Dyan Hopper, 13.
District 11 Male.
7:06 AM, Day 3.

Dyan rolled over, groaning. He hadn't been able to sleep all night, every time he moved it felt like there was a rock stuck into his back. It made him miss home, his bed, his parents, everything about it. He rubbed his eyes, trying to keep the tears he felt welling from spilling over. It could be worse, he could be dead or completely alone. At least he had Creed.

The boy from 11 dragged himself to his feet, picking up his sleeping bag and shaking it out. He certainly preferred the small cave he'd been staying in previously, it made him feel inexplicably safer, however here he could see the sky which was a bonus he supposed. He should've been able to see the sun rising in the deep purple sky, however today the mountains around him were blanketed in a thick layer of fog. It was eerie, unnerving, it gave Dyan the feeling that something bad was going to happen. Then again, he'd been filled with a sense of dread for the past 3 days, after he'd killed the girl from 7. He told himself it wasn't senseless, it was to help his ally.

He packed his bag carefully, making sure all of his things made it into the small backpack. Dyan had decided he'd wanted to go and look around the area a bit. He knew it might not be the best idea, that he'd be safest staying in the small, sheltered plateau. Who knows what he could encounter beyond the rock walls that enclosed around him, however, the slight risk he would encounter somebody was better than sitting around on his ass all day, alone, doing absolute jack shit.

Dyan fastened his bag, clipping the small clip across his chest. Maybe he'd find something useful, the Gamemakers would occasionally leave random supplies scattered around the Arena. It was more of an excuse for himself, and for him to tell Creed if for some reason she showed up early. She had mentioned the night before that she may be early today, that she didn't know when she'd be able to get away, so to expect her at any given time. He was perfectly fine with that, as long as he got to see her at some point during the day. He knew that the Career camp was nearby, at the graveyard. Dyan didn't exactly understand why you'd ever want to live in a graveyard, even if it was just a temporary camp.

He squeezed between the rocks, stepping out and looking over the expansive mountain range before him. It was quite the stark sight to behold, not a living thing in sight. Down the mountain to his left was the aforementioned graveyard, where the Careers were staying. He couldn't see it the night before when they'd arrived here, but now he could, the brightly coloured tents set up within the confines of the graveyard standing out as the only colour he could see, it stood out against the grey backdrop of the arena, a single drop of colour in a sea of grey. Dyan began his trek, keeping in mind that he probably shouldn't go too far, in case he got lost. He continued walking for a few more minutes before something caused him to stop. He swore he heard a footstep, the skittering of a rock being kicked.

"Who's there?" Dyan called, not seeing anybody. Could it have been a figment of his imagination? No- he had to have heard something. Surely it wasn't anything. He placed a hand on the handle of the small knife he had attached to his belt. He could hear more footsteps, this time they were definitely behind him. He whirled around, seeing only a scattering of large rock spikes. There was nothing until a figure stepped out from behind one of the large spikes. For a moment, he thought it was Creed, or possibly that was just him being hopeful.

"Dyan Hopper, just the man I was looking for." The boy said. Dyan didn't know who he was until he spotted the large 4 emblazoned on the front of his jacket. A Career.

"W-what the hell do you want?" Dyan said, unsheathing the knife from his side, holding it up shakily at the boy.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt you." The boy said, smiling warmly and holding his empty hands up at Dyan, showing he wasn't armed. Dyan opened his mouth to say something, but before he could get another word out, the boy moved, faster than Dyan could comprehend or react. The boy from 4 grabbed him by the collar of his jacket, grabbing one of his arms, the one holding the knife, twisting it behind his back. A searing pain shot through his shoulder, and he dropped his knife, yelping loudly. The boy from 4 continued twisting his arm, and Dyan felt a sharp crack, more pain coursing through him before it faded away to white noise, his nerves seemingly unable to handle the crashing tsunami of pain.

Dyan didn't understand, why was this happening? Why him? What did he do to get here, and what did the boy want from him? He tried to suck air in, an effort to calm himself but he felt like he was underwater, unable to take a full breath, which only panicked him more.

The boy then gripped tighter at the collar of his jacket. Dyan flailed with his good arm, trying to pry the boy off of him, but his attempts were fruitless. Dyan was dragged to the nearby rock spur, still struggling, his attempts weakening. The boy from 4 looked down at him with a grim look, winking before he pulled Dyan's head back, smashing it against the jagged rock spur, once, twice, before Dyan slipped and fell into the bottomless pit of unconsciousness.

Pedro Trujillo, 16.
District 4 Male.
7:46 AM, Day 3.

Pedro looked down at the unconscious boy before him, brushing his hands together. He had to work fast, he knew he couldn't hold onto Creed for very long, not without her finding a way to escape, or kill him. And for his plan to work, to take out Ozzie, he needed Creed, thus his need for efficiency. He swung his bag off his back, placing it on the ground and unzipping it, digging through until he found what he was looking for, a length of rope. He rolled the boy on the ground over with his boot, wincing sympathetically at his mangled arm.

Pedro grabbed the boy's hands, wrapping them both tightly in rope, tying a knot firmly to end it off. He tugged on the bonds, making sure there was no way that even if the boy woke up, he wouldn't be able to get them off. Pedro then used the excess rope, winding it around the boy's ankles, no time wasted as his movements were quick and efficient. He finished off the final knot, once again tugging on the rope to make sure it was solid, before stepping back to look at his handiwork. Pedro was surprisingly proud, but he didn't have time for pride, certainly not at that moment. The boy from 4 had a plan to enact, and little time to do it if he wanted everything to go correctly.

He grabbed the boy under the armpits, picking him up off the ground with a great deal of effort. The boy from 11 was awkwardly proportioned, and Pedro couldn't get a grip on him, dropping him. Dyan tumbled from his hands to the ground with a thud.

"Ah fuck," Pedro said, looking down at the boy and rubbing the back of his head with a hand. He couldn't carry the boy, how else was he supposed to transport him? Pedro stood for a moment, contemplating the situation, running ideas through his head. Before long, a beeping noise could be heard, and he turned his attention to the sponsor gift that was currently floating down to him. He squinted up at it, estimating where it would be landing and moving accordingly to catch it. Stuck to the top of the box was a note that read:

Good luck with whatever the hell you have planned. Hopefully, this'll help a little.

The boy from 4 ripped the large box open, revealing something he was not exactly expecting. Contained inside was a large wagon, large enough to fit Dyan into. Pedro had to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. He placed the large metal wagon on the ground, not wanting to waste any more time than he already had. He shoved Dyan into the wagon unceremoniously. He walked off, thinking about how strangely effective the whole situation was.

As Pedro walked, he thought. He probably shouldn't have knocked out Dyan, it made the entire situation worse for him, however, he'd just sort of done it without thinking. He needed to think things through better if he wanted his plan to go to, well, plan. He needed to make sure Creed was loyal, not just to the Careers, but him specifically. If he could keep her under his thumb, he could keep the entire Career pack under control just with Creed backing him.

Not just that, but if he made an example of her, it would demonstrate to the others that he was serious about things. And with Creed's help, he could take down Ozzie, leaving him on top of the Career pack. He was hoping that Ozzie would take the lead and manage to fuck it up, as they tended to, and that Creed would try and kill them afterwards, but if all else failed he could just do the job himself. He didn't mind getting his hands dirty, but if there was a better way to do it, he'd certainly take that opportunity.

It might've been tricky to pull off, but he was determined to do it. He'd either be successful and fight to see another day, or he'd die trying.

Pedro walked up to the gates of the graveyard, his arms beginning to tire from dragging the wagon behind him. He pushed the old, creaky gate open, pausing for a moment to take a breath. This was the last possible point he could turn back. He steadied his nerves, inhaling and exhaling once before he stepped through the gate. He needed, Ozzie dead, that outweighed everything else in his mind.

Pedro walked into the middle of the camp, where they'd set up the campfire, all of the other Careers seated around the fire.

"What's that?" Echo asked Pedro as he came to a stop.

"Why don't you ask Creed," Pedro replied with a grin.

Creed Odinshoot, 18.
District 2 Female.
8:14 AM, Day 3.

Creed froze, like a deer in headlights, as Pedro continued speaking:

"Go on, ask her. Unless she'd like to explain on her own."

"What the hells going on?" Ozzie said, looking to Pedro, then to Creed. Pedro moved closer, and Creed realized what was in the wagon he was towing. It was Dyan, his face covered in blood, hands bound. She felt her heart jump into her throat, nearly choking her. Surely, this must be a bad dream, none of this could be happening. She'd wake up in her cot in her tent, and realize all of this was a dream soon enough.

But she didn't wake up. It wasn't a dream, it was reality, the reality she was trapped in.

"We have a traitor in our midst," Pedro said, his eyes locking with hers.

"Who is it?" Echo asked, looking wholly confused about the whole situation.

"Who the fuck do you think it is, Echo? It's Creed." Pedro said, his tone venomous as he turned his glare onto Echo. Echo nodded, visibly shrinking back in his seat.

"So what does that mean? She's been conspiring with other people behind our backs?" Ozzie said, standing as they visibly tried to compute the situation that was unfolding before them.

"Yeah, specifically this kid," Pedro said, kicking the wagon over, Dyan tumbling out onto the ground, landing with a thud. Creed moved for the first time in minutes. She stood from her seat, picking up her staff and walking with her head held high to where Pedro stood, Dyan, crumpled at his feet. As she grew closer, she realized how battered her friend was, a large gash in his forehead, his face covered in blood. His right arm, despite being tied in front of him, was bent at an unnatural angle, seemingly broken.

"The hell did you do to him?" Creed asked as she kneeled down next to Dyan, placing a hand on his neck to check his pulse. She quickly found it, which reassured her slightly. At least he wasn't dead, although she could've figured that out on her own since there hadn't been any cannons previously in the day. Regardless, the feeling of his heart beating steadily beneath her fingers put her at ease.

"That's not important, now is it? Now, how about you tell everyone what you've been up to behind our backs." Pedro said, smiling down at her wickedly.

"Yes, do tell us Creed. I'm very interested as to why you've betrayed us." Ozzie said, approaching the conversation as Creed straightened up.

"I- I can't explain it." Creed stuttered out her voice shaking as she looked between Pedro and Ozzie, both of whom were staring at her.

"Well try harder then," Ozzie said, staring down Creed. She stared back, despite the overwhelming circumstances.

Why was this happening? Why did Pedro have to do this? She could feel fury rising in the back of her throat as the thought of Pedro crossed her mind. There was nothing more that she would like at that exact moment then to punch Pedro across his smug face, turn it to an unrecognizable pulp.

For once, Creed Odinshoot would stand up for herself.

"I don't have to explain myself to you," Creed growled.

"You really don't have any loyalty to us, do you?" Pedro chimed in. Creed shook her head slightly, but with certain defiance.

"I see. Well, I suppose I could give you another chance. Kill the kid and I'll put all this behind me, how about it?" Ozzie said, nudging Dyan with their foot.

"No.," Creed said softly. She wouldn't, no couldn't kill him.

"Excuse me?" Ozzie said, looking taken aback by her statement. She wouldn't let anyone, especially not Ozzie tell her what to do.

"I said no. I won't kill him." Creed repeated herself, this time louder, her words filled with more confidence.

"Well then, I guess I'll just do it myself then," Ozzie said, unsheathing the sword at their hip in one graceful motion.

She watched as Ozzie plunged their sword into Dyan's chest, striking faster than Creed could react like a cobra, time slowing down, everyone and everything around her freezing as if she was watching the scene through a lens, or a TV screen. It was like when she was 16, sitting in front of the TV on the edge of her seat as she watched her sister be cut down.

Her sister died crying for their mother, a sound Creed would never forget, and now the gentle sound of Dyan's voice would be added to those nightmares, memories of a promise she couldn't keep.

As all this ran through her mind, Ozzie pulled their sword from Dyan's chest. Everything was silent, still for a few moments, as if they were all waiting for something. The cannon rang out over the arena, after what seemed to be hours, startling Creed from her frozen state, the cue for her to take action, to move, to do something. And thus, she did.

Osiris "Ozzie" Dallesandro, 18.
District 2 "Male"
8:24 AM, Day 3.

Ozzie stared down at the battered boy in front of them, pulling the sword from his chest. They honestly didn't know what led to the situation that had just occurred, how Pedro found out the things he knew, or how long he may have known them for, but that wasn't Ozzie's number one concern at that exact moment. They were concerned with Creed's disloyalty, how easily she could disregard them all like the Careers were nothing to her. Creed's usefulness had worn itself thin, and it was time for her to go.

They went to look up, before they were tackled, hitting the ground hard. All of the air was knocked from their lungs, and they were left desperately gasping for air, like a fish out of water. They clawed at whatever, whoever, was currently putting all of their weight on top of them. They quickly realized it was Creed, when a blow landed across their face, the cold sting of her spiked ring making their eyes water all the more.

"What the fuck Creed? What are you doing?" Ozzie yelped as Creed punched them again. She grabbed them by the collar, dragging them to their feet.

"Giving you what you fucking deserve," Creed growled through clenched teeth, her face eerily calm considering the rage behind her words and actions. Ozzie tried once again to escape Creed's iron grip, this time by biting into Creed's hand, the one that was holding gripping their collar. They scrambled away as soon as she released them, searching for and spotting their sword which was lying in the dirt nearby. They picked it up, turning to face Creed.

"So, is anybody gonna help me, or?" Ozzie said, looking to the other Careers. Surely they would help them, they'd see that Creed was the traitor here. Echo and Charlotte looked at each other, before standing and walking away, turning their backs on Ozzie. They turned to look at Terce, whose eyes were locked firmly on the fire in front of him.

"No help is coming, Ozzie. You're alone. " Creed said her voice eerily calm as she whirled her staff in her good hand.

"I'm not alone. Pedro?" Ozzie said, looking over their shoulder at the boy from District 4. They locked eyes, and Pedro shook his head, leaning against the wall of a nearby building with a disinterested look on his face. The blatant defiance hit Ozzie in the face as if they'd just had their head dunked in a bucket of cold water.

"Fine, I'll do it on my own. I don't need any of you." Ozzie shouted, making sure that everyone could hear them. Creed shook her head as she moved closer, lashing out with her staff. Ozzie blocked it, returning it with a swing of their sword, which Creed easily deflected. They continued like this for a few moments, one striking and partially landing the hit, but the other inevitably blocking the majority of the fight. Before long, both were covered in various cuts and wounds, despite this they were still at a stalemate.

That was, until Creed lunged for them, apparently sick of their cat and mouse game. Ozzie easily sidestepped this, sticking their foot out to trip Creed up. She stumbled hard, and Ozzie capitalized on this opportunity, reaching out and shoving their District partner down to the ground fully, her staff leaving her grip as she tumbled hard to the ground. She scrambled, flipping onto her back quickly, searching for her staff.

"It's the end of the line, Creed. Any last words?" Ozzie said, placing a boot on Creed's torso. Creed shook her head defiantly, instead, attempting to spit on Ozzie. "That was a mistake." They continued, chuckling at the utter disrespect. They positioned their sword over Creed's heart, pulling back to end it all. They couldn't believe how easily Creed was broken, they thought she had a little more mettle to her, however, she'd torn up everything, her alliance, her status, even giving up her life over what? Some kid from District 11, to whom she owed no loyalty to. Finally, all of Panem would see that Creed was nothing more than a puppet and that the real mastermind, the one pulling the strings was Ozzie.

But, before they could strike, a searing pain shot through their back. Then another jolt of pain ran through them. They dropped their sword, as they were grabbed and spun around, spun around to see the face of their attacker. It was Pedro, the one person they thought would never betray them like this. Is this where they died, how they died? How could they die such a death, betrayed by the one they trusted. The last thing they saw was Pedro winking at them before he slashed through their throat with a single clean cut, the immense pain coming and going in a split second as the darkness took over, a god amongst men falling by the hand of a man.

14th: Dyan Hopper, stabbed by Ozzie.

13th: Osiris Dallesandro, throat slit by Pedro.