"We're comin' at you live, real, real wild

Here to light it up, set the world on fire

Gonna break the rules and hearts in twos

'Cause that's what the baddest do…"

~The Baddest (K/DA ft. League of Legends)

o0o

Halliday Frost (18) District One Tribute

She's dead. Athena's dead.

It's the first thought that crosses my mind as I open my eyes, squinting against the bright light of the flaming wreckage of the Cornucopia. I ache all over, and I'm more than sure there I'm going to be black and blue and many other colors for a while yet, but… Athena. Her name leaves my lips on a raspy croak, my throat parched from the heat of the blast. He killed her. Jordan Wheaton killed her.

The first thing I feel is betrayal, which is irrational because for there to be betrayal, there must first be trust.

And I know better than to fall for a lie. Don't I?

Either way, he dies today.

Or… tomorrow. How long was I out?

Getting to my feet is a bit of a struggle, and I have to stop halfway through, on one knee, breathing hard, a hand going to my side. It comes away red- explains the sharp pain in my ribs, then. My arms are scratched up well enough, both from facing Aegis and Thames either, as well as the blast. The blast… I'm not the only one who was caught up in the explosion.

Sash.

I feel unsteady on my feet, and now that there's no Cornucopia, I don't have anything solid to lean on.

"Sash?" His name is rust coming out of my throat, and I taste something metallic, hacking and wheezing, waving away smoke. Shit, how much of that is already in my lungs?

That doesn't matter right now. Might not ever matter, given that I could die at any given point in time. I was lucky enough to survive that blast, with how close I was to the Cornucopia. Granted, the blast probably hadn't been intended to kill, simply destroy supplies and any chance the rest of us had at survival. How long has Aegis been planning this? I should have known, from the second he got that look in his eyes after receiving that Sponsor gift. Stupid. I could have prevented all of this from happening.

I need to find Sash. While the rest of our alliance might have shattered into fragments, we're going to stick together. Stick together, and show the rest of the Arena who exactly we are. What we can achieve. They're going to regret being put in an Arena with the two of us by the time we're done. I know that I'm perfectly capable of wiping out most of the competition that we have left on my own- if I was able to hold my own against both Thames and Aegis, then I can take either one of them on their own any day.

But with Sash… with Sash, and his sniper-like accuracy, his patience, and natural charisma, it could make the following days in this hellhole so much more bearable. Almost like a friend. I'll have to kill him to win, in the end. And that's not going to be as easy as I would hope.

But I'm a Career. I'm trained for this. I know where to hit to make the death fast and clean. Painless. That's how he'll go.

For now, though… for now, he is my ally, and I have to look out for him. Nurse us both back to full strength before I begin my hunt.

I'm wobbly on my feet at first, and I have to sit down again to catch my breath. Come on, Halliday, get up! But when I try to focus on my own body, every system just seems to shut down. Refuse to cooperate, an act of defiance and malicious intent in one of the worst possible times.

Up, Halliday! Gritting my teeth, I flex my fingers, curling them into fists. Ease myself into a kneeling position before planting one foot on the ground and rocketing upwards. I sway but remain upright. Now find Sash.

He was towards the mouth of the Cornucopia last I checked- a flash of violet out of the corner of my eye as I whirled to dodge the gold of Thames' spear.

Picking my way through the rubble and bits of black remains of the Cornucopia, I start to move towards what should be his general location.

I find him sooner than I thought. He's curled on his side, an arm flung out to the side, a leg at an awkward angle behind him. It's not broken, but it'll be sore for a while when he wakes.

"Sash," I whisper. His hair is blackened in places, falling away and crumbling into ash at my touch. His breathing is faint, but he's alive. He's alive, and at the sound of his name, his eyelashes flutter. His face tightens with pain as he begins to surface into the waking world. "Sash," I repeat, and he tries to sit up with an audible groan. I shift to his side, propping him up as best I can, offering support. He leans on my gratefully, head lowering as he takes fast, shallow breaths, trying to breathe out whatever pain he might be feeling.

"How do you feel?" I demand. Some part of me winces at the roughness of the question, the urgency, but there is no time to be gentle here. Not in the Hunger Games, where it is life or death, kill or be killed. "Can you fight? Walk?"

"Halliday," he winces. "I'm not in any shape to do much of anything. You might be, but," he gestures down at his side with his unburnt arm. "I'm not able to draw a bow or wield a weapon. Not quite yet."

You have to be! I don't want Sash to be a liability. I need him to be functional and able to fight if he's going to be of any use to me because there's no way in hell I'm killing him now.

"Shit," I mutter, under my breath, desperately casting my gaze about, trying to find something that might be of use to us.

"Shit is right," Sash agrees, his voice still a rasp low in his chest as he tries to ease his weight off me. "There's no point in trying to find anything around her, Halliday, the only things we've got right now are what we have on us." A shuddering breath, as if it hurts to speak, and a hacking cough that shudders through his entire body. "Aegis did a good job of completely annihilating this place."

"Don't say that," I hiss back at him. "Don't be so quick to give up hope." Nudging him, I slip out from under his arm and start poking through the nearest pile of Cornucopia. "We need-"

"Medicine," Sash exhales from behind me, and there's relief in his voice. Frowning, I turn around and find him reaching out for his container. It alights gently into his hands, parachute fluttering like the wings of a silver bird. A Sponsor gift.

"Oh, thank God," I breathe, and can't stop the slightly hysterical laugh that bursts out of me as my own gift lands in front of me. Sash opens his gift swiftly, urgency in every deft movement of his fingers, and lets out a sigh of relief at what he finds inside. "Burn cream and bandages." He looks up at me, eyes shining with a new light. "What about you?"

Ripping into the packaging, let out another breathless chuckle. "Disinfectant cream and painkillers." I unwrap two of the tablets from the packaging and hold them out to him. "I'm afraid you'll have to swallow them dry, but it's better than nothing."

Nodding, Sash accepts the medicine, nose wrinkling before he swallows. "I'm going to need all the painkillers I can get, won't I?"

I frown. "Why do you say that?"

The bassist barely holds back his grimace as he reaches out for his bow, long fingers curling around it and bringing it close. The weapon had miraculously survived the blast- string and all, and he hands it to me to give an experimental draw and release. The string doesn't snap. "You have that… look in your eye." He gestures weakly with his left hand.

Squinting at him, I wrinkle my nose at the words. "A look?"

"Yeah," Sash says, on a raspy laugh that sends shivers- and not the good kind- riding down my spinal column. "The look that says you're ready to set the world on fire."

o0o

Lauren Silver (18) District Three Tribute

"Phoenix?" I wet my suddenly dry lips with my tongue. The boy standing before us looks like Phoenix, but some part of me tells me that this isn't him. The gleam in his eyes and the knife in his hand, held with such calm comfort is another red flag gone up in the back of my mind, and as one, Ambrose and I back away. "Phoenix, what are you doing?"

A sneer flickers across his beautiful face, and wrinkles his nose, as if in disgust. "Phoenix?" A scoff. "He's not here right now. My name's Killian."

"Killian?" I repeat, brow furrowed. "I- who?"

Killian's lip curls and I instinctively step in front of my younger ally. Don't you touch her. Killian only snorts. Rolls his eyes, and comes forward, forcing us to yield another step. "Come now. Neither of you stands a chance against me, so don't bother to struggle or put up a fight. You don't have to make this any more difficult than it has to be."

This time, it's Ambrose who speaks up. "Just… let us go. Then there doesn't have to be a fight, or blood, or any difficulties!"

"Let you go?" Killian frowns as if the thought hadn't even occurred to him until now. "But my dear, the performance has only just begun? Won't you stay and watch the rest of it? It's impolite to walk out of a show early, don't you know?"

What is he going on about?

Ambrose and I exchange a look. He's gone mad. Whatever the Hunger Games have done to him, this isn't who we were hoping to find in the dark alleys of the city. An alliance with this boy is out of the question, and we need to get out of here. Fast.

It seems as if Killian has the same idea, or at least predicted our thought process. He produces a second knife out of seemingly thin air, running a finger along the glittering edge of it, not even wincing as his skin slices open and red trails out of the cut. "Each dagger is a song," he muses. "Each knife will be a dance. Each dagger is a piece of my soul, each weapon is a piece of me." His eyes snap up, cool and calculating, and he throws the weapon, deadly and precise, straight over Ambrose's shoulder, from where she's partially stepped out from behind me. She lets out a little gasp of pain, and my heart constricts in panic as she brings her hand up, her fingertips coming away red. Catching my eyes, she shakes her head. It was only her ear that was grazed, along with a few strands of her hair. She's not hurt.

If he can throw like that, why hasn't he killed us yet? When I voice the question, Killian actually laughs. Laughs, and it's not a pretty sound. It's too sharp, like nails on a chalkboard, or the death gasp of a wild animal.

"There is no drama in a peaceful death," Killian explains, his voice condescending and a bit pitying, as if explaining a simple fact to an understudy for the millionth time. "Death should never be quick. It should be an opera."

I… really, really don't like the sound of that. And so our little dance begins- and perhaps it is the stress of the situation that is getting to me, or maybe it's just the entrancing insanity of this person before me, but I understand. What's about to unfold will not just be a dance, it's going to be a final act in one big show. He thinks he will make us famous, make us beautiful and into a form of art only he can find intoxicating. Our lives had no value before he came into them.

Such is the mind of a madman.

But I refuse to be a puppet in his show. An understudy might not be able to upstage a virtuoso, but I can sure as hell undermine his work. Gritting my teeth, I reach back for Ambrose's hand. Her fingers lace with mine, and I squeeze, trying to be reassuring, although my skin is clammy and I'm sweating profusely, trying to keep still and not twitch like some corned animal. I can't show him the true extent of my fear.

Eyes searching my face, as if looking for some sort of consent or validation, Killain finds none in my fixed expression of what I hope is defiance and fury. "You will perform," He snarls, and his beautiful face twists into something brilliant and horrible and terrifying.

"You're insane!" Ambrose blurts from behind me, and every muscle in my body goes tight as a coiled spring, one wrong move and I'm ready to explode, veer off like a shooting star and take my ally with me, leaving Killian blinded

"You call me mad… all artists are mad. Art requires a certain…" here, he pauses as if searching for the right words. "Cruelty." A grin spreads over Killian's face, displaying too-white teeth. In that moment, his motives are laid bare; he is a murderer, a sadist; one who enjoys every ounce of torment he can inflict on others. "Run."

o0o

Halliday Frost (18) District One Tribute

Found you. Carefully, moving slowly as to stay silent, I slink to the edge of the clearing. We've been tracking Jordan for god knows how long, quietly dogging him through the trees, staying a healthy distance back- Sash with an arrow nocked to his bowstring, for the little good it will do him. Even if he can't draw it without hurting himself, the rest of the Arena doesn't know that. Except maybe Aegis and Thames, who are also in this forest, but with the condition the blast must have left both of them in, they're not going to be tracking other trained Careers anytime soon. Either licking their wounds or working their way towards the city area of the Arena- to find easy prey in Lauren and Ambrose, Mikail, and Phoenix.

That leaves me, Sash, Asher, and Jordan in the forest.

And soon, it'll only be me and Sash. You're next, Asher. You had better sleep with one eye open.

First thing's first, though. I have to cross this name off my list before tracking down the child of wolves. While he may be big, Jordan isn't fast, and I'm going to have to use my speed to counteract his brute strength. It's a classic matchup, really, and I already know that I'm the one who's going to walk away from this. I will not be heartbroken again. I refuse to let this oaf of a Tribute take anything else away from me.

Never again.

With that thought solidly in mind, I step out into the open. Sash stays behind me in the brush- to try and provide what cover he can if things go south.

It takes Jordan a moment to spot me, but when he does, he's quick to put his hands up. "Halliday- I'm sure we can work this out…"

"Mind games aren't going to work on me," I snap. My knives are in my hands in an instant, and they're itching for blood. "Silver does, though," I add, cutting a glance to his blade, hanging by his side.

"Silver is for monsters," Jordan retorts, holding his ground. A hand rests on that weapon, though. Come on. Draw it. Fight me.

Jordan's nostrils flare, and then he strikes. Four blows with that massive longsword that I sidestep, before the fifth lands and I bring my daggers up to meet it. Our eyes lock over our crossed blades and Jordan grits his teeth. He disengages with the hiss of metal against metal, and we spring apart.

I weave around his blade, party every thrust, ducking beneath every swipe. When we meet again, he uses his superior strength to drive me back against a tree. I glare up at him, chest heaving. "Gonna kill me?" I taunt.

Jordan doesn't move an inch, staring me down. He continues to do so until I wiggle around enough to angle one of my daggers and slide it across the exposed patch of skin, right above his waist. He hisses in pain. I shove him off me and we whirl back across the glowing Arena floor, blades clashing. I flip around his blows, moving fast- fast like a river, fast like the wind, fast like an adder in the woods of District 1. We meet again in the center of the clearing, and he bares his teeth, placing both hands on the hilt of his sword. He bears down, and I'm forced to skitter away, glaring at him. I take a moment, catching my breath, bending slightly at the knees. Ready for anything this fool might throw at me. "Is that the best you got?"

Jordan doesn't answer at first, just levels his sword at me and braces his feet. "I don't want to hurt you, Halliday," he answers finally, and his voice is still infuriating in his calm.

I tilt my head, one way and then the other, and I know there's a cruel tilt to my mouth, Unflattering, but honest, and isn't that what the Capitol wants to see? Me, facing off against the boy who's seemingly in love with me, and scorning him?

Well, no. They probably want some disgusting love story, some kind of sappy romance where we both drop out weapons and run into each other's arms. MY stomach revolts at the thought. No. My name is Halliday Frost, and I will never be heartbroken again. Doesn't want to hurt me, he says? Well, guess what. I curl my lip. "News flash, Wheaton, you already have. Why don't you tell that to Athena's dead body?"

Jordan flinches back, and the sickly rush of pride that surges through me isn't wholly unpleasant. "I didn't do-" he starts, before closing his mouth. "I didn't want-"

"What." I scoff. "You didn't want to kill her? You weren't in control of yourself as you threw that hatchet, it wasn't a conscious decision, huh?" I shake my head and raise my daggers. "Doesn't matter. What matters is that she's dead, you killed her, and now you're going to pay for it."

I fly at him, and we begin this dance again. I catch him in the middle of a duck, forcing him to block behind his back, the flat of his blade resting against his spine. Our eyes meet over his shoulder and I show my teeth, even as he whips around, dropping both hands to the hilt of his sword and rains down a hail of blows against my crossed blades. I stand firm against the assault, bracing my feet against the ground and putting my weight into the block. When he finally relents, I take my opening and fly forwards, knives singing as I press forward, ducking another swing, coming up panting. I swing, and he reaches down, catching hold of my blade a hair's breadth away from his thigh. Our gazes meet again and I quirk my mouth into a smirk as I wrench the knife out of his grasp, leaving cut skin in my wake as I rear up and strike.

It's a flurry of movement as we fly around the clearing, clashing and separating, me driving forward, him pushing me away, and as he brings his sword up to block my overhead blow, I swing low and bury my second dagger right into his vulnerable stomach.

He gasps, a wet sound, stumbling away, sword clattering to the ground. I let him go, leaving my knife embedded in his flesh, and stand perfectly still as he stares down at the weapon protruding from his gut. His lips form a word- a name, possibly, of someone back home.

I don't care.

Lightly stepping forward, over his fallen sword, I reach up on my toes and press my mouth to his. Sweet and sly, sugar and poison. "Let's pretend my last words to you were something worthy of a song," I say. And slide my dagger into his heart.

o0o

Lauren Silver (18) District Three Tribute

"Go!" My voice can barely be heard over the roar of my light cycle, Ambrose not far behind as we speed down city roads. Killian is quick to follow- staying just out of range of the deadly light trails that spit out behind us. Smart. I had hoped we'd be able to vaporize him, or at least his cycle, but that's clearly out of the equation. We're not going to be able to get away from him without being at least a little creative.

"We need to split up!" Ambrose yells, her voice muffled behind her helmet. "That's the only way we're going to survive!"

"I don't want to leave you alone!" I holler back, turning a sharp corner, the screech of Killian doing the same coming only seconds after I round the bend. "You might die!"

"All of us might! It's a risk we have to take!"

A risk. What kind of risk is it when a simple separation of two people could mean life or death for one? A fucked up one, that's what.

I don't want to go our separate ways quite yet, even if we'll find each other again after we get Killian off our trail. I can't have another death fall on my shoulders, because I just know I will crumble under the weight, and now is no time to break.

If she dies, then I'll be easy prey for the next hunter who comes along, and I'm selfish enough not to want that. I have so much to go back home for… my family, my friends, not to mention the fact that the whole of District Three will be blessed with gifts from the Capitol all year if I return victorious. Not to mention the luxury I can bring my family into. I can only imagine the smile on Wyatt's face, the glee in Wyre's eyes as I show them around their new luxury home… I'm going to get through this. It's every Tribute for themselves here, now, no matter who we call a friend at the current moment.

"You go left! I'll go right!" I nod at the intersection before us, and Ambrose gives me a quick thumbs-up before speeding ahead, turning so fast that the side of her cycle nearly brushes the ground. I spare a quick second to pray for her- because even if I now have my eyes set on the prize and nothing will take me off course, that girl doesn't deserve to die at the hands of a monster like the one chasing us. Then, I gun the engines and go right, my hair rippling out behind me as I lean even farther forward, getting as close to the bike as I can, streamlining myself, trying to coax more speed out of the thing. I glance behind me, for once praying to see the telltale dark red of Killian's cycle behind me, but I'm shocked to see the vapor of his light trail going straight ahead, through the third option at the intersection. What…

Shit.

He knows this place better than Ambrose and I do, surely. He knows that we're not stupid to split up so soon after coming together for good, and he's going to rejoin us when the two of us meet up again. I should have seen that coming. The other option is that he couldn't get around the corner fast enough, wracked by indecision on which one of us to go after, but that's just wishful thinking. That's not something Killian would do- not from the little I've seen of him so far. But surely he has one of us in mind. Right? But who would it be… me, who has my brain and a heart set on the crown, or the weaker, 14-year-old girl, who's still unarmed and has never wielded a weapon in her life?

My heart drops into the pit of my stomach, and I make the sharpest 180 turn in the history of turns, speeding back down towards Ambrose, her vapor trail long gone. I shouldn't have left her alone like that.

Hang on, Ambrose. I'm coming.

o0o

Mikail Drakil (17) District Four Tribute

The explosion had taken me by surprise- I'd been making my rounds of the small area of the city I had decided to stake out as 'my own'. There wasn't anything mutt-like coming my way- it actually had been relatively peaceful in this area of the Arena, and my guess is that, given the sheer number of cannons going off over the last 48 hours, the Capitol's bloodlust was being sufficiently sated. More time to plan for me, then. I don't know too much about the rest of the Arena besides this one, meager part of the city, and that's one of the regrets I have about being in the top ten so soon into these Games because it hasn't given my plots and complex schemes time to shine. These things will be over in… less than a week, probably, and while it's not ideal, I'm sure I can make something work. I'm well aware of how… anonymous I've been since the start of these Games, and it's about time I make a name for myself. Show the Capitol what Mikail Drakil is really capable of.

And to do that, I'm going to kill one of the Careers. Athena's dead- the death toll in the sky told me so- and that leaves Sash Radcliffe, the other archer, Halliday Frost, the one with the knives, Aegis Harlow, and Thames Venturi, the last two with three kills each.

I'm going to need to take out someone major for this to really make an impact.

Granted, all of us who are still alive in this place are major, because we're in the top 10, but if I were to focus down Lauren or Ambrose, that wouldn't come as a surprise to anyone. The Capitolites, the ones who unfairly hold our fate in their hands- would just watch the fight, foaming at the mouth like some rabid dog, eager for the next scream and splash of blood, before pouncing on the next interesting thing going on on-screen. No, if I'm going to make an impression, I'm going to need to take out someone big. Thames. Aegis. Halliday.

The risks are high- as high as my own life, and I'm not too keen on dying anytime soon. But I swore an oath to myself- to my brother's spirit, whatever land it may wander, whether it be in the clouds or the stars or the fires of hell. I swore that I would win these Games. So win them I shall. No matter what it takes. I'm smarter than everyone in this Arena put together, and if I think this out, find that master scheme and find the optimal way to put it in motion… then I will be the second-ever Victor of District Four.

Mikail Drakil, Victor of the 26th annual Hunger Games.

I like the sound of that.

Maintenance comes first though. Making sure whatever machine of death I will be putting out there is well-oiled, with all kinks worked out. There is no room for error here, and the penalty for a mistake is death.

I will not die.

My sword is sharp, and I have the supplies I need… plus the medicine that floated down on a breeze of silver earlier today. Probably my prize for making it into the top ten. I'll be getting a lot more than medicine once I wipe one of these Careers off the map. And then District Four will share in my prosperity after I win these Games, blessing my District and the gangs that faithfully roam the streets with all the riches and food we could ever eat.

The stakes have been raised, but so have the spoils, and I'm more determined than ever to collect my prize. It is time to get locked into these Games, enter that Victor mindset, and obliterate anything and everything that stands in my way. Ally or no, and there is no one here that I can safely call a friend. There was no such person in the beginning, and I have no plans to make such ties now.

Feelings will only slow me down, in the end. Hinder me from reaching my true goal: of not just survival, but life. If I am unable to find it within myself to take these walls of ocean depths and abyssal stone around my heart down, once I've won, then so be it. Such is the way of Victor.

Such is the way of life.

This cruel existence of ours will throw ocean storms and tempests, hurricanes and tsunamis roaring our way, and it is up to us to weather them and make our way along our chosen paths. Trudge down the sandy road laid out before us, head bent against the gales, and persevere.

And I will walk my path with honor.

Chances will be taken, and everything from this point out will be nothing less than risky. But I didn't get to the position I hold in the gangs of District Four, didn't earn the respect I have now from sitting back and playing it safe: I took those chances. Made the changes, adjusted on the fly, and planned for variables that might never happen.

Plotting has always been my strong point, and I must be flexible when making my master plan today. Take everything under consideration, and never cast aside a possible variable.

There is a chance that it was the explosion that killed Athena and she was unlucky to be caught in the blast, but I highly doubt that. Even if there was no retribution cannon after hers, I am undeniably sure that whatever blew up was a summoning. The Careers, trying to lure us in.

And, just this once, lured I will be. But I will be no fish caught on a hook.

No, because sometimes, a shark takes the bait… and drowns the whole ship.

o0o

10th: Jordan Wheaton (Submitted by Luthien'sLight) Killed by a dagger through the heart, courtesy of Halliday Frost. Jordan… I didn't really know where to place you. I actually didn't know what to do with you until Halliday came along, really, and then your whole arc fell into place. Once that happened, it was fun to write you and take you along on this journey. Rest in peace, Jordan Wheaton. May you fear no evil. Feel no pain. [KDA: 1/1/0]

o0o

Alliances:

Angels and Demons: Thames Venturi (D1M) and Aegis Harlow (D2M)

An Ultimatum: Halliday Frost (D1F) and Sash Radcliffe (D8M)

Stronger Together: Lauren Silver (D3F) and Ambrose Volta (D5F)

Sink 'Till You Float: Mikail Drakil (D4M)

The Rogue Wolf: Asher Foster (D5M),

Living on the Edge of Insane: Phoenix/Killian Doppelmen (D6M),

o0o

A/N: And there was chapter 28: On the Hunt! I hope you all enjoyed it, with a kill going towards Miss Heartbreaker and things are really getting tense, aren't they! Lauren and Ambrose are stuck in the city playing a game of cat and mouse with Killian, and Thames and Aegis are still in the forest with Asher. Sash and Halliday are hanging around the Spiral Course, and everyone's been Sponsored with some good stuff! It's all good fun, ain't it?

If you hadn't noticed, I've given up doing timestamps, because it just didn't work with how I styled this chapter. Ah, well. Live and learn.

The next chapter, chapter 29, We'll Be Counting Stars should be out hopefully by the 8th, and I'm going to get my butt into gear and try to write the next chapter, Over the Edge out on September 11th, along with the second chapter of my side project, An Unfamiliar Dayglow.

Thank you to all of you who voted on the poll (like, two of you, I'm sad about that), I appreciate the hell out of every single one of you who's reading this author's note, and not too long until we reach the finale, huh? Only 7 more chapters, that's unbelievable. Stay with me, everyone, I'm updating when I can and trying to get chapters out when I can!

Over, out, and may the odds be ever in your favor,

~SetFires (Vixen)