that. You're quite nice after all," Vortex says.

Calder can practically hear the grin on the boy's lips. He sighs tiredly, maybe he should send the kid away. He shakes his head, already knowing he won't. He rarely shoos away kids, if they can tolerate him, he usually lets them stay around.

Still, does Vortex have to sound so pleased with himself?


POV – Magnus Flux

2:21PM

Tesla's found him again, and she's not leaving him be. Magnus is unsure what the proper protocol is here. Normally, people would lose interest in him, quickly in fact. The other children on the compound never talked to him.

He was simply too good to work with them, having an adept ability to use the bow and an unrivaled knack for swordsmanship. Rotemn and Raleed quickly started to train him alone. The others avoided him from then on. They'd steal glances at him when they thought he didn't notice.

It seemed Magnus also managed to garner a sudden influx of bad luck too. Although, luck is something he dismisses from a rational standpoint, it's undeniable that after receiving the individual training, a lot of misfortunate things started to occur to him.

They were never drastic, but others would become accident-prone around him, spilling water, or dropping equipment around him. It gradually increased in frequency, to the point where he had to relocate to a private room. At the very least then, his fellow peers would no longer trip over themselves.

However, due to this change, he was left in relative isolation, only ever seeing other children during reapings. Something he realized was not an appropriate time to try to develop social skills. It's apparently insensitive.

But he's getting immensely sidetracked. The point is, people don't talk to him, they don't want to. So why is Tesla tailing him? She asked about a secret organization before, instantly putting Magnus on high alert.

He knows he didn't tell her anything, he made sure to keep his mouth shut and close the door when she asks. He thought that would be the end of it. After all, he doesn't tell her anything, how could she possibly come to any conclusion without any information?

Or perhaps, is she instead tailing him now to generate information?

This close scrutiny reminds him a bit of the tests back on the compound, where Rotemn would stare at him intently and look for any mistakes in his form. The same intensity is here, but instead of a large burly man, it's a petite raven-haired girl.

Well, if she wants to follow him around, he won't stop her. That doesn't mean he'll talk to her, however. His intention is to remain inconspicuous anyways, so once she realizes he's following a normal tribute decorum, she'll likely lose interest.

Magnus starts by going to the fire making station and observes the instructor. He doesn't attempt to make a fire, already having a basic understanding courtesy of OnRush. He stays there for a few moments before migrating to another station.

This is his strategy, he plans to disclose absolutely nothing away of his skills. As such, he'll refuse to do anything until the private sessions. That being said, he'll still go to stations and learn. He's always been an auditory learner anyways, so sitting and listening to instructions is just as helpful as going through the motions himself.

At some point, Tesla abandons him, likely concluding that he's just normal like the rest of the tributes. It puts Magnus at ease at least. He is unsure how Raleed would react to finding out OnRush has been exposed, so the least he speaks to others, the less likely he can reveal anything. The logic is sound to him.

Magnus finds himself gravitating towards the range again, his green eyes gluing themselves to a bow on the rack. Earlier this morning, he couldn't check it's weight or familiarize himself with the Hunger Games sanctioned bow. The tribute pair of 9 denied his chance, but now, casting his gaze on the empty range, Magnus is confident he's given a moment's respite.

He makes sure to double-check his surroundings before picking up the slick silver bow. It's not all that different than the one he uses back on the compound, he quickly realizes. Its weight and structure being roughly the same, drawing is easy as well, Magnus realizes as he goes through the simple motion.

He reaches for an arrow and examines it. They're dull, likely to prevent any pre-emptive killing. At least, that's the intention. Precise aim would nullify any efforts to make the weapon harmless. In the right hands, a bow and dull arrow can still kill just as easily.

Magnus can sense the temptation sweeping through him, his eyes glancing towards the target almost longingly. He chews on the inside of his mouth as he hesitantly puts the bow down. He cannot allow himself to be so easily swayed.

His goal is to win these Hunger Games, and the only way to do so is to follow a precise plan. Do not reveal himself, do not reveal OnRush, fall off the radar and only surface back when in the arena. To think he momentarily almost indulged in a childish desire. The mere thought is ludicrous, just how lax is he willing to be?

This isn't a game, not for him, not for Raleed. He's ordered to win the Hunger Games, destined to since the age of 3. Failure is not an option, nor is acting like a child. He takes a steadying breath and quickly puts the arrow back in its quiver.

He's spent enough time in this range.

If anything, he'd much prefer to go into private sessions immediately, he's fooled around enough.


POV – Cooper Dawson

6:39PM

Cooper finds that copying the experts when they give examples helps him learn how to replicate the traps on his own far more easily. Whereas on the first day, following the instructions made him trip up or confuse some steps, watching them do it makes things incredibly easy.

It reminds him a bit of how his mom used to give him demonstrations when working with the dogs, how to wash them, how to keep their areas clean and the proper amount to feed. After a single demonstration, Cooper would be able to pick it up immediately. He's happy to see this translate to the stations here.

Building a fire, making traps, after only two days, he feels confident enough not to screw it up. It's something he's very happy to have accomplished. Especially since he made sure to challenge himself to learn.

If he couldn't learn how to create simple hare traps, then he wouldn't go to the weapons station. Survival is far more important to him than learning how to use a weapon. Although, he won't deny being a bit interested in using a knife.

He can't help but think it's kind of cool, to learn how to use a weapon that is. If only the circumstances weren't so… dour. Cooper sighs as he stands up from the station. He takes a moment to dust himself before heading to the center of the facility.

He spots a few tributes, hacking at dummies with all sorts of weapons. A mace, scythe, sword, dagger. It's kind of interesting to see. For some reason, the careers gave up the station, some even going to survival ones. Cooper recalls seeing the girl from 1 going over to learn how to make fires.

He doesn't know why they'd give up the area, but Cooper isn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He reaches for a knife and starts to swing it around, getting a feel for it. After a few more swings, he decides to practice on a dummy.

The dummy offers minimal resistance as he punctures its torso. He has a straying thought, wondering just how much more would flesh and bone resist being stabbed. He shakes his head, willing the image to dissipate. Even if he needs to fight, he'd rather not worry himself with pointless thoughts like those.

It won't help him anyways.

But, now that he's on the topic of helping. He should really thank Hazel for her recommendation. According to Baxton, 10 generated a lot of positivity for their unorthodox decision to ride the horses rather than the chariot.

It's probably the only time he's seen Destry so happy too. In the half-week he's spent around the ginger girl, she's only frowned or glowered. So to see what he believes amounts to a vibrant smile for her, well, it's kind of telling. The girl likes her horses. He was hoping she'd be a bit nicer to him from then on. But the moment the parade ended, and they were taken away from the horses, Destry no longer saw a purpose to talk to him.

She became grouchy again, and generally unpleasant to be around. He knows a pointless endeavour when he sees one. Having an ally going into the arena may have been nice, but it depends on the ally. And Destry just isn't kind. It's as simple as that really.

Cooper lets those lingering thoughts disappear. He rolls his shoulders as he stares at the dummy, he does a few more light arm stretches before holding the knife in a reverse grip. He jumps as he slashes the knife across the dummy's throat, cutting cleanly under the Adam's apple. Being 4'6 puts his as a bit on the short side, so to reach the throat he needs to aim a bit upwards, or to give himself some extra elevation. He finds cutting downwards gives him more leverage, helps him cut deeper, which is why he decides to jump.

"Well done, you might want to avoid jumping though. Leaves you in place, easy to counter" Tullius compliments then quickly advises as he walks by him.

Cooper straightens under the praise, smiling a bit more brightly. Although, he doesn't actually know how to replicate his success without jumping. Tullius pauses, noticing Cooper's hesitance.

"Ah, sir, uhm, could you show me a demonstration?" Cooper eventually asks.

He isn't sure if he's allowed to waste the trainer's time asking for one. But the man smiles at him and puts forth his hand. Cooper takes the hint, spins the blade and gives the trainer the hilt.

"Okay, I'll do it quickly the first time, then go through it more slowly the second time."

Cooper nods his head and starts to get a better angle. His visual learning helped him with training the dogs, then it helped him with creating traps, now, it'll help him with gutting a human.


POV – Kyra Boldar

9:02PM

Kyra sits in the same spot she did last night. It seems District 2's floor will be the alliance floor. It makes sense to Kyra, since both tributes from their district are in the alliance, everyone else is a one of.

Speaking of, Kyra still is unsure about adding Emerald into the fold. The blonde girl is basically Kyra's exact opposite. Excitable and chatty, it's almost startling how at ease this girl is surrounded by trained careers. Locust doesn't count, he's intimidating for entirely different yet completely justifiable reasons.

And yet, the girl from 5 greets them all with a peace sign before flopping onto the couch. Kyra isn't sure if she should be impressed or appalled at the girls' boldness. She ends up being a bit of both. Emerald is not shy at all and can make herself feel comfortable on someone else's floor. Kyra knows she wouldn't be able to do the same.

"Thanks for letting me join again, Remy," Emerald says.

Kyra frowns at the peppiness in the girl's tone. She's way too familiar, way too comfortable. It's also a reminder of the fact Remy went out of his way to talk to this girl because some guy from 7 told him to. Now this 'Career' alliance has two outliers and a tribute from 1.

And that's a whole different can of worms altogether. They aren't in the arena yet and 1's already causing a ruckus. This is exactly why Kyra dislikes them. Attention seeking divas, they don't bother trying to win these games through a fair fight, they'd rather use mind games to get their wins. How well does that work out for them again?

"Wow, wow, relax there. You still need score well during private sessions to be fully accepted," Remy says, drawing Kyra's attention.

"Oh, right, yeah, I'll do that," Emerald says sheepishly, seemingly forgetting the sole condition to her acceptance.

When Remy came up to Kyra about Emerald, it wasn't to ask her opinion on the matter, but rather to let her know about the blonde's admission into the alliance. Locust recommended her, and for whatever reason, that was enough to pique his curiosity. Apparently, whatever Emerald showed him was good enough because she was sitting with them at lunch today.

Kyra is unsure how she feels about Remy. He's doing things all on his own, ignoring her entirely. He added Locust to the alliance before discussing it with the rest of them and ended up doing the same with Emerald. Oh, and she can't forget the kill order he placed on Midnight.

Honestly, Kyra can't help but think he's letting the power get to his head. They haven't even done private sessions; he really shouldn't carry himself with this much self-assurance. Sure, initially, she didn't mind if he became the leader of the alliance.

But, that was because the alliance was 2 from 2, and 2 from 1. In this setting, Remy would likely go to her for assistance, for help. District 2 pride she thought, would prevail. But now that he's hand picking people to join, she's feeling a bit unsure, uneasy with the development.

Technically, the only thing the two of them have connecting them is their district, and although she's sure he won't openly backstab her, what's to stop him from using Emerald or Locust to do it? Kyra wasn't sure if her concerns were warranted, but the look Mischa gave her last night cemented them.

When the tribute from 1 is starting to grow concerned with the power shift, then you know there's a problem.

But, how can she possibly go about handling it? As it stands, Remy has Locust and Emerald under his control, they're likely to work with him, side with him since they don't have any district affiliations in the alliance. They might as well work with the person who extended the offer, right?

The doors to her floor slide open, revealing the tallest tribute in the games. Locust nods to both Remy and herself before taking a seat at the bar.

Shortly after, and totally unsurprisingly, Mischa arrives last.

"We're all here. Assuming Emerald doesn't turn out to be a waste of time, this will be the alliance going into the Hunger Games," Remy immediately starts.

Where once before, Kyra would see his confidence as something to be jealous of, now she only sees it as a reminder of his bloated ego. Why does he get to decide when the meeting begins anyways?

"Oh, I sure hope not to be, also, you can call me Emi," Emerald adds.

How can this girl be so carefree? She supposes it's because her stakes are better now. Whereas Kyra's feel like her's have fallen.

"Whatever you say, Emerald," Remy says dismissively.

Kyra gauges the girl's reaction and is disappointed to see the girl simply rub the back of her head with a sheepish smile. Is she immune to insults? Is that what happens when you talk more? No, she's just tolerating it, yeah, that makes more sense, out of everyone here, Emerald is the most disposable, she likely knows that.

"Pardon my intrusion, but, is there any reason as to why you wish to hold the alliance to five members?" Mischa asks.

"We don't need anyone else. They'll slow us down," Remy answers with a shrug.

Kyra doesn't know how genuine he is, but she can see the reasoning behind it. She's skeptical of Emerald's skills, what's to say she isn't already slowing them down.

"You don't want to consider 4's tributes?" Mischa asks.

"Oh, Cyrus is friendly once you get to know her," Emerald says.

Kyra furrows her brows, she said Cyrus right? And 'her' afterward right? She's the girl from 4 then? That's a misleading name.

"Unless you're offering her as your replacement. No. We won't be needing her," Remy says with firm finality.

Emerald snaps her mouth shut. Ah, so she does know where she stands in this alliance. That only confuses Kyra more, why is she so bubbly then?

"And why's that? I'd understand if she's incompetent, but an alliance of 5 is small compared to most in previous years," Mischa says, continuing to press the issue.

"Simple, I want to beat Spartacus' kill record."

The room falls silent at his claim. Kyra's eyes bug out, and she wears her shock openly on her face. The outliers might not know who he is by name. But getting 11 kills isn't an easy accomplishment, so it's likely that they've heard of him, indirectly at least. He killed 4 in the bloodbath alone and was responsible for taking out 5 of the 6 members in his alliance.

He spared his district partner, but that was it. Then he got two more kills to make his historic tally. The games didn't last a week, being one of the fastest games too.

"The 89th Hunger Games," Emerald whispers, her tone serious for once, her brows knit together creating an expression that probably passes for a frown on the girl.

It draws Kyra's attention, and she looks at the girl in a new light. Not many people bother to look up previous games, especially those from outlier districts, it's old, no point, it's morbid, those kinds of excuses come to mind.

"Yeah, that's right. He got 11, I want 12."

No one readily responds to his claim. It's… well, Kyra isn't sure what to think. Sure, she knows she needs to kill, it's kind of expected from a career. She's watched countless Hunger Games as research too. It also serves a second purpose of desensitizing herself to gore.

Even then, she doesn't want to kill other tributes, it's a necessary evil, not an exciting prospect. Remy's blasé reveal leaves her feeling anxious. She tilts her head back, her grey-blue eyes connecting with Mischa's chocolate brown. Somehow, Kyra just knew she'd look her way.

They share a silent conversation.

Spartacus may have spared his district partner when the alliance broke up. But, Kyra concludes that if she wants to win these games, she won't.


AN: Sorry for the delay there, I had assignments piling up. Thankfully, they're mostly done. So, I should be getting back into writing again! Next chapter is day 3/private sessions! just 3 more before the bloodbath, I am getting excited! I think by next chapter I'm going to go around pming submitters to check if they are still reading. As I realize that winging the story is really starting to get tough and I should probably plan out how I want the bloodbath and subsequent games to play out. Knowing who's still reading can at least help influence how I write the story. Anyways, until the next chapter! I'm totally not going to dump massive plot points out of nowhere!