Alliances

Careers: Cassie, Jason, Eydis, Murchad, Tyto
Lovers?: Santana, Rel
Survivalists: Brooke, Butch, Tessa, Matt
Business Partners: Ayla, Tesler, Eira
Furies: Liz, Tanya
Loners: Nebraska

Happy 2022 friends! Here's to hoping this year is a good one for all of you and me.

Naomi Weidman Head Trainer: 40F

Thursday Morning
Day 4: 7:00AM

Naomi hadn't altogether grown used to feeling this sort of affection. Laying in bed next to Valora was pleasantly unusual. She didn't know what to make of the stabbing pain in her heart, but Naomi decided it was a good feeling, despite the breathlessness she felt. Now, watching over Valora as she slept, Naomi realized that perhaps she had been wrong in her worldview for her entire life, not even realizing what exactly she was missing.

It was love that brought meaning to life, not whatever meager power she could gain. All her life, Naomi had only wanted to build herself to the highest possible station, but she was missing the most major component of happiness. She didn't know what it meant to truly feel for anyone, and Naomi realized just how important fulfilling her heart was truly.

As her eyes lingered on Valora's smooth mocha skin, she knew that this moment would remain forever ingrained in her mind while any memory of gaining a higher position would fade away. That was the honest truth that Naomi had only come to realize in the past few days: power changed hands like grains of sand falling in an hourglass, never staying in the same place for long. She could gain the Presidency of Panem and then lose it just as quickly. Power was only temporary, but love lasted forever.

Naomi stroked her fingers lightly through Valora's hair. It was the Head Gamemaker who taught her that, and Naomi herself wondered if Valora had come to the same realization as of late. Valora had always seemed somewhat depressed, as if the world weighed heavily upon her at all times. But she looked so peaceful when sleeping, and when she was awake and away from her job she seemed so happy. Maybe Naomi felt that way too but didn't notice.

Valora shifted softly, and her eyes fluttered open tiredly. She locked onto Naomi's gaze with smiling brown eyes. There was so much life in Valora. She looked so beautiful and vibrant. Naomi found herself thinking that she didn't want Valora to return to the soul sucking power game that was politics. Yet, she thought that while full-well knowing that she was returning to that hell today as well.

"Hey," Valora whispered. "What're you looking at?"

She sounded so cute when she was half asleep, her words slurring inarticulately.

"You're cute when you sleep," Naomi replied.

Valora hummed in thought, sounding more contemplative that she probably was while just waking up. She leaned herself up on her elbow and sighed.

"You okay?" Naomi asked, picking up on the subtle hints of pain lying beneath the surface of Valora's persona.

"Fine," she answered curtly.

Valora slowly pushed her naked body from the bed and entered the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Every pore of her body radiated discontent as Valora walked away. Naomi couldn't exactly determine what was wrong. It wasn't her fault as far as she was aware, but something was going on. Valora's actions indicated her troubled state of mind. Maybe it was because of work. Perhaps she was pondering the same questions Naomi was.

Naomi dressed slowly and in silence. Her mind could not depart from the questions she had surrounding the Capitol. She had never before considered that she might be on the wrong side of history, but maybe she was. What if she was the oppressor, not the provider as she first thought?

The Capitol was full of liars, and Naomi had known that the moment she decided to step into the political arena. However, Naomi hadn't considered the fact that there might be something deeper happening beneath the surface, but now that seemed to be an obvious fact. There was some sort of conspiracy lurking beneath the surface. Naomi could just feel it, only she had no idea what that conspiracy sought to achieve. Seemingly unreasonably Naomi felt that Valora was involved somehow. It would certainly explain why she appeared so depressed.

She spent the next twenty minutes or so preparing breakfast, omelets and pancakes, enough to maintain their hunger throughout the day. Valora stepped out into the central room just as Naomi took a bite from her omelet. Her face still betrayed a sense of suffering.

"I made breakfast if you're hungry," Naomi stated, her mouth full of eggs.

"I'll eat later," Valora replied softly as she paced over to the window and plopped down in an armchair.

Naomi turned around on her barstool to face Valora who didn't even acknowledge Naomi's questioning glance. It bothered her, knowing that Valora – the first person who had ever broken into Naomi's cold steel heart – was so far away, despite sitting just across the room.

"Valora," Naomi spoke, trying her best to sound understanding but failing miserably. "You need to tell me what's going on. You're obviously not okay."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Please," Naomi begged, taking another bite of eggs.

Valora merely sat in silence, lost in thought. Naomi sighed in frustration and swallowed her mouthful of food. Her fork clattered as she dropped it on the countertop and marched over to Valora's side.

Naomi dropped to a knee alongside the armchair and took hold of Valora's hand, rubbing her thumb up and down Valora's knuckles. Valora turned a deadened gaze in Naomi's direction, seeming to barely register her presence.

"Talk to me Val…" Naomi whispered desperately. "I can help."

Valora sighed and turned away from Naomi again, contemplating her response.

"No you can't," Valora said, voice breaking.

"What do you mean I can't? If you don't tell me what's wrong, then you don't know if I can help you or not."

Valora looked almost angry that Naomi attempted to use logic to make her speak.

"I know that you can't help me," Valora pronounced with certainty. "There's nothing you can do."

"What makes you so sure?" Naomi responded combatively. "I have more experience in Capitol politics than you."

"Because there's a difference between experience and knowledge, and you don't know what I know. You're in the dark Naomi. Almost everyone is, and the whole world is going to change. A few months ago, I thought that was a good thing but I'm not so sure anymore."

"What do you mean the world is going to change?"

"Just wait Naomi. In two months, the world you know will be gone, changed forever. Only, you won't know that. To you, we'll be living in the same old world we always were, but you'll be wrong."

"What does that mean? You're being too vague."

Valora smiled sadly and turned her gaze back to Naomi. Her beautiful brown eyes were just barely tinged with tears.

"If I told you, then you'd wake up alone tomorrow morning."

"Stay home today," Naomi pleaded. "For me, call in sick and stay home. If that's the kind of environment you're working in, you need to stay as far away as possible."

"Can't do that either."

"Stay home," Naomi said more sternly. "I'm not asking. Just take some time to clear your head, and we'll talk about it tonight, okay?"

"Sure," Valora responded absently.

Naomi kissed Valora's middle knuckle then stood, mirroring her girlfriend's sad smile. She walked out the door with a troubled mind and an even more troubled heart.

Jason Green District 2: 18M

Thursday Morning
Day 4: 8:00AM
Cornucopia

There hadn't been a death since the Bloodbath, and Jason was growing rather antsy. It wasn't really that he lusted for blood, but if people weren't dying, then Jason wasn't going home. That was the unfortunate reality of the situation he inhabited. For him to live, twenty-three people had to die. That was one hell of a trade to make.

"Do you have any idea what that was all about then?" Tyto asked. "It sounds crazy to me."

"I promise you it was one-hundred percent real," Cassie replied. "She moved the water with her hands."

"You said that last night," Jason jumped in. "I'm more interested in where she gained that ability."

"Wish I knew," Cassie said. "If I did I could maybe figure out a way to take her out."

"You know what worries me," Murchad said. "Wondering if anyone else is like Tanya now."

They all went silent at that moment. Jason himself hadn't considered that there could be more tributes out there like Tanya, tributes who could throw water around or who knew what else. Then again, Jason had a lightsaber, a tool which could dismember anyone who stood in his way with little effort required from him. But what if another tribute had abilities that made them even more dangerous than Tanya?

"That is worrying," Eydis murmured softly. "How do you think she got her ability?"

"It has to be part of the arena somehow," Jason said. "There isn't any other explanation."

"Sponsorship?" Tyto questioned.

"Doubt it," Jason replied. "Tanya hadn't proven herself capable of anything before yesterday. Not much reason to sponsor a tribute like that."

"What does that say about us then?" Murchad asked. "We haven't gotten any sponsor gifts."

"Says we haven't killed enough people," Cassie inserted bluntly.

Jason's eyebrows shot up, as did everyone else's. It was an unquestionably correct statement, if slightly on the brutal side. That seemed to be a talent of his district partner, the ability to make purely truthful remarks in the more unforgiving fashion possible.

"Let's remedy that today then," Jason stated resolutely. "What do you say Murchad?"

Murchad, who was to take his first turn on offense since his injury, looked eager to get involved in some action. But, behind that wide eyed gaze was a strong hesitancy. Jason saw Murchad's good-naturedness breaking into his ability to be effective right before his eyes. Murchad had killed Mila during the Bloodbath, quite brutally too. Perhaps he still hadn't gotten over it? Maybe he was just nervous after taking a few days off though. Either way, Jason was determined to get the most out of Murchad during their hunt today.

"I'm ready," Murchad said, putting on his best determined face. Jason knew it was an act. "At least I'll get to see what the rest of the arena is like. I'm tired of sitting around on my ass all day."

"Well, get your shit together and let's move," Jason ordered.

Murchad hurried off to the central fountain, gathering what supplies he needed for the day while the remaining careers stood in a silent circle. It seemed the days in the arena were beginning to weigh on them slightly. Every day they spent in this arena could be their last, and such closeness to mortality tended to bring down the mood.

"You should take Tyto too," Cassie spoke up.

"No," Jason replied immediately.

"If we're trying to take someone out today, you'll need the extra manpower," Cassie insisted.

"Tyto stays."

"Why?" Eydis asked. "Cassie's plan seems reasonable enough."

Jason grumbled to himself. He knew he wasn't technically the leader of their group, and he didn't have the power to dictate their actions. Nor did he want that power. In his mind, the group functioned best when everyone went about things in their own way, unimpeded by the chain of command. They would react faster that way, and handle business hopefully.

"I'll stay," Tyto stated, locking eyes with Jason knowingly.

He obviously remembered their conversation about trust, and Tyto quite frankly was the only one who Jason did trust.

"Fine," Cassie huffed. "I'll go then."

"You almost drowned yesterday Cassie," Jason said. "Stay and rest."

"I don't need to fucking rest," Cassie yelled. "We should all be out there. If we want to go home, we have to be more aggressive."

Jason smirked at Cassie's confidence. He enjoyed her unflinching faith in herself, but there wasn't a chance Jason was going to back down and leave the cornucopia in the hands of individuals he didn't trust. From now on, either Tyto or he was always going to be at the Cornucopia, and there would always be two others. It was safer that way, and Jason could be sure that the Cornucopia wouldn't be robbed blind by his "allies".

"I appreciate your commitment," Jason said. "But we need to stick to the plan. Stay patient. Murchad and I will get somebody today."

Cassie looked like she wanted to punch Jason. Jason hoped she wouldn't try that. He didn't want to fight her, as it would only damage their chances of thinning the herd. If they were both hurt, it wouldn't help anyone.

After a moment though, Cassie reigned in her frustrations and calmed down slightly. She stalked off towards the fountain with fiery eyes and clenched fists.

"What is wrong with you?" Eydis asked incredulously, turning towards Jason. "She's only trying to help, and you treat her like shit. You treat everyone like shit."

"We need to be practical Eydis," Jason replied calmly. "Feelings come second. The mission comes first."

"Nobody cares about the damn mission if they all hate each other!" Eydis shouted.

"Nobody hates anybody. I'm not your enemy just because I'm not your friend."

"Even if we're not friends, you could at least give us some respect."

"I do respect you, especially your ability to kill people. We're all pretty good at that."

"My value is not based on my competence Jason," Eydis muttered.

"It is now," Jason replied coldly. "The only thing that matters is getting to the end. It doesn't matter how you do it or who you hurt along the way."

"Well, I hope you can change if you do make it home, because kindness matters Jason."

"Sure," Jason shrugged off Eydis's frustration.

The angry district 4 girl rested a soft hand on the emerging Murchad. She whispered in his ear and gave Jason a dirty look. Eydis quite obviously did not trust or like him, which was okay. Jason did not particularly trust her either. Her relationship with Murchad compromised her.

"You ready Jason?" Murchad asked eagerly.

"I was waiting on you," Jason deadpanned.

Liz Adler District 6: 14F

Thursday Morning
Day 4: 9:00AM
Sector 1

The dreams were nothing but complex. She saw her final confrontation with her father over and over again. Liz saw her meeting with the hacker, and though she had never witnessed it in real life, she saw his arrest and execution as well. Had she killed him? Would that man have been discovered if Liz hadn't hired him to investigate her father?

Her dreams weren't the good kind. They didn't feel very comforting either. Liz could only feel despair, pain seeping deep into her bones and mind along with the lingering sense of guilt over the death of the hacker. Liz knew he probably wasn't a good man, but he didn't deserve to die, and it was her fault now that he was dead.

She shook and murmured to herself, almost able to envision her body in the real world. The vision of the moment she blacked out replayed before her mind. Pain erupted through her shoulder as Eydis's spear broke the skin and stabbed deep into the muscle. Eydis remembered her scream and then the numbness as she fell to the earth. The light faded slowly, as did her thoughts. Liz was not capable of comprehending any form of information other than pain.

And finally, she woke. She didn't wake quickly. Instead, it was slow, a bleary reemergence into the world where Liz found very little visible.

"Hey, you're awake," Tanya spoke happily. "How do you feel?"

Liz tried to speak, but her words came out as incoherent mumbling. She didn't feel great in all honesty, but at least she was awake and not dead. That was saying something considering that not so long ago Liz could see Eydis's spear on the other side of her chest.

"Here, drink."

Liz felt a small stream of water splashing over her lips and spilling down into her throat. Sweet relief absorbed her, and Liz drank greedily. As she did, gradually, her vision returned giving her a view of her surroundings.

Tanya fed water directly into her mouth from some nearby water source Liz couldn't see. They looked to be in a large courtyard like room. Trees stretched overhead, and above the trees was a mossy concrete ceiling. Fruits dangled from the branches of many-colored leaves. She could firmly say this place was unlike anywhere she had ever been before.

Liz sighed, relieved to have quenched her thirst. She sat up and found that the rest of the room was much like her smaller earlier view. A small river ran through the room, trickling softly around large rocks. Little flower petals floated on the surface of the water and a sweet smell of peach lingered in the air.

"How do you feel?" Tanya asked again resting a soft hand on Liz's shoulder.

"Where are we?" Liz replied, ignoring Tanya's question.

"Somewhere in Sector 1," Tanya answered. "I managed to escape Cassie and Eydis, and eventually I found this place. It's some kind of temple I think, but it's safe anyway."

"A temple?"

"There's all kind of iconography in here. Most of it actually looks kind of like my powers…"

Liz's eyes roved around the room, and she saw what Tanya meant. On each wall there was a figure carved into the rock, and each figure seemed to control some material. There was a woman bending flowing water in a wide spiral, a man that looked to be throwing giant rocks, another man launching fire from his fingers, and one last man floating atop a tornado of wind. The woman wielding the water did display the same abilities as Tanya. The other men showed completely different abilities, but they were of a similar nature.

Directly in the center of the room was one pillar, rectangular in shape, marked with symbols of each material wielded. It was large and brown with a green point atop it. Perhaps it was rather unremarkable but considering that this place was completely new to Liz, it did appear somewhat impressive.

"What does it mean?" Liz asked.

"Couldn't tell you," Tanya responded. "But if it's anything like the shrine back at the waterfall, there's definitely some booster around here."

If there was a booster granting any of the abilities shown on the walls around the room, Liz had to find it. After her near death experience, she knew she was not capable of standing up to the stronger tributes of the year. There was a chance she was actually the weakest of all the living tributes, and following her being impaled, she definitely was.

A booster could change all of that. Liz could become capable of taking on careers if she became a human flamethrower or something similar.

Liz pulled the collar of her jumpsuit down to view the wound. It was badly scarred but completely healed, and more spectacularly Liz felt no pain.

"How did…" Liz whispered to herself in wonderment.

"The water," Tanya answered. "It acts as a healing tool with the appropriate direction."

"Your powers can heal people?"

"More or less, but it's the water that heals, not me. I'm just the vessel it flows through."

"Yeah whatever," Liz waved her hand dismissively. She didn't particularly care for whatever mystical bullshit Tanya had discovered as a result of her empowerment.

Liz shoved herself to her feet with a grunt. She felt weak from blood loss, but considering the state she'd inhabited yesterday, Liz didn't find herself weak in any way.

"Hey, you need to rest," Tanya urged, grabbing Liz by the wrist. "You went through a lot yesterday."

"I'm fine," Liz replied stonily.

She jerked her hand out of Tanya's grip. The older girl seemed to have grown quite attached to her, which Liz found odd. One couldn't grow attached during the Hunger Games. Attachment equaled nothing but pain, betrayal, and heartbreak.

Her feet clunked lightly as she crossed a small red painted bridge over the little creek. Below the bridge was a tiny waterfall and a smattering of rocks and sand. It was quite the beautiful place, much prettier than anything in District 6. The Capitol spared no expenses for their death arenas.

Liz brushed her hand lightly against the green cap of the pillar. It was cold to the touch, almost metallic, but the instant Liz came into contact with it, the whole of the pillar vibrated. The shaking spread to the rest of the room with vigor, and Liz dropped to one knee as the pillar split into four pieces. Each side fell to the ground with a crash, the concrete shattering on the hard sand. Revealed beneath the structure was a more modern looking glass case. It was rectangular like the pillar, only it was open at the top. Inside the box, Liz saw a white EpiPen-like object. It looked just like Tanya's booster.

Without hesitation Liz snatched it from the case eagerly. Four symbols obviously meant to demark each of the powers shown on the walls were printed on the surface. There was the water, the fire, the earth, and the air.

As far as she remembered Tanya's booster showed only the water symbol, but this one showed all four.

Liz didn't particularly care what that meant. She only knew the booster would grant her some sort of ability, and she wasn't going to pass up the chance to build her strength back.

Liz pressed the EpiPen down into her skin just above the wrist. She felt only a small prick, then a sea of power engulfed her. It was like she held the world at her fingertips, capable of anything. Briefly she wondered how this was even possible, but that thought was cast aside as she reached into that well of power.

Feeling like she could do anything, Liz pictured the images around the room clearly in her mind and willed the world to bend to her will. Shockingly, it did, but only slightly.

A small chunk of rock broke from the ground beneath her feet and floated before her eyes, as did a drop of water from the creek. On her left pointer finger, a lick of flame leapt at the air greedily yet didn't burn her. On her right pointer finger formed a small airflow, noticeable only by the dust swirling circularly.

Tanya stood in shock, wide eyed and slack jawed. Liz smirked wildly, eyes flashing with excitement. She wouldn't be weak anymore.

Brooke Fisher District 7: 13F

Thursday Afternoon
Day 4: 11:00AM
Sector 4

Brooke hoped with all hope that there was any way out of Sector 4. This place was so unbelievably dangerous, and compared with previous arenas, it was on a completely new level. She was shocked that so few people had died thus far. If everywhere in the arena was just like Sector 4, Brooke did not have much faith that the games would continue longer than a week.

Yet, she and Tessa hadn't been killed. They had barely escaped multiple attacking beasts by the skin of their teeth, and Tessa was wounded in the last attack. Brooke tended to the slash on her friend's back as best she could, though Tessa was still weak, stumbling along with shaky legs.

There was little for them to do inside the arena other than wander along hoping to find a way to escape the danger and hoping the monsters wouldn't track them down.

Brooke peered at the slash along Tessa's back. She had used all of their bandages to cover the wound, even still, sticky red liquid congealed from underneath the bandage dripping down her black and gray jumpsuit and leaving it stained.

"You're bleeding again Tessa," Brooke stated resignedly.

She didn't want to stop, and she prayed those monsters couldn't smell blood. Deep down, a cynical voice told her that the monsters probably could and would be here in about ten minutes or so.

"I can make it a bit further," Tessa replied stubbornly.

"Make it to where?" Brooke asked sarcastically, stopping in her tracks. "There's nowhere to go, and there's definitely not a safe place to stay. So, how about you take a break and let me fix your bandage."

Tessa sighed and turned back to Brooke. She nodded with a grimace across her face, then dropped down to the ground directly – not even bothering to find a rock or log to sit on. Brooke shrugged and squatted down behind Tessa to attend the wound.

She gently prodded at the wound beneath the bandage, trying to reposition the cloth. It quite adamantly remained just where it was much to Brooke's annoyance. Tessa hissed in pain as Brooke dragged the bandage across the gash roughly.

"Sorry," Brooke whispered sheepishly.

"Just finish up," Tessa grumbled through clenched teeth.

"Doing my best…"

The unfortunate circumstance was that the bandage was effectively useless at this point, overused from holding back the blood. It was better to keep the meaningless piece of cloth in place, as at least it would prevent infection – hopefully. What Tessa needed was a fresh bandage, many days' worth of fresh bandages at that.

Brooke's head shot up from Tessa's back, eyes flicking around the shadowy forest. There had been a sound, a cracking of branches, Brooke was sure. They were not alone anymore. It seemed the cynical part of her mind had been rather conservative in its estimation.

"We need to move," Brooke whispered, drawing her knife in preparation for conflict.

"What's wrong?" Tessa asked.

"Come on," Brooke urged, tugging on Tessa's sleeve.

There were always monsters hunting for them. They never went away and never was their hunger satiated.

"Tessa?" A voice questioned from behind. "Is that you?"

Brooke stopped in shock at another human voice. It had only been a few days since she'd heard other humans, but those few days felt like an eternity. Tessa reacted slowly, turning with glazed eyes and rapidly departing strength. Brooke thought she would pass out, but Tessa hung on with whatever will was left in her.

"Holy shit," The voice whispered, then Brooke felt Tessa tug out of Brooke's grip.

Brooke whirled about, prepared to fight, but what she saw had her slumping in relief. Matt Scotch dashed towards Tessa and embraced his wife knees buckling.

Husband and wife wept together, at last reunited. Matt looked surprisingly clean, considering he was in the woods of Sector 4, a place where one couldn't help but be covered in grime. They dropped to their knees almost simultaneously, crying all the same.

Then, Brooke almost felt herself cry as Butch Pelt appeared in the small clearing just after Matt. Butch locked eyes with Brooke, the only person who brought her any kind of happiness in the world. Brooke was glad she could be that to Butch, but she was even gladder that Butch was standing before her.

Brooke slammed into Butch wrapping her arms tightly around the tall girl's waist.

"You're alright," Brooke sighed, relief pouring from her soul.

"You look like hell," Butch remarked as they broke apart.

The ranch hand ruffled Brooke's hair lovingly. Brooke blinked away the tears tinging the corners of her eyes while Matt and Tessa still refused to let go of each other.

"Are you okay?" Butch asked. "What happened to Tessa's back?"

Brooke felt reality slap her in the face. It slapped her so hard that her head was redirected towards Butch's face.

"Have you found anywhere safe?" Brooke spoke in a rush.

"Safe?" Butch replied incredulously. "We haven't been anywhere that wasn't boring. Are you telling me you're tired of the woods already?"

"Where? Where was safe?"

"Sector 2 and Sector 3," Butch answered. "What's going on Brooke?"

"We're not safe here. We need to get the hell out now."

"Why?"

"This place is crawling with mutts – zombies, demon things with mutated arms, and at least one werewolf."

Butch was completely silent for one moment, only staring in shock. Matt finally broke away from Tessa, who leaned on her husband in sweet relief.

"You're serious?" Butch asked.

"Yes, and we need to go wherever you were that was safe."

Butch nodded resolutely.

"Alright then," Butch addressed them all, trying to take control of the mostly incoherent group. "Come on lovebirds. Let's get a move on."

"What's wrong?" Matt asked.

"This place is too dangerous to stay," Brooke insisted. "There're mutts everywhere. We'll be lucky if we don't run into any in the next hour."

"Is that what happened to your back?" Matt asked Tessa softly. He really did care for her, even if he was rough around the edges.

"Demon claw," Tessa nodded. "It hurts like shit."

"Let's not stand around talking please," Brooke said, frustrated.

"Agreed," Tessa said. "Where are we going?"

"Come on," Butch gestured for them to follow her. "We'll get back to last night's camp."

About thirty minutes later, and – much to Brooke's shock – without a single monster attack. They stood before a purple swirling portal ringed with gold. It was just like the portals back at the Cornucopia. Just along the top of the oval was an inscription. 'Sector 4', it read.

Butch walked through first with Matt and Tessa just behind. Brooke brought up the rear. Instantaneously, like nothing had even happened, Brooke was standing just outside a small cave. Their surroundings were nothing like the dark and ominous Sector 4 forest. She saw the ocean, a real ocean, or at least a lake so large that it appeared to be an ocean.

The portal indicated they were now in Sector 3, a completely different world. Fresh sea breeze lingered over the rocky outcropping and chirping of colorful birds echoed around them.

"What?" Brooke murmured to herself.

Tessa gazed around, inhaling the air gratefully. Brooke couldn't blame her for her reaction either. Sector 4 was suffocating, the arena's heart of darkness.

"I'm not sure how the portals work exactly," Butch said. "But you can travel between sectors when you step through them."

"It's like we're on a different continent, a different world even," Tessa whispered.

Matt chuckled to himself, as if Tessa made a joke she herself didn't even understand.

"You're safe now," Butch said with a kind smile.

Brooke's smile turned cynical, and she wondered briefly at her own transformation in such a short time. She was happy, but she was naïve. The Hunger Games had broken that misunderstanding. The world was much darker than she had thought.

"We're in the Hunger Games," Brooke returned. "Nowhere is safe."

Murchad McNamara District 4: 18M

Thursday Afternoon
Day 4: 1:00PM
Sector 4

Just through the trees was a rather simplistic cabin. There were no windows, but there was smoke rising from the chimney. Also, only a few minutes ago, Ayla had wandered outside, staring over the cliff with a troubled expression across her face.

Murchad had wanted to jump her then when she was vulnerable and alone, yet Jason insisted that they wait. Any noise they made would alert Ayla's allies of their presence, and if they ran outside it would be much more difficult to pin them in and take them out. Jason explained a riskier approach that involved entering the building from two angles, the duelist cutting through the wall with his lightsaber and Murchad barging through the front door. Hopefully, they would be pinched between the two opposing angles of attack and be left with nowhere to run.

Rather annoyingly, Ayla remained outside, staring over the cliff. Murchad watched her practically shaking with anticipation. This was his whole life, and he had trained for this ever since he had the money, though he dreamt of this moment long before then. To be here in the moment was exhilarating beyond belief.

Jason sat, his back against a tree, the picture of stillness and calmness. Murchad wasn't sure how he held his emotions in check with such authority, not exactly. He suspected, on some level, that Jason just didn't interact with emotions in the same way most people did. To him, they seemed like obstacles, while to Murchad they were fuel.

He couldn't live without the rush of adrenaline, the slight hint of fear, and the overwhelming desire to seek adventure. Jason, it seemed, was perfectly content to sit back and clinically dispatch his enemies without so much as a complaint.

"Might as well relax," Jason commented. "It could be a while."

Murchad sighed, leaning back against a tree but still standing. He wasn't willing to completely relax, nor was he really capable of that.

Moments later, he saw Ayla shifting and straightened up again, his hand clenching around the shaft of his spear. Ayla did not move, despite Murchad's antsy demeanor.

He heard Jason snort lightly, imagining the monumental eyeroll taking place. Sucks for you Jason, Murchad just couldn't stand still.

Perhaps it was time to just get in there and get the job done. They could at least get one kill on the board if they rushed in now. Ayla wouldn't be able to get away from both of them. The other two might have a chance, but Murchad figured they could take on two under armed and untrained tributes.

"Come on," Murchad muttered to himself.

"Just wait…"

It was almost thirty minutes until Ayla walked away. To Murchad it felt like thirty years. She walked calmly, fixing her gaze almost directly on them, like she knew they were coming but couldn't see them. Ayla stopped and peered harder, while Murchad went stock still, ducking behind a tree. Jason remained casual as ever.

Finally, her roving eyes drifted away, and with a shake of her head, Ayla returned to the cabin. Murchad breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

"Ready?" He asked Jason eagerly.

"Let's go," Jason replied, grunting as he pushed himself to his feet.

Murchad's heart raced faster and faster while they got closer and closer to the inevitable conflict. He could hear voices through the door as Jason quietly made his way to the left wall. His companion raised up five fingers, signaling for five seconds. Each one dragged by, and Murchad placed his hand lightly on the doorknob, his spear held in his other hand. A spear wasn't the best weapon to use inside a small space, but Jason's lightsaber was perfect. The blade would cut through anything in its way, and the group inside would be forced towards Murchad – who would only have to shove the tip of his spear through them.

Jason ignited his lightsaber and made two large slashes along the wall in the shape of an X. He planted a strong boot on the intersection of the cuts, slamming through the wall with force. Murchad took that as his que and threw the door wide open.

Inside, the cabin was filled with all kinds of sharp tools and odd vials. Murchad wasn't sure exactly what any of the tools or the vials was supposed to do, but they did look mildly dangerous.

He spotted Eira near the back of the room, shouting in fright and reaching for the nearest tool – a framing hammer in this case. Tesler too stood near the back of the room, whipping around with calculating eyes as the two careers barged into their house. He held a wicked looking handsaw in the fingers of his right hand.

Then, without warning, Murchad was slammed aside by an angry Ayla. She came from his right side, totally unnoticed by the District 4 career. Murchad grunted as he was slammed into the wall. Ayla's fist flew toward his face, and Murchad only just managed to block the blow with his forearm leaving the shaft of the spear between himself and Ayla.

Jason swung his lightsaber with perfect precision, sending Eira and Tesler scattering. More gaping orange holes were opened in the walls as Jason attacked, like wounds on the skin they bled tears of melted wood. Tesler picked up the blade of a circular saw from the table along the right wall and hurled it at Jason's face. The sawblade was sliced in half as Jason brought his lightsaber up to guard his head.

Murchad turned his attention back to Ayla and shoved outward with as much strength as he could muster. Ayla stumbled backward and took a hand axe from her belt in preparation for more serious combat.

The tip of the spear flew outward towards Ayla's gut. She blocked the attack with the handle of the ax, using it as a hook to redirect the thrust. Murchad twisted around and struck Ayla across the face with the butt of the spear. She grunted and stumbled backward towards the door.

He attacked again, going for Ayla's knee this time. She jumped back, then rushed forward as the spearhead passed her by. Murchad redirected the attack to thrust at Ayla's neck. She ducked quickly, hiding her head. Though, only a moment later, her leg was kicked out from beneath her. Murchad's sweep sent Ayla to the ground, landing heavily.

Murchad turned and attacked Ayla from her side instead of in the direction of her feet. He was just in time to witness the cruel red blade in Jason's hand literally cleave Eira's body in half at the waist. The smell of burning flesh and melted blood vessels immediately filled the air while the light left her eyes. She didn't even scream. There was no reaction as the nerves in her spine were severed. Eira's legs collapsed, and her torso flopped to the floor.

Jason attacked Tesler with vicious intent, but the oldest tribute of the year ducked aside and launched another object at Jason. This time it was a hammer, and it crashed into Jason's saber hand. The blade fell from his hand, but with an impressive reaction, he caught it in his left hand. Just as Tesler rushed Jason with the handsaw, Jason whipped the blade back up. It burned right through Tesler's arm at the elbow. The saw and Tesler's arm flew across the room while a cry of pain escaped Tesler.

Murchad jammed his spear toward Ayla, who rolled away from the attack. The head of the spear buried itself in the planks of the floor, splintering the wood. She propelled herself to her feet with shocking speed while Murchad wrenched the spear free of the wood.

Behind him, he heard the buzzing sounds of the lightsaber, then a shout of surprise and pain from Jason. Murchad turned towards his companion only to be punched directly in the chest by Murchad.

Murchad had been punched plenty of times in his life. Most of the time, he received the blow in the head or the gut. When you punched someone, you wanted to attack the vulnerable areas of the body, not the chest. The chest was all muscle and bone, no squishiness or vulnerability. Yet, despite all that, Tesler's punch was by far the hardest punch Murchad had ever felt in his life. It was like being hit by a ton of bricks, and not just figuratively. It literally felt like a ton of bricks was dropped on his chest simultaneously.

With a whoosh, every last bit of air rushed from Murchad's lungs. He was hurled backward bodily, smashing through the wall and tumbling through the dirt. Every impact with the ground only reinforced the pain, elbows scraping, knees grinding, and head slamming, into the earth again and again.

At last, he came to a stop, gasping for breath, but no air came. His chest heaved up and down as Murchad tried to inhale desperately. His head pounded; his knees and elbows bled. Then, finally the air returned. He drank it in gratefully like soup.

With oxygen returning to his brain, Murchad actually had time to wonder how the hell Tesler just punched him back through a wall. Eydis and Cassie said Tanya could manipulate water. Did Tesler have super strength? That was the only explanation.

He sat up and pulled down his jumpsuit to reveal a deep purple bruise on his chest. It hurt like shit still, but at least it wasn't as bad as being stabbed in the back.

Jason's face appeared in his vision as he glanced back toward Murchad. He watched conflicting expressions cross Jason's face as he debated what to do. Maybe Tesler and Ayla got away?

Murchad waved his hand, gesturing for Jason to continue with whatever he was doing, then flopped back down again. He inhaled and exhaled rhythmically, trying to regain his stamina and composure while Jason dashed into the woods after the disappearing one-armed man and the conflicted cliff overlooker.

Yet again, Murchad was temporarily out of commission. He was in pain and wishing he had done more to help in the fight. But he hadn't, and he wasn't going to be able to accomplish much else today. Murchad sighed, closing his eyes and embracing the pain.

Nebraska Wilmington District 6: 16M

Thursday Afternoon
Day 4: 3:00PM
Sector 3

Nebraska crawled in through the window, landing on the carpet in complete silence. He was in a bedroom with a four-poster bed and colonial era furniture. There were two gold candelabras atop a dresser, flames flickering. He wasn't sure he understood exactly why the candles were lit, given that it was the middle of the day and quite bright outside.

This house, as it was actually one of the few houses Nebraska had found in Sector 3, was the largest one of all. Not so long ago, Nebraska observed a fat balding man and a tall pretty woman entering the house. They were well-dressed and obviously wealthy, or as wealthy as one could be in the Hunger Games arena if a paid actor.

He was growing quite tired of stealing meal after meal, and he hadn't eaten dinner last night or breakfast this morning. So, Nebraska decided he would be best off stealing some money to buy his meals with. Hopefully it wouldn't take too long. He would be in and out like a flash, and no one would even know he was here.

Now, Nebraska was glad for all his years of street thieving and drug dealing back in District 6. He could steal with the best of them, and he wasn't sure whether he should be proud of that fact or not. Regardless, his deft fingers and light-footedness only helped now.

After a quick search, he found nothing in any of the drawers other than neatly folded dresses. Obviously, the room was a woman's – young or old, Nebraska couldn't tell. A dress could fetch a decent price if he sold it, but it was a rather conspicuous object to carry around. Nebraska was looking for something smaller that he could fit in a pocket, jewelry or coins would do.

Wouldn't jewelry be in a woman's room?

Nebraska performed a closer inspection of the room, finding the closet door slightly ajar. He pushed it open to find more clothes hanging up. Why did one person need so many clothes?

However, on top of another dresser, Nebraska found a small portable cabinet, and inside were pearl necklaces, diamond earrings, and lots of gold rings and bracelets. This was more like it. He snatched up a few rings – of both the finger and ear varieties – and a few necklaces. He steered clear of the bracelets because they were slightly too large to pocket easily.

Feeling quite pleased with himself, Nebraska crept quietly out of the closet. He wasn't arrogant enough to think that he could escape completely casually, and he maintained his stealth as best he could.

He approached the window and was just preparing to climb through when he heard a gasp of fright. Nebraska turned slowly to find a young woman standing in only a fuzzy bathrobe. She was probably slightly older than him with pale skin and long dark hair. Her eyes were a faint blue, almost gray, and they were both wide and shocked.

Nebraska stared, like a deer caught in the headlights. The girl stared back, her mind fighting to regain control of her basic faculties. They stood there, caught in a standoff for a long moment.

Eventually, it was Nebraska who reacted first. He jumped through the window as quickly as possible.

"Father!" The girl cried out. "Somebody broke in!"

"Shit…" Nebraska muttered to himself as he scrambled up the roof and across it.

He knew he probably had about thirty seconds before the father would catch on to his trail. It would probably be another thirty seconds after that for the father to map out and act on a plan. The father would likely grab some kind of gun – a pistol probably – gather whatever servants or security he had at his house, and chase Nebraska down.

That meant he had maybe one minute to escape or hide. The father would probably expect him to make a dash back for the city center to lose his pursuit in the crowd. So, perhaps his best option was to jump off the back porch and make for the stables in the back yard. He could steal a horse then too. Selling the horse would give him enough money to last the rest of his time in the arena. Though, much like with the dresses, a horse would be quite conspicuous.

Nebraska clambered down the side of the house and sprinted for the stables. The horses barely seemed to notice him as he entered through the door. Nebraska could hear the father's shouting behind him, and he peered back through the bars on the door. The horses snorted and snuffled but did nothing more than swish their tails aimlessly.

One man burst through the back door, pistol in hand, and anger written all over his face. He was followed by four other men, each bigger and buffer than the fat balding man at the head of the group.

"We'll use the horses to track him down, we'll cover more ground than on foot," the father said, spittle flying from his lips.

"Shit…" Nebraska swore again.

He wheeled backwards, eyes flying around in search of another exit. There were other windows, but they were all barred, and the bars were definitely too small to fit through. He could get on one of the horses and simply try to escape, but the men coming for him had guns. Nebraska would be shot off the back of the horse.

Nowhere to run then, but there was probably somewhere to hide. Nebraska dashed to the back of the stable and entered the stall on the right. Inside, there was one horse, a black one, but there was little else. Except, there was a big pile of hay in the corner.

"Not much choice I guess," Nebraska whispered resignedly.

He dove into the hay pile and quickly buried himself, trying to keep the hay inside the pile as much as possible. The stable door slid open while Nebraska completed the process of covering himself in hay. It smelled awful, and made him itch fiercely, but at least he was hidden. If all went well, he would remain so.

Men rushed to the different stalls grabbing and saddling horses as quickly as possible. One man, extremely tall and terrifying, stalked his way right past Nebraska who held his breath tightly under the hay.

The man strapped the saddle onto the black horse, then he looked up suddenly as if he heard something. Nebraska's heart beat even faster, and he felt certain the man had discovered him.

The man turned from the horse and peered right at Nebraska. He sat completely still, holding his breath and silently hoping the man would turn away.

"Oi get out here you fucking cock!" An angry roar came from outside the stable.

The man stared at the pile of hay for a moment longer, still not finding Nebraska.

"I'm coming!" He shouted back, then led the horse from the stall.

As soon as the man and the horse rounded the corner, Nebraska let out a sigh of relief. He heard the gaggle galloping away into the distance.

Nebraska burst through the hay and leaned back against the stable wall, allowing his heartrate to slowly decrease. That had been just a little too close.

He would probably be safest if he stayed here in the stable for the foreseeable future. The men searching for him would not look here, meaning that he was best off waiting in the stable for as long as possible. Maybe he could disappear as soon as the men returned. He could hide outside or climb up on the roof again. Either way, he was safe to wait inside the stable for now. At least he wouldn't be found here.

Rel Imperatore District 10: 18M

Thursday Evening
Day 4: 6:30PM
Sector 3

Rel could firmly state at this point that The Flying Dutchman was literally the worst place he had ever been in his life. He despised the ship, he despised the crewmen who spat on and disrespected him, he despised Davy Jones and his cruel arrogance, and he despised the fact that Santana was locked in the brig most of all.

He was obviously still alive, as his face and name hadn't flashed in the sky last night during the anthem, so perhaps there was still a chance for them to escape this alive. There were multiple obstacles standing in the way of that escape though, first of which was the crew. They had to fight their way through a crew of twenty-three men, which was probably impossible.

Then, there was the small matter of their location. Neither of them knew how to sail a ship and they were in the middle of the sea. Jumping over the side into the swelling waves would only spell doom for them. There would be no escape from the ship, not unless it made port, and these guys didn't look like they made port too often.

Rel grumbled to himself as he tied off yet another knot. It hadn't taken long for the crew to determine that Rel was pretty much incompetent on a ship. He only had basic knowledge of a few things, nowhere near enough to be regarded as supremely useful on the ship.

More shouts were directed his way by Sharky, asking him to secure the tack line. That was rather fortunate, as if the tack line was tied down it meant they would be travelling straight for at least a little while. If they were travelling in a straight line, then there would be less work for him to do.

He wound the rope in a figure eight, tightening the line down as he went. It wouldn't budge an inch, Rel was confident.

Then, the constant shouting on board the ship became almost panicked. Rel glanced back to see Sharky and a few of the other fishmen dashing below deck. Written all over their faces were the expressions of excitement, looking much like they did yesterday when capturing and harassing the crew.

"Rel!" The angry spat echoed in his ears. It could only have come from one man. Only one fish on this boat possessed that level of vitriol.

Davy Jones stalked out of the captain's cabin and jerked his head, signaling for Rel to follow him.

"What is it?" Rel asked.

"Does it matter? Follow me boy."

Jones stomped back inside the cabin, and Rel followed reluctantly, not wanting to anger the giant octopus man. He felt quite confident that Davy Jones could dissect Santana in a sword fight, and probably not because Jones's technique was incredible. Santana's technique was not excellent, but he fought with passion and anger, rather unlike Jason who fought clinically and coldly. Rel expected Jones was much the same as Santana.

"Your friend escaped the brig," Jones stated as they entered. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

The captain's cabin wasn't really a cabin. There were no amenities, and it was mostly open except for a giant pipe organ built into the back wall. Rel couldn't fathom how the Dutchman sailed while carrying that monumental weight along with all the other cargo on board.

"I don't know anything about that," Rel answered. "I haven't seen Santana since I joined your crew."

Jones harumphed and stalked toward the organ, eyeing the keys almost wistfully. Rel cocked an eyebrow, slightly surprised to see that expression on his face.

"Why am I here?" Rel asked.

"The crew will find Santana, and when they do, they'll bring him here," Jones said scornfully. "Then, I'll kill him, and you will watch."

"I'm here to watch him die?"

"No, you're here to ensure he doesn't do anything foolish."

Foolish? Santana would never…

The fish crew barged into the cabin with attitude. They were all there, at least half spilling out the door and onto the deck. Santana was shoved forward, his new clothes ripped and torn, his red hair all askew. Yet, still, Santana was unshakable, eyes alive with fire.

"What's up Davy baby?" Santana greeted with a manic smile. Rel knew that face, and he knew that foolish thing Jones thought Santana would do was coming.

Rel wished he had a weapon in hand just in case things went sideways.

"You thought you would make a grand escape?" Jones asked tentacles flapping wildly.

"I did technically," Santana smirked.

"A lot of good that did you. Now you get to die."

Jones drew his cutlass and stalked toward Santana, but the redhead had a trick of his own. He reached inside his jacket and whipped out a small cloth bag, holding it up before his face for Jones to see clearly.

Jones's eyes went wide, and he stumbled back in shock. Rel's eyes locked on the bag, slightly confused. There was just a hint of a rhythmic thumping coming from whatever dangled in Santana's hand.

"Open it," Jones spoke lowly and threateningly.

Santana tipped the bag over, and out of the sack tumbled – no shit – a living beating heart. It fell into Santana's hand and continued its endless thumping.

The rest of the crew scrambled back in fright, and Santana held the heart like it was an emperor's crown. That object somehow made him the all-powerful lord of this ship.

"Where did you find that…infernal thing?!" Jones cried.

"An old crewman told me about it," Santana said. "He had been he so long that he'd grown into the wall of the ship. He told me I could find it in the cargo hold, and he told me it was yours."

Jones seethed in silence. How could that be his heart? That wasn't possible…was it?

"He told me if I stabbed the heart you'd be killed."

"You…you…" Jones stuttered, trying to make sense of the furious anger flying around his head.

Jones stomped across the room shockingly quickly and clamped hold of Rel's arm with his crab claw hand. He jerked back against Rel, while the bullslayer hissed in pain. Jones had one hell of a grip.

Only a moment later cold steel pressed up against Rel's throat. He could feel blood beading on his skin. Rel gulped down hard, fighting to remain in control of himself. He couldn't stand here as Jones's captive, helpless to fight back. Rel needed to find a way to turn on Jones. Maybe he could take his sword…

"Put that down," Jones ordered. "Or I slit his throat."

"How will you do that if you're dead?" Santana asked.

"If you stab that, your heart must take the place of mine," Jones replied, trying to steer Santana off his course of action.

"The Dutchman must always have a captain. I know. My soul would be bound to the ship for eternity and I would only be able to go ashore once every ten years, but I don't plan on remaining here for ten years."

"Put that down," Jones reiterated.

"It's kill or be killed Davy baby, and I'm not dying today."

Santana lifted the heart in his hand and – because he didn't have a weapon apparently – sunk his teeth into the beating muscle. Jones screamed and fell back to the floor, tentacles writhing in manifestation of the pain. He gave one last great gasp, and then died.

Santana spat the heart all over the floor, his lips and chin soaked in red. The crewmen reeled back in shock, eyes lingering over Santana and wondering what to do. Rel rushed towards Santana and enveloped him in a tight hug.

Somehow, with all his foolishness, Santana had managed to get them out of the deadly situation, or mostly at least. He would be forced to remain aboard the ship, but it was better to be locked in place than to be dead.

Santana pulled away from Rel, then planted his lips firmly against those of the bullslayer. Rel felt the sticky blood cover his face, but he didn't care because they were alive – alive and now with a whole crew of angry fishmen to serve as their soldiers.

Ayla Ithico District 3: 17F

Thursday Night
Day 4: 10:30PM
Sector 4

They couldn't start a fire, and they couldn't stop to rest. A fire would draw every monster within miles and stopping to rest would incur the same problem. Any monster would find their location, swiftly attacking.

She was still reeling from the earlier fight with the careers. They had killed Eira, who was far from an innocent little girl, but she didn't deserve to die. Seeing her name flash in the sky was a stark return to reality. They had been lucky the past few days, and they all escaped each conflict with their lives, but today reminded Ayla that Death would remain forever on her tail.

She saw him in her dreams again, and the red blade scythed through the air just like Jason's sword of light had. She had never considered the possibility that such a weapon could exist. Neither had Ayla ever thought it would be possible to launch another human fifty feet through the air with just a single punch. Tesler needed to tell her how he accomplished that.

Speaking of her district partner, he shuffled along behind Ayla, head bowed weakly but soldiering on, nonetheless. Perhaps it was because of the heat of the lightsaber that Tesler wasn't bleeding too terribly. It could have partially cauterized the wound. His jumpsuit sleeve was wrapped around the stump of his left arm to prevent any dirt from infecting the wound. Though now, the slow drip of blood had soaked the sleeve a dark red.

They had managed to elude Jason's pursuit earlier in the day. By now, he must have given up, figuring it to be too dangerous to stay in the monstrous woods for any longer than was absolutely necessary. At least they didn't have to deal with him currently, though there was plenty else to worry about.

"Stop Ayla," Tesler spoke weakly from behind her.

She wondered how exactly he was still walking. It was probably due to whatever magic made him able to blow Murchad back through a wall.

"We need to keep going Tesler," Ayla said. "You know what happens if we stop."

"Pretty soon, I'm going to fall over."

A low growl came from the woods. It was a cruel sound, a sound Ayla had heard before.

"We need to go," Ayla insisted.

Tesler turned his head toward the growling, then walked fearlessly into the foliage, saw clenched tightly in his one remaining hand. Only a second later, Ayla heard a screeching and a hacking sound. It was definitely the sound of Tesler's blade hitting pay dirt.

She sprinted into the branches after him, hoping that he wasn't going to get himself killed. But, Ayla had seen Death before the demise of Eira and before the demise of tributes during the Bloodbath. She didn't see Death here.

Tesler swung his saw in a wide arc toward a partially beheaded red demon. The serrated blade split right through the neck, and the head toppled to the ground with a thump. Tesler extended the stump of his arm toward the demon, then realized that he had no hand a moment later.

"Can you hold up his arm?" Tesler asked.

Ayla huffed, then took hold of the demon's hand and lifted it up. Tesler planted his foot on the shoulder and hacked the arm at the elbow. It sliced through impossible easily, further showcasing Tesler's abilities – whatever they were.

Tesler dropped the saw on the ground and flopped back against a nearby tree with a sigh. He sipped from his waterskin and then picked up the clawed demon forearm, holding it out to Ayla.

"What do you want me to do with that?" Ayla asked incredulously, eyeing Tesler like he'd gone insane.

"Sew it onto my left arm. You can use the stuff in my backpack I took from the cabin."

Ayla could not figure out how to respond. There was nothing reasonable to say in reply to a request like that. Tesler was definitely too smart to think that sewing another arm onto his own arm would give him use of that new arm.

"I-" Ayla stumbled over her words, still not having any answer to Tesler.

"Just do it," Tesler commanded, extending the arm again.

"But it won't work, you know that."

"Just trust me okay. I can't explain now… too…" Tesler sighed, apparently exhausted.

He shrugged the pack off his shoulders and unzipped it, withdrawing a single corked glass vial. It was filled with blue liquid that seemed almost to glow.

"Once you stitch it on, make me drink half, and pour the other half on the stitching…" Tesler's breathing was laborious, but he was still firmly alive.

"Wh-"

"Please Ayla," Tesler spoke slowly, obviously expending a great deal of strength to talk. "I know I haven't given you much reason to, but please… trust me."

He slumped back deeper against the tree and his eyes closed. Ayla panicked momentarily, pressing her fingers to his neck. His pulse was weak, but he was alive and hopefully would remain so.

How the hell was this going to work?

"Asshole," Ayla grumbled to herself.

She took out the needle and thread, then started on the process of connecting the arm to the demon claw.

It was slow messy work, and Ayla questioned repeatedly the purpose of her actions. This surely couldn't do a damn thing. The darkness in the woods made it even more difficult, as she had only the low light of the blue serum to work by.

The needle worked its way in and out of the two separate skins, gradually attaching them by thread. Yet, they still didn't bond together – obviously, the sarcastic part of Ayla's mind reminded her.

"Yeah, yeah," Ayla muttered.

She dropped the needle and picked up the vial. Uncorking the liquid, a putrid smell escaped, slapping Ayla forcefully across the face. She fought off the urge to vomit. Maybe Tesler would wake up just because of how bad the serum tasted.

Ayla did just as Tesler asked and poured half the liquid over his arm. Smoke rose from the skin of both the demon claw and Tesler's arm. It sizzled loudly like bacon cooking in a pan, again making Ayla want to vomit. The rest of the vial went down Tesler's throat.

He didn't wake, but his face did visibly tense. Apparently the serum did taste as bad as it smelled, so bad that Tesler could taste it while unconscious.

Ayla watched in awe as the sizzling skin of the forearm melted into the sizzling skin of Tesler's arm. It was a slow process, achingly painfully slow, but she couldn't take her eyes away. An ugly scar formed along the line of the stitches, bonding the claw onto the limb.

The new look was extremely odd, as the forearm was actually larger than Tesler's upper arm and substantially longer than Tesler's normal right arm. She traced a finger over the scar tissue and shook her head. A demon's arm was now Tesler's new arm.

They had been through a lot together, the two of them, and it seemed their time together was not over. Ayla was glad of that.

Eulogies

17th Place: Eira Carielle District 5: 15F: LittleAvery22
"The good life is one inspired by love and guided by knowledge." -Bertrand Russell
No! Eira! I am really sad to see her go. It took quite a while for me to really get a sense of her personality, but when I did, I really liked her. She was a genuinely good human, and she really was only doing the best she could to survive. Occasionally her sarcasm broke through and gave her a hint of toughness, but Eira was always a good-hearted soul, and I questioned whether she would ever have the real ability to kill, much less win. She definitely had her moments though, maybe not defining moments as a badass, but what would Edison have been without her and Tesler and Ayla never would have had their triangle alliance. It was good to have that break of normalcy between all the craziness that these tributes bring to the table, and I loved her for that genuineness.
RIP Eira

So there's that. It took way longer than I hoped again… That's entirely on me though, getting way to distracted recently, but I will try to get back to some semblance of consistency with this, probably not every week, but I will try to do more than once a month.

Anyway, please share your thoughts. How do you think the Capitol plot could end up? How about the arena conflict?

Thanks for reading guys.

-Red