King and Lionheart
Night One - Morning Two

She couldn't see past the tears.

As Deidra sprinted, her fingers messily and frantically and desperately intertwined with Emeric's, she realized that she neither knew where she was going nor cared. She just needed to get far, far away and just having a fucking second to herself. She needed a second to process the explosions that just stopped rumbling behind her. To accept what just happened to her.

And that was exactly how she'd word it - what happened to her. Not what she did or didn't do - Deidra shook her head as the mere thought of having done something different with a happier outcome where Torrance wasn't probably dead underneath a pile of rubble.

She had had no control. At least that was what she was telling herself as she and Emeric pumped their legs further away from the power plant meltdown and towards… what was that?

"What - what the fuck is this?" She cringed at the coarse shakiness in her own voice.

As her vision finally cleared and the world around her came to life, she saw Emeric first. Her ally. Her last ally. Shakily, he pulled out his pen and laid out his little notepad against his tattered pant leg. "Water and power lines - aqueduct?"

"Maybe," Deidra responded with a nod, but her mind wasn't even close to being present. She was still there, staring at Torrance's eyes as he pulled away from her. God, they were so sad but it was also the closest thing to the Torrance she'd met in so long and she was just so sick of this.

She was so tired.

"Maybe we can get some water inside," Deidra continued, clenching her jaw and fists with a completely fake sense of purpose.

But there was no other option. Deidra didn't want her mom and friends to see her broken down even if every part of her was aching and trying so hard not to be shattered.

At least, that was what she told herself. A quieter voice in her head whispered not of family but of fear - what was Deidra without purpose? Without energy? Without forward motion? Staying still and opening herself up to the welling anger and sadness inside her was like opening a floodgate.

Drowning in her own motions wasn't an option right now.

So she trudged forward as soon as Emeric nodded the go-ahead. Deidra scaled up a sleek grey staircase into the whirring metal monster that was maybe/possibly an aqueduct for some water.

This was what she needed. One step at a time, slow and steady, but never stopping. Never pausing. Constant motion, no thoughts outside of water and eating and staying alive.

She knew herself well. Anything else would break her too much, too far.

As if the Gamemaker had heard her order and were happy to dial in, a pool of swirling water greeted them at the top of the staircase. "Lucky find," Deidra commented absentmindedly with a low whistle, mustering enough willpower to throw on a smile that just felt so wrong.

Emeric loosely smiled at her as he uncapped his bottle - Torrance's bottle, Deidra realized - and filled it in the steady whirlpool. After a moment of drinking and sitting, he pulled his notepad back out.

"We should talk about this."

After reading the words, Deidra turned back to her water bottle. "About what?"

Emeric shot her a look that said c'mon. "Torrance."

Taking in a shaky breath, Deidra dug her nails so hard into her palms to try and stop her brain from running. To draw all the blood from her brain into her hands. She obviously failed biology, but it helped.

How many scars would she have to give herself to get out of this arena?

"There's not much to say, right? He did what he did, and now we're - we're here," she rushed out, ignoring the tears welling in her eyes. Go away.

Somewhere in the back of her head, a voice whispered feebly: He could still be alive. He could've taken them both somehow. Or maybe - maybe the cannons were someone far away and all three of them are alive. Torrance and the Careers, all unscathed, parted in their own ways.

But Deidra quelled the voice as it crawled around in the shadows of her mind. She'd never been one to delude herself in what ifs she knew were lies.

Emeric reached out slowly to take her hand, pausing as she jumped at the initial contact before resting his left hand on top of hers. "Doesn't have to be now. But Tor wouldn't want us to shut down - he did this so we could win, not just live another day."

"You're being ridiculous," Deidra hissed as the first tear slipped past her eye. She jerked her hand away from Emeric's to wipe it off. "Torrance gave us an out, nothing else. And now - now we're on our own to win. Don't get it twisted."

After a tense second, Emeric reached out for his pen, and Deidra just couldn't. "I'm sorry, Em, but - I just need a second. I don't wanna talk about this when I come back." She paused as she stood up. "Or ever. I don't wanna talk about this ever. From now on, we talk about staying alive and making it out. Period."

And then she was off, taking confident strides out of the main room and down some hallway, turning door after door after door, down another corridor, then into an empty storage room.

And then she collapsed onto the floor, doing her very best to sob into her arm instead of the world around her.

When he came to, the first thing Aristide registered was the dust.

There wasn't much debris on him, but the dust streaked across his body in spades. Before the pain or the realization or the strategic implications rushed to his mind, Aristide was coughing his lungs up. Only then did he start seizing at the sharp tendrils of pain that shot up his spine at the sudden movement, at the convulsions in his own mind.

Slowly, he eased himself back, shaking off the stray ceramic and marble on top of his pant legs, dust once again clouding around him. Kind of like a shield, a distraction of protection, if you will.

That little distraction didn't exactly hold when he saw the carnage in front of him.

All at once, the memory of the last moments in the power plant came crashing back. Sirens. The incessant voice - Warning. Warning. Danger. Danger. And the realization. Torrance had been the first to put the pieces together, obviously.

And then it had been Aristide. It didn't take a rocket scientist - the voices deadass said warning. But it had taken reflex, and if there was anything that Aristide had learned from years of flinching at voices that berated him, his shortcomings, his failures - it was how to dodge. Blows from an angry trainer. Spit from a screaming father. He could do it all.

Beyond that epiphany, everything was a blur. Running. Shaking, spinning. Shoal, screaming, begging for help as Aristide fled and the door slammed shut, locked, secured behind him. Then nothing.

And now… now he was alone. Aristide shook his head forcefully, using just about everything left in his tank to push himself up off the ground to a shaky kneel. He couldn't be sure that he was alone. He hadn't heard any cannons. Nothing. He didn't know. It wasn't his fault.

As if, a voice in his head growled. His father's. Then it was his trainer's. You mangly little shit, you've ruined everything. Everything! You've finally given the fuckers from One the fuel they needed you meaningless little SHIT!

And suddenly, everything was spinning again. Shaking again. The world blurred as he pushed himself up, then forward, then - oh my god. He hadn't noticed it before, but the stench that bore into his mind as Aristide pushed through the rubble was rancid.

Burning flesh, he realized. No, burnt flesh.

The words slipped through his mind as his eyes landed on a little… a little charred stump. Poking through the shockingly white rubble, a frail, still black figure stuck out like it was gasping for air.

When he realized that that was what remained of Shoal's hand, Aristide emptied his guts onto the mess of charred marble and crumbled stone and dust - god he wished there was more dust to bury all of this - and he collapsed backward.

Wiping the bile and vomit off his mouth with his sleeve, Aristide knew that wasn't enough. With his heart pounding outside of his chest and into his eyes, into his hands and coursing everywhere through his body, Aristide made himself see what his latest failure landed him.

Sifting the rubble off of him, Aristide inhaled sharply as he found him. What was left of him, anyway. His skin, melted and mixed with the pastels of his uniform like a mess of acrylic on canvas, like smudged makeup. Like a mistake.

Aristide's mistake.

Somewhere behind him was Torrance. And - there he was. Aristide made himself see where his inaction got him. He could've stopped this. Should've stopped this. It should've been quick. Easy. Safe. Shoal should be beside him. They should be on their back from the Cornucopia.

Aristide closed his eyes as he trembled, begging for his body to stop shaking - revolting against him. And slowly, as he took the deep breaths that Kaede had taught him after their parents had dug their words into his skin and skewered him with them, his body complied.

Slowly, he put himself back together.

As he opened his eyes and oriented himself back to the Cornucopia, Aristide swore to be better. Swore to not make these stupid mistakes again. He couldn't afford it. Kiani couldn't afford it.

This would not happen again.

Someone had triggered the power plant meltdown.

As he stood on one of the many rolling hills of purple, gem-encrusted ground, Han turned back to where he mentally mapped the power plant he'd passed by to be, and yep, there it was - the plume of smoke and debris.

Being alone so early hadn't been part of his plans, but it definitely had its perks. For one, he wasn't bogged down by anyone. By any need to perform like he'd done for so long. Bethan probably wouldn't have slowed him down too much, but there was something to be said about the freedom to play his own game. To listen to his own intuition and not have to argue to be heard.

He could melt into the shadows in peace.

So as alliances crumbled and cannons boomed, Han tiptoed across the arena, past the wheat and through the power plant biome and into this… rich suburbia?

No, that wasn't quite right. Han knew rich, and he was pretty sure that not even Capitolites had trees and roads and lakes made entirely of emerald, moonstone, and champagne.

He could use a glass of champagne right about now, but he was guessing that sober Han was more adept to take on the arena than his alter ego.

In any case, this whole exaggerated satire kinda fit into the arena - Han honestly might've been wrong, but he knew that wheat was typically tan, not black. And power plants probably had more than one control panel to trigger a full-on meltdown. Just guessing, though.

As he chuckled to his own little quip (listen he wasn't used to being alone, alright?), Han almost didn't catch the fucking massive castle to his right. "Oops," he said aloud. Sometimes, he just said things to hear his own voice again.

He'd done that back in Six, but for a different reason. Back home, he wasn't heard because there were more important things to listen to than him. Han could hear the words from a merry-go-round of faces - his mother, father, extended family, friends, anyone.

But here, he relished in the sound of his own voice because he knew the power in it. In him. Sure, he wasn't the strongest or the fastest alive, but he sure as hell was at least one of the smartest. One of the fastest learners, one of the sharpest eyes, one of the keenest minds.

It was that mind that made him go up the grand opal staircase even though his heart was pounding out of his chest. Because as far as he saw it, he wasn't in too much danger. Han doubted that anyone had been fast enough to beat him here. And the Gamemakers weren't short on gore - they wouldn't send mutts after anyone yet.

This was an opportunity, even if it was terrifying.

Turning the ornate golden knob of the twenty-foot door made entirely of platinum and silver, Han saw a lot on the inside, but he noticed one thing first. The light and the shadows.

As he stepped into the glamorous foyer with a throne sat atop another opal staircase that branched off into further staircases and floors, Han felt the familiar tug of the shadows away from the reflective light off the gems.

But there was something else - a voice whispering to him to ascend the stairs. To find the light.

Those whispers escalated from whispers to commands to full screams in his mind, and at some point, they drowned out the familiarity of the darkness. And suddenly, the sound of his footsteps against the steps was louder than all the voices combined.

As he turned to take his seat on the throne, he saw them out of the corner of his eye - the suits of armor against the wall. An even dozen, each made entirely of a different gemstone in rainbow order. Part of him wanted to back away from their sharp swords and long spears, but something stopped him.

He took his place at the throne, and then it happened.

One by one, the suits snapped to life, drawing their weapons sharply and twirling them, ready to strike. As the dark violet armor swung its rapier viciously, Han steadied his breath, but he didn't run. He didn't melt into the shadows. He had a hunch that he prayed would come true.

And he was right. Because one by one, the armors bowed to him. Han couldn't help the grin that sprawled across his face as they stood at attention as he rose.

His loyal soldiers. Ready to go to battle for him. Ready to wreak havoc. Ready for war.

After the two cannons echoed into the night sky, Khiron turned to her. "Who do you think they got?"

Adela tilted her head. "I'm guessing you're talking about Aristide and Shoal, but who knows? Kiani and Anders could've caught someone on the outskirts."

"Fair," Khiron conceded. "In either case, then. Or maybe they're the same!"

"Well, let's see," she started as the two of them continued trudging through the endless forest biome. The Seven biome, she reminded herself. The flying trains, Six. Black wheat, Nine. Stone hybrid, Two.

She hadn't seen anything else yet, but the pieces were coming together in her mind. The champagne castle on Khiron's shoe and the gemstones splattered across his chest and the ferris wheel on her own shoe were her biggest clues.

And more importantly, she hadn't said shit to anyone. Back home, her uncle had always said he could feel a storm because his old bones would chatter.

"One day, your bones will chatter too, you see?" he'd said, chuckling and jabbing at her elbow. "You'll feel it in your bones before anything manifests."

She'd chuckled and cast him off then, but now, Adela knew what he was talking about. Because she felt the fucking hurricane that was about to tear the Careers apart. She couldn't see it yet, but she felt it and she knew better than to give anyone anything.

For a second back at the Cornucopia. She'd debated telling Shoal, but then he was off with Aristide and she was off with Khiron. And the malicious shadow in her told her it was better that way. Not alone, per se, but uniquely advantaged. At this point, Adela had to take anything she could get.

That was exactly what she thought as she "casually" chatted with Khiron. She had to keep all her options open.

Speaking of. "I'd guess a bigger alliance, y'know? Maybe Venezia, Kosmin, and Kendra? Or maybe Corvin, Nuria, and Novie. Actually, yeah, probably that second group. They're stronger, so maybe they thought they could overtake the girls at the Cornucopia."

"That's a good point," Khiron responded, but the tilt in his voice was more curious than impressed.

After a second of silence, Adela scoffed. "Out with it, Khiron," she laughed. "What's in this big ol' empty head?"

Khiron stuck out his tongue as she knocked on his (honestly kinda hollow-sounding) head a little. "I'm just - I guess I didn't think you'd know all their names, is all." He paused before turning back to her. "Or do you only know the important ones?"

"The important ones," she mimicked lightheartedly, shaking her head. "You think there are unimportant ones?"

He raised his hands in surrender. "Unimportant isn't the right word - maybe just, I don't know, like 'slightly less relevant?' Something along those lines."

"I guess I just wanna know as much as I can about everyone," Adela thought aloud, swatting at the vines that clung to her. "It's not much, but it's something, right?"

"Right," Khiron echoed absentmindedly. He turned again. "But wouldn't you prefer… not knowing too much?"

"What's too much?"

Khiron paused. "Anything, I guess. It sounds bad, but isn't it easier to just… let the faces blend together?"

"Maybe it'll be easier for later, but I'm trying to be here now," Adela answered. "I can't afford to be anywhere else."

Just as Khiron opened his mouth to respond, the anthem blared again with the Capitol seal as its backdrop. Khiron did a little hop in excitement. "Let's see who's down!"

Adela had seen her fair share of hurricanes and tropical storms and the like back home, but she'd never seen one form in her very eyes. It was a delicate process, from what she understood. A lot of perfect parts coming together at the perfect time - humidity, condensation, the whole nine yards.

Her own personal perfect storm came to life right in front of her as Shoal's face illuminated the night sky.

It was Shoal.

Khiron cursed to himself as his chess piece was knocked over in front of him, quickly replaced on-screen with Torrance from Ten.

Shoal had played like he was on the fence, but Khiron could feel him leaning towards him. Kiani and Aristide didn't build that personal connection off the bat like Khiron had. Years of prep and imagined scenarios and battle plans had finally come to fruition.

And now, all his hard work - squandered. Not all of it, he reminded himself as he peered over at Adela, who looked about as crestfallen as Khiron probably did. Maybe she wasn't as close to him as Shoal was; maybe she was dense enough to believe that Khiron didn't know all of the tributes' profiles like the back of his hand.

But she was all he could work with now. So he wasted no time going to work.

"What the fuck," he whispered weakly, pushing a quiver into his voice. "God, what the fuck!"

"It's okay," Adela soothed, pulling Khiron into her arms and running her hand through his hair as the boy from One fake-tremored into her shoulder. "Shh, c'mon. Hey. C'mon, we have to focus. Shoal would've wanted that."

After a couple more sobs (good measure, right?), Khiron pulled away, turning away from Adela to hide his dry eyes. "You're right," he echoed weakly. "But god, what happened? Shoal seemed fine before - do you think something happened to his head?"

Khiron let a second pass before tacking on more. "Wasn't Aristide supposed to make sure his head didn't get worse? Wasn't he supposed to keep him safe?"

Adela hesitated for a second before answering. "We don't know what happened - so much could've happened."

She kept going, but Khiron wasn't listening anymore. He'd been listening for that second of hesitation. That seed of doubt, of worry. As that seed blossomed into outright distrust, Khiron would land on top once more in a fucking garden of fear and misinformation.

" - y'know what I mean, Khiron?"

The sound of his name jolted Khiron back down from the heights of his own mind. "Definitely," he responded tearfully, throwing in a drawled out nod for good measure. "Definitely."

The boy from One: "Definitely. Definitely."

Novie winced at the sound of his machete slicing through the vines around the base of the treehouse, and as much as he begged and prayed (he had always thought praying was for fucking fools, but at this point, what did he have to lose?), that metallic shredding was only getting closer.

And with each rip, Novie had to stifle the urge to scream at his dimwit allies for leading him up here and at himself for agreeing to it. "High ground, right?" Corvin had offered, grinning as he hoisted Novie by the waist onto the hanging ladder.

And listen, Novie knew he wasn't blameless here. Even as the coherent voice in his head was all you are making yourself not only a sitting duck but a sitting duck in the sky, he climbed that ladder with a smile. Mistakes were made.

Being bitter and lashing out wasn't going to get him anywhere - Novie didn't game like that. He just needed to think and see a way out of this. Three viable sacrifices were all around him - it couldn't be too hard, right?

Speaking of, he turned to his allies, all hunkered down and frozen like him, out of sight of the dipping windows. Well, his allies and the little twerp from Three that Nuria decided to drag alone. It took a lot of willpower to bite back the sneer that begged to fling at Luca.

And really, could you blame him? Nowhere in Novie's plans did a frail little twink come into play. He wanted mindless hunks of meat, and Luca was neither mindless nor meaty. Novie had made carefully tied plans, and it was working. His allies trusted him and him alone - he held the reins.

Something about the way Luca looked back at him told him that the reins were slipping.

To the fear in Luca's eyes, Novie offered a feeble smile. Fuck you. I hope they kill you slowly.

"Oh my god, Khiron, do you see this?" The girl from Four, Adela. Novie wasn't stupid - there was clear and fucking imminent threat to his well-being, but he was always one to see and appreciate opportunity when it presented itself to him.

And this gift horse had Luca's cannon written all over it.

Khiron, now. "Like a treehouse, huh? Should we check it out?"

Adela. "Do you think we should head back? I- I wanna talk to Aristide, hear what happened."

Her dead district partner, Novie thought, packing up that little tidbit of information and saving it for later. Who knew? Maybe he could weaponize that later, turn a corner on those words. Any tips and spare change was accepted, thank you, thank you.

"I do, too," Khiron answered, sniffling. "But I don't think Shoal would want us to get off our game, don't you?"

A moment passed before Adela responded. "I guess. Quick, yeah?"

Khiron again. "Real quick."

Novie steeled himself as the sound of a boot against the rung of a ladder rang out from underneath them. No, not underneath them, not the ladder attached to the house they were hiding in. A couple houses over - Novie could just make out the purple top of the boy from One as he inched closer to them.

Turning back to his allies, Novie played the part - his eyes glossed heavily in panic and his hands trembling against the floor of their little treehouse. On cue, Corvin found his hand with his own and squeezed it, but he made no attempt at a reassuring smile. He wasn't the brightest, but he sure wasn't stupid.

They all knew it. They weren't getting out of this one unscathed.

Well, this was about to get interesting.

Corvin knew what he had to do.

As he clutched Novie's hand and silently willed him to find the strength and peace of mind to focus on getting out of this alive, Corvin resigned himself to the reality of what needed to happen: they needed to get out of here. The two of them and Nuria. That was who mattered.

In the corner of his eye, Nuria reached out for her axe. Corvin knew that he needed her alive (he was as surprised as you were) - she was constant and she'd been there for him when he needed it, when his life was in the hands of the boy the two Careers beneath them were now mourning.

And he repaid that debt as quickly as he could with Bethan, but somewhere in the back of his mind, Corvin had to wonder if he had this backwards. For so long, he'd thought of Nuria as untrustworthy, meddlesome, dangerous. To him and to Novie.

But she'd been there. And she did more than that - Nuria had been the one to piece together the scattered arena clues. Nuria was the one that Corvin trusted the most in a fight to hold her own. Nuria wasn't the enemy.

He hoped that realization hadn't come too late.

Luca, on the other hand… he wasn't the enemy, per se, but he just didn't have that same trust and purpose in Corvin's eyes. God, he hated sounding so calculating, but it was just how it was - Luca wasn't with them from the start, he wasn't as strong as they were, he just didn't fit into Corvin's plans.

So if anyone had to go, it'd be him.

"Do we have anything we can throw?" Luca whispered frantically. "An axe? A knife? A fucking rock?"

"We'll be unarmed," Nuria answered, shaking her head. There was panic in her voice, but measured panic. Fear, but not petrifying terror. This was why it had to be her and not him, Corvin reassured himself. She nodded to the bridge behind them. "We just need to make a break for it - "

"They'll mow us down," Novie protested. "Arrows, knives, whatever." The sound of one of the Career's boots crunching against the wood floor sent Novie into another spiral of shaking, and the boy from Seven turned to him with tears welling in the corners of his eyes. "What can we do?"

Seconds. They had seconds, and Corvin had nothing. "That's all we can do," he echoed weakly, nodding to Nuria and her very complex plan of fucking booking it. "Novie, you should go first since you run the fas - "

"Khiron!"

The shrill yell of the girl from Four and the arrow that came whizzing into their house, burying itself into the wood a millimeter from Corvin's head, sent any semblance of a plan out the window. Before the arrow even landed, Luca was off the ground, hightailing it across the bridge to the next house.

Silently, Corvin cursed to himself. Cursed that Luca had escaped. God, who had he become?

"Go!" Corvin yelped, shoving Novie up and pushing him forward before turning to Nuria and yanking her off the ground behind him. Another arrow whizzed past them, and for a silly fucking second, Corvin thought they were lucky. He thought they were lucky that the Careers were missing.

It took him a second to realize that Khiron Ancello wasn't aiming for them - he was aiming for the rope bridge behind them.

They were being trapped.

The second arrow lodged itself squarely into the thin rope, and the bridge shuddered as its left support rope evaporated into just a handful of strands. Luca, just clearing the bridge, turned back in horror as he realized what was happening.

"Faster!" Nuria roared, pounding her feet against the wooden planks, and Corvin tried to go as fast as he could, but it wasn't going to be enough. It was like watching the countdown for a bomb tick closer and closer, and - this wasn't working.

This wasn't working, and if he didn't do something, they were going to fall and maybe live the fall but even if they miraculously didn't all die on impact, then what? Sitting ducks, once more, this time crippled and shattered. No, that wouldn't work, either.

Everything that happened next happened very quickly.

Sharply, Corvin turned around and threw the only weapon he had - Bethan's scythe - as hard as he could. Just before the blunt hilt of the scythe slammed into Khiron's head, the boy from One fired another arrow, destined to kill without ever piercing skin.

The next arrow broke the left support altogether, and the world spun as the bridge's left side gave out.

Instinctually, Corvin latched onto the right rope as the bridge veered to the left, and he managed to stay upright. But beneath him, Novie and Nuria slipped, both managing to grab onto the dangling mess of ropes.

Nuria. "Corvin!"

Novie. "Corvin, I'm slipping!"

Nuria. "Corvin, please!"

Faraway, Luca. "You don't have time!"

His mind latched onto - of all voices - Luca's. He was right - he didn't have time. In the corner of his eye, he could just make out the girl from Four ripping the bow off of her unconscious ally and stringing an arrow, ready to finish what Khiron started.

He didn't have time. Not for both of them.

So he chose.

Rushing over to Nuria, Corvin shot out his hand. "Pass me the axe!" Her eyes twirled with confusion in the vast sea of panic and fear and more fear. "I can't carry you and the axe, give it now!" he yelled.

For once in her life, Nuria obeyed.

They didn't have the time to argue over this, so Nuria did what she was told. She didn't question, didn't make a scene, didn't have her way.

Effortfully, Nuria lugged the axe's hilt into his outstretched hand and watched as he chucked it over to the next island where Luca scampered to pick it up. Trembling, she waited for his hand to return, ready to hoist her up.

But it didn't come.

Instead, the girl from Three watched as Corvin Gaer - the same Corvin Gaer that she saved, the same Corvin Gaer that had saved her - run to Novie and pull him up by his arm. She watched as, hand-in-hand, they fled across the rope bridge even as it shuddered as Adela lodged arrows into the second support.

As the support gave out and the bridge plummeted - as Nuria plummeted down - her eyes found Luca. Not Corvin and Novie - her allies - who were now in a shaky, tearful embrace on the ground, not bothering to give her the respect of at least watching her die.

No, she found Luca, whose icy blue eyes were locked onto hers. Those blue eyes weren't anything like her hazel ones, but what was behind them was the same. Betrayal. Seething, burning betrayal.

She hadn't known Luca for very long, but with her last breath, Nuria hoped that she was right about him. She hoped that he was smart enough to feel what needed to happen. To hear the thoughts that she tried to scream as she plummeted to her death.

Kill them.

"There was another cannon earlier this morning. So three after bloodbath, eight total," Venezia murmured softly as Kosmin and Kendra finally stirred awake.

Part of her was surprised that the pair from Five had been able to sleep through it all, but another part of Venezia expected it. Where the rest of them had left any semblance of their livelihoods and any drop of their happiness at the door, Kendra and Kosmin apparently had no qualms with living as if nothing had changed. As if they weren't being hunted.

As if they all didn't watch Elorah die in front of them.

"I don't know what to say," Kendra answered, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Y'know? Like it sucks, but it's hard not to see it in a positive light, right? One step closer for us?"

Internally, Venezia winced. That last step was the girl from Three. Venezia was no angel - she knew Nuria mostly as a score and a threat - but she also knew that Nuria's family was watching. That somewhere, there was a family mourning their daughter, and they had to hear Kendra liken her death to a step.

But what was Venezia going to gain from vilifying her? From calling her out for being so callous, for being so quick to forget their friend? From vilifying Kosmin for nodding along with her sadly as if she had any right?

Nothing. She would get distrust, animosity, distance. Even more distance than she was already getting dealt.

So Venezia bit her tongue.

Kosmin stretched as he got up. "We should get going, huh? Look for some water, maybe? Something to eat once our food runs out?"

"Yeah," Venezia answered, tossing her half-eaten granola bar into her pack. "We probably need to start planning ahead, right?"

Technically, they were all her packs. Because she had actually done her job when shit hit the fan. What did Kendra do? Kosmin? Outside of letting Elorah die, what had they really done?

Against her better judgment, Venezia let that seed of anger fester in her mind. She had gotten allies for protection, but also for some silly notion of family, of trying to find people that made this hell livable.

And now, here she was. Clearly not safe, seeing as Kendra and Kosmin were at the top of each other's priority lists with her in a distant, distant second. They were her own personal hell.

This was her fault. In the back of her mind, Venezia knew she was blowing this out of proportion. She knew her mind was finding a way, finding any reason to hate them. Because she couldn't watch someone she cared about die. Not again.

Easier to will for their deaths than be powerless to stop it from happening.

"What is that?" Kendra gaped, pointing sharply in the distance at… what was that?

After trudging through dry, desertous plains for what felt like five hours (and what was probably no more than thirty minutes), they hadn't seen anything. And suddenly, this building. The dark grey, windowless walls stuck out like a sore thumb against the tan ground and the yellowish shrubbery that dotted the horizon.

"It's just a building," Kosmin thought aloud, shielding his eyes from the relentless sun.

Kendra snorted, swatting him. "Well, I know that. But I'm guessing it's not just some office building."

"It might have water," Venezia offered. "Maybe food, too. Probably more likely to find something useful in there than out here," she added, motioning at the barren ground they'd been trudging through.

"It might also be dangerous," Kosmin countered. "We don't need the food right now, right? Like eventually, we'll need more. No need to go looking for trouble preemptively, right?"

Subconsciously, their eyes both landed on Kendra. Their de-facto leader, suddenly. As if she did anything to earn that besides beat up a Peacekeeper and make them all liable for her rash thinking.

"I'm with Venezia," Kendra said finally. "Trouble will find us whether or not we go in - at least this way, we'll have a chance of finding something useful."

Funny, I didn't think you had the capacity of seeing reason, Venezia thought bitterly as she smiled and nodded at Kendra. Just happy-go-lucky bullshit. Guess you're keeping me on my toes.

Venezia was rambling angrily in her head as Kendra unlatched the front door of the building and Kendra and Kosmin warily stepped into the building, leading the way for her to follow.

She was still mulling through her frustration when the tiger pounced at her.

It was Kosmin who heard the growl, who saw the tiger pounce. "Venezia!"

But it was too late - there was nothing Venezia could do but watch and scream and wait for its claws to dig into her. Slowly, as seconds became moments and she realized that the claws weren't digging into her skin, she opened her eyes.

And as she did, Venezia finally breathed a sigh of relief. She watched as the tiger lashed out time and time again, only to be shot back by an invisible force field that shimmered ever so slightly with every strike.

"He has friends," Kendra whispered, and as Venezia turned and really took a look around her, she realized Kendra was right.

In little, shimmering pods across the two stories of the building, lions and wolves and bears and snakes were pouncing and striking at them, constrained only by the force field sending them back.

"Their eyes," Venezia realized as she stepped closer to the tiger that was clearly roaring behind the soundproof field. "Look at their eyes - they're yellow."

Kosmin flinched at the world yellow. "They're probably rabid. Well, animals don't actually do that when they're rabid, but the Gamemakers had yellow-eyed animals last year, and, well. You remember."

Venezia shuddered. Yeah, she did remember. She remembered the way the pack of wolves devoured tributes to the bone, tearing screaming boys and girls limb from limb. "We should probably get out of here, yeah?"

Venezia turned quickly to Kendra, more than a little panic in her eyes. "We should probably get out of here, yeah?"

Kendra opened her mouth to agree, but the soft ding behind her stopped her. Slowly, the ground illuminated green, pointing up the staircase and to the hallway on the left, out of sight.

"I guess not," Kosmin murmured.

"Not all of us have to go," Venezia added quickly. "I can stay here and have the door ready to swing open if you two wanna…" she trailed off, nodding in the direction of the stairs.

"That makes sense," Kendra responded. In all honesty, she was a little glad to just have Kosmin by her side. Venezia was bright and sharp in the Capitol, but she'd been out of it since Elorah… since Elorah. Kendra shook the last memory of the girl from Twelve away - not now.

Kendra couldn't afford to be slowed down - especially not in this fucked up zoo.

"We'll be back in a bit - be ready to get out of here and fast," Kendra continued, smiling to Venezia as the girl from Six nodded back and backpedaled to the door.

Venezia stopped only when her back hit the door. "I'll be here."

Even though every part of her mind yelled at her to stop, to double back and sprint out of there, Kendra knew better than to try. If the Gamemakers wanted them up the stairs, then they had to go up the stairs.

The threat for not listening to them was clear. Kendra had no doubt in her mind that the force fields could and would disappear in a heartbeat.

"Ladies first," Kosmin joked with a sheepish grin, but the tremor in his voice betrayed the fear he was trying to mask.

"My knight in shining armor," Kendra muttered with a scowl as she took the first step up the stairs, unsheathing the sword on her loop. Not that she knew how to do anything with it. "Cover behind me, alright?"

"Gotcha."

Slowly, they inched their way down the hallway towards a pair of sliding doors that greeted them with a cold, metallic hiss when they were close enough. And inside -

"Bread," Kosmin said, laughing, relaxing. "A bread basket."

As Kosmin scooted past her and ripped a chunk of the bread off, Kendra relaxed, too. Part of her was still on edge, just not believing that that was it - a fake-out for the better? That wasn't exactly on the menu in the Games.

But what did she know? Expect the unexpected, right? A bread basket, free of charge? Now that was unexpected.

So Kendra dug into the bread basket with Kosmin, nibbling on sourdough to ease her running mind as Kosmin scarfed down on a roll.

Neither of them looked up. Neither of them saw the timer counting down above them. Neither of them was ready for the chaos that was about to tear them to shreds.

When the timer hit zero, the voice emerged from the walls. Convoluted, melodical, haunted. Piercing.

"Fattening up our lambs for the slaughter, yes! Yes, yes, yes! Let them eat more - let them get fat and weak and helpless for my precious babies to devour! Let them eat! Let them die!"

And then the alarm went off.

howdy fellas! this chapter was def longer than i wanted it to be but cutting it down would simply take extra patience i do! not! have! i'll make a conscious effort to make the next one less of an ESSAY owo

once again thank u to the submitterz whose tributes died in this chapter - i really appreciate ur submission and hope u stick around!

Are y'all's lives ramping up again? Stay O_O strapped O_O w O_O ur mask O_O pls

thas pretty much it! hope y'all had a blast w this and see y'all soon!

x review plx x