The Night Before the Games


Andrew Vickens
District 5 Male, 18


It's getting dark.

I can feel it from the way the sun doesn't leave a heat trail down my skin as we sit in front of the window.

The warmth comes from within instead, and I can't stop smiling.

"Alright we're ready!" Triss excitedly and Mara grabs my arm, slipping silently to my side to sit me down at our common room table.

The flour, eggs and previous mess have been wiped away, and I set my hands on the table which feels clean and cold under my palms.

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Andyyyyy… happy birthday to you!" Mara and Triss sing in synchrony and for a tiny moment, everything feels so peaceful.

A small plate clinks gently in front of me, set down with extra care. I imagine how the single candle embedded in the icing of the cupcake in front of me flickers, dancing around to the rhythm of my friends' exhaled breaths.

"The cupcake is blue, Andy," Mara whispers, as I'm about to blow the candle. "It's got little edible pearl beads on it, that look like stars."

She's proud of how she decorated it, I can tell.

I was in charge of mixing the batter, while Triss poured the whole messy, and, might I add clumpy, concoction into small cupcake holders. Mara did a lot of angry micromanaging by hovering around us and criticizing us every step of the way. From Triss' praise afterwards, apparently she actually did a really great job embellishing them.

"Make a wish," Triss cuts in excitedly, right before I blow the candle.

I think about it for a second.

There's so many things I could be wishing for. Getting out of the bloodbath with Mara tomorrow safely. Wishing my parents to get over my death quickly, instead of bottling up their emotions until they rip them apart from the inside.

Not enough birthdays ahead of me to wish them all.

But I stop myself from spiralling on that dark path, and instead try to focus on the positives.

So many kids out there are rolling in their beds right now, crying alone. Or twirling butter knives from the sheer excitement and anticipation of taking a life tomorrow.

I'm happy here right now, in this moment. That'll have to be enough.

And then I inhale and blow the candle.


Mara Griffith
District 5 Female, 18


Andy blows the candle, and I smile slightly, for the first time in a long while.

I don't believe in wishes, but I still want to ask him what he wished for.

At the last second, I refrain from doing so.

"Well, what are you guys waiting for? Let's see if baking is a new-found talent of ours," Andy exclaims, removing the candle and breaking it in half before biting into his cupcake.

"How come you do that?" Triss asks, "the candle breaking, I mean."

Andy shrugs. "I don't know, it's a tradition. I've always done it. You make a wish, and then you make sure it happens by breaking the candle."

I bite into my own cupcake, and grimace a little. I almost spit out a clump of salt in mine. Andy gulps it down without a single emotion eclipsing his elation.

"I haven't celebrated my birthday with other people in years, this is fun!" he blurts out, "Gosh, it sounds pathetic when I say it out-loud but I'm seriously so pumped for this."

I chance a look at Triss who is inspecting his own cupcake, suspicion written all over his face.

"Hey if I make it to my actual birthday, you better save one of these and send it to us in the arena," Andy remarks, licking frosting off another cupcake.

"Oh, don't you worry, there will be plenty saved," Triss chuckles, as he almost spits out another bite.

Who the hell puts salt in cupcakes? he mouths silently at me, as I shrug, pointing towards the tablet from which I found the recipe.

Someone didn't do a great job mixing the batter, it seems, I mouth back, jerking my thumb at Andy.

Andy, his seemingly-extraordinary auditory abilities be damned, catches on almost immediately.

"Hey, you guys, don't talk trash about my mixing," he warns us, scarfing down another cupcake with zero complaints.

The two boys dissolve into fits of laughter, and despite everything that is looming at the forefront of my mind, I join in.


Mona Tillery
District 9 Female, 13


I'm growing more and more frustrated as the words blur together in front of my eyes. I tap the tablet angrily with my index, trying to keep the light from fading.

"I know I'm slow," I grumble at it. "I'm trying my best alright?"

Reading is … hard. I'm trying to be proactive, but it's just so difficult when it takes me what feels like forever to get through every page. And I couldn't find an accessible version with lots of images, so I'm stuck here deciphering every word as though my life depends on it.

It absolutely might in the arena, and that's what pushes me to continue, at my snail-pace.

After my training session, I realized that while I have no fighting chance against the bigger tributes, I could use that to my advantage. I just have to be sneaky.

So far, I'm pretty sure I've slipped under everyone's radar.

Ma' always said that hard work pays off in the end, and I'm almost obsessive in my quest to work my hardest right now, learning every possible plant, edible root and fungus that exists in our part of the world. I know it might not be enough but… I just have to believe it will be.

I'm younger than most of the other tributes, but that doesn't mean I can't catch up fast enough on all of the theoretical knowledge.

This knowledge… It might be my lifeline, in a few days' time.

And maybe that's just me trying to make myself feel better but… everyone glossed over the stations I was stuck at, except maybe the Fives, the boy from Six and the boy from Twelve.

My district partner and his allies looked over the books, but they didn't focus on them like I did. I eavesdropped on them too, and if they're right in their assumptions, I think I have a general idea on what the arena might be. I mean… I know it's speculation, but that's the best I can do right now.

The tablet flicks off as I spend too much time in my own head, and I hit my cheeks simultaneously with both of my hands to wake myself up.

I can do this.

People might have called me lazy back home, because I always took shortcuts in the fieldwork. But I'm not lazy.

I'm smart, and I won't be discouraged.

I just have to survive tomorrow and then I'll be able to figure this out.

Let's get back to work.


Valentino Ricci
District 10 Male, 18


"So?"

"So…" Addie stalls, biting her bottom lip and shifting uncomfortably in front of me.

I give her time to figure out how to phrase whatever she wants to say to me. Non-verbally, I try to convey to her that I just want to know the truth. One-minute stretches into two.

"I'm not mad at you, I hope you know that, right?" I tell her softly, but it only causes her to look down in anguish.

"Whatever you tell me, I don't care. I just don't want to be that idiot who doesn't know."

She shifts from one foot to another and I become suddenly aware of how small she looks, with me towering above her.

"Well you should be mad, my dad killed your parents."

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

She looks like she's about to start crying, but she holds on strong.

I keep pushing. "Is that why you've been so distant?"

Still no answer.

"Addie, you gotta understand, I just want to know-" I start, but she interrupts me.

"Don't call me Addie! You keep… you're always so goddamn nice to me when I don't deserve it! Even now you're pretending as though you don't want to choke the life out of me, and I don't know what I've done to deserve being stuck with the one guy who makes me feel so freaking guilty…"

She stops abruptly, breathing in and out. Her fists at her sides are clenched, and I can see the war going on in her head.

"Our families have this fucked up intertwining fate shit going on and… I was so scared that you were going to want to kill me for it, but I also saw how kind and genuine you were. I was sure that when you found out, it would bring out your bad side, you know, but it didn't!"

Her voice hitches a little bit.

"It's almost worse this way."

I cannot find anything to reply to that. She turns away quickly, trying to leave.

"I don't care what your family did. Or what mine did. Compartmentalization is a thing you know… I literally have nothing against you. Seriously, we can just ally. I'll come with you and Jess, I don't even care," I plead with her, racing to stop her from running away. "What can I do to prove to you that I don't hate you?"

"I … I don't think it's a good idea," Addie says slowly, and I can see the heartbreak and conflict in her eyes. "I know you don't, but you should."

"I need to go now," she says, her voice a tiny whisper. "Good luck Val, I wish you all of it."


Aderyn Klossner
District 10 Female, 15


I can't escape quickly enough.

My feet make a small sound as they slap against the floor, until I'm back on the carpet of our District's common room. I didn't even bother to put on shoes, for fuck's sake.

In a twisted way, I finally feel free. Free of the restraints of what my family has contributed to, and free of the obligations to keep quiet about it.

Everything's out.

It feels like shit and I know it'll take me a while to process this, but I would be lying if I didn't say I was proud of myself for opening up.

I won't die a liar.

It's as though there are no more barriers, only the large expanse of uncertainty for what's to come. I'll deal with those problems when they show up, but as of now, I have accomplished everything that was needed and that's more than what most people can say.

I knock on Glenn's door, and he immediately opens up.

"You talked to Val, didn't you?" he asks after surveying my face. I must look like a complete mess.

"Can you just… stay with me?" I ask him, avoiding the question. Without another word, I go to my bedroom, leaving the door open.

My mentor comes in, sits at the edge of the bed and I know I must look hostile because he wrings his hands nervously together.

"So, you wanna talk about tomorrow?" he suggests hesitantly, but I shake my head.

"Honestly I just want someone with me. You're the last person I'll be able to interact with as the real me, and … I just want to remember how it feels like," I decide.

"You'll have Jess," Glenn counters, "she's a good ally. A capable one."

"I know, but she's not District 10."

"You'll be okay Addie," Glenn says. "I'll always be watching out for you. You have this annoying habit of not letting people get close, but I'll always be there whether you want me or not. And I'll be sending you good food as long as the funds don't run out. I hope that's somewhat reassuring?"

"I suppose it is," I smile lightly at my mentor.

And at the very least, I know Val won't target me tomorrow.

That, in and of itself, is also reassuring.


Luther Szeto
District 2 Male, 18


It's apt that we all assemble together on the rooftop once again.

Like old times, I think with a chuckle. Even though it's only been a few days, this feels like it always should have ended up this way.

The five us sitting, our heartbeats in frantic synchrony.

Despite Ambrox's reluctance, we made sure to extend the invitation to Orla. She declined, citing that she had more important things to do. It's not like we wanted her there, but… it's only right, since this really is the edge of the precipice.

That's what Seeva said, anyways. I don't think Orla would appreciate that metaphor, since even I was clued in on her aversion for heights.

Anyways, I think this is the craziest thing. My entire life has been nothing but a culmination of what's to come tomorrow. All of our lives, really.

Alice would comment on this being a little sad or that I have more to find some inner motivation for this… but the truth is that no matter how much I search within myself, I'm just not that complicated and it's satisfying to be justified in how simple this feels.

"You guys want to play a game?" Ambrox asks, his head settled on Cira's lap, as she nervously kneads her fingers through his hair, lost in thought.

"Sure!" I smile widely. I like games.

"Alright, so we always played this in residence," Ambrox explains, sitting up. "I say three statements, and you guys guess which one's the truth. The one who wins gets to go next."

I nod along.

"I have three younger sisters, I have never smoked a joint in my life, I never killed anyone," he starts, counting down on his fingers.

"Definitely the first one's a lie, you don't seem like the big brother type," I settle on, as Seeva shakes her head laughing. Ambrox holds the most impressive neutral face I've ever seen.

"The rule is to pick the truth, Luther," Seeva chuckles, before turning back to me. "I think you're too uptight to smoke joints. Doesn't sound like your style."

I change my mind almost immediately. "I agree with Seeva!"


Ambrox Linden
District 1 Male, 18


"Any opinions from you, Morgana?" I ask, turning my head to the dark-haired girl. "I'm not going to ask Cira, since she already probably knows."

"Ah fuck it, let's go with the first statement, just for shits and giggles," she answers good-naturedly, sipping on some fresh orange juice.

"Well…" I keep the suspense for only a moment, before waving my hand at them. "As hard as it might be to wrap your head around it, I actually never killed anyone."

Luther's jaw drops.

"Wait… like, you've done the smoking thing but you've never… killed anyone?"

I shake my head, while trying to prevent an immature giggle from escaping my lips. This truth seems like the hardest thing for Luther to grasp, and it's frankly hilarious.

"Even by accident?!"

I laugh again at Luther's increasingly distraught expression.

"Like, I've practiced it, and I know all the theory, clearly. Just…" I make a slicing motion across my neck, "I've never actually done it."

Seeva nods understandingly.

"Are you worried about it?"

I shrug. "Not particularly. I just wonder what it's like. The fear has been bred out of us."

I glance quickly at Cira, who casts her eyes down, before continuing.

"Some people at our academy have… but it's frowned upon. Maiming is one thing, but killing… I guess for me it's more of a morbid curiosity rather than anything else."

What I'm saying is true.

For once, I'm not hiding underneath some veneer. I've thought this through sufficiently to realize that the tightness in my chest is not due to the apprehension of murder. Maybe that makes me fucked up, but from Seeva's understanding gaze, I sense I'm not the only one feeling that way.

I've got what… eleven hours before the games begin? And it's comforting to know I came here fleeing from my reality at home and that I have a team who shares my ideals.

Luther's dumbfounded expression makes us all crack up. The poor dude looks like he's glitched out, so I poke him with my foot.

"Since no one won, I'm curious to hear what Luther's got in stock."


Seeva Andino
District 2 Female, 18


It seems like all of my previous worries about not fitting in were unfounded, at least for the time being.

This alliance is working, and it feels like my silent prayers were answered. I didn't completely screw up, and going in with that knowledge alleviates at least half of the stress I was shouldering previously.

"Come on Luther, we don't have all night!"

I can almost hear the gears in Luther's brain spring into action, trying to scramble together some truths and lies.

"I've uh… totally smoked a joint," Luther blurts out, then scratches his head. "I really hate onions and ummmm… two of my statements here are lies!"

"That's not how you play the game, Luther!" Morgana cackles, while Ambrox literally rolls on the ground snickering. "You're making this too easy!"

"No, I'm not!" Luther insists, soliciting more laughter.

"We … ahahah, we all know you've never smoked a joint, and you've literally picked out all the onions out of every single food we've eaten so far and complained about it rather loudly."

"HOW? How do you do this?" Luther demands, his voice panicked, as though Ambrox has just performed the greatest act of sorcery he had ever witnessed.

"No offense Luther, but you're not very good at this game," I chime in, patting him on the back sympathetically. He literally sags under my touch.

"I quit, this is too tough. You guys are too good."

"Alright my turn," Morgana says, holding her stomach from the laughing.

I smile. I'm glad she's integrated well into our team. It's almost seamless.

"I've passed out from doing too many push-ups once, I'm actually really good at painting and my favorite animal is a sparrow."

I frown.

"C'mon, those are like … the most general statements! You gotta give us something juicy."

She's still guarded. I understand that to an extent, but if I'm noticing it, I know for a fact Ambrox is. She catches my raised eyebrows, and understands the intent of my statement. I smile only slightly. Trust goes both ways… she needs to make peace with that.

"Fine fine, uh… keeping that first one, I've never kissed someone and I was dropped on my head as a baby."

Now that's more like it. I lean in, warm contentment masking the worry that has stained everything over the past few days.

As long as tomorrow goes according to plan, I have a good feeling.


Morgana Foster
District 7 Female, 18


This is not nearly as stressful as I thought it would be.

I'm still putting my best foot forward, but it no longer feels like I'm the outsider.

These thoughts might be treacherous, I remind myself. I still have to work three times as hard to perform on an acceptable level. To make sure none of the people I am friendly with today stab me in the back with no consideration tomorrow.

"So, which one is it," I swivel my head around, brushing my hair behind my ear.

Ambrox obliges by pretending to inspect my skull with intense scrutiny.

"I don't know man, your head looks pretty egg-shaped to me," he jokes, and I resist the urge to swat his hand away. Instead, I just laugh politely. He sees the scar on my head, and sticks with his initial choice.

Seeva settles on the first one.

"You legitimately seem like the type to do that," she jabs her finger at me playfully.

"You wanna bet on the second one, Cira?" I ask the girl sitting in front of me. She's clearly grateful that I decided to include her.

"Sure, why not."

I stick my tongue out at Seeva.

"Well, you were almost right, but I didn't pass out during push-ups. I passed out while doing too many pull-ups and then cracked my skull open."

I flip my hair to the side to show a thin but visible scar on my scalp.

"So, you were wrong about that too, sorry Ambrox."

"I guess I just really have the most boring and non-existent love life in history of love lives," I conclude, shrugging in a self-deprecating way. "Ain't got no time for kissing when you're training your ass off."

I get a whistle from Ambrox.

"I guess I've found your ultimate weakness after all."

I freeze momentarily.

"Clearly your time management is shit, because... I don't know how you do it in your district, but uh… some of us have time to do both," he says, winking at me. "Right Cira?"

"You win," I raise my hands in mock defense, and I turn to Cira smiling. I expect her to mirror my expression.

Or, I don't know.

I guess I just didn't expect her to see her lips pursed, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

"Hey Cira, you alright?"

"Yeah ah… I'm just going to… get some more uh... fresh air," she chokes out, her breaths coming out wheezing. If I didn't see the haunted look in her eyes, I'd have thought she's having an allergic reaction from her raw voice.

Ambrox makes the move to follow her, but she gently shakes her head and he stops.

I avert my eyes. Maybe she's really worried about tomorrow.

It's none of my business, and for fuck's sake, I will stay in my own lane.


Cira Dupont
District 1 Female, 18


I feel like I'm about to collapse on the floor of the corridor as my feet bring me further and further away from my allies.

My breaths escape in short spurts, and I struggle to keep myself from choking on air.

Of all the times to be having a panic attack… now's not the time. And I'd love to berate myself, but it's like every mechanism in me is overpowered by the panic and intense regret that brings everything else to a halt.

I just… I need to get away from people, right now.

I know they meant well, but this game… it just brought back some memories that I really didn't need to resurface right now.

I stumble to the elevator, repeatedly jamming my finger into the button that brings me to the lower balcony. I just… I just need time to think. I can't be around my allies, they'll think I'm crazy.

It's been days since I've thought of her, but Imogen resurfaces unbidden, to the forefront of my mind, and I have to bring a fist to my mouth and bite down hard to prevent an ugly sob from escaping my lips.

My feelings were always complicated.

It's just… now that she's gone, I realize how much I've missed out on. How many things were left unsaid between us. She would have given her most prized possessions to be here right now, and all I wanted was to keep her close. I never even got the chance to kiss her.

I think that's what opened the floodgates on this meltdown … I'm fucking eighteen and I've never even worked up the courage to tell my friend how I truly felt. Realizing that stings like nothing else.

I was always a coward.

I run to the balcony, breathing deeply as sobs wrack my body.

I'm going into the Games tomorrow and I'm so scared…

My allies aren't, but I am because I'm not like them, I'm not good enough, and I've never even kissed anyone because I was too busy being a stupid coward –

"Hey, you alright?"

I supress the urge to scream as I bounce back by reflex, right into the boy from District 10, Valentino Ricci.

"I'm … I'm fine," I wipe aggressively at my eyes, trying in vain to calm myself. Imogen's face still swims in the blur of my tears. "Please, can you leave?"

He sighs.

"I mean… I'll do it if you want, but I kinda also feel like shit. We don't… we don't have to talk. We can just sit in silence."

"We're enemies. I might have to hunt you down," I warn him, using Imogen's words. She managed to sound so terrifying. It sounds fake coming from me.

"I don't care," he says simply, and we sit down together.

"Just breathe," he recommends, and I close my eyes, inhaling deeply. "It doesn't matter what's gonna happen tomorrow. Just take it easy right now."

If only he understood that my frustrations were not with what was going to happen tomorrow, but with what has already occurred.

And there's no changing that.


Daisy Jackson
District 6 Female, 15


Sparkle comes to get me, and honestly, I don't really know what I'd do without her.

All of my joints ache, as though I've been sleeping on cold pavement for the past few nights. When I complain to my ally, she just nods pensively.

"It's the stress," she finally settles on, as we walk towards the lowest accessible floor.

"I'm not stressed," I counter, turning my head towards her.

"That's what you think, but deep down, even the people who say they aren't… they actually are," Sparkle disagrees, but her tone is conversational.

"Are you worried?" I ask her instead, trying to drive the conversation away from myself.

I don't need the extra attention on what hurts and what doesn't, because all the tiny raised pinpricks in my arms would drive me crazy unless I distract myself.

"Not particularly," she admits, as we sit down on two lounge chairs.

"Is that the truth?"

"I don't know."

We stay silent for a while, admiring the sunset on the horizon. The colors, they … melt into each other, and the slight breeze feels great on my skin. It's almost like the cushioning feeling of a drug in your system, except … it's not abrasive or superficial. It doesn't come at a price.

It's real.

"You still don't regret volunteering?" she asks me after a while, sitting up a little.

"No."

"That's fine," she answers.

But I want to clarify myself to her. I want her to understand.

"There was no – no life for me back there, yeah?"

She nods again, closing her eyes and breathing in.

"You'd almost think we're sun tanning here," she changes the subject, and I smile at her.

"Sit up for a second," she says and I obey immediately.

She inspects me from head to toe, her eyes lingering on the bruise skin around my collar bones and arms. She doesn't comment on them, but her gaze turns flinty before returning to normal.

"Are you tired?"

When I shake my head, she pushes my shoulders so that I am facing the city, my back to her. I trust her implicitly.

"I'm going to teach you something important now."


Sparkle Aire
District 12 Female, 18


"You know, back in District 12, I used to be the smallest little girl who couldn't fight. Hard to believe, I know. I couldn't even run away fast enough, because all the streets have these tall fences, reaching up to prevent street scum from stealing," I start my story, weaving my hands expertly through Daisy's waxy hair.

"So, every time I would steal something, and I was a lousy thief, they'd run after me and catch me, and give me a beating to teach me a lesson."

"I kept being beaten up, and one day I almost escaped, but the fucking merchant grabbed my hair and I went down. Hard."

I grab a strand particularly roughly and Daisy flinches, so I apologize before continuing.

"One tough lady picked me up not long after. She's the one who got me into this whole… business, but when I was still too young, she'd just look after me as best she could in exchange for some stolen and traded goods."

"She braided my hair, just like I'm doing now to you," I continue, looping the hair through in order to keep it as close to my ally's scalp as possible.

"She told me… don't let your enemies ever have anything to grab ahold of. They won't catch you that way."

Daisy nods, as I'm finishing up. I doubt her hair has ever been this glossy and neat, and she turns to look at me with undying gratitude in her pale watery eyes.

"That's how you need to live, Daisy. Don't ever let anyone play puppeteer with you. You live and die on your own terms, yeah?"

She nods, quiet.

"We were born into this world without the privilege like the assholes from District 1 and 2 bathe in every day. But I learned how to strengthen my fingers, toughened up and I was unbeatable."

"That's why you hate her, yeah?" Daisy asks, turning back slightly, to watch the sunset.

Even without naming her, I know who she's referring to. Cira.

"She'll get what's coming for her," I say simply. "We all will, but the difference is that all this opulence, all this fucking luxury she was allowed to live in will come to bite her in the ass."

"You don't have to worry about her," Daisy tries to reassure me, but I scowl.

I can't stop the evil nature of my feelings. I'm aware of the fact that it's not rational, but I can't stop the rage and jealousy in my heart.

It all comes down to the fact that life's unfair, but for fucking once I can do something about it.

It'll be time for retribution soon.


Geoff Windsor
District 9 Male, 16


I can see how stressed they both are. We're sitting all together, because we're a team.

But I can tell how much the uncertainty of tomorrow is gnawing at their thoughts.

Deep down inside, I wish I could react the way they do. But I can't bring myself to feel the anxiety that is so clearly written all over their faces.

Perhaps it's my unwavering optimism, or maybe it's something more sinister… my inability to really take anything seriously after years of desensitization to this kind of stuff.

The threat of death just doesn't seem real after years of surviving adversity through luck and skill.

I'm scared, yes. Scared of being injured, of seeing my allies hurt and being unable to do anything about it. It's all really primal with me, as though my body has gone on lockdown and everything has been stripped away to its bare essentials. And as a result, even this fear is muted compared to what my allies are feeling.

Regardless, the laughter amongst us died down a few hours ago.

It feels so alien being serious with them.

"This is the last time we see each other before the bloodbath."

I lean forward.

"And I just want you guys to know that it's been an honour meeting you all. You guys are literally the best people I've met in my life, and I'm sorry it's under these circumstances, but I don't regret it."

"Don't say that Geoff," Logan starts, his voice cracking slightly, "you're saying this like we're going to die."

"We're not, but I just want you guys to still know that."

I'm convinced we won't die in the bloodbath, because I trust these guys wholeheartedly. We're better and more interesting than many of the other tributes. It just wouldn't make any sense.

But even if something happens… I'll make sure to protect them.

That's my role in this alliance, after all. Bringing them up when they feel scared or uncertain.

"Let's go over the plan once again," I say after a few moments of silence.

I crave a drink, anything to bolster my resolve and bring back the jokes that are always at the tip of my tongue.

"Geoff runs in to get supplies. Very quick extraction, in and out," Logan says. "If you see an axe close-by, you'll go for it. If not, you'll meet up with us somewhere behind Jean's pedestal. I'll run quickly to Jean, and we'll retreat as far as we can while staying within your sight, so just bee-line towards us without engaging anyone else."

I nod and smile. I've never frozen at the idea of danger before.

It sounds easy enough.


Jean Taylor
District 8 Male, 16


I look at my allies, my eyes shifting from one to the other.

I drink in the details of their faces.

I wish I could feel as calm as they both look. I don't know how they do it. I just… I have no idea how anyone in their right mind could be composed in a time like this. We might die, and that terrifying thought alone brings on the kind of panic that makes me want to vomit.

The draining and nauseating feeling doesn't even go away when we relapse into silence, and after a few agonizing minutes, I realize what I need to do.

"I need to go sleep now, guys," I force out, getting up. I need to be alone with my thoughts right now, unless I want this to degenerate into a full-blown panic attack.

My gaze moves from Geoff to Logan, expectantly.

They don't make a move to stand up with me.

"Sounds good, I'll leave in a bit too. I just…" Logan stops himself, before continuing, "I just need to stay with someone."

I narrow my eyes imperceptibly at him. I don't want to leave if he doesn't.

This … this is the kind of stuff that just makes me go crazy. Not knowing what they're talking about, planning, when I'm not there. But the churning feeling in my stomach forces me back.

I do everything in my power to hold on as Geoff and Logan hug me simultaneously. I internally berate myself for even thinking these evil thoughts… they would never hurt me. How could I even think of that? What kind of horrible person thinks these things about their friends?

The inhumane focus that it requires to not start crying here and there at the finality of it all sucks out the last of my energy when I somehow get to my room, quietly closing the door and tiptoeing to my bed.

I throw the covers over myself, burrowing myself within the pillows.

I feel so small. Unhappy.

They stayed there for a reason, a dark and nasty part of my brain comments. They saw how uncomfortable you got, and they waited it out so that they can talk freely. They can't trust you. You're the weak link.

It's not true though. I know it's not true because they hugged me, and all those things Geoff said were genuine. Geoff is the most genuine person I've ever met.

People always seem genuine until they're not. It's good to have doubts. People who have doubts survive.

"Stop it," I whisper out-loud, naively believing I can stop these negative thoughts from invading my brain. I shut my eyes, and block my ears with my hands, but there isn't much that can be done to bar my imagination from wondering.

I'm plagued by waking nightmares of getting stabbed, eviscerated, thrown down an endless well where I break all of the bones in my body and lie there in agony for hours.


Logan Arteficavitch
District 7 Male, 15


I only sit for ten more minutes before Geoff yawns and starts dosing off.

I poke him in the arm, causing him to open his eyes sluggishly.

"As much as it sounds like a fun time to fall asleep in this reclining chair, I'd be a terrible friend if I left you here," I chuckle quietly.

"Think of it this way, it's the last time you'll have an actually nice bed to sleep in for a while."

Geoff stretches his muscles and cracks his neck.

"You're right, man. So…see you tomorrow?"

I can tell that a lot of stuff is going through his mind too.

I nod.

"I know we won't talk before we all join up after the worst is over but… be careful out there, yeah?"

We both stand up. He pokes me in the arm, smiling sheepishly.

"Careful isn't usually in my uh… lexicon, but I wouldn't ever flake on you guys. Someone has to keep up the humor in this alliance," he says, winking. "Y'all are so awfully silent when you're stressed."

We go our separate ways, and just as I'm entering the District 7 housing quarters, I can see a dark figure creeping down the corridor. When the light hits her, I see that it's Morgana.

I smile at her, opening the door for her.

She smirks.

"What the hell are you doing up so late?"

"I could ask the same thing of you, but I'm sure you were hanging out with your newfound friends," I answer, walking through the doorway myself.

"Well, that just sounded awfully judgemental," Morgana teases me, and I put up my arms in self-defense. Suddenly, she gets really serious.

"You have a plan tomorrow, right?"

I nod silently, unwilling to divulge any information.

"If it's me, I promise I won't go after you guys," Morgana says, extending her pinky. "District loyalty is important, you know."

I grin back and shake her pinky with mine. "Deal."

"Good luck Logan. I really wish you all the best," she calls after me as I make my way to my bed. I shoot her finger guns in response, an echo of a moment shared at the chariots.

It all feels so long ago.

Right before my head hits the pillow, my last thoughts are with my sister. I hope she's not killing herself over this, and that she understands that I'm in as good a position as I can be.

I just need to keep believing.


Salamandra Mitch
District 3 Female, 17


I'm in the middle of ironing out the details of how I'm going to be navigating the first bit of the Games. That's if Valentino even ends up where I want him to be.

We've talked it out, but he seems like the non-committal type.

As far as I know, I wouldn't put it past him to dump my ass and ally himself with his district partner who he seems to have a soft spot for.

They're… friends or something. Have a complicated and convoluted past that was exposed during the interviews. The kind of shit the audience eats up by the spoonful.

So, I'm not putting all of my eggs in one basket, obviously. I've got other tricks up my sleeve, if it comes to that. But the theatrical part of me is secretly hoping he'll pull through, because that's going to be the perfect set-up for some quality drama.

A rapid knock on my door snaps me back to attention.

"Come in," I yell loudly, with a complete disregard for our escort. Anyone sleeping tonight is either too deep down the rabbit hole of denial or they're useless.

The doorknob turns ominously, before a curtain of Eli's red hair pokes in.

I cross my arms across my chest. "How did you know I wasn't sleeping?"

"Come on, you're a keener, not some sort of pacifist that just lies down and does nothing of the night before they leave," Eli smirks at me from the door, before inviting herself in.

"Besides, I'm actually going to miss you," she admits, avoiding eye contact, her eyes roaming around the room. "You're actually fun and decently competent. You don't cry and you're not hopeless."

I smile at the backhanded compliment.

I mean, yeah. I've just been so focused on learning the most that I can that I haven't had the time. I can't afford to ever doubt myself.

Even a split second of hesitation can bring you down harder than anything else.

"So, what's a house like, in Victor's village?" I ask, steering the conversation in that direction. "Is it really all that it's made out to be?"

"You're a special case, buddy," Eli responds. "I've literally never heard a single person talk about victory the night before the actual Games. That's bad luck."

"Whatever, I don't believe in jinxing things," I disregard her comment.

"It's big. You'll be my next-door neighbor when you win, so maybe your little sister and my sister's kids can play together."

"One big happy District 3 family of murderers," I joke.

"You better not fucking die in the bloodbath, after this," she warns me laughing, and I snort loudly in response.

As if.


Bexley Ward
District 8 Female, 17


"So, you're saying we just… adopted two more allies?" I ask for what feels like the millionth time, as Cassie nods enthusiastically.

"That's like… a decision you made, consciously?"

He nods again, even faster. I start pacing around the common room.

"Like, you didn't have a concussion that's clouding your judgement, when I turned my eyes away from you for two goddamn minutes, right? That big brain of yours thinks getting two small children for allies is smart?"

"I mean, I'm sure that if we all make it past the bloodbath, you'll have an extra two kids to pick from who would be willing to give you shoulder massages or like, gather you flowers after a healthy dose of surviving?" Cassie blurts out, and I whip back at him.

"Seriously?"

Cassie is about to launch himself again into complex statistics of how survival in numbers is the more apt model to follow in a death-match situation, but I interrupt him with an exasperated sigh.

"Fine! You can keep your weird minions…"

Cassie salutes me and springs off the couch, his toothy grin infecting me with the desire to smile too.

"You wanna invite them over?" I ask, sensing the question before he even asks it.

"I think that would be good, unless you're too tired?" he asks, and I chuckle. This kid is so aware of everything, it's scary sometimes. I rub my eyes. I'm tired, but Cassie's quasi-neurotic positivity wins me over.

"I mean, if Jean was allowed to bring his entire alliance over, then I reserve the right to do the same," I mutter under my breath, as Cassie sprints towards the door.

"You're not going to be disappointed, Bex!"

I'm left alone for mere minutes before there's a rapid knock on the door.

As I open it, Cassie bursts into the room, and I catch a glimpse of two younger boys, shuffling their feet at the door.

"This is Scout," Cassie points at the smaller red-haired boy who smiles timidly up at me, "and this is Roizer. They're really nice! And qualified."

Roizer is taller but only barely, his near-skeletal wrists peeking out from his sweater pockets. Qualified to pick flowers for my sorry ass who will be stuck micromanaging this daycare, that's for sure.

"Nice to meet you guys," I smile, as I push them slightly to get them inside and close the door behind them.

I have no idea what I've gotten myself into.

But it's not like I had a plan before, either.


Cassius Fleur
District 3 Male, 15


All the numbers point towards this being a complete and utter disaster.

But I can't bring myself to care about it right now.

Not gonna lie, if you plucked me straight from my district and brought me to participate in the Hunger Games, I wouldn't in a million years be able to predict this is the way I'd be spending my last night in the Capitol.

And yet, as I look to my right, I see Scout and Roizer sitting on the floor, listening intently as Bex settles a deck of cards in front them.

Momentarily, I get the urge to cry, because this just feels so normal and…

And we might never have that again.

I swallow the knot in my throat and join my newfound friends. Nope, I am not going to be ruining this with an old crying fest. Not happening.

"So that's how you play," Bex concludes just as I settle myself on a cushion next to her.

"Wait, hang on, what're the rules?" I ask, having missed the essential spiel that the other two boys were privy to.

"Rule number one of Go Fish: don't be late to the rule explanations," Bex intonates sagely, before throwing around cards.

"Wait, that doesn't sound like a real –" I start up but am interrupted by Scout who puts a hand on my foot gently.

"If Bex says it's a rule, it's a rule," he mutters ominously, and I am left gawking at Bex.

How the shit…

She smirks at me knowingly.

"Kiddos learn fast, I like that."

I learn pretty quickly that the game consists of treachery of the highest degree.

Also, improbable statistical number combinations that leave me flustered at every turn.

Apparently as the only good law-abiding citizen of this goddamn room, I actually respect the rules of putting down pairs.

The same cannot be said of my opponents.

"Go Fish," Bex tells me for what seems like the ninth time in a row.

"It's literally fucking impossible for you to not have a Three!" I complain, only to be met with the most impenetrable poker face in the universe.

"Go. Fish." Bex persists, her tone calm and even. I'm shaken to the core, starting to doubt my own sanity.

I stare helplessly at Roizer, who stares back without pity in his eyes.

He mouths Bex's instructions, as Scout stifles a mischievous giggle.

"You are all evil," I stammer, peer-pressured into picking up another card.

As I pick a four, I swear and throw it down frustrated.

"It's a four, isn't it?" Bex asks innocently.

I stare at her dumbly until it hits me.

"You … you cheated!" I point at her, backing away. "You already claimed to put down two pairs of fours, and that's … that's impossible!"

She sticks her tongue at me in response.


Scout Trinian
District 4 Male, 13


It's late, and I know I should be going to sleep very soon.

But I'm just having such a good time and I have friends, so I can finally ignore the horrible feeling that hasn't gone away since the moment I was reaped.

I wish my mom could see me now.

I think… I think she'd be really proud of what I've been able to make of this situation.

I did exactly as she said. I even… I never would have thought that I would be able to get a strong and older person like Bex to ally with me, but that's happening now!

I snap back to attention as Bex calls out Cassie for lying, and he shakes his head in resignation as he's forced to pick up all of the cards. The new game we're playing, it's actually called "Bullshit".

I'm decent and Roizer isn't bad either, but Bex is an absolute queen.

"Bullshit again, my man," Bex laughs.

"I don't understand what kind of bullshit trickery this is, but I'm going to get to the bottom of this," Cassie threatens her.

He is on the verge of a mental breakdown, gathering cards left and right, and Roizer is rolling on the floor, trying to contain his laughter.

I roll over too, and Bex drops her cards, snorting indignantly.

"Aw, come on guys, you aren't even taking this seriously anymore."

A knock on the door interrupts any retort. It's a short rapid sound, coming from someone who's here with a mission.

Bex gets up and opens the door, revealing Mags standing in the hallway.

At first, I think she's going to be mad, but she smiles kindly at Bexley and then at me, before introducing herself and asking if she can come in.

"It's really nice of you to allow Scout to join you," she appraises all of my friends, her eyes finally landing on me. "I think it's better if he goes to bed now, but if he wants to stay a little bit longer, it's fine by me."

"No, I think he should go to sleep," Bex agrees, sadness tinting her tone ever so slightly. "Big day tomorrow."

"Wait wait, before you go," Cassie chimes in, "do we have a bloodbath strategy plan?"

Roizer nods enthusiastically. "Yeah, we haven't-t-t talked about it y-yet. Just so we're a-all on the same page."

"When everyone is at the pedestals, y'all look at me, and I'm going to assess which direction we're going. And then we're going to run as fast as we can," Bex decides. "You run in the direction I tell you, away from danger. End of story."

Mags nods.

"I can't guarantee you'll get sponsor gifts, but I'll do everything I can to send you our resources. I'm sure Pulse will do the same."

"Better stay alive and hungry than dead," Bex affirms, as I get up and go to hug her. She seems momentarily stunned by the gesture, but pats my head nonetheless.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Scout. It was really fun playing with you, we gotta do that again sometime soon," she says playfully, and Mags steers me towards the door.

Before she leaves, she grabs Bex's arm, gratitude written all over her face.

"Seriously, you're a good person for doing this. Thank you."

Bex doesn't respond, only nods.

I wave at her and the boys, yawning. She mimics yawning too, winking at me when I laugh.

I don't think we're supposed to feel that way, but I actually feel safe.


Roizer Loudon
District 6 Male, 14


"I sh-should leave too," I say uneasily, when Scout disappears beyond the door. I don't want to overstay my welcome, and Bex has already been kind enough to accept us into the alliance.

"No, you can stay if you like," Cassie interjects, but I can see Bex rubbing at her eyes a little.

"You-you guys need sleep too," I say, taking a deep breath.

"Are you gonna be okay though?" Bex asks, concerned. "I know you don't have a mentor, so if you want to just sleep here, you can take my bed and I'll take the couch…"

Strangers don't usually extend this level of kindness and care to me, so I'm really at a loss of words.

I swallow painfully.

As much as I would love to not be stuck alone for what might be the last hours of my life, I have my allies to think of. They… they accepted me. And that's worth a lot. I can't start out by leeching off of them at every opportunity I get.

"I-I've got my stor-stories to finish up, I'll… be fine," I make up an excuse, already edging towards the door.

"Oh, that's right, I remember that from what Scout mentioned in his interview."

I nod. "I c-can show them. After." After the bloodbath, if we all survive.

"So, you know how to write, huh?"

When I nod again, her eyes light up longingly.

I want to ask her what's going through her mind.

Instead, she changes the subject.

"You're only allowed one thing, right?"

Probably judging from my confused expression, she hastens to clarify.

"Like, only one token, so you can't bring a pen and your sketchbook, right?"

"Oh, yeah, b-but I was j-just gonna bring… my book," I affirm. It's what really matters, after all. It's not like I'll have time to make new stories.

She scratches her chin thoughtfully.

"I… I don't have a token," she admits to me and Cassie. "I don't really care, because everything that matters is in here."

She touches her temple, to punctuate her point.

"I could maybe ask if I could bring a pen with me."

I start shaking my head, trying to assure her that it's not necessary, but she stops me.

"Seriously, as long as they don't think I can use it as a weapon, it's settled. If there's one thing that I could ask, is that you write me a short letter for my kids back home."

Her kids. The other orphans she takes care of. She talked of them at her interview, I remember. I don't even know how to thank her, so I just do what Scout did and approach her, my arms extended.

"What, you want a hug too?" she asks me, and before I can stumble on my words about how we don't have to, I just didn't know what else to do, she drags me into her arms.

"Look, I know we've known each other for a day, but we're in this together now. It's crazy, but it's happening."


Jessamine Law
District 11 Female, 16


"Are you sure the plan is going to work?"

"Jess, look, I can't be one hundred percent sure of anything," Casmir sighs, and I put my head between my knees.

The blood is rushing through my head at a maddening pace and it feels like I'll go deaf if this continues any longer.

I just wish he would tell me this will all work out fine.

"I know you're stressed out," my mentor starts, and I snort involuntarily.

"Yeah, no kidding, what gave it away? Maybe it's the panic-attack I'm having before the stupid Games even begin," I croak, my voice hoarse from gulping down air frantically.

Casmir's hand on my back is the only thing steadying me as the rest of the world spins.

"It's just so hard," I force out, breathing deeply. "I literally just… my mind keeps spiralling that this can't be happening."

"You will be amazing, Jess," Casmir assures me, but I'm having none of it.

"You don't understand Casmir… I… it's not enough to do amazing! It's either you survive, or you don't. And no matter how hard I try, it might never be enough, and I just don't know how to live with that kind of uncertainty!"

I literally feel like I'm drowning.

It's funny because it's always like this. Whenever I have a high-stakes situation coming up, it's the night before that is absolutely excruciating. I know tomorrow I'll be focused and ready for action, but the crippling anxiety creeps up on me the night before and … it's not pretty.

Except now, it's magnified because hello, Hunger Games and probable-death incoming!

I choke again, feeling like I'm about to vomit. I might straight-up die.

Like, no more Jessamine Law, and I don't even know what comes after.

I look up at Casmir, my eyes filling up with tears, because for god's sake I don't even know if I'll completely disappear or if… if there's something else beyond?

I just don't know, and not knowing is killing me –

"Casmir, if I die, please can you talk to my family and make sure they're okay?"

Casmir's eyes are incredibly sad and he looks so much older, weighed down by years of suffering and guilt.

"You have to promise me, Casmir!"

On a regular day, I would never subject someone to this kind of demands. But I can't function knowing that this might all end and people won't even get the closure because there's no one to take care of them.

There's so many things left unsaid.

And I know… they'll just keep going, because that's what we do. But no one is going to ask Will about his feelings, and how the shit are you supposed to carry on like that?


Tyree
District 11 Male, 12


"It's going to be a big day tomorrow!" Elora says, when she finds me in my room, sitting on the floor with Herbert under my arm. "You need to get some sleep Tyree."

I've been kind of just… sitting.

For a long time.

I don't really know what else to do, after I've eaten everything there is to eat.

I imagined myself as this really long snake that digests its prey for months on end, but that got boring pretty quickly. And I don't really know what's happening tomorrow, but I'm getting the feeling I won't be staying here for much longer.

She approaches me and crouches so that her eyes are at my level.

"Hey, I know what we are going to do, darling. How about I read you a story, and then you promise me you'll sleep until I come to pick you up in the morning."

I guess… that doesn't really sound bad. It's actually a pretty fun idea!

I quickly race to my bed, hiding under the covers.

I've never been read a story before.

To come to think of it, I wonder if I somehow fell into a fairy tale.

I probably did, on accident. All the colors, the food, the people are so much brighter than back at home, so it must have been some kind of rabbit hole I fell down through, when I went on that train. And now I'm getting stories too!

Elora picks up the flat black tablet on my table that I hadn't used, and taps it a couple of times to activate it. The screen goes bright, just like my television at home.

She comes to sit on the bed and selects a book to read. The first page appears, and I peek my chin above the covers to see the words that cover the whole screen.

I wait patiently, and she looks at me.

"It's a story about a spider and a pig, that became the very best of friends," Elora starts. "The original version was lost, but during the launch of the Great Revival, our President pooled many of our resources to rewrite and reconstruct many of the stories and creations that were destroyed."

"I wanna hear it!" I pipe in, already imagining the spider and the pig in my head.

"Where's Papa going with that ax?" Elora starts, taking on a kid voice, and I start laughing. She keeps going, and the book is incredible.

Television is one thing but… Elora's kind voice just lulls in such a rhythm that makes my heart hurt, but in the best way possible.

Her voice tapers off as my eyelids begin to droop.

"Tired, huh?" she whispers softly, as I squirm to be warm. She starts tucking me into bed, as I settle in the most comfortable position.

"Wait, but you didn't finish," I start, half-heartedly. I kind-of want her to continue, but I'm sure she can finish it tomorrow. I just don't want to be rude.

She smiles sadly at me.

"You'll finish it tomorrow, right?" I continue hopefully, when she doesn't answer. "Is the spider and the piggy alright?"

"Of course, Tyree, they stay best friends for the rest of their lives. Nothing can break something like that."

My head falls back into my pillow and I'm left smiling giddily. I knew it was going to be a good story!


Abel Collingwood
District 12 Male, 16


I lie in bed, restless.

My thoughts can't help but wonder, even though I know I should be focusing on getting some sleep before tomorrow.

I just can't help trying to project what my brother was feeling, when he was stuck here.

Was he trying to make the best of his time here or was he scared?

I don't feel much of anything.

The anxiety dissipated what feels like hours ago, replaced by the resolve to not die tomorrow. At the very least, I have to make it past the bloodbath.

But Knox felt so much. I try to remember what exactly my parents had been going through the night before the games. I think they prayed a lot.

Not exactly sure who they were praying to, but the fact of the matter is that there was the constant buzz of implorations to a higher power, to anything above to protect their son.

They probably are doing the same thing with me now, and it stirs something in me that I suppress almost instantly.

I shouldn't have hurt them the way I did. And I'll hurt them a lot more before this ends with either my death or my victory.

I know my father just wanted Knox to win at whatever cost. But my mother… she just wanted us to be good people.

And that's not doable in this kind of situation, especially if you want to win.

As I close my eyes, I try to imprint within my memory the faces of my loved ones and realize that they're already foggy. Not foggy to the point of disappearing, but I have to focus extra hard to remember the creases in my father's face.

It's been so long since I've focused on anything other than the Reaping. So, it's as though I lived with my parents, but I hadn't really known them for quite some time. Only the echo of what they used to be, before my brother's death.

Maybe it's for the better.

If I'm doing this for myself alone, this disaffect is what might carry me through the toughest times.

I succumb to slumber, not feeling much of anything at all.


Orla Ferraris
District 4 Female, 17


I should have been asleep hours ago, but I just couldn't stop.

I guess I underestimated the amount of time this search would take, but I can't end it without knowing the truth.

I keep flipping through pages and pages of previously classified reports, which were apparently now available to the public after years of compilation.

It comes in handy but it's increasingly difficult, since I've already combed through all of the high-profile Capitol generals and officers, which means that photographs are becoming increasingly blurry and sparse.

The screen flickers, and I curse as I notice its battery running out. I don't even have a name to go by, and this is taking hours… but I'm not fucking Orla Ferraris if I don't get to the bottom of this.

I'm not even thinking of the Games, at this point. It's one step at a time, and I'll succeed in finding the identity of my parents, and then I'll win this.

But the annoying electronic clock at the side of my bed displays 3:24AM, and the red of the numbers hurts my tired eyes.

I know I'm getting closer to the truth, because I can feel it in my bones. Only a few more reports. Only a few more names.

Suddenly, I have my mother staring back at me. It's the same photograph I have on my bedside, and I grab it and put it side-by-side with the tablet, just to be sure I'm not dreaming.

The woman is smiling, her husband's colorful hair and tattooed skin is so much clearer, compared to the grainy replica I hold in my hand.

Officer General, Capitol 260704.

I drink them both in, smiling brightly, before reading my mother's name, for the first time.

Yua Nakamura.

I keep reading, reinvigorated and entranced by the newly available information in front of me, relishing in the fact that I finally found them. My heroes who were separated from me.

There are only a few lines, and they concern my mother.

Yua Nakamura

Age: 29 (deceased)

Family members: - unknown -

Known as the Horned Viper.

Murdered her husband (Dendroaspis polylepis poison administration) when her mission was compromised. Exposed as a double agent and an undercover rebel that infiltrated the Capitol. A bounty of 20 million credits was offered for her imprisonment.

Following her capture, she was tried for her crimes of murder, embezzlement, and trading of state secrets. Executed for treason of the highest degree.

Date of execution: March 25, 2 P. P. E. (2272 A.D.)

Method of execution: Hanging.

Reported death at: 09.30 EST

There's more, but I cannot see it, because the screen flickers off, leaving me staring at my own reflection in the black screen.

An undercover rebel that infiltrated the Capitol.

Executed for treason of the highest degree.

I release a breath I didn't know I was holding in. It comes out shaky and uneven.

The weight of my actions come crashing down on me. For the first time, there's no anger, no disappointment. Only a numbness that scares me more than what has been revealed on tablet.

How could it come to this?

For the first time, I have no idea how to process this and I wonder if I've made a huge mistake.


Quill Daemeon
Head Gamemaker


As it stands, Quill Daemeon hasn't seen Pax in a week, working like a dog to make sure that the Games were ready for tomorrow.

At this point, when everything was already in place, he could not wait for the Games to start, if only to get his three-hour break after the Bloodbath. That was the only time when the Gamemaker center operated on a skeleton crew, due to everyone unwinding after the tension-filled first few hours.

He knew Cyrellia would undoubtedly remain and he trusted her to run the Games without his input for the short while that he was gone. Never mind that she took up any opportunity she could get to stay away from home, if only to avoid her newborn's tantrums. While he was the captain of this ship, she was the most capable, if not the most obedient, second-in-command. And regardless, he needed some time to rest his eyes. After all, he had been standing and watching the latest reports for over thirty-six hours, running around to make sure his whole orchestra was in sync.

Two new messages appeared on his tablet, blinking blue.

One from his fiancé.

"Hey babe, you're a trooper, you got this!"

Pax.

Always trust his fiancé to bring him up when the three cups of coffee in the past hour couldn't. Quill smiled at the tablet, before flipping back to the arena cameras.

They were placed as he had requested, because the initial layout hadn't provided the perfect view of the Cornucopia. A few had been obstructed by the structures, but all were now in the perfect location. After all, the President had stressed he wanted every detail captured, the raw emotion and violence displayed on the screens of millions.

While Mr. Daemeon never trusted the tributes implicitly, they were duplicitous children after all, this cohort of tributes sure seemed to be teeming with violent intent and chaos.

And the bloodbath… well, he was certain it was going to be a spectacle to behold.


Notes: This chapter is humongous, the longest one to date actually, so I'll keep it short and sweet. The Bloodbath will be brought to you very shortly! I hope you liked the pre-games because it's tragedy from here-on out.

Peace and love.