AN: Well hello. It's been a real while, hasn't it? Life has been busy the last few months, but I'm back now and still fully committed to this story. Thanks for your patience, and let's continue where we left off with the Games.
Terrance Koda / 18 / District Four Male
Terrance was waiting for either a rush of adrenaline or a wave of remorse, but nothing came. It was the first life he had ever taken, a moment he always pictured in his head. Never did he think he'd feel so much nothing afterward, and it bothers him.
Was it because the boy didn't put up a fight? Was it because Ryba essentially donated the kill to him? Doesn't matter now, he thinks to himself. It's one less competitor vying for the crown, which brings him one step closer to his victory. All was going perfectly well, right?
That was until they saw Carissa Carson's image projected onto the wall later that night, the last of the day-one deaths. That alone was enough to convince the pair from Four to rush back to the lobby. Did she succumb to the wound Killian inflicted on her? What about Shae and Sett? Were any of the supplies or weapons taken? Controlling the Cornucopia strengthens their position significantly, especially when provisions are scarce.
By the time he and Ryba arrive at the fountain, the pair from One had already returned and were talking to a rather confused-looking Sett.
"We're gone for a few hours and this is what happens," Ryba mutters.
"Well, what the fuck happened exactly?" demands Terrance.
"Someone killed Carissa," Sett says in an uncharacteristically quiet voice. "I came running back as soon as I heard her screaming."
"And why did you leave? All three of you were supposed to guard the stockpile."
"I wanted to take a look around, get familiar with the surroundings. Shae had her own system going and there wasn't much to do."
"Where is she now?" asks Odile.
Sett shrugs. "She was nowhere to be found by the time I got back."
"She ditched us," says Ryba.
"We don't know that," Odile argues. "What if she went after whoever killed Carissa?"
"The way I see it, she'll either be back soon or dead," the girl from Four replies. "Or else it's pretty safe to say she ditched us."
"But would she do that this early?" asks Kian, the question apparently directed toward Sett.
"I don't really know her that well, alright? I'm as confused as you are."
"Look, we can't let ourselves fall apart because of this situation," says Terrance in a commanding tone. "Nothing changes still. Each person just has to carry more now that we're down to the five of us."
The remaining Careers begin stuffing supplies from the Cornucopia into their backpacks, to the point where the zippers are unable to close fully.
Once everyone is about ready, Terrance speaks up again.
"We made it through about 20 floors. Let's get some sleep now, but I want to reach the top tomorrow."
"Do we know how many stories there are in total?" asks Sett.
"No idea," replies Terrance. "Keeping that a mystery is probably part of the whole gimmick."
"And none of the elevators work, correct?"
"Correct."
"On the bright side, all the hotel rooms appear to be locked, so there won't be anywhere to hide," Odile adds.
"Right. It should be a straightforward sweep to the top then," says Terrance. "And hopefully there'll be fewer tributes alive by the time we get there."
Clairita Austria / 13 / District Five Female
"How are you feeling?" asks her district partner.
Claire adjusts her glasses. "I'm fine, I guess," she answers. "I just hope we're almost there."
The plan for them is simple: keep going up. They really have no choice, given that nearly all the floors featured the same basic hallway layout with no accessible places to hide. As for what the pair will do once they reach the top, assuming there's anything remarkable there, remains unknown.
"My heart's been beating out of control since we got here," says Claire. "I mean, just the thought that we can be killed at any moment…"
"Don't think like that," Dillan chides her. "If anyone is behind us, we'll hear them first. The echo in here is crazy loud."
It's true. The stairwell seems to amplify all the noises made within it. If other tributes were gaining on them, they would know. And the two are desperately hoping that they won't encounter anyone on the floors above.
"What happens once we get to the top?" Claire asks her district partner.
"Depending on what's there, we'll hopefully find somewhere to hide, at least for a little while. We definitely can't do that on these floors."
"And what if someone else gets there after us? We'll be trapped."
Dillan shrugs. "That's the way it is with this kind of arena. The same thing would happen if we went down from the lobby."
"They probably thought last year's Games were too slow," says Claire, "So now they're forcing us to run into each other."
The two reach the next floor up, as indicated by the large "40" etched into the wall right beside a metal door.
"Another ten…" whispers Claire.
"Do you want to take a break?" asks Dillan.
She shakes her head.
The two continue onward, trekking up flights of stairs in silence as they hope to find refuge at the top of the hotel tower.
Claire recalls past Hunger Games that took place in smaller, largely indoor arenas. Those tended to last mere days instead of weeks. Tributes died at a much quicker rate, and there was rarely any time for long periods of sleep.
She shakes the thoughts from her head.
The two continue their way up the stairs for some time, Claire wondering about what they'll find at the top of this tower if anything at all. At any rate, she's more worried about the other tributes who are no doubt also scaling the building. She and Dillan are lucky to have survived the Bloodbath and would do well to avoid any further contact with the others.
They reach the next floor expecting to see "49" carved into the wall, but instead find a set of metal double doors, each with a small window near the top.
"We're finally there," whispers Claire, jumping to see what's on the other side.
"What do you see?"
"It's nighttime, but I see some lights out there. Hard to see much, but doesn't look like anything's moving."
Dillan tries the door handle and finds it unlocked.
"You ready?"
She nods.
Calia Crossley / 16 / District Eight Female
Only 24 hours ago, Calia Crossley was far removed from the idea of killing. At most, she'd instinctively try to defend herself against an attacker and, perhaps by some good fortune, succeed. Yet here she is, less than a full day into the Games, and her hands are stained with the blood of a fellow outer, someone who posed no threat to her whatsoever.
"I murdered her," she whispered to Dawson in between stifled sobs.
He put a hand on her shoulder. "You didn't. The Capitol did."
Dawson wasn't wrong, but it did little to lighten the tremendous weight on her heart. This is not who Calia is – she's a caretaker, a girl who put whole her life aside to watch over her cousin. She has gone from sacrificing her time and energy for Cerin to this, and it sickens her.
"I tripped on something and when I got up… she was right there. I thought she was one of the Careers or something, so I reacted."
"Calia, I hate to say it, but even if you didn't…"
"She wouldn't have lasted long anyway?"
Dawson nods silently.
"And how long do you think we're gonna last? Her life is over because of me, plain and simple."
"It's not because of you—"
"I don't want to talk about this anymore," Calia says abruptly as she turns away.
The two sit in silence briefly before she speaks up again.
"So what's the plan now?"
"Realistically, all we can do is keeping going up," replies Dawson.
"And when we reach the top?"
Dawson shrugs. "Let's hope there's something useful up there. Or at least a good place to lay low."
Between the two of them, the only weapon they have is the knife Calia used during the Bloodbath. Calia had dropped the rest of her supplies when she tripped, though Dawson was rather fortunate in his choice of backpacks.
"Food and water shouldn't be an issue for some time," he says. "Plus, this is hardly the type of arena where they'd expect you to starve or die of thirst."
"I don't remember anyone actually dying like that in years."
"Doesn't make for great television, I guess."
Their voices echo uncomfortably loud in the stairwell, though Calia knows the same would be true for anyone else making a sound.
"The Careers are probably not far behind," she says. "We should keep moving."
Their legs were beginning to grow heavy, compounded with the mental fatigue from the monotony of climbing endless flights of stairs up floors that all look the same. Still, they pressed on, hopeful that whatever they'll find at the top of the hotel will improve their chances. As far as Calia can tell, Dawson won't shy away from fighting the Careers if left with no other choice, but the primary problem now was their lack of weapons. The small knife in her pocket may have been used to kill an unsuspecting girl from Eleven, but Calia doubts it'll be of much use when face-to-face with trained killers.
The pair from Eight turn another corner and this time, the stairs finally end, replaced by a set of steel double doors. Dawson rushes forward and peers through its windows.
"What's out there?"
"Looks like a lounge of sorts."
"Let's check it out then."
"Hold on," Dawsons says abruptly.
"What is it?"
"We're not the first ones here."
Corianne Venner / 17 / District Twelve Female
The pair from Twelve stand in awe at the scene before them: a lavish garden just outside the building, full of curving walkways, gleaming fountains, and vibrant flowerbeds glowing under warm lamplight. They'd been in the city for just over a week now, and a hint of nature was a welcome sight, even one as ostentatious and carefully curated as this.
Corianne had pulled Slate past the grand staircase in the lobby through a narrow corridor, confident that they should avoid going in the same direction as most of the other tributes. Their detour eventually led them to the back doors of the building, which opened to the garden.
"Shall we?"
"Just keep an eye out," replies Slate. "I can see them making this place the most dangerous part of the arena."
"We could always go back and take our chances with the Careers."
"Yeah, no thanks."
They step down and follow one of the winding paths further into the garden. Corianne sneaks a few glances at her district partner, attempting to gauge his current state of mind. He has this inexplicable allure to him, which she is beginning to be acutely aware of, despite realizing how inopportune all of this would be. But hey, if she has days if not hours to live, perhaps it's time to seize the moment.
"Hey Slate, can I ask you something?"
"Go ahead."
"The night before the Games, when we… kissed – did that mean anything to you?"
It takes him a moment before replying.
"I'm honestly not sure. I mean you're a great person and all, but we need to be realistic. Chances are we'll both be dead by the end of this thing and I'm just not sure if this… matter is something we should be worrying about."
What a runaround response. Corianne finds herself at a loss for words. Truthfully, she never thought she'd make it this far with him. Part of her, the rational part (or what's left of it anyway), tells her that this whole endeavor is misguided: falling for your district partner is just asinine, and everyone knows it. Yet some force is pulling her away from rationality and towards Slate Winter, a force she has no intention of resisting.
"Yeah, you're right," she replies, trying her best not to sound disappointed, "We shouldn't dwell on this."
The two are nearing the end of the garden, which leads to a small plaza with a lively fountain in its center. Emerging from the greenery, they look across the plaza and see a crowd of Capitolites gathered around an iron gate. They begin cheering as the pair from Twelve comes into view. Corianne notices one girl in the crowd holding a heart-shaped placard with her and Slate's names on it.
Many of the Capitolites are shouting over each other.
"You two look so cute together!"
"We love you!"
The two tributes look at each other, somewhat stunned by the presence of a live audience.
"Guess we should've expected this, given where we are and all…" says Slate quietly. "Do you wanna go any closer?"
"No," Corianne answers firmly, grabbing Slate's hand, "Let's turn back."
You don't love us, she thinks to herself. We wouldn't be in here if you did.
AN: So we're entering the second day of the Games now. This was a relatively tame (and shorter) chapter with no deaths, but I can tell you now that the next few will be quite different.
I also realized that my 4+ month hiatus was so severe that I even got booted from the SYOT discord!
Anyway, let me know what you think. Chapters after this will be longer.